Alone.

Yes, that’s the key word,

the most awful word in the English tongue.

Murder doesn’t hold a candle to it

and hell is only a poor synonym.

— Stephen King
'Salem's Lot
 Credits
Authors: Kelly J Clark, Chris Handforth, Mike Massiah, Andrew
j Parker, Sam Young
Developer and Editor: Sam Young
Artists: Jesse Charles Cowell, Astra Crompton, Antoni De Cotiis,
Michael William Ilott, Andrea Payne
Art Direction: Sam Young and Kelly J Clark
Design and Layout: Sam Young

Special Thanks
Chris “Wicked Dead” Handforth, for infecting this book with
a parasite, and being the best damn biology teacher in Alberta (the
former may have something to do with the latter).
Roman “I Resemble That Remark” Lanzarotta, for a little
armchair development.
Our haunted test readers: Grace Eccleston, Jen Peters, and
Christine Rattray
The team behind The Beast That Haunts the Blood: Nosferatu,
for reminding us that horror isn’t just skin deep.

© 2021 Paradox Interactive AB. All rights reserved. Vampire: The Requiem, Werewolf:
The Forsaken, Mage: The Awakening, Promethean: The Created, Changeling: The
Lost, Hunter: The Vigil, Geist: The Sin-Eaters, Mummy: The Curse, Demon: The
Descent, Beast: The Primordial, Deviant: The Renegades, Chronicles of Darkness,
Storytelling System™, Storytellers Vault™, and their respective logos, icons, and symbols
are trademarks or registered trademarks of Paradox Interactive AB. All rights reserved.
This work contains material that is the copyright of Paradox Interactive AB. Such material is used with permission under
the Community Content Agreement for the Storytellers Vault.
Check out NMD at: facebook.com/nonedarker. Visit www.storytellersvault.com for more on the Chronicles of Darkness.

2 Better Feared: Nosferatu

 Table of Contents
If You Can’t Be Both (Part I) 6
Introduction 11
Theme: Lonely Together 11
Mood: It’s Right Behind You 11
A Haunted Past 11
What’s in This Book 12
Nosferatu Media 12
Vampire Media 12
Non-Vampire Media 13
Requiem Books 13
If You Can’t Be Both (Part II) 14
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 19
Acteius 20
Bloodline Origins 21
In the Covenants 21
Rumors 22
Maggie Kincaid 22
New Merit 23
New Devotions 24
Candymen 26
Bloodline Origins 27
In the Covenants 27
Rumors 28
Jeremiah Jolly 28
Bloodline Gift: The Sweet Stuff 29
New Devotions 29
Horror: The Hungry 31
The Cockscomb Society 32
Bloodline Origins 33
In the Covenants 34
Rumors 34
Potter Woolsthorpe Wycombe 35
Bloodline Gift: Old Money 35
New Devotions 36
Gethsemani 37
Bloodline Origins 38
In the Covenants 39
Rumors 39
Angel Dee 40
Bloodline Gift: Stigmatica 41
New Theban Sorcery Miracles 41
New Devotions 42
Keepers of the Dark 43
Bloodline Origins 44
In the Covenants 44
Rumors 45
Elizabeth Brathwaite 46
New Merits 46
New Devotion 47
Twists of the Blood: Blessed by the Dark 48
Lygos 49
Bloodline Origins 50
In the Covenants 50
Rumors 51
Wen Mingli 52
Truths of Erebus 52
Sample Lessons of Erebus 53
Twists of the Blood: Blinded by the Light 54
Von Schreck Family 55
Bloodline Origins 56
In the Covenants 56
Rumors 57
Missy Malice 57
Bloodline Gift: Know Your Audience 58
New Devotions 58
Yagnatia 60
Bloodline Origins 61
In the Covenants 61
Rumors 62
Jim Lykinov 63
New Crúac Rites 63
New Devotion 65
Twists of the Blood: Fallow Obfuscations 65
If You Can’t Be Both (Part III) 66
Chapter Two: Hellscapes 71
Welcome to Hell 71
Ex Urbe Mortis 71
In the Covenants 72
Pale Imitations 72
Brick by Ugly Brick 73
Step One: The Heart 73
Step Two: Veins 73
Step Three: Residents 74
Step Four: Clots 75
Step Five: Merits 77
Tumbling Down 79
The Coal Shafts 80
Where we came from 80
Who we are tonight 80
Secrets and Lies 80
Residents 81
The Quaint Village 82
Where we came from 82
Who we are tonight 82
Secrets and Lies 82
Residents 83
Table of Contents 3
 Popobawa’s Roost 83
Where we came from 83
Who we are tonight 83
Secrets and Lies 84
Residents 84
The Lost Necropolis  85
Where we came from 85
Who we are tonight 85
Secrets and Lies 86
Residents 86
The Rusted Graveyard 86
Where we came from 86
Who we are tonight 86
Secrets and Lies 87
Residents 87
Cymothoa Sanguinaria 88
Systems 88
Little Legs, Big Fangs 89
If You Can’t Be Both (Part IV) 90
Chapter Three: Dreams & Nightmares 95
A Haunted Toybox 95
Archetypes 95
Devotions 95
Merits 101
Malice and Mutation: The Lonely Curse 105
Sample Flaws 105
The Potent Curse 106
If You Can’t Be Both (Part V) 108
Chapter Four: Terrors 113
Index of Conditions and Tilts
Despondent (Persistent) 101
Frantic (Persistent) 98
Necropolis Pariah (Persistent) 79
Noctuku Strain (Persistent) 130
4 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Chaménos 114
Where we came from 114
Who we are tonight 114
Three Unwanted 115
New Merit 116
Gravenor 117
Where we came from 117
Who we are tonight 118
Three Watchers 118
Kobayashi 120
Where we came from 120
Who we are tonight 120
Three Mimics 121
New Devotion 122
Fear Eaters 123
Background 123
Rumors 124
Suzie Hanson 125
New Merits 125
The Noctuku Strain 127
Background 127
Rumors 128
Dr. Esteban Reyes 129
Systems 130
Phagia 130
Twists of the Blood: Family Dinner 132
Nowhere Men 133
Background 133
Rumors 133
Calvin Harris 134
Storytelling the Nowhere Men 135
If You Can’t Be Both (Epilogue) 138
Overwhelming Hunger 31
Potent Curse (Persistent) 107
Touch of Nowhere (Persistent) 136
Walking Cliché (Personal Tilt) 59
 Part 1: AirDrop
The night was boiling in downtown Chicago when Charity Lane stepped onto the westbound
Metra. As the doors clamped shut behind her like a lamprey, she shivered. The train car was a
freezer by comparison, and the frigid, phlegmy coughing of the antique air conditioner made her
aware of every drop of sweat. The dirty floor was covered with a velvet layer of condensation, and
she had to mind each step of her flat-bottomed canvas sneakers, lest they betray her to the grime.
Though dressed comfortably in a pair of jeans and a soft Saint Laurent t-shirt, she felt exposed
before every pair of eyes. Normally, she liked that feeling, and the sense of control that welled up
when she saw the intentions of admirers. Normally, that intention didn’t involve killing her.
This was a bad idea.
She walked the length of the car, swaying between bodies as the train ramped up. It was Friday night,
just shy of midnight, and the Metra was speckled with an even mix of drunks, exhausted workers,
and students who were a mix of both. Despite only being half-full, the seats were flooded with bodies.
Some were sleeping in fits; others were reading their phones or the rare dogeared paperback. Along
the back wall, she was pretty sure two college guys were servicing each other beneath their backpacks.
Good for you, she thought. You’re having a much better night than I am.
One of the men looked up and touched his gaze to hers, and she smiled for the briefest moment
before a thought intruded: What if he’s the one?
The thought hurried her to the front of the car, where she could keep her back against the wall
— see everything, just like her boss had told her.
Two seats by the conductor’s door…
As she pushed through the last clot of sweaty, braying commuters, she was shocked to see precisely that
— two seats by the conductor’s door. The only ones in the car devoid of bodies or bags. Just like magic.
It was always like that with her boss. He was magic. She’d seen him stare down an entire crew on
the South Side once, and scare a beat cop so bad the pig pissed himself. He was the scariest man
in Chicago, and he would save her.
Again, an intrusive thought wormed its way into her comfort: He didn’t save Juanita. She shuddered
and went to sit down in the seat next to the barrier. She desperately wanted something hard and
safe against her, but as she lowered herself, a strange compulsion overwhelmed her, and she found
herself unable to sit, as if she’d just noticed the seat had a wad of chewed gum stuck to it.
corner, she rationalized, and slid into the second seat. She turned
It’s probably better to stay out of the corner,
back toward the rest of the car and flicked her eyes back and forth, inspecting every face and won-
dering which one of them had sent the message. Which one of them was going to kill her.
The first text came two nights ago. She was riding the train home after spending the night with
a favorite client at the Waldorf Astoria, and her skin was abuzz with a mix of post-coital flush and
the high of $500 champagne. She was in the middle of a text to her sister when her phone flashed.
It was an AirDrop, anonymous, and she was drunk enough to open it. It was a picture of her then,
smiling into her phone, oblivious and happy. It could have been a cute candid photo from a friend,
if not for the accompanying text:

6 Better Feared: Nosferatu

 I’M GOING TO KILL THIS WHORE
She’d vomited her champagne into the aisle.
One of her coworkers, Juanita, received a similar message about a week before. She and Charity
lived across the hall from each other in the Castle — a condo on the Upper Loop owned by their
boss — and spent some of their free time together. Juanita had assumed it was all just a shitty prank,
but Charity hadn’t seen her since the night she’d texted to say she got a second message.
Charity knew she should have checked in, but life and work and school got the better of her, and
she’d forgotten about Juanita until she received a message of her own.
Last night, she went out to the All Foods to grab soy milk and sundries, and she hadn’t been
paying attention when her phone buzzed again. It was a picture of her, crouched in the frozen food
aisle, weighing whether she could afford the carbs in sorbet. The accompanying text read:
ENJOY IT WHILE YOU CAN
It wasn’t a prank; it was a countdown.
She’d called her boss, crying on the floor of the store’s musty bathroom. He walked her home
that night, put her to bed, and gave her a plan.
Charity kept checking her phone with a swelling anxiety. No new messages. If he was going to
save her, he could at least let her know where he was. Instead, she was alone, and for the first time,
she felt like she was bait, or worse — a sacrifice. She folded herself in half and hugged her knees to
her chest. A low, all-consuming tremble was beginning just at the base of her stomach. She couldn’t
stop shaking, so she closed her eyes and tried to count away the fear with deep, measured breaths.
The train stopped at Halstead and a man shuffled on, half-unwrapped from his suit by a bottle
of bourbon. He swayed across the floor as the doors closed, and aimed himself at the empty seat
beside Charity. He squatted down, but his ass stopped a foot above the seat and just… hovered.
The man turned to her with a toddler’s confusion and muttered through a cloud of bourbon,
“Can I sit?”
Charity’s eyes jostled open at the sound of his voice. She hadn’t meant to take them off the car
for that long, but the momentary rest proved too tempting to resist. As she looked up at him,
hovering over the seat in drunken impotence, she realized he was probably the least threatening
person on the train.
“No,” she said. “I guess you can’t.”
The man stood up and looked down at the empty seat. “But… what?”
“I guess it’s taken,” she replied with a shrug. The man mumbled and waddled back up the train
in search of a less confusing place to pass out.
Charity’s phone buzzed, and all strength fled her limbs. She raised the screen and swiped it open
with numb fingers. It was a photo of her sitting on the train, her eyes shut tight, with the text:
READY OR NOT
“Just breathe,” came an underworld-deep voice from the empty seat beside her.
Charity froze. Her phone slipped between her fingers and clattered onto the floor.
The voice once again issued from the empty air beside her, low and commanding. “Don’t worry
about the message. Pick it up.”

If You Can’t Be Both 7

 She did as she was told.
“Good,” the voice said. “Keep playing the game, like I’m not here.”
But he was. She shivered as a huge hand gripped her thigh, its touch as cold as grave marble.
Littlejohn Roach sat in the empty seat beside her. He was tall and broad, built like a football
player whose limbs had been stretched out on a rack. He was nearly six-foot-six and meticulously
dressed in black slacks and a matching button-up beneath a velvet maroon jacket. The red soles of
his Louboutins swished back and forth like a cat’s tail. He was watching her with his coal-dark eyes.
The smirk curling his full lips was infuriatingly sexy, like it was daring her not to find him hot.
Had he always had this effect on her? She could almost remember the revulsion she’d felt before
he’d given her a taste, but it was hazy and unimportant compared to the fluttering in her stomach
and the thirst building up in the back of her throat.
“Reply,” he rumbled.
She lifted her phone and typed:
who r u? what do u want?
A response came in seconds:
I SEE YOU
Photo after photo followed the text, each a snapshot of her night’s routine:
Leaving her condo.
Taking a cab to the hotel.
Meeting her client and his wife in the hotel bar.
Following them to their room.
Her walk to the train.
Charity flipped through the record of her night in a panic until the images suddenly became
shots of a corpse with its face caved in. Each showed the body in a new, playful angle, bloodless
and strewn out across an alley like a boudoir shoot for rats. It was impossible to make out the face,
but Charity recognized Juanita’s favorite skirt.
She put her phone away with shaking hands. “I don’t want to die.” Her voice was hoarse.
“You won’t,” Littlejohn said. “Get ready. Getting off at the next station. Cicero. Then I’ll end this.”
She nodded and stood, making her way to the doors as the train slowed. She was right to have
faith in him, she thought. Littlejohn had a reputation among escorts in Chicago. She’d heard he’d
once been a street pimp, but he’d moved up to “elite” clientele shortly before she’d met him. He
was a leech — for sure — but one who put a premium on protection and professionalism. He never
hurt his employees. He listened. He’d always been good to her.
The train slid into the station and Charity disembarked. She descended from the platform and
made her way down to street level, trying to keep her eyes up front. The whole way she felt his cold,
strong hand at the small of her back, guiding her into industrial Cicero.
They walked beneath the canopy of powerlines and wires for almost a mile. The buildings thinned
in this area, and broken glass twinkled beneath the streetlights. In the distance, she could see power
plants, the oil refinery, and signs for the river.
His voice tickled her ear. “Behind us. Don’t look. Go in the alley.”
8 Better Feared: Nosferatu
 She nodded. They crossed a street, but against his warning, she glanced over her shoulder. Trailing
them by a block was a lanky figure wearing jeans and a black hoodie pulled up around its face.
She hurried into the alley, a dark shaft between an old hardware store and a warehouse. Littlejohn
followed. He set her down behind a dumpster and smiled, a flash of white in the dark of the alley.
He knelt and kissed her forehead. She shivered.
“I’ll take care of him.”
A delicate, pale face pulled back from the kiss, eyes framed with smoky green shadow, lips painted
a soft pink. She was no longer looking at Littlejohn, but herself. His features had morphed into
her own, all the way down to the way she tied her shoes. Without moments like these, she could
almost convince herself he was human.
Littlejohn winked with her own face and then left the alley.
Charity watched from behind the dumpster until her double was out of sight, and then had the
quietest nervous breakdown she could manage.
Littlejohn stepped out of the alley, the Beast lodged in his throat. All kinds of predators hunt the
streets (a few of them were even friends of his) and if someone wants to terrorize the kine, screw
it. It’s a free country. But Charity was his, and even the bottom feeders of Chicago knew one rule.
It didn’t matter if you were a crook, a cop, or an Acolyte looking for a quick bite — you didn’t fuck
with Littlejohn Roach’s girls.
Someone was about to find out why.

If You Can’t Be Both 9

 Introduction
What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark?
It would be like sleep without dreams.
Werner Herzog
The Nosferatu are monsters.
They are fresh blood on old graves, scabrous fingers closing
around pale throats, and the dreadful certainty something
hungry is watching, just out of sight.
Haunts are vampires without the pretense of humanity.
Corpse-eaters, breath-drinkers, and skin-peelers all, their curse
is an eternal brand of horror — but that’s what makes it so hard
to look away. A Haunt knows she’s a beast the moment she first
spies her face in eyes wide with fear. Instead of denying that
nature, she struggles with a very different question than her
Kindred: What does it mean to hunt without a mask?
Better Feared is the definitive sourcebook for all things
Nosferatu in Vampire: The Requiem Second Edition. In
addition to new Haunt fiction, systems, and bloodlines, it
includes a complete update of the mechanics in their original
sourcebook, The Beast That Haunts the Blood.
This book is the second in a series of updates and expan-
sions that began with Strange Shades: Mekhet. It isn’t really
Clanbook: Nosferatu Revised, but you could call it a Haunt
tribute. It’s also a chance to re-examine Nosferatu material
from other First Edition sources, some of which haven’t been
heard from in over a decade. More things are always hiding in
the dark, after all. Let us introduce you.
Theme: Lonely Together
Revulsion unites the Haunts even as it keeps them down
in the gutter. No one gives the Nosferatu anything, so they’ll
take whatever they can grab by the throat. Still, the victim role
can be seductive, built too often on easy self-righteousness and
shallow reasoning. Nosferatu have nothing but contempt for
those outside their tribe, providing other Kindred all the more
reason to push them into the shadows. Yet the clan’s spite is
also its compassion. See the rag-wrapped horror plucking a stray
dog from the path of an oncoming car, or the grave-rot man
lifting up an infant abandoned to a dumpster. These Kindred
know what it’s like to be tossed away, and that can move them
to mercy. The Nosferatu disgust even themselves, but in the
end, they only have each other.
Mood: It’s Right Behind You
That noise you heard wasn’t the wind. Your eyes aren’t playing
tricks. It’s here, just out of sight, and when it reaches out, you
won’t be able to stop it. Your last thought will be of how unfair
it all is — but that’s the thing about monsters, isn’t it? They don’t
play by the rules. Other vampires almost give you a fighting
chance. They trick you with their mind games, or convince you
it was your idea to bleed, but a Haunt rips your heart out before
you know his claws drew blood, eating it faster than your eyes
have time to go dark. The other clans are better at pretending
to be human, but the Nosferatu have mastered being vampires.
A Haunted Past
In some ways, the Haunts changed the most and least of
the three clans carried over from Vampire: The Masquerade.
Nosferatu have always been outsiders, but where their previous
incarnation caused supernatural disgust, Requiem Haunts
provoke a more fundamental disquiet. No longer Sewer Rats,
the Nosferatu are outcasts because they frighten their victims,
even when they don’t mean to. The switch from Animalism to
Nightmare reinforced this change: Rather than rely on beasts to
feed, away from the masses who shun them, the Haunts spread
terror to get their fair share.
Later on, The Beast That Haunts the Blood: Nosferatu
provided a roach’s eye view of the Haunts, zooming in on the
finer details of their crusty Requiems. It also codified horrors
like Necropoli, the rancid domains they build beneath the
world while no one’s looking. Their clan book dragged all
Introduction 11
 the hidden details into the light, putting the bone-crunching,
heart-stopping power of the Nosferatu on full display.
The arrival of Vampire: The Requiem Second Edition
further refined this transformation. First Edition Vampire
still tended to rely on surface appearances when depicting
Nosferatu, but modern Haunts are a clan of both creeping dread
and brutal terror, ripping the face from the lie that Kindred
are anything but undead parasites.
What’s in This Book
Better Feared: Nosferatu is for players and Storytellers alike.
Inside, you’ll find all the material you need to add a personal,
gruesome touch to your Haunt characters, from bloodlines and
Necropoli to Merits and Devotions.
Throughout, you’ll also share a nightmarish night with
Littlejohn Roach, Chicago’s premier Nosferatu hustler, who
learns what it means to be a real monster when an old rival
turns the tables on him.
Chapter One: Grave Blooms re-imagines four classic
Haunt bloodlines, and welcomes four new inductees into
the family crypt. In addition, you’ll find Twists of the Blood,
mechanical Shards providing even more options for your
characters and chronicles.
• The Acteius are master craftspeople, able to create wondrous
tools out of little more than human vital fluids. However,
a terrible culling has devastated their numbers, and they
rebuild their stockpiles in the face of an uncertain future.
• Peddlers of delicious addiction, the Candymen are always
happy to offer a taste. Behind closed doors, however, they
have their own hungers to feed.
• Members of the Cockscomb Society have risen from humble
beginnings into the halls of the elite, but they can never
escape the terrible crimes their prestige was built upon. (The
Beast That Haunts the Blood)
• Preachers cursed with Christ’s sacred wounds, members of the
Gethsemani bloodline travel the road to bring the Gospel to
the people, performing horrible miracles that test the limits
of the Masquerade. (Bloodlines: The Hidden)
• The Keepers of the Dark have a lot to make up for, but the
mazes they dig for themselves can’t hide the stain of their
grandsires’ terrible mistake.
• The Lygos believe all Kindred belong in the welcoming dark,
and they emerge from their underground lairs to destroy any
light that would sully the purity of night. (The Beast That
Haunts the Blood)
• The Von Schreck Family luxuriates in Hollywood magic,
but the celebrity lifestyle pales in comparison to a good scare.
• Once masters of the Russian night, the Yagnatia spend their
exile plotting with their gods against those who cast them
out of a feudal paradise. (Bloodlines: The Chosen)
12 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Chapter Two: Hellscapes digs up the Necropoli, the strange
and wondrous under-cities Nosferatu build beneath the streets.
In addition to a complete system for creating your own Warrens,
you’ll find five examples taken from the darkest corners of the
world, from the coal mines of Lethbridge to the ship graveyard
of Nouadhibou.
Chapter Three: Dreams & Nightmares takes a deep dive
through the Haunts’ vault of horror, a toolbox to make all
your Nosferatu characters just a little extra awful. In addition
to new Masks, Dirges, Devotions, and Merits, this chapter
updates nearly all the mechanics from The Beast That Haunts
the Blood. You’ll also find new examples of Nosferatu flaws,
and ways of making the decision between a leech-tongue and
a withering aura more than just a cosmetic one.
Chapter Four: Terrors reveals that monsters beget mon-
sters. Here you’ll meet a selection of ghoul families, like the
two-faced Kobayashi and the occultist Gravenors, as well as
three loathsome entities the Nosferatu must share the night
with, including the return of their most feared predator.
Nosferatu Media
The Nosferatu represent the oldest myths of vampires,
long before they were romanticized in modern media. Still,
the monstrous revenant remains a popular figure even today,
and it shows up in countless celluloid and literary nightmares.
Here are a few examples to spike your anxiety.
Vampire Media
I Am Legend, by Richard Matheson: While this book is
certainly about vampires, it’s the theme of human loneliness
that resonates with the Nosferatu in particular. Robert Neville
hunts the vampires of post-apocalyptic Los Angeles with a
fanatic’s resolve, utterly alone in his struggle. However, when
an act of compassion forces him to realize many of these “mon-
sters” are thinking, feeling people he could have connected
with, it’s too late: He’s killed too many members of this new
society, which now fears him as their greatest predator. For
his crimes, he’s left to die alone, surrounded by a hatred of
his own making.
Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror, directed by F. W.
Murnau: No discussion of the Nosferatu would be complete
without the film that bears their name. Murnau merged Dracula
with the disgusting vampire of Eastern European folklore to
craft a masterpiece of expressionist horror. Max Schreck’s
creeping portrayal of Count Orlok is still the first image that
comes to mind when people hear the word “Nosferatu,” and it
informed the look of inhuman vampires in media for almost
a century. Also worth a look is its spiritual remake, Werner
Herzog’s Nosferatu the Vampyre, a more explicit but no less
haunting adaptation of Stoker.
Shadow of the Vampire, directed by E. Elias Merhige:
This meta-fiction classic casts John Malkovich as an obsessive
Murnau and Willem Dafoe as actual-vampire Max Schreck
on the set of Nosferatu in 1921. Dafoe’s Schreck evokes sym-
pathy even as he murders his way through the film crew, but
despite an overwhelming loneliness, he’s lost to the thrall
of bloodthirst, unable to be anything but a predator. At the
same time, Malkovich’s Murnau is another kind of vampire
altogether, sacrificing his cast and career in the name of his
ultimate vision.
Non-Vampire Media
Horns, by Joe Hill: A supernatural crime-thriller about a young
man who uses sinister powers to solve the rape and murder of his
girlfriend. Ignatius Perrish’s descent from an innocent but pow-
erless mortal into a supernatural murderer mirrors the journey
of a Haunt’s Requiem well: His diabolic abilities cause people
to act out on their worst impulses, and then forget about all the
awful things they’ve just done as soon as he leaves their presence.
The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, by Victor Hugo: Rife with
betrayal, murder, and depravity, this iconic novel evokes the
many struggles of Clan Nosferatu. From a crumbling Gothic
setting to a lonely and deformed protagonist, it’s easy to find
parallels between Quasimodo’s sad tale and the travails of a
young Haunt, struggling to survive in the All Night Society.
However, it’s the book’s exploration of cruelty from the virtu-
ous, and compassion from the loathsome, that makes Hunchback
so intrinsically Nosferatu.
It, by Stephen King: Putting the more bizarre elements
aside, a story about a sewer-dwelling creature who kills people
by evoking their greatest fears is about as Nosferatu as it gets.
Pennywise is a case study in what happens when a Haunt gives
up on pretending to be human, existing only to glut himself on
blood and terror between long bouts of torpor.
Requiem Books
A Hunger Like Fire, by Greg Stolze: The ugly details of Bruise
Miner’s Embrace into Clan Nosferatu set off the action of this
neo-noir mystery, giving a closeup view of the first faltering steps
in a Nosferatu’s Requiem. Bruise’s self-loathing and confusion are
palpable as he resists giving in to the Beast he’s become, as is his
horror at the depth of this new world of monsters. Bruise’s tale
continues in The Danse Macabre, where he learns even victories
exact a price in the All Night Society. (White Wolf)
The opening fiction for Bloodlines: The Chosen concerns
Abbot, a Haunt who’s having a really bad night. This gruesome
tale showcases how terrifying the Nosferatu can be to even each
other, and it’s a great example of when joining a bloodline is
less than voluntary. (White Wolf)
Secrets of the Covenants delves into the horrid history of
Scratch, the iconic Nosferatu from the Vampire: The Requiem
First Edition (the handsome gentleman on p. 111). Scratch’s
early Requiem illustrates the inherent body horror of his clan,
and the awful surprise awaiting Haunts who’ve only just begun
the fall to the Beast. (Onyx Path Publishing)
Finally, while you don’t need to read The Beast That Haunts
the Blood to enjoy this book, you owe it to yourself to pick it
up anyway. Rife with grimy, bloody bits of Nosferatu fiction
and flavor, it’s a glorious look at how nobody really understands
the Haunts — not even themselves. (White Wolf)
Introduction 13
 Part 2: The Scariest Man in Chicago
Littlejohn had been waiting on the train long before Charity stepped in, willing himself into the
shadows and stretching out across the seats so people would instinctively move away. The car filled
like a basin, and he held a vigil over every drop of humanity. If someone was coming for Charity
tonight, he was going to be ready.
Of course, that was if the threat was real, which he was beginning to doubt.
Littlejohn hated waiting. His living days had taught him the benefit of direct action, active aggres-
sion, and even preemptive violence, but they also made him impatient. By the time poor, nervous
Charity boarded the train, his shoulders were knotted with a tension he was unaccustomed to. He
rolled them out as she approached, and winced at each crunch of dead tissue. As she tried to sit
down, he slid his polished shoes along the seat and crossed his legs luxuriously, forcing her into
the further seat. He needed his vantage point more than she needed the comfort.
Who was watching her and what was their game? This was a serial killer setup — but it was also a
load of bullshit. Juanita had gone missing and been found dead in a dumpster in the space of two
nights. Or, more accurately, someone had gone to a lot of effort to make him think that. Maybe
whoever was behind it hadn’t expected him to break into the coroner’s office, or maybe they
thought they did a real clean job, but he knew her body well, and it wasn’t hers. They’d used some
Jane Doe’s corpse with the same height, weight, and skin tone, making sure to smash the face up
so she was just on the right side of unidentifiable. The forgery was almost perfect, save for a single
missing detail: A pea-sized black spot just above her ankle, marking the time she’d chickened out
of a tattoo on her twenty-third birthday, about five seconds too late.
Suspicious, Littlejohn had hired his sometimes-frenemy Reagan (a Mekhet with a knack for com-
puter shit) to do some digging with a bit of facial recognition software. In less than an hour, she
had a hit near Juanita’s hometown of Oklahoma City. Last night.
In Littlejohn’s experience, the only folks skilled and screwy enough to pull a cover-up like this
were Kindred. That meant another vampire was going after him through his employees, though
why they went to such lengths not to kill Juanita was beyond him.
Beside him, Charity’s phone buzzed, and he knew by the way she sucked her breath through her
teeth it was time. He stood up, still hidden from view by the power of his blood, and watched each
passenger’s face and hands from his towering vantage point.
Nothing.
Half the people on the train had their phones out, but none of them were paying attention to
Charity. Worse, none of them felt right. Reagan had said this kind of AirDrop, even with a modified
phone, should only have a range of about thirty feet.
Where the fuck are they?
Unless they were hidden — like him. He felt the Beast claw at his stomach, mocking him for
overlooking the obvious. A fellow Haunt? A Shadow? How many Kindred had it out for him? He
and the Movement hadn’t parted on the best of terms, but a good many of them had never been
comfortable with his… past associations. He assumed they’d cut their losses when they didn’t even
bother to bitch about it at Elysium.
Maybe that assumption had been a mistake.

14 Better Feared: Nosferatu

 Charity pulled her legs to her chest. She was trying to maintain her composure, but the stress had
eaten away at her nerves, and Littlejohn’s lifeless heart stang with regret. She knew she was bait.
He slid down next to her and placed a hand on her leg, willing her to see him. With care, he
talked her down and guided her through the plan. Yes, she was bait, but if they played this right,
her stalker wouldn’t realize that until she was long gone.
Ever since his initiation into the First Estate, Littlejohn had been hungry for a fight. After starving
in the lap of luxury for six whole months, he could feel his muscles tense and strain against his
jacket as he fantasized about the satisfaction headed his way. Just as the Beast began to illustrate
that little daydream, it growled. There was a predator here.
He let his eyes settle on a small figure in a hoodie, face obscured by the seat in front of him, but
eyes locked on Charity. Littlejohn sized up the stalker and frowned. Maybe one-sixty, short, and
lean. He’d been hoping for a more serious contender, but — he checked the upcoming stop: Cicero
— he could skip the aperitif and get on with the meal.
Littlejohn had lived in Cicero for more than forty years as Old John’s ghoul, and he couldn’t
pass up a little home court advantage. Besides, it was the kind of neighborhood where people still
respected an old-fashioned midnight whooping. They minded their business. No prying eyes; no
calling the cops. No threat to the Masquerade.
Time to get off.
***
They walked beneath the rusted, rattling iron trellis as the train departed. Familiar smells and
sounds bubbled memories up in Littlejohn’s mind. Across the street, a liquor store’s neon light
hummed at them as moths dive bombed the glow. Had it always had bars on the windows? Or
did they only go up after he’d robbed the place at fifteen? A few blocks later, the smell of Maxwell
Street Polish mingled with the thick summer smog. Littlejohn would rather drink a rat than eat a
hotdog, but the smell brought him back to late nights shooting the shit beneath the bright yellow
and red sign.
A sudden pang of regret almost overwhelmed him, and he wished he had the time to talk to
Charity — to anyone — about how things had been here. How an ice cream truck would park in that
vacant lot (now a U-TOW) on hot summer days like this one, or how he’d wait in the blind alley
next to the hardware store to jump punks who owed him money. They weren’t all nice memories,
but they were his.
And just because something’s nostalgic doesn’t mean it’s useless. As they approached the old sin-
gle-story hardware store, he pushed Charity toward that familiar alley. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
The excitement of what was about to happen pulsed in his blood as they stepped into the dark-
ness of the alley. Nothing had changed, not even the dumpster. It was still a hundred-foot tunnel
of brick, bisected by a rusted wire gate that was held shut by a chain. It might have even been the
same lock. If you could push between the gate and the fence, it was a straight shot to the next
street — if he could do it as a teenager, Charity could do it now.
Littlejohn guided her over to the dumpster, overflowing with cardboard boxes, and eased her
down behind it. He kissed her forehead and made a promise.
Then, he called on the Blood, taking on a mask of shadow. If this shithead wanted Charity, he’d
make sure he got her.
As he stepped from the alley, the figure was almost on him. He got a good look at the stalker,
and up close he was even smaller than he’d thought. The shoulders were slim, the hips wide — a

If You Can’t Be Both 15

 woman. Littlejohn and the figure stood on either side of the hardware store’s window like a pair
of gunfighters, a dozen feet between them.
“Why are you following me?” Littlejohn said with Charity’s voice.
The figure flipped her hood back to reveal a woman in her late twenties, with dark, bloodless skin
and sunken eyes. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight ponytail at the base of her skull. Littlejohn
knew her: Zhoniqua Jefferson. Carthian.
He wasn’t well-acquainted, but he knew the reputation. It was hard not to. Zhoniqua was a former
working girl with a hate-on for pimps and pushers, and knowing that put the last few nights into
sharp focus. This was brazen, though, even for her.
And dumb as shit, he thought.
Zhoniqua lurched forward and grabbed for his arm. He let her have it. He wondered how small
his bicep must feel, and how long he could wait to drop the mask and see the look on her face.
“Girl, you’re coming with me.”
He made a show of struggling against her grip. “What do you want?”
“I’m here to help. It’s not going to make sense, but he’s got you hooked on something awful. I’m
gonna get you clean and free from that fucking pimp.”
“No, Littlejohn’s good to me! Treats me right,” Littlejohn said, struggling to keep a straight face.
“He’s a fucking leech! He’s using you. Your body, your blood… when he’s done he’ll grind you up
and throw you away. He’s done it before. I can get you safe, but you have to tell me where he is.”
“Right here.” He killed the illusion, and Zhoniqua was surprised to find herself no longer holding
the arm of a small, white woman.
Littlejohn willed Vitae into his limbs, and in Charity’s voice he said, “Hi, Zhoniqua!”
His hand shot out and caught her by the throat. He twisted at the hip and slammed the back of
her head into the brick of the hardware store, so hard the impact threw a cloud of mortar into the
air. She snarled, and the fingers wrapped around Littlejohn’s other arm elongated into tapered,
curved claws. They raked across his chest, ruining the lapel of his jacket, and he jumped back six feet.
“I piss you off in another life, Jefferson?”
“That girl deserves better!”
“I found her. I fixed her.”
“You exploited her!” Zhoniqua leapt off the brick wall and swiped at his throat, faster than he’d
expected, but not quite close enough to hit him. She snarled. “Like you exploited the Movement!”
“Didn’t exploit shit.” Littlejohn hated speeches, most of all ones directed at him. He spun around
to her side and lashed his foot out. It struck her in the hip hard enough to push her backward and
buy him some time.
“You betrayed us!” Zhoniqua lunged, aiming her claws at his heart, but Littlejohn had fought
Savages before. He dodged to the right and brought his knee up hard into her pelvis. Without losing
his momentum, he pivoted and grabbed her arm at the wrist and elbow. He wrenched — hard —
pushing through until he felt the elbow snap. She spun around fast with her good hand and tore
through his jacket again, but he was faster, catching her wrist before she reached flesh. She looked
up with a feral shock across her face, and for one sweet moment, Littlejohn was alive again.
He smiled, wide, bright, and horrible, and slammed his brow into her nose. It shattered with a resound-
ing crunch that he repeated again and again, punctuating each strike with a word: “Didn’t. Betray. Shit.”

16 Better Feared: Nosferatu

 Zhoniqua’s broken arm swayed back and forth with each impact, and he was so caught up in the
fight he missed the telltale sound of bone resetting as she pumped blood into the wound. Her claws
flashed up and across his jaw, leaving the jagged marks of a bear mauling in their wake.
His Beast snarled, and he caught her other wrist. Holding both her arms, he ducked and swung
her around like a child, funneling all his stolen strength into the motion. With a roar, he hurled
her through the plate glass window of the hardware shop — iron bars and all.
He wiped the thick blood from his cheek and willed the gashes closed. He was starting to feel
hungry. “Invictus made me a better offer. I leveled up.”
From inside the hardware store, he saw Zhoniqua rise. Wedges of arm-length glass and bent rebar
jutted from her torso. Her face was flat and saturated with bruises from his blows, but Littlejohn
could still tell she was smiling.
“Level up this
this,, fucker.”
A squeal of tires tore through the night. Littlejohn twisted his body toward the sound, but it was
too late. A beat-up Oldsmobile jumped the curve and slammed into him before he could brace
himself. It rolled through him like a wave, and he was swept up by its momentum as it slammed
into the wall. The stonework crunched, and he felt his legs go limp as his spine snapped. His shirt
was torn, as was the stomach beneath it, and he watched as his dead organs slid onto the hood,
dark and oily. His Beast rose up and seized him by the heart, but he fought it down and focused
on healing the damage.
He needed legs. He needed to run.
But it was no use. The driver revved the engine and Littlejohn felt the car press closer into the
brick wall, the only thing keeping the two of them from kissing being the eight inches of flesh and
bone left of his waist. He could smell antifreeze pouring from the radiator, half-buried in his hip.
His panicked fingers bit into the chrome of the bumper and started to push back. He was strong,
but without his legs, he just didn’t have the leverage.
The backdoor of the Oldsmobile opened as he wrestled with the horsepower. A short, slim man
walked around to Littlejohn’s side, just out of reach. From the other side of the car, Zhoniqua
shouted at the newcomer, “Let’s just do it now!”
“No,” the man said. His voice was nasal and shrill. “Thanks for your help, Zee. I’ll take it from
here.”
Littlejohn tried to growl through bloody teeth, but he couldn’t find the air. The man leaned in
front of him, so close he could grab him — if he could only let go of the car. He had a pale face
framed by a mop of overgrown, dishwater-brown hair, and the car’s headlights reflected off the
lenses of thick aviator eyeglasses. He was wearing a Nehru jacket with a vintage Save the Whales
pin on its lapel.
What was left of Littlejohn’s stomach sank as Rafael Ladue smiled at him like a well-fed cat.
“Hi, big bro. Long time.”
Littlejohn forced a breath. “Ladue?”
The Daeva looked into his eyes, and faster than a living man, pulled a wooden stake from his
jacket. It slid clean through the Nosferatu’s heart and ruined ribs. “Sleep, LJ.”
So he did.

If You Can’t Be Both 17

 chapter one
Grave Blooms
We are the dread that creeps up on you at the edge of sleep. We are the gnawing fears you can’t
afford to face. We are the Nosferatu, and we’re always with you, in more shapes than devils in Hell.
Here are eight terrors to keep you up at night:
The smith, the dealer, the squire, the preacher, the penitent, the fanatic, the star, the witch-king.
Some are childhood traumas, recurring nightmares you thought long forgotten.
Some are new horrors, nocturnal visions born of stresses you force yourself to forget.
All long for the moment you relinquish your fragile sense of control and your consciousness slips away.
Won’t you join them?

Chapter One: Grave Blooms 19

 Acteius
THE ONES YOU CAN’T STOP
The Kindred look down on the Nosferatu. Safe in timeless
perfection, the others dismiss the Haunts as lessers, menials, or
just plain goons. That stereotype is the knifepoint of an ageless
prejudice — but it doesn’t mean Haunts never take pride in
their labor. Honest work, they call it, untainted by the power
plays rotting the All Night Society. Look at a Nosferatu and
you know what you get. The boils hide few secrets, and the acid
terror crawling up your throat is nothing if not sincere. That
doesn’t make Nosferatu more trustworthy than other vampires,
but they have few illusions.
The Acteius subscribe to this view, and they’ll defend it with
a clawhammer. Tinkers, tailors, and anything in between, their
workshops operate under a simple principle: The dead don’t rest.
Unbound from human wear and tear, the Embrace molds the
Artisans into ceaseless machines of labor. See their skin crack
off in the heat of the forge. Smell the iron as their fingers split
on countless needle pricks. Work them to the bone — literally.
You’ll hear no complaints. With the art of Bloodcrafting, the
Artisans warp stolen life into gory and glorious wonders, with
mortal victims as the means of production. 3D printers before
humans ever dreamed the concept, the Acteius were the back-
bone of Kindred armies and merchants for hundreds of years,
spinning blood into swords and plowshares alike. Legend has it
they smelted the crown of the Invictus Emperor, and some say
their guilds defined the early Carthian Movement.
Artisans take many jobs in many places, from sweat-drenched
factory floors to the chilly halls of haute couture: Toiling beneath
a dead assembly plant, a smith forges arms for a revolution,
carving the Prince’s name on each shell case; atop the tallest
skyscraper of the city’s wealthiest block, a seamstress watches
from a shadow veil as courtiers fawn over her fashions, shunning
those she didn’t deem worthy of her wares.
Yet for all their talents, tonight, the Acteius are rare. Once,
no one worked without their say in many domains. The trades
weren’t a hard market to corner among the dead, but the quality
of their labor (and their method of “handling” competition)
was unsurpassed. That is, until they started disappearing.
Over the course of a hundred years, wherever Artisans made
their havens, they fell through the cracks. Elders abandoned
centuries-long projects, and whole coteries pulled up stakes
“The hammer’s not just for nails.”
20 Better Feared: Nosferatu
without so much as a liquidation sale. A thousand rumors ran
through the guildhalls, but if anyone had an inkling of the
truth, they weren’t sharing it. Worse, these disappearances
outpaced the rate the bloodline could rebuild its ranks, as if
each new Embrace or induction cost two Requiems. Without
a way to communicate on a global scale, few realized the extent
of the culling until it was much too late. In the end, all they
had for it was a name: Doom.
The Doom claimed three-quarters of the bloodline. Only
in the last twenty years have these disappearances ended, but
the Artisans are still wary of spreading their Vitae too wide. A
good builder always makes a few prototypes, and the Acteius
fear they’ve yet to see their enemy’s final design.
Why you want to be us
You want to create a spark of life without spawning a blood-
sucking corpse. More than that, you want to take control.
Other Nosferatu spend their Requiems looking for ways to
stamp a bright side on ugly, but we don’t need self-delusions to
see us through the night. Maybe you can’t hammer out what
the Embrace did to your soul, but you can sure as fuck take it
out on a scrap of metal.
Why you should fear us
No one fights the assembly line. You can either get out of
its way, or you can oil the tracks with your veins. Pay your bills
and you won’t hear any complaint from us, but fall behind on
our fees? Exploit the working man? Well, then you’ll make an
excellent set of steak knives.
Why we should fear ourselves
You have to follow a schedule. You have to time things out,
make habits, spreadsheets, invoices, five-year plans… all of
which means jack shit if someone throws a spanner in the works.
“Order” and “efficiency” are just useful lies to tell yourself as
the vein in your skull starts to pop. We can plan ahead all we
like, but not for every eventuality, and if we didn’t learn that
after the last century, we never will.

Bloodline Origins
• Before the dawn of humanity, creatures called
Telchines dwelled upon the island of Rhodes.
Spawn of castrated Ouranos who rose from his
seed as it fell upon the sea, these beings bore
the heads of dogs upon the bodies of men,
with flippers for hands and feet. Despite their
horrid forms, the Telchines earned renown
for their metallurgy, the foremost among their
number being their king, Aktaios. The Artisans
hold this myth close to heart, but it’s not
clear how it came to be linked to them.
A few elder Acteius say their ancestors
weren’t Kindred at all, but rather chime-
ric slaves to their namesake, reshaped
in his image and obliged to ply their
trade for his masters on Mount
Olympus. Somehow, they escaped
this service, and hid themselves
among the Kindred in the mortal
realm.
• The svartálfar built great halls
within the mountains of the
world, and made wonderful
machines far beyond the ken
of men. These small folk were
happy to share their gifts with
young humanity, but the
mortals were jealous of
their crafts,
and began
t o spre ad
r u mor s of
wickedness to
ease their own envy. Eventually, the
apes forgot their poison words were
lies, and made war on the svartálfar
for imagined crimes. The humans had
only sticks and stones, but they far
outnumbered the svartálfar, and soon
overwhelmed them. When all but a
handful remained, the last built their
greatest work, a device to hide them
in the shadows, and to strike fear into
their tormentors. Tonight, their descen-
dants spin their crafts from mortal
blood as reparation.
• Once upon a midnight darkly, three
little pixies slept snug in their beds.
However, a big bad wolf had
followed them home that
night, and knew with a
huff and a puff he could
blow their houses down. Though
they were pretty little homes, they were fragile, crafted
with straw and sticks. All but one, that is. The eldest pixie
was a builder, and made his home of brick and mortar
so beasts like the wolf could not huff or puff it down.
The wolf was a crafty one, though, and climbed down
the chimney to take his dinner by surprise, but the pixie
was craftier still. He lit a fire upon the hearth, and so the
foolish wolf burned to ashes, his howls echoing through
all the land. The pixies rejoiced, and drank the
ashes to take the might of wolves. Now the
pixies share their trade with all who need
it — relentlessly ever after.
Parent Clan: Nosferatu
Nicknames: Artisans, Telchines
Bloodline Bane (The Hidebound
Curse): The Artisans are creatures
of habit. They do nothing without
deliberation, and “Measure twice,
cut once” may as well be tattooed
to their calloused hands. Whenever
an Acteius suffers an unexpected set-
back, or experiences an unlikely turn of
events, roll Humanity. On a failure, she takes
the Tempted Condition as her Beast rises up
in the face of the disruption.
Di sciplines: Celerit y, Nightmare,
Obfuscate, Vigor
In the Covenants
T he Ca r thia n Movement: T he
Revolution was one of the few safe har-
bors the Acteius had after the Doom,
as many of the other covenants took the
disaster as an opportunity to “forget”
their debts. According to legend, the
Movement shares some DNA with the
Acteius, many of whom were early
adopters of its philosophy, and some
of the eldest surviving Artisans
are Requiem-long Firebrands.
Carthian Telchines produce
tools of labor and war, operating
charnel house–like factories for
the cause of freedom. Prone to
experimentation, they engineer
ever newer new tech to take down
the establishment. They’re also
renowned for their activism,
and if the local Carthians have
a strong influence on mortal
union jobs, it’s a good bet
an Acteius is meting out the
blood bonds.
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 21
 The Circle of the Crone: There are no Acteius in the
Mother’s Army. Covens with Telchines among the chorus fall
to bizarre misfortunes — dawns that come against the hour,
fire dances that go explosively wrong — and Acolytes spread
word of this apparent curse as far as they can. A few Acteius
believe this is an extension of the Doom, but none can say
why it only affects the Circle of the Crone. Some Acteius hide
their true lineage within the Mother’s Army, but if a strange
mishap doesn’t strike first, they’re almost always discovered.
“Infiltrators” are never harmed, however, or else the accidents
become even bloodier. Many Acteius practice Crúac in unaf-
filiated cults, often as worshippers of Rhapso, Vulcan, or Lu
Ban, but the Dark Mother will not hear their prayers. They
belong to someone else.
The Invictus: The First Estate sees the Artisans as relics. The
Digital Revolution and the Doom put much of the bloodline’s
Invictus branch out of work, though many of the covenant’s
knightly orders still consider the Acteius indispensable. A few
Acteius attach themselves to these societies as court armorers, but
this role is more about resource management than production.
Most Invictus will take a Glock over a magic sword, so many
Artisans serve as high fashion tailors, making custom, blood-
borne fashions for the one percent, while the more practical
among them craft stealth-ware for the covenant’s numerous spies.
The Lancea et Sanctum: Sanctified Artisans are among the
most celebrated members of the laity. Christ was a carpenter,
after all, and while He bars Kindred from his light, they can
at least follow his career path. Acteius maintain the Church’s
property, whether pews, vestibules, or sacred altars. That
includes the Spear’s infamous torture devices, which makes
them few friends among more liberal congregants. The most
devout Acteius create “holy” objects to test the faith of righ-
teous mortals, or to trick sinners into believing false miracles.
That practice is controversial, however, as the bloodline has
an old reputation for hawking fake relics. Medieval Sanctified
joked there were more Acteius Spears of Destiny than all the
sinners in perdition.
The Ordo Dracul: The Defiant have a keen interest in learning
how the Acteius do what they do. One Dying Light researcher
pays considerable sums for custom Bloodcrafts, just to take them
apart atom by atom. Dragon Artisans are eager to solve this mys-
tery themselves. Many still fear the Doom, and hope by passing
their arts to all clans, they can preserve their legacy, if not their
heritage. Until then, most Defiant Acteius study engines of war
for the Sworn of the Axe, preparing for the night they’ll need to
destroy rather than create.
Rumors
“Takes a lot of blood to do what they do. Ever read The Jungle?
Yeah, like that. But with people.”
Most Acteius are solo operations; gone are the days of
Artisan coteries running carcass-strewn factories at the edge
of town. Still, it takes a lot of blood to make even small
Bloodcrafts, and requiring donations for custom jobs is
22 Better Feared: Nosferatu
common practice, but many Acteius need to produce on a
large scale. Rumor has it some Artisans employ procurers —
or kidnappers, depending on who’s telling the story. These
agents gather up mortals who won’t be missed for a few days,
wiping their memories and leaving them with a few sugar
cookies once the Acteius have enough material to work with.
That’s if they’re lucky, of course.
“There are artifacts they’ve left behind, lost because of the Doom
— buried treasure, hidden caches, that sort of thing. The Artisans are
looking for all that lost gold, but they’re not the only interested parties.”
True. Tonight’s Bloodcrafting is a shadow of past methods,
and the Acteius dream of recovering lost artifacts to relearn
what they’ve forgotten, but that’s easier said than done with
rivals in the mix. The Ordo Dracul and Sanctified are interested
in finding these relics too, the Dragons for obvious reasons,
and the Spear because of their importance to Kindred history
(although, some would need to be “curated”). More dangerous
still are the mortals starting to dig these things up. That could
lead to issues with the Masquerade, and the bloodline won’t
be in a position to defend itself when it does.
“The Doom just stopped, they say, but don’t you believe it. Some
think it killed enough of them off to make its point, but that’s awful
anticlimactic. Seems to me it was supposed to be leading up to some-
thing. A curse that powerful must have met its match if it didn’t finish
what it started.”
The problem with speculating about the Doom’s end is that
no one knows why it started. That such a phenomenon could
drive a bloodline to the brink of extinction, with no apparent
external force, and then… cease? It’s the kind of thing that keeps
an Acteius up in the day. The only concrete clues came much later,
but no one quite understood them: A handful of the disappeared
came back. Only one instance was documented in any detail, by
a Dragon whose lost sire paid a visit on the night of the winter
solstice. He didn’t say much, but when he did, he claimed he
was “fine,” and deflected any questions about where he’d been.
He only wanted to know about his childe’s work, and if she had
any gifts for him. When she rose the next night to question him
further, he was gone, leaving behind only a few scraps of bone
tied up in string and straw.
Maggie Kincaid
“Next!”
If Rosie the Riveter were a vampire, she’d find Maggie a bit
intense. Born into a family of union activists in the steel indus-
try, right after Thatcher took power, Maggie likes to joke her
swaddling blanket was a red flag. Her mother was a rep for the
local mill, and she instilled her daughter with a deep-seated love
for working folk. She also taught Maggie the family’s traditional
trade of smithing; with the mill losing jobs to automation, she
figured her daughter could corner the market on a niche, but
still-valuable, skill.
Maggie was Embraced at the tail end of the Doom. Her sire
was a rare Carthian elder, one who seemed to know his number
was coming up. He chose his childe not just for her skill and
politics, but for a talent at weaving the two together. For Maggie,
labor is praxis, and that was an activist attitude his Movement
needed against an oppressive Sanctified regime. When her sire
disappeared, she was more than prepared to take up his cause.
Since then, Maggie’s prepared for war — and nearly caused
one. Restless for revolution (and, blind with grief, blaming the
Church for her sire’s loss), she assassinated the Archbishop’s
childe, hoping to spark a revolt. Instead, she got a blood hunt,
one her covenant couldn’t prevent in the absence of her powerful
sire. Now Maggie plies her trade underground, an open secret
among the Movement, selling her weapons to anyone with a
grudge against the Sanctified. Her own stockpile is almost big
enough for a second try at revolution. Its crown jewel is the sword
she plans to run through the Archbishop’s heart, forged from
his own childe’s blood.
Whenever Maggie speaks to mortals, a just audible whine
fills their ears, as if they’ve just spent a few hours inside a
jackhammer. The longer she talks, the more anxious they get,
obsessing over the awful sound’s source.
Clan: Nosferatu
Bloodline: Acteius
Covenant: Carthian Movement
Mask: Perfectionist
Dirge: Junkie
Touchstone: Her workshop. It reminds her of what her
dear, departed mother taught her about the rights of
workers.
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 3, Wits 3, Resolve 3
Physical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 3, Stamina 2
Social Attributes: Presence 3, Manipulation 2,
Composure 3
Mental Skills: Academics (Unions) 1, Crafts
(Gunsmithing, Metallurgy) 5, Occult 2, Science
(Engineering) 1
Physical Skills: Athletics 4, Larceny 2, Stealth 1,
Survival 3, Weaponry (Hammers, Improvised) 3
Social Skills: Empathy 1, Expression (Commercial Art) 3
Merits: Allies (Bikers) 2, Bloodcrafting (Bane, Cursed,
Empowered), Carthian Status 1, Contacts (Steel Workers,
Unions), Feeding Grounds 2, Professional Training
(Blacksmith) 3, Taste (Commercial Art)
Disciplines: Celerity 2, Obfuscate 1, Vigor 3
Devotions: After Hours, Lockpicker’s Wrist
Blood Potency: 2
Health: 7
Willpower: 6
Humanity: 6
Size: 5
Speed: 13
Initiative: 6
Defense: 7 (Active Defense 9)
Armor: 1/3 (Kevlar vest)
Notes: Professional Training can be found on p. 46 of
the Chronicles of Darkness Rulebook. Maggie’s
Asset Skills are Crafts, Expression, and Weaponry.
New Merit
The Acteius make their wares with a supernatural form of
production called Bloodcrafting. Only the Artisans can learn this
technique, although rumor has it certain obscure bloodlines
and covenants possess similar abilities.
In addition, Acteius gain the Taste Merit on induction into
the bloodline, provided they meet prerequisites. If not, a new
Artisan must increase her traits before she gains this Merit. If a
character already has Taste, she is refunded the Experience spent.
Bloodcrafting (••+)
Prerequisites: Acteius, Crafts •••, Specialty in Crafts
Effect: Your character can create supernatural objects out of
pure Vitae, appropriate to his Specialty in Crafts. He must buy
this Merit again to use additional Specialties.
To create a Bloodcraft, your character must spill his blood
into an appropriate vessel (a forge, a sewing machine, a mold,
etc.). By then spending a Willpower, he instills the blood with
solidity and malleability, transforming it into whatever raw
material he needs. Creating the final product requires an
extended Dexterity + Crafts roll, with a base target of 10 suc-
cesses. The interval is one roll per hour. If modifications add
to the target number, necessary successes cannot exceed 20. If
your character is interrupted, the blood reverts to normal, and
he must begin again with a new batch.
At its basic level, this Merit allows a vampire to create a simple
object made of transfigured Vitae. The item will take on the
qualities of a similar mundane object, and will pass cursory
inspections, though materials like gems and precious metals
will reveal themselves as fake to trained eyes. The object will
always carry a hint of its true nature: a sword has a crimson
sheen, while fabric made into a dress flows like blood.
All Bloodcrafts have the following qualities by default:
• Size is equal to Vitae spent divided by two (rounding down),
to a maximum of Size 8.
• Durability is 1 by default. The vampire must add a success
per point of additional Durability to the target number to
increase this trait above the baseline. Total Durability cannot
exceed 5. If the item is clothing, treat the garment as having
(Durability – 1) points of general armor.
• The object consists of a single piece, though the vampire can
form raw materials and then divide them and shape them.
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 23
 However, without the Mechanical enhancement (below), his
skill isn’t great enough to create machines.
• The object is vampiric. By spilling blood over it and giving it a
minute to absorb, it can store Vitae equal to Size. The amount
of stored blood applies as equipment bonus or weapon dam-
age on a one-to-one basis, to a limit of +5. However, at each
sundown, the object will consume one of its Vitae points
like a vampire rising for the night. If it has none left, it loses
all supernatural qualities until fed to capacity. Bloodcrafts
always begin existence with a single Vitae.
Your character can only create (Blood Potency + Crafts)
objects at a time. Exceeding that limit destroys a previous cre-
ation, starting with the earliest. However, he can invest a dot
of Willpower instead of a point to avoid this cap.
Dots in this Merit in excess of two are used to purchase
enhancements, special techniques your character has learned
over the years and can apply to his wares. To use these tech-
niques, he must add the total number of enhancements he uses
to the target successes on the extended action.
Bane (•••): As a weapon, the object deals lethal damage to
Kindred. Use stored Vitae as the Weapon Modifier. Drawbacks:
The object must be at least Size 1 and cannot exceed Size 3. Each
time it successfully inflicts lethal damage, it loses a stored Vitae.
Cursed (•): Anyone who wields the object and isn’t its proper
owner, or who doesn’t know the correct way to wield it (wearing
leather gloves, saying a prayer, etc.), suffers its modifier as a
penalty instead of a bonus. Any failed use is a dramatic failure.
The proper owner is defined by the creator, who must use a
point of Vitae from that individual in the creation of the object.
Efficient (••): Once per chapter, anyone using the object
for an appropriate extended action halves the amount of time
on each roll.
Empowered (•••): Once a scene, the object grants the wielder
the use of a single first dot Discipline. This can be a Discipline
the creator doesn’t know (including bloodline Disciplines),
but only if he can find a vampire with that ability, willing to
donate a Vitae to the item’s creation. The object always drains
at least one Vitae, even if the Discipline effect is normally free.
If the effect takes an activation roll, the vampire uses her own
Attribute + Skill, but gains no Discipline bonus. Drawback:
The object has no will of its own, and cannot engage in any
Clash of Wills.
Mechanical (•): Your character is skilled enough to make
an object with complex moving parts, and it can function
as a simple machine, like a clock or a lock. An Acteius could
even make a simple firearm, but not something that requires
electronic or digital aspects like a motherboard or a smart-
phone. Drawbacks: This device can be no larger than Size 5.
Furthermore, mechanical devices require extra time and effort
to manufacture. The Acteius must succeed on two extended
actions to build such a device: one to build the basic frame,
and one to build the moving parts. Costs and target successes
are the same for both actions, but your character only needs
to spend one Willpower.
24 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Alternate Constructions
If you prefer, Bloodcrafting can operate under
the Build Equipment rules from the Chronicles of
Darkness Rulebook (p. 101). Use those systems with
the following changes: Cost and dice pool remain the
same as above. Determine how many modifications
and how much Durability the object will need, and
apply that number as a penalty rather than the one
determined in Chronicles of Darkness. This modifier
cannot exceed –5. On an exceptional success, apply
an additional point of Durability or Size, if desired,
and if these traits aren’t at their maximum already.
Sample Bloodcraft: Ruby Red
Traits: Durability 3, Size 2, Structure 5
Built as both a weapon and a tool of her trade, Ruby Red is
Maggie Kincaid’s favorite hammer. Its name comes from both
the Soviet emblem carved into the shaft and the unnatural color
of the head, a bright red that glimmers in just the right light.
Ruby Red deals lethal damage to Kindred and grants the
user the effect of Awe for the scene. Only Maggie can wield it,
or someone who verbally asks her permission to do so. Maggie
has invested a permanent Willpower into its construction, so
it doesn’t count against her Bloodcrafting limit.
New Devotions
The Acteius have developed a few Devotions for the rare
times they don’t have the right tools for the job.
After Hours
(Celerity ••)
The Acteius work long nights, and sometimes the sun gets
in the way of productivity. With this Devotion, an Artisan can
power through.
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn.
Cost: 2 Vitae
Dice Pool: None
Action: None
Duration: Special
If the vampire performs an extended action while she has
the Lethargic Condition, she can activate this Devotion at the
beginning of the day to add any penalties from the Condition
as bonuses instead, channeling her exhaustion into laser focus.
However, she still can’t spend Willpower. Once she completes
the task, Lethargic applies as usual, and may have compounded
in the meantime.
This Devotion does not apply to blood sorcery.
Lockpicker’s Wrist
(Celerity ••, Vigor •)
Paranoid since the days of the Doom, the Telchines are dis-
inclined to be left in a bind. With this Devotion, an Acteius
can escape even the most elaborate restraints.
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn.
Cost: 2 Vitae
Dice Pool: None
Action: Instant
The vampire slips out of a restraint, whether rope, handcuffs,
duct tape, or any other object meant to hold her. If the object
had less Durability than her Vigor dots, it takes a point of
damage in the process.
This Devotion applies whether the restraint is around the
vampire’s hands or her feet, or even her torso. It doesn’t work
in grapples, though it would apply to any use of the Restrain
move. If a supernatural power is involved in the vampire’s
restraint, a Clash of Wills takes place.
Work Fast, Not Hard
(Celerity •••••)
Speed is next to godliness as far as the Artisans are con-
cerned, and some can even extend their vaunted efficiency to
supernatural powers.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Willpower
Requirement: The vampire activates a Discipline or
Devotion that takes an instant action, paying all costs.
Dice Pool: None
Action: None
The vampire treats a supernatural power that would normally
be an instant action as a reflexive action. If the effect costs
Willpower, activating Work Fast, Not Hard is considered a
discrete action. However, the vampire is limited in that he can
only use this Devotion once per turn. An Acteius can use it
after using another instant action power, but he cannot use the
same effect twice in one turn.
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 25
 Candymen
THE ONES WHO GIVE YOU A TASTE
It starts with a craving. A gnawing at the base of your sternum
coupled with a tickle in the base of your skull. A buzzing fly of
a thought: Just one more time. Just one more taste. The urge
grows, skips like a broken record, and soon your entire being is a
painful repetition of the longing you told yourself you wouldn’t
give into again. Why did you have to take that first taste?
It wasn’t your fault. Not really. The Candymen knew just what
you wanted. They always know, because they mix it with love.
The Candymen are peddlers of sweets and narcotics who
probe that weak spot in the human psyche keyed to want and
need. They’re genial, kind, and garish, if a bit weird, and ever
so generous. The first taste is always free, and no matter how
much adults warn kids about that phrase, it doesn’t stop people
from taking a bite. Doesn’t stop them from getting hooked,
either. Later, they’ll tell themselves they should’ve known from
his smile, so wide it almost split the skin. They should have
known from her laugh, shrill and tinged with the punchline
of a joke they didn’t know they were part of — yet.
The Pushers run vast networks of dealers and salesmen,
ready to sell their mothers’ teeth for another hit. Why take a
domain by force when you can win with kindness? When the
Candymen roll into a territory, their first step is to find who-
ever moves drugs or sweets and offer to improve their recipes,
from independent chocolatiers to street corner meth dealers.
Soon, every supplier in town is moving wares sweetened by the
Candymen, and that’s when the real fun begins.
A Candymen’s greatest pride comes from her creations. From
Vitae-infused confections to moonshine brewed in a blood-
stained bathtub, these vampires consider themselves artistes.
Among their ranks, you’ll find everything from amateur bakers
to master chefs, and university chemists to biker crank cooks.
Can you hear it? The rusted ice cream truck doesn’t make a
noise as it rolls down the suburban street, silent as the grave
until the music pipes out of its speakers and lures children of
all ages to buy a frosty treat. Can you smell it? The skinhead
with the blood smeared smock smashes up crystals reeking of
cat piss and acetone, and yet you can’t stop salivating. Can you
taste it? The European confection shop has sat on the corner
“Hello, young folks! Care for a free sample?
That’s right, the first taste is always free!”
26 Better Feared: Nosferatu
for as long as you can remember, but how they stay in business
is anyone’s guess. Your friends dared you to go inside, and its
elderly owners offered you a free sample you couldn’t refuse.
Now you belong to the shop.
For the Candymen, there’s nothing more satisfying than
watching a customer take that first hit, reach the highest high,
and then come crashing down. Nothing is more fulfilling
than the trembling hands of a hungry junky. It takes careful
craftsmanship to get the best flavor out of a human soul. It’s
all about the taste, after all.
Why you want to be us
You want to be wanted. Who doesn’t? And the best part
about being wanted is that, once you are, no one cares what
you look like, dress like, or act like. Not as long as you make
them feel good. And the thing is, you actually want to do
better! You want to make people happier than happy. You
want to make them feel pleasure at a level above ecstasy. You
want to gatekeep the taste of magic and wonder like a faucet
of pure, unsaturated joy. You want to be everything they need,
and the cause of anything they’d do for another taste of bliss.
Who wouldn’t?
Why you should fear us
We’re monsters, it’s true. We’re fair though, and always
upfront about the cost. The first taste really is on the house,
and we’ll offer it with a smile and no strings. But make no
mistake: The next will cost you so much more than cash. It’ll
bleed you dry one bite at a time, until we discard you like a
candy wrapper. Fear us because your life is just a fun-sized treat.
Why we should fear ourselves
Maybe taste isn’t everything. Ultimately, we’re chasing the
same high as everyone else, except we keep eroding our clients
looking for our own perfect flavor. What we really want is what
we can never have: purity. No matter how hard we try, how
much we refine our formulas, everything is tainted. All of it.

Bloodline Origins
• The first Candyman was a 17th-century German
monk known as Carolinas of Cologne. Despite
his façade of humility, Carolinas dabbled in the
black arts of alchemy in the tunnels beneath his
church. As his studies drew him deeper into
worship of divine magic, he shifted
his focus onto experimentation of
the soul rather than gross matter.
Instead of transmogrifying lead
into gold, this work would
require a living person —
the purer the better. And
who purer than a child?
But how to get one? A
simple sugar treat, bent
into a shepherd’s crook,
was the perfect gift to keep
choirboys quiet during mass. Mixed with
oils from belladonna and nightshade, it
was also excellent at incapacitating them.
Carolinas wasn’t able to transform the
children, but when certain Kindred
alchemists learned of his studies, he
experienced a change of his own.
He still toils beneath the streets
of Berlin, playing god and luring
victims with sweets.
• The Candymen were once two
bloodlines. T he first were
lotus eaters from the south,
who used their knowledge of
the natural sciences to build
a cult of seers and prophets.
The second were peddlers
of confections, who lured
the unwitting into their
dens. The two families were
con st ant ly at odd s over t he
people of their small island, until
every man, woman, and child had
succumbed to one of the two camps
— save for the queen, who refused the
bitter taste of the lotus, and rejected the
decadence of sugar. She began to purge
these vice peddlers from her lands, and
almost succeeded, until one inspired
neonate suggested they mix their wares
— a medicine coated in the richest choc-
olate — and present it to the queen’s most
trusted advisor. Legends say the queen
herself became the first true Peddler, as
she fell from grace and into the embrace
of death and addiction.
• Long ago on the island of Honshu, a jealous girl
watched her lover kiss another beneath a winter
moon. For three nights, she watched the pair sneak
into the sacred grove and huddle for warmth as
the moon grew slimmer. The grove was blessed by
the God of Children, and every January the tree’s
branches would be decorated with sweets to bring
them good health. On the fourth night, when the
moon was new, the girl let the boy’s oxen from his pen
to distract him, and crept into the darkened clearing
dressed like a man. When her rival arrived, the girl
kissed her and swallowed her scream as she slashed
her throat with a razor. She buried the girl beneath
the tree, and as she finished her gruesome task its
branches burst with dripping red candy. The girl ate
greedily and soon there were no treats left. She had
grown pale and cold in the winter night and knew
that she had been cursed by the God of Children.
Her only hope was to plant another hundred
bodies, but no matter how much she tries,
she can never resist the taste.
Parent Clan: Nosferatu
Nicknames: Peddlers,
Pushers
Bloodline Bane (The
Sweet Sin Curse): A ll
Candymen have a craving,
and as a Peddler’s Humanity
degrades, it becomes difficult to deny. Choose a
kind of mortal vessel the vampire prefers — her
secret indulgence. This vessel should have a defin-
ing physical trait, like blonde hair or an athletic
build; work with the Storyteller to make sure this
craving is neither too broad nor too specific.
When she rises for the evening, a Peddler must
roll Humanity. On a failure, for the rest of the
night, she takes no sustenance from vessels who
do not fall within her preferred taste. This even
applies to stored blood. However, this bane is
obviated for vessels who’ve consumed one of
her concoctions (see Bloodline Gift: The Sweet
Stuff p. 29).
Disciplines: Dominate, Nightmare, Obfuscate, Vigor
In the Covenants
The Carthian Movement: Most Firebrands are creeped
out by the idea of the Peddlers, but there’s a certain utility
in controlling blocks with chemical hooks. Drugs provoke
revolution, and vice lures people to causes. It’s win–win.
Carthian Candymen are as often drug barons as they are
diplomats to other covenants, or even other supernatural
beings. Who doesn’t want a wizard or a faerie as a
regular customer? The Movement never says no to
donations to the cause.
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 27
 The Circle of the Crone: Tales of potions and trickery sur-
round the Candymen as if they were creatures out of folklore,
and this endears them to the Acolytes. Indeed, the strange
alchemy Peddlers use to lure the young or foolish is not only
welcome in the Mother’s Army, but encouraged. Peddlers
are succubae who can sell pleasure wholesale. Their wicked
concoctions break the staunchest of wills, and that elevates
the bloodline to a station most Nosferatu never achieve. The
Mother’s Army understands better than any other covenant that
pleasure is power, and power always come at a price.
The Invictus: Candy is for closers. The Candymen are
merchants and dealers, and forward-thinking Invictus wel-
come their business acumen with open arms. A devoted
populace is the pillar of aristocracy, after all, and controlling
drones through drugs and delicacy is an excellent method of
Masquerade preservation. That the Pushers get people to pay
to be deceived is just icing on the opiate-laced cake.
The Lancea et Sanctum: While other Kindred would be sur-
prised to learn it, a slight plurality of Candymen are Sanctified.
That said, some bishops fear the false devotion the bloodline
fosters, seeing addiction as a perversion of God’s gift of free will.
The Candymen are nothing if not adaptable, however, and their
Sanctified members exist not to provide highs, but to vanish
when their victims need them most; in their view, desperation
is the true pathway to the divine. While the covenant is uneasy
with the Candymen, it’s willing to make accommodations,
provided they work toward the betterment of the flock and
not their own peculiar ends.
The Ordo Dracul: Every recipe requires a taste tester, but the
small clinical trials junkies and candy aficionados can provide
just aren’t enough to move the bloodline to its next intended
evolution. Enter the Ordo Dracul. There’s no denying the
Candymen have a talent for alchemy, and many in the Order
consider the bloodline vital to hard research. Peddlers are
experimenters par excellence, but science isn’t their only value
to the Dragon. Defiant Candymen are renowned for poisons
and other nefarious compounds, and in combination with
certain custom Scales of the Voivode, these vampires are some
of the deadliest assassins in the Ordo Dracul.
Rumors
“Those freaks have expanded. They’ve started buying up everything
from ice cream trucks to grocery stores to pharmaceutical companies.
I swear to God they’re planning something big. And when they do,
we’re all fucked.”
Most Candymen operate independently, taking great care
not to create overlapping distribution networks with other
Peddlers, and this gives the illusion they work together to con-
trol supply chains. Most of the time this doesn’t attract much
attention beyond jealous drug dealers and chocolatiers, but in
Philadelphia, such activities have drawn heat from rivals run-
ning a strange pharmaceutical company called Gnosopharm.
If the bloodline can’t sort out the trouble soon, they may have
more to worry about than the bottom line.
28 Better Feared: Nosferatu
“You know those old stories about razor blades in Halloween candy?
That’s the Candymen. I don’t know why they’re doing it — besides
sadism — but I’m sure it’s them. Who else fits that kind of calling
card? Candy is candy, right?”
This wouldn’t be out of the question for a Candyman on
the bottom rungs of Humanity, but in general, it goes against
the bloodline’s modus operandi. That kind of thing draws
attention, and the last thing the Peddlers want is eyes on
their operations. Most stories of malicious Halloween candy
are urban legends. While it does happen on rare occasions,
it’s almost always as a cover for domestic violence. However,
if such a thing were to occur (say, in the characters’ city), it
wouldn’t be hard for the bloodline’s rivals to draw up a frame
job. Most Candymen avoid each other for fear of competition,
but defamation tends to unite them, even in the face of age-
old hatreds. Say a prayer for the poor soul caught with sticky
fingers when a hunting party of Peddlers finds them.
“They’re a joke, right? Maybe. But ‘something’ isn’t laughing. The
people who die from their treats don’t stay that way. They come back,
and they come back hungry.”
People die. It happens when you’re a vampire. Still, when
the wrong people die — when good people die — they don’t
always stay dead. The Peddlers earned their name by moving
within domains like ants, but it’s not just to ensure an even
distribution network. Sometimes, they’re running from past
mistakes. Called the Hungry among Candymen brave enough
to give them a name, these creatures spawn when a mortal
dies with a product tainted by Candyman blood in her system.
These creatures are like revenants in many ways, but they only
can be saved by consuming the souls of the ones who killed
them (see below).
Jeremiah Jolly
“Take a taste, this sweet’s for you… have just a bite, or try a few…
for it’s your taste I crave and need… just one lick before you bleed…”
Jeremiah Jolly was born into a family with too much money
and too little love. Frail from birth, Jeremiah was a lonely boy
who studied sciences and had few pleasures in life, with one
notable exception: candy. His parents provided it as the sole
positive reinforcement for everything he did, from grooming
to good grades. By the time he graduated with a master’s in
chemistry, it became his obsession: He was going to become
the greatest candy maker in the world.
His parents were unwilling to provide the startup capital
for his business, but their life insurance had no such qualms.
Soon, the Jeremiah Jolly Candy Company was churning out
confections to the whole wide world. Yet it still wasn’t enough.
Jeremiah soon grew bored with his product, and became
desperate to expand his tastes and mind. Through a college
friend, he made connections with a local drug cartel, and
the rest is history. His ruthless rise in the drug trade, and
vast personal wealth, made him an easy pick for both the
Candymen and Invictus.
 Tonight, Jeremiah is an effete man in his eternal thirties, par-
tial to brocade patterned velvet and speaking in a high-pitched
yet sonorous voice. He writes nonsense songs and sings them to
the vast staff of migrant workers he relies on to make his candy
and drugs. He’s easy to get along with, but impossible to trust.
More than anything, though, he’s lonely, and has been for
his entire existence. If he could find an heir, though, perhaps
he could go and find that missing piece of himself. But how to
find a worthy successor? Perhaps a contest…
Jeremiah’s face is at once handsome and unnerving. His
features are, in theory, quite attractive: sharp cheekbones, a
patrician nose, and bright sapphire eyes. However, on closer
inspection, his skin is caked with a layer of shellac, which in
the wrong light leaves him looking like a toy soldier who’s on
the verge of melting out in the sun.
Clan: Nosferatu
Bloodline: Candymen
Covenant: Invictus
Mask: Deviant
Dirge: Jester
Touchstone: The JJCC home office and primary fac-
tory, where Jeremiah still keeps a small apartment for
late nights.
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 4, Wits 2, Resolve 2
Physical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 2, Stamina 2
Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 3,
Composure 2
Mental Skills: Investigation 2, Medicine (Narcotics) 3,
Politics (Bribery) 2, Science (Chemistry) 5
Physical Skills: Athletics 1, Larceny 2, Stealth 3,
Weaponry 1
Social Skills: Empathy 4, Expression 2, Intimidation 1,
Persuasion 4, Socialize 2, Subterfuge 4
Merits: Attaché, Distinguished Palate, Fast Talking 5,
Feeding Grounds 3, Friends in High Places, Haven 5,
Honey Trap, Invictus Status 3, Resources 5, Safe Place 5,
Staff 4
Disciplines: Dominate 3, Nightmare 3, Obfuscate 3
Devotions: Bad Trip, Sweet Tooth, Thinner
Blood Potency: 2
Health: 7
Willpower: 4
Humanity: 4
Size: 5
Speed: 9
Initiative: 4
Defense: 3
Content Warning
The powers below involve malnourishment and
compulsive eating. These can be difficult subjects
for some players, so make sure everyone’s on board
when using those aspects of the Candymen in
your chronicles. If you need some guidance, John
Stavropoulos’ X-Card mechanic an indispensable tool
for dealing with sensitive topics in roleplaying games.
Bloodline Gift: The Sweet Stuff
Candymen have an innate ability to infuse their blood
into consumable items, usually candy or drugs. All it takes
is bleeding a single Vitae point and an instant action. The
substance gains the addictive and blood bonding properties of
the vampire’s Vitae, including special qualities like the Coil of
the Voivode or Honeytrap, and overriding any natural addic-
tiveness. It does not replenish Vitae pools. The item must be
consumed within 24 hours, or else the blood becomes inert.
This infused item tastes and behaves exactly like the origi-
nal substance: amphetamines still keep you up all night, and
chocolate truffles aren’t the least bit coppery.
New Devotions
In addition to their inherent gift, the Candymen have
numerous other tactics to push their wares. The following are
only a handful of the Devotions Peddlers have cooked up over
the centuries.
Bad Trip
(Dominate •, Nightmare •)
The vampire spikes her subject’s fix of choice with a drop of
her Damned blood, be it candy or drugs, and lets the night-
mares take hold.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire uses her bloodline gift and
spends an additional Vitae, included in the cost.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Instant
Duration: Scene
If a victim imbibes the tainted substance, he must succeed on
a Stamina + Blood Potency roll penalized by the Candyman’s
Dominate dots. On a failure, he gains the Intoxicated
Condition, suffering strange and alarming hallucinations. The
vampire is privy to the victim’s trip, and may, as a reflexive
action, spend a Vitae to adjust the victim’s experience in one
of the following ways:
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 29
 • Halve the victim’s Defense for a turn (rounding down).
• Cause the victim to suffer from vertigo and nausea, imposing
the Drugged Tilt for a turn (this stacks with Intoxicated).
• In combat, adjust the victim’s perceptions so they attack an
ally rather than an intended target for a turn.
Everlasting Blood Doll
(Dominate •••, Nightmare ••••, Vigor •••)
The vampire can vomit up a sickly sweet substance to encase
his victims, placing them into a nightmarish stasis. While
in this state, victims make perfect sources of nourishment,
and some Candymen keep entire warehouses full of opaque
cocoons, dripping with sugar and teeming with stolen life.
This Devotion costs 5 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Vitae per victim Size and 1 Willpower
Requirement: The vampire must have fed the victim one of her
consumables and inflicted him with the Mesmerized Condition.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Instant
Duration: One week per dot of Blood Potency
The vampire encases a mortal victim in a prison of sweet
ichor, resembling something between hard candy and
amber. This shell is as hard as stone (Durability 2), and its
Structure is equal to (victim Size + Durability). Through
an exposed body part, the vampire can feed freely, and the
encased victim heals lethal damage equal to the vampire’s
Vigor dots every 24 hours.
While encased, the victim is kept in stasis and doesn’t require
food. However, they also remain partially aware, flitting in and
out of fever dreams. These hallucinations are at once hellish
and blissful, highly addictive and deeply unsettling. Should
the victim escape their imprisonment, their shattered sense of
reality manifests with the Fugue Condition (Vampire, p. 304).
Furthermore, a released victim becomes a vector for the
Peddler’s bloodline gift as long as Fugue lasts. If she feeds
them a point of Vitae, anyone who drinks the victim’s blood
treats it as though they were draining the Candyman. This
includes Vincula, but isn’t sufficient for an elder vampire to
sustain herself.
Using this Devotion is a Humanity 1 breaking point.
Sweet Tooth
(Dominate ••)
The vampire infects a mortal victim with a voracious hunger
that cannot be sated.
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn.
Cost: 1 Vitae
Requirement: The victim must have been subject to the
vampire’s bloodline gift within the same night.
Dice Pool: Manipulation + Persuasion + Dominate – Stamina
30 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Action: Instant
Roll Results
Success: The victim is overwhelmed with a hunger for a par-
ticular food. He gains the Overwhelming Hunger Condition.
Exceptional Success: The hunger is so complete that the
victim also gains the Wanton Condition.
Failure: The victim isn’t any hungrier than they were before.
Dramatic Failure: The vampire triggers the wrong reflex in
her victim. He gains the Steadfast Condition.
Sugar Rush
(Vigor •••)
There’s nothing like the high that comes from a taste of a
Candyman’s supply. Pushers often use this Devotion to recruit
athletes and soldiers to their ranks, or to bolster their retainers.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 2 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire uses her bloodline gift and
spends additional Vitae, included in the cost.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Instant
Duration: Scene
For the rest of the scene, all who eat the vampire’s product
gain her Vigor dots as a bonus to Physical actions, pushing their
bodies to the human limit. However, every exceptional success
on these rolls self-inflicts a point of lethal damage. At the end
of the scene, subjects suffer the Lethargic Condition until they
get a full night’s rest or another hit.
Thinner
(Nightmare •••)
The only thing worse than having access to the Candyman’s
supply is being cut off.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Willpower
Requirement: The victim must have been subject to the
vampire’s bloodline gift within the same night.
Dice Pool: Manipulation + Intimidation + Nightmare vs.
Stamina + Blood Potency
Action: Contested; resistance is reflexive
Duration: Week
Roll Results
Success: The vampire curses a victim with an aversion to
eating. For the duration, he’s unable to willingly consume
any form of nourishment. He’s repulsed by food (or blood),
and must spend a Willpower not to vomit up anything more
substantial than water. If mortal, he suffers a lethal damage
per day he fails to nourish himself, which he cannot heal until
the duration expires or he seeks medical attention.
 However, if the victim eats one of the Candyman’s special
treats, it temporarily eases his aversion. He heals a point of
lethal damage inflicted by this Devotion and can stomach food
until the next sunrise.
Exceptional Success: The victim also suffers the Drained
Condition until he next stomachs a meal.
Failure: The vampire can’t harm the victim’s appetite.
Dramatic Failure: The victim resists the vampire’s influ-
ences and regains a point of Willpower. He is immune to this
Devotion for the rest of the night.
OVERWHELMING HUNGER
You’re not just hungry; you’re hungry now. You must consume
as much of a particular kind of food as you can before the end
of the scene. This might be candy, pastry, or even raw meat.
If you don’t manage to consume at least the equivalent of Size
2, this Condition ends and becomes the Deprived Condition
for the rest of the night.
Resolution: Eat the required amount.
Horror: The Hungry
The Hungry are a kind of bloodline-specific revenant. Use
the usual rules for half-damned characters with the following
alterations:
• A victim becomes one of the Hungry if she consumed any-
thing made using the Candyman gift the night she died.
• Dice pools for Mental and Social actions are capped by the
Hungry’s Humanity.
• The Hungry have a lifespan equal to (Humanity) days. Each
night they exist, they suffer a Humanity 1 breaking point.
• The Hungry are immune to Vitae addiction and blood
bonds. Drinking Vitae resets the countdown on the crea-
ture’s existence to their current Humanity rating.
• If the revenant is killed, their corpse rises the next night
with no wounds, even if she has no Vitae left. However, this
resurrection costs the creature a Humanity dot.
• The Hungry can only uplift themselves by committing dia-
blerie on the Candyman who created them.
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 31
 The Cockscomb Society
THE ONES WHO COULD BUY AND SELL YOU
“He cleans up nicely, doesn’t he?” they whisper when they think
he isn’t listening.
“For a Nosferatu. Such a shame he wasn’t Embraced by someone
with better breeding.”
He’s used to backhanded praise. It’s the story they need to tell
themselves to explain how a lowly Haunt could climb so far above
them on the social ladder.
“You don’t think it’s true, do you? The awful things they say he
gets up to behind closed doors… I can’t imagine.”
It is true, of course. Everything they’ve heard and more. He
makes no apologies for playing the game better than they ever could,
but he would never advertise his… indiscretions.
Bad taste, that.
The Nosferatu have a reputation for flaunting their mon-
strosity. Their curse is impossible to conceal, so why not wear
it with pride? Not so for the Cockscomb Society. They may
be frightening, but that shouldn’t mean they abandon all
sense of propriety. More so even than other, more “present-
able” Kindred, Ladies and Gents of the Society practice the
Masquerade with a dogmatic ardor. They rehearse every step
of the Danse Macabre until they can walk it in their daysleep.
They have little choice, as anything less would belie their station
as one of the most well-to-do lineages in the All Night Society.
Founded in the late 18th century, the Cockscomb Society
climbed the social ladder with alarming speed, and they’ve
remained at the top ever since. Their founder, Potter
Woolsthorpe Wycombe, accomplished this by rejecting the
insularity of his clan and immersing himself in human high
society. Forging countless relationships with the rich and
powerful, he pulled himself out of the Necropolis by his own
bootstraps. So what if a few moral compromises had to be made
along the way? That’s the cost of building a legacy.
It began with revenants. Reasoning these undesirables
wouldn’t be missed among the Kindred, Wycombe scoured
the Warrens for cast-off victims and failed Embraces. Using
the resources he’d accumulated from his mortal pawns, he
provided orphaned vampires with just enough blood to keep
“That face of yours is just priceless.
Well... almost.”
32 Better Feared: Nosferatu
their hunger at bay. Then, once they were dependent on him
for survival, he sold them to wealthy mortals belonging to the
most infamous Hellfire Club in the world: Ashwood Abbey,
notorious for visiting all manner of depraved abuses upon
captive vampires, among other exotic victims.
For a time, this was a profitable endeavor, but the Abbey’s
appetite for dead flesh was nigh infinite. As demand grew,
Wycombe began uplifting followers from among his captives,
gradually expanding his operation to keep up with the devel-
oping market. Soon, revenants alone weren’t enough. Buyers
wanted more dangerous toys, and before long Wycombe and
his uplifted childer began Embracing hapless mortals directly
into their chattel. Finally, the disappearances became too much
for the local court to ignore, and Wycombe’s operations were
shut down. However, by this time, Wycombe’s brood and their
fortune had grown so large that they had secured their place as
indispensable members of the Kindred ruling class.
Tonight, Wycombe’s descendants struggle to escape the
shadow of their progenitors’ crimes, while still enjoying their
long-term benefits. Of course, the Cockscomb Society no longer
engages in such untoward business practices, but the reputation
hangs over its members like bad English weather. The Society’s
commitment to decorum and politesse is therefore a social
necessity, not only to disprove assumptions other Kindred make
based on their clan, but also to dispel any suspicion they may
also be guilty of their grandsire’s improprieties. They wouldn’t
be caught dead otherwise.
Why you want to be us
You don’t want to wallow in your monstrosity like the others.
You aren’t proud of being a freak, but you’re not about to let
it hold you back. You recognize your curse for what it is, but
you’re prepared to take it in stride, and still put everyone else
to shame. The others may sneer and whisper behind your back,
but who cares what they think when you have more connections
than the harpies, more blood dolls than a prince, and more
money than God?
 • In the depths of the Roman Necropolis, an owl swallowed
Why you should fear us
We have our finger on the pulse of the herd.
We’re closer to the kine than anyone else, and we
control the flow of the most valuable resource there
is… cash. You weren’t expecting that, were you? Be
honest, you thought I was going to say blood. Typical.
See, that’s what separates us from the other Haunts.
We recognize the value in material wealth. Spooky
powers and disappearing acts are cute and all,
but money can alter the course of history
in ways even elders could never dream.
Why we should fear ourselves
It’s no secret we got where we are
because of the awful things our
founder did. We all carry that with
us. We all benefit from his crimes,
and it would be so easy to fall into
the same trap he did. Wycombe
may be a monster, but he did what
he did so you could have a better
Requiem than he ever had. Can you
honestly say you wouldn’t have done the
same in his position? What would you be
willing to do to hold on to the privileges his
indiscretions bought you? What wouldn’t you
be willing to do to ensure your own childer
and grandchilder can enjoy the same advan-
tages you have?
Bloodline Origins
• The first members of the Cockscomb Society
were the revenants Wycombe chose to uplift
into his Kindred trafficking ring. That’s the
party line, at least, but it doesn’t answer the ques-
tion of what triggered the change to their blood
in the first place. Even elders of the bloodline
don’t know what caused their Vitae to deviate,
though they suspect the truth lies with Wycombe
himself. Most believe it has something to do
with his time at the Abbey, but what is any-
one’s guess. Wycombe refuses to say why he
backed out, and even mentioning the Abbey in
his presence can draw his ire. Some in his inner
circle believe he had a conversation with something
that made him see the error of his ways, but the
details are inconsistent. A few say an angel with
wings of broken glass came to him in his daysleep
and revealed he had a higher calling. Others believe
he spoke with his own Beast, and the revelation of
the monster he’d become drove him to atone. Some
whisper his association with the Abbey was itself
payment for a greater debt, and that he cut ties as
soon as his commitment was met.
a worm. The worm wriggled in its gullet, struggling
against its fate, until the bird could take it no more. It
expelled the contents of its gut, and out of the pellet
crawled the half-digested remains of what had once
been the worm, alive, but changed. The worm carried
something of its devourer with it, which it passed onto
its spawn. For countless generations, the worm’s brood
harbored a hunger no loam could sate, for theirs
was the appetite of a raptor. But the worms
suffered in their famine, for they knew
nothing else. Until one night, a rooster
ate one of these tainted worms. At last,
this avian hunger had found its way
home. Now that same hunger lives on
in the bellies of the Cockerels, as it
was always meant to be.  
• Once upon a midnight darkly, a
wretched old miller toiled without
rest, for his family would soon
starve if he could not sell his flour.
As he paused to bandage his bleeding
hands, a stranger with pale yellow eyes
approached. The stranger offered the miller
wealth beyond measure, in exchange for
that which stood behind the mill. The
miller told himself there was nothing but
an apple tree behind the mill, but he had
heard his daughter’s laughter as she played
around the tree. He told himself she must
be asleep at this hour, but he knew she
often snuck out of bed to play. Yet still he
accepted the stranger’s offer, for he knew as
well that such a chance would never come
again. Now his descendants must forever keep
their hands clean, lest the stranger comes to
claim them too — spotlessly ever after.
Parent Clan: Nosferatu
Nicknames: Cockerels, the Society, Ladies/
Gents, Biddies/Gumps, Cockheads (but never
to their faces)
Bloodline Bane (The Curse of Ennui): The
Ladies and Gents play their roles well, but it does
get so dreadfully tiring. After playing at civility all
night long, one can hardly be blamed for indulg-
ing just a little bit every now and then, can one?
A Cockerel character applies the same penalty she
takes to Social actions to relate to mortals on all rolls
to resist her baser urges, such as those resulting from
the Bestial, Competitive, or Wanton Conditions (take
the higher penalty in cases where modifiers might
compound). Furthermore, she treats all failures
on such rolls as dramatic failures.
Disciplines: Majesty, Nightmare, Obfuscate,
Vigor
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 33

In the Covenants
The Carthian Movement: The Carthian Movement tends
to view Cockerels with suspicion. The Society is synonymous
with old money, which puts them at odds with the Firebrands’
egalitarian agenda, but more than a few Ladies and Gents
ally themselves with the Carthians in hopes of proving their
commitment to righting their family’s past wrongs. Despite
misgivings from hardliners, the Movement is usually willing to
accept reparations. A Cockerel who wants to become a valued
member of the Revolution must go to great lengths to prove her
devotion to the cause: Money comes cheap to the Cockscomb
Society, but loyalty is far more valuable.
The Circle of the Crone: The Cockscomb Society’s dedica-
tion to propriety makes the Circle of the Crone an unappealing
choice on its surface, but in truth, the Cockerels are no strangers
to the occult. The bloody, carnal rituals of the Mother’s Army
are a wonderful diversion for a Cockscomb looking to unwind
after a tiresome night playing the buttoned-up Gent. More
devout members of the Circle treat such part-time Acolytes
with contempt, viewing them as playing at witchcraft when the
mood suits them. That said, it’s hard to turn down a curious
Gump when he’s willing to pay big to get in on the ceremony.
The Invictus: Publicly, Ladies and Gents are valued
members of the Establishment, fast-tracked to positions of
esteem. Privately, the Invictus lets Cockerels in to show token
Nosferatu representation, without having to mingle with less
presentable members of the clan. Even then, some Invictus
are hesitant to hand over even nominal authority to a Haunt,
regardless of respectability. Cockerels are used to such two-
faced treatment, however, and often thrive when they can
take advantage of Kindred prejudices. Ladies and Gents in
the Invictus are premier bulwarks of the Masquerade. Their
deep pockets and deeper connections to mortal institutions
help build productive and docile herds, utterly ignorant of
the powers that be.
The Lancea et Sanctum: The Cockscomb Society has close
ties with the Second Estate, and as members of a respected
bloodline, no Cockerel would be caught dead skipping
Midnight Mass. Few end up joining the clergy, however;
they’re content to participate to the extent necessary to keep
up appearances, and to donate a socially acceptable amount to
the Church’s coffers. Those who do become Ladies and Gents
of the cloth can expect a warm welcome, as their combination
of respectability and monstrosity — along with their well of
resources — suits the Spear’s interests well. More so than other
Sanctified, a Cockerel priest’s flock crosses over with kine
religious institutions. They might even keep local religious
leaders in their thrall, ensuring the mortal congregation’s
interests are aligned with their own.
The Ordo Dracul: Many branches of the Ordo Dracul
would be embarrassed to admit how much of their research
is funded by the Cockscomb Society. Their mutual interest
in mortal secret societies makes them natural allies, but it
doesn’t look good to have so much of the Cockerels’ dirty
34 Better Feared: Nosferatu
money tied up in the Order’s less-than-ethical experimen-
tation, especially if Kindred subjects are involved. As such,
the two groups maintain strong relations — behind closed
doors. An open Cockscomb Dragon draws the suspicion of
his fellow courtiers, and does well to keep his involvement in
any untoward “science” discreet.
Rumors
“After all that sick shit Wycombe got up to with the Abbey, you’ve
got to wonder if some of it rubbed off on his childer. Those Cockscomb
Biddies may act all buttoned-up and proper in court, but what do you
think they do when nobody’s watching? If they were okay with what
the hunters did to their own kin, how do you think they treat their
ghouls? Or their blood dolls?”
It’s true the Cockscomb Society has a certain predilection for
carnal indulgences. The languor inherent to their blood pushes
them to seek out ever more intense experiences to alleviate their
perpetual tedium. However, most Cockerels are as disturbed
by their bloodline’s unsavory history as anyone else, and take
pains to satisfy their need for novelty in ways that don’t harm
those over whom they hold power.
“You don’t really believe the Cockscomb Society went clean, do you?
Come on. Sure as shit, the Cockheads still deal in dead flesh, they
just got smarter about keeping it quiet.”
Officially, the Society denies they maintain any relationship
with Ashwood Abbey, but their network of mortal business con-
nections is so vast and complex, it would be near impossible to
prove it one way or another. While the majority of the bloodline
would much prefer to be rid of such associations, there are still
lingering links to the more corrupt side of human high society.
“The Cockscomb Society started from a pack of revenants, right?
Where do you think they all came from? I mean, they aren’t exactly
common.”
The original source of the Cockscomb Society’s slaves was
an ancient vampire Wycombe encountered in the Warrens
deep beneath his home city. This enigmatic benefactor was
one of the revenant swarm-sires known as the Neglatu, and it
permitted Wycombe to cull its brood, providing him with the
stable of slaves he needed. In exchange, the Neglatu asked only
that Wycombe use the profits to build an enduring legacy, to
which its spawn could later claim inheritance.
“Doesn’t it seem strange to you that a freak like Wycombe got so
chummy with some of the most accomplished vampire hunters in the
world? Not only that, but when he got cold feet, they just let him walk
away. I don’t buy it. The money had to have come from somewhere
else. What could that old bastard have done that he’d actually prefer
to be known as a slaver?”
The Cockscomb Society’s considerable fortune was indeed
built on Wycombe’s dealings with Ashwood Abbey. However,
a darker truth hides behind the bloodline’s origins, a secret
their founder intends to take to his Final Death. Desperate for
a way out of his dealings with the hunters and the revenants,
he sought out one of the Birds of Dis and pleaded for it to eat
his sin. An owl entered his body, and through him, commit-
ted Amaranth on the Neglatu who supplied his slaves. In so
doing, the Strix took on the stain the act would have left on
Wycombe’s soul. However, a piece of this darkness remained
with him, passed on through his bloodline in the form of their
licentious appetites.
Potter Woolsthorpe Wycombe
“Now, now. Just because we’re monsters doesn’t mean we can’t
behave like gentlemen.”
The Cockscomb Society’s founder is still active in the Danse
Macabre, and despite his unpleasant business history, Wycombe
commands considerable respect among the who’s-who of the
All Night Society. After all, he’s hardly the only elder to have
engaged in unsavory dealings. True, his transgressions are a bit
more egregious than most, considering many of his “assets” were
Kindred, but that’s all in the past now. Besides, his business is
so stimulating to his domain’s economy.
Wycombe’s name is synonymous with the Cockscomb
Society, and wherever its members are found, his influence isn’t
far behind. He’s an incredible asset to Cockerels who embody
the bloodline’s ideals of propriety, and a powerful regulatory
force for those who would tarnish the family name or misuse
its resources. However, Wycombe is getting on in the years.
His blood is thickening to the point where he’ll need to
make special feeding arrangements soon, or consider a long
slumber. He’s been putting such arrangements off, as he’s not
eager to leave his line unsupervised, or himself vulnerable.
He’ll need to make a decision soon, and he’ll need to
be quiet about it, whatever he chooses. Elders with such
particular feeding needs are distrusted enough without the
added complication of a reputation as a Kindred slaver. If
word were to get out that Potter Woolsthorpe Wycombe is
feeding on other vampires, the consequences would rever-
berate through every member of the Society.
Wycombe’s curse manifests in his hands. The white gloves he
wears cover up the dry, cracked skin, but they do little to hide
the gnarled, twisted fingers. His obsessive habit of moisturiz-
ing, sanitizing, washing, and re-moisturizing them means the
gloves are off at least as often as they’re on. Even when he isn’t
preening, he’s constantly wringing his hands, like he’s trying
to rub away some invisible stain.
Clan: Nosferatu
Bloodline: The Cockscomb Society
Covenant: Invictus
Mask: Conformist
Dirge: Competitor
Touchstone: Since cutting ties with Ashwood Abbey,
Wycombe has few meaningful mortal relationships left.
Instead, he’s attached his Humanity to his position as the
head of the Cockscomb Society, and the official repre-
sentative of the bloodline’s interests within his domain.
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 3, Wits 2, Resolve 3
Physical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 2, Stamina
2
Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 5,
Composure 3
Mental Skills: Academics 2, Occult (Revenants) 2,
Politics (High Society) 5
Physical Skills: Athletics 1, Brawl 1, Larceny 2, Stealth
1
Social Skills: Empathy 2, Expression 2, Intimidation 2,
Persuasion 5, Socialize (Balls) 4, Subterfuge 4
Merits: Allies (Ashwood Abbey) 2, City Status 4,
Cockscomb Society Status 5, Contacts (Big Business),
Dynasty Membership (Cockscomb Society) 3, Etiquette
3, Herd 3, Invictus Status 3, Invested, Laity, Languages
(Greek, Latin), Noblesse Oblige (Cockscomb Society
Elders), Nosferatu Status 1, Resources 5
Disciplines: Dominate 3, Majesty 5, Nightmare 5,
Obfuscate 3
Devotions: Cross-Contamination, Cult of Personality,
Dropping the Act, Playing the Role, Summoning
Blood Potency: 5
Health: 7
Willpower: 6
Humanity: 3
Size: 5
Speed: 9
Initiative: 5
Defense: 3
Notes: The Laity and Noblesse Oblige Merits can
be found on pp. 193 and 183 of Secrets of the
Covenants. Wycombe suffers a unique bane: His mun-
dane dice pools are limited by Humanity if his hands are
soiled, and remain so until restored to pristine condition.
If his hands are particularly soiled, he’s prone to frenzy.
This bane prevents him from suffering breaking points for
creating revenants.
Bloodline Gift: Old Money
The Cockscomb Society has access to incredible wealth and
influence. Even its newest members benefit from the bloodline’s
extensive network of mortal connections. Upon joining the
Cockscomb Society, characters with Status in their bloodline
gain one free dot of Dynasty Membership (Vampire, p. 112).
Characters with no dots gain it if they take Status at a later point.
When using New Kid to leverage the status of the dynasty’s senior
member, Potter Wycombe, she can add his Cockscomb Society
Status (•••••) instead of his Clan Status (•) to a Social roll. In
addition, for each dot of Bloodline Status a character gains, she
can access one dot of Allies, Contacts, or Resources.
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 35

New Devotions
While the Cockscomb Society relies primarily on their
material assets over powers of the Blood, there’s no denying
the Nosferatu curse has its advantages. They can blend in with
humanity in a way other Haunts can’t, and then rip off the
mask to get exactly what they want.
Playing the Role
(Majesty •, Obfuscate ••)
Sometimes it isn’t enough just to make your heart beat and
your cheeks flush. Sometimes, you need to erase the subtler
signs the curse left on you.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Willpower
Requirement: The vampire must have the Blush of Life active
when she uses this Devotion.
Dice Pool: Manipulation + Socialize + Obfuscate
Action: Instant
Duration: Scene
Roll Results
Success: The vampire suppresses her Predatory Aura to
further affect a facsimile of mortality. While this Devotion is
active, she subtracts her successes from any Humanity-based
penalties when tempting or negotiating with mortals. If suc-
cesses exceed the penalty, she gains no additional bonus.
In addition, she does not register as a vampire to other
Predatory Auras.
36 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Exceptional Success: As with a success, and if the number
of successes exceeds the vampire’s Social penalties for low
Humanity, she does add bonus dice equal to the difference.
Failure: The Blush of Life takes effect, but the Cockerel’s
power of mimicry fails to overcome her unsettling nature.
Dramatic Failure: Not only does the Devotion fail to take
effect, but the Haunt’s attempt at imitation is also deeply off-
putting. For the rest of the scene, mortals’ impressions of the
vampire are treated as one level lower in Social maneuvering.
Dropping the Act
(Nightmare ••; Special)
Sometimes it isn’t enough to blend in. By revealing his true
nature at an opportune moment, a Cockerel can use this
Devotion to turn his monstrosity to his advantage.
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn, and the vampire
must know Playing the Role.
Cost: None
Requirement: The vampire must have Playing the Role
active.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Reflexive
When attempting to force a mortal’s doors in Social maneu-
vering, the vampire can activate this Devotion and drop the
effects of the Blush of Life and Playing the Role: The victim
immediately (but briefly) becomes aware of the Cockerel’s
malignancy as a blood-drinking corpse. She suffers a breaking
point with a penalty equal to (10 – the vampire’s Humanity)
divided by two, rounding up. Remove one of the victim’s Doors
if she succeeds on the breaking point roll, or two if she fails.
 Gethsemani
THE ONES WHO MAKE YOU BELIEVE
Faith and fear are two sides of the same coin. People pray just
as often to avoid punishment as to receive favor, and the threat
of Hell motivates Christians to acts of both incredible virtue and
deepest cruelty. As with faith, you don’t need to see the object
of your fear to know it’s real. Just the possibility is enough. The
reverend up on stage preaches about an all-loving God, yet warns
you to fear His wrath more than any force in creation. Maybe
that’s a contradiction, but when you look into the wild eyes of this
pale-skinned holy man, blood seeping from the wounds on his
palms, you realize he knows things about God you could never
grasp. The Gethsemani understand the connection between
faith and fear better than most, and by the time they’re done
preaching, so will you.
Taking their name from the hill where Jesus was crucified,
the Gethsemani are a controversial bloodline, either Ecstatic
instruments of the divine, or shameless Charlatans for Christ.
Depends on who you ask. Gifted with the ability to fuel Theban
Sorcery with pain, and cursed with signs of the Savior’s suffer-
ing, the Gethsemani preach the gospel from the stage, driving
mortals into the arms of the church by awakening their fear
of God. Most of the bloodline follows the teachings of their
semi-legendary founder, Catherine de’ Ricci, a Sanctified nun
who ministered to the Kindred with displays of stigmata, heal-
ing, and other dark miracles.
The Ecstatics are a nomadic line, usually traveling in
small groups in the form of tent revival shows. If a group of
Gethsemani ever settles in one place, it’s because the local
Sanctified favor their theology, and are powerful enough to
protect them from the other covenants. That said, some of
the Ecstatics’ staunchest opponents can be found within the
Church, and many branches of the Lancea et Sanctum hunt
down Charlatans wherever they find them, condemning them
as crass heretics with a dangerous disregard for the Dark Father’s
teachings. That suits the Gethsemani fine, though. When the
heat gets too hot, they just pull up stakes, eager to deliver the
word of God to fresh ears.
The bloodline tends to creep into new domains rather than
show up all at once, setting up tents at the edge of town and
“Are you a God-fearing man?
Not yet.”
sending forth ghoul disciples to drum up an audience. Once
the curtain rises, however, subtlety is nowhere to be found.
An Ecstatic tent show is a gory, melodramatic spectacle of
awe and sacred terror. Gethsemani drip stigmatic blood into
the mouths of the faithful and desperate, calling out to God
as their Vitae cures wounds and cements belief. Violent dis-
plays of faith are common, with preachers impaling or even
crucifying themselves on stage, only to miraculously survive
due to their devotion to the Lord. Through it all, a terrible
marriage of Nightmare and Majesty works its way through
the crowd, as the assembled weep in both fear and joy. No
mortal comes out of a show unaffected, and word spreads fast
among the flock. Humans all too often mistake Disciplines for
divinity, convinced they’ve witnessed acts wrought by God’s
own hand. Church attendance soars in areas the Gethsemani
linger, as folks flock to the pews with the fear of damnation
burning in their hearts.
For all their nomadic ways, the Gethsemani are surprisingly
numerous. Their tent shows mimic family units in all the
important ways, and many Haunts believe they’ll find accep-
tance within those canvas walls. Gethsemani preach acceptance
under the Lord for works, not rejection for a twisted form. The
temptation of learning the Serpents’ gift is also a sharp hook
for young Nosferatu just coming into their curses. However,
would-be missionaries discover too late that magic tricks are
no substitute for community. The people aren’t cheering for
them, but rather what they can do. Once the lights go down
and the audience files out, all that remains is an empty tent,
and the long road ahead.
Why you want to be us
You want to see the spark of true belief in their eyes and
know you put it there. You need to know you were Damned
for a reason. You have a faith so strong it must be shared with
the world, but you also love holding a crowd in the palm of
your hand. You’ve done terrible things, and seek redemption
for your sins. We — along with the Lord — can put you on the
path to absolution.
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 37
 those changes on to his childer. Elders of the bloodline still
Why you should fear us
The crowd is always on our side. We are the
savior, and you the sinner. Fear is our left hand,
and love is our right, and between them is the
righteous blood of the Lord. To stand against
our message is to be swept away before the flood.
Why we should fear ourselves
Our faith burns so bright at times it threat-
ens to consume us. Spilling our blood in
His name still leaves us hungry, and even
the strongest prayers can’t silence the
wailing of the Beast. It draws the eyes
of the Lord’s enemies, and though
we would gladly be His mar-
tyrs, too many
upon the cross
me a n s none
are left to
spread the
gospel.
Bloodline Origins
• Early in the 15th century, a nameless
Haunt was desperate to be rid of their
curse. Hoping for a miracle, they snuck
into a convent, searching for a nun
known as Catherine de’ Ricci, who held
much renown for stigmatic displays and
other holy wonders. The poor Nosferatu
hoped by imbibing a holy woman’s blood,
their Damnation might be lessened. They
were wrong, of course, and in fury and
despair, they drained the nun to death.
Unwilling to accept the blasphemy they’d
committed, the foolish Haunt deepened it
by Embracing their victim, returning her to
the world so they might beg her forgiveness. To
their surprise, Catherine granted it, telling them
God foretold their arrival, her death, and the
road ahead. It was her destiny to walk the earth
and spread His word as one of the Nosferatu, the
lowest of the Damned. As years wore on, de’ Ricci
brought many Haunts to her cause, and from those
disciples, her bloodline sprang.
• de’ Ricci leads the Gethsemani, but not as one of the
Kindred. When her would-be sire murdered her, the
corpse spoke to him in a strange, wailing language
that caused the wounds of Christ to erupt from
his flesh, and painful visions to warp his mind.
Following these revelations led him to hidden places
of forgotten knowledge, altering his blood and passing
38 Better Feared: Nosferatu
guard Catherine de’ Ricci’s body, now a mummified husk,
and it periodically emits more screeching instructions.
Wherever she bids them go, one or more coteries
travel under the guise of a tent show to enact her will.
Over the centuries, domains have risen and fallen,
Kindred sired and destroyed, all at the behest of a
five-hundred-year-old corpse.
• Three shepherds were witness to the birth
of the Savior, led to his manger by an angel in
the guise of a star. Two of the shepherds lived
pious lives and went on to their reward, but the
third fell to the fangs of a hungry corpse and
rose as one of the dead, denied the paradise
he only glimpsed. After many years of mis-
ery, he returned to the hill where he first
witnessed the divine, and cried out in sup-
plication to the star that once shone for
him. After many nights,
it answered his lament,
but his dead flesh could
not bear the presence
of a holy messen-
ger, and erupted in
bloody wounds. Yet the
shepherd bore the pain, and begged
the angel for a second chance to gain entry into
the Kingdom of Heaven. Moved by the dead
thing’s devotion, the angel answered with a
single word: “Testify.” The Shepherd vowed
to do as the angel commanded, and journeyed
to Gethsemane to join the Savior whose birth
he once witnessed. Instead, the shepherd wit-
nessed his murder — but even this could not
shake his faith. He would spend his eternity
spreading the righteous fear of God, so when
he beheld the Savior for a third time, he might
be forgiven.
Parent Clan: Nosferatu
Nicknames: Ecstatics, Revivalists, Charlatans
(disrespectful)
Bloodline Bane (The Stigmatist Curse):
Gethsemani are defined by their relationship with
God, and He marks them each night so all might
know His glory. To resist the Lord’s favor, an Ecstatic
must spend additional Vitae equal to Blood Potency
divided by two (rounding up) when he rises for the
night. If he cannot or will not, stigmatic wounds erupt
from his flesh. These injuries are grotesque and hard
to hide, reducing Humanity by one dot for the purposes
of the Nosferatu clan bane, as onlookers either react
with disgust or holy dread. Stigmatic wounds are not
damaging, and heal in daysleep.
Disciplines: Majesty, Nightmare, Obfuscate,
Resilience
In the Covenants
It’s rare to find Gethsemani outside the ranks of the
Sanctified, but it’s not unheard of. Faith often crumbles before
the horrors of the Danse Macabre.
The Carthian Movement: Runaway Revivalists find their
skill at stoking crowds into righteous fury has a natural
home within the Movement. Trading a pulpit for a soapbox,
a Gethsemani discovers railing against social injustice alights
her passion more than repeating the words of an uncaring
God ever did.
The Circle of the Crone: Few are more zealous than the
converted, and Ecstatic Acolytes live up to the image their
nickname evokes. Fear and blood soak the ground they walk
on as they whip their fellows into extreme acts in the name
of their goddess. Gethsemani in the Circle mutilate the flesh
where their stigmata appear, carving runes sacred to the Dark
Mother so their skin might be stained red in her honor each
night. A few Acolyte Gethsemani play an even more dangerous
game: selling the secrets of Theban Sorcery. Few Ecstatics this
foolish survive for long, but a few of the bloodline’s rituals
have spread among the chorus, and it may only be a matter of
time before the Sanctified decide to deal with the bloodline’s
traitors in a more brutal fashion.
The Invictus: Perhaps the easiest step a disillusioned
Gethsemani can take is from the Second Estate to the First.
Every corporate structure needs someone in marketing. An
Invictus Gethsemani is both deal maker and hype man, hitting
rivals with combinations of fear and charm until they’re willing
to sign anything just to please him. They become corporate
gurus, trading Bible verses for buzz words as they lead seminars
devoted to ruthless economic exploitation. The next tax write-
off is on them.
The Lancea et Sanctum: This is where the vast majority
of Gethsemani reside, even if their theology diverges from
mainstream Sanctified thought. The Ecstatics act far too much
like “real” Christians, preaching to mortals rather than testing
them from the shadows. They seek to ignite the spark of belief,
whether through wonder or terror, and leave other Sanctified
to tend the resulting flames. Liberal Sanctified see this as a
symbiotic relationship, and point to the Gethsemani’s stigmata
as proof of their favor with the Lord. However, conservatives
see the Charlatans as dangerous heretics who make a mockery
of Longinus with their stage antics. They would have driven
the Charlatans out long ago… if it wasn’t for their affinity for
Theban Sorcery.
The Ordo Dracul: Where do you go when you’ve renounced
God, but still bleed the wounds of Christ every night? Militant
secularism is often a refuge for those who’ve broken with faith,
and the Defiant have no problem accepting such strays into
their ranks — all the better to experiment with their abilities.
What does it mean when a Gethsemani practicing the Coil of
the Voivode reports those who drink her blood are inclined to
worship rather than serve? What about when she realizes it’s
not her they’re worshiping?
Rumors
“If you ever get invited to one of those big Sanctified tent shows,
don’t go. The hacks who run them have some sort of mind-control
to brainwash crowds, Kindred included. Happened to a former cote-
rie-mate of mine. Dyed-in-the-wool Invictus — you know the type: fast
cars, wads of money, a himbo on each arm, yadda-yadda. Anyway,
this guy goes to a couple of shows, and the next thing you know,
he’s ‘seen the light,’ and he’s selling his Benz to make donations to
fucking charity!”
The Gethsemani can’t force anyone to convert, but their
abilities have just as powerful an effect on vampires as they do
on mortals. A story Kindred still tell in Florida recounts how
the Prince of Jacksonville’s childe lost a bet and had to take in
every show a newly arrived troupe of Gethsemani were putting
on. At first the neonate was reluctant, but by the seventh night
they were first in line. Not only did this childe jump ship to
the Lancea et Sanctum from the Carthians (much to their
sire’s humiliation), but they also made a sizable donation to
the Church from the Movement’s war chest. The Prince called
a blood hunt on the Gethsemani, but they’d already moved
on. The fate of the converted childe is unknown.
“It wasn’t de’ Ricci who created the Gethsemani, but rather her
anonymous sire. Consuming the holy woman did imbue them with
special powers, but also an addiction to the blood of the faithful.
They assumed her identity in order to infiltrate the ranks of the
Sanctified, to gain ready access to the blood of clergy. But, as they
aged, they found feeding on religious mortals no longer sufficed, and
realized they needed the Vitae of faithful Kindred to sustain their
appetites. They founded the bloodline to feed this hunger, using the
pretense of evangelism to keep their childer’s faith strong, enough so
to slake their own thirst.”
False, at least according to the Gethsemani, but it’s the
sort of long game an elder might play to keep away from the
grasp of torpor. No one knows anything about the mysterious
Haunt who sired de’ Ricci, after all… except, perhaps, elders
of the Lancea et Sanctum, in one of their forbidden vaults of
knowledge. Of course, if the Spear knows the true founder of
this problematic bloodline was a fraud addicted to holy blood,
they would have said something by now. Right?
“Those Haunt preachers who smile so wide and prattle on about
the Lord? Every so often, instead of a gaudy little show, they just
slaughter the audience — a massive blood sacrifice to their God. Very
Old Testament. You doubt me? Here, call up the Sheriff of Little Rock
and ask her what happened at the Tent Massacre of ’37…”
Half true, though the Ecstatics would never admit it. A
Revivalist in the 30s was trying to preach to a crowd, and
nothing was going right. Rather than a commanding pres-
ence invoking the fear of God, he was just a fish-eyed man
extolling a deity many believed had abandoned America.
It was only when they started laughing that he finally
snapped, and the first heckler was dead before the Haunt
realized what he was doing. At that point, his Beast decided
everyone who’d witnessed his humiliation needed to go to
the Lord, and went about slaughtering the audience until
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 39
 the canvas was soaked red. There was only one survivor: A
young woman the preacher Embraced to take the fall for
him. They’re both still out there, and each will pay well for
proof of the other’s destruction.
“The Charlatans are here! They arrived two nights ago, and are even
now filling the minds of the masses with the words of the Adversary!
We must go forth and purge the heretics from our borders, lest they
bring ruination to this domain, and all who reside within it!”
The Gethsemani don’t actually come to cities with the intent
to disrupt them (nor are they in league with the Devil), but
it’s true that domains tend to suffer for their presence. The
Ecstatics aren’t subtle, and often put their holy mission above
the needs of the Masquerade. Domains that sit along Revivalist
routes treat them like a passing hurricane. Some hunker down
and wait out the storm, while others try and use the chaos to
their advantage. But what about a domain that’s not on the
usual routes? How would an unprepared city react when the
Gethsemani pitch their tents and threaten a status quo that’s
stood for decades?
Angel Dee
“Well, ain’t y’all just the sweetest audience I ever did see! Can I
get an amen to that?”
Delilah Donaldson first stepped onto the stage as “Angel
Dee” when she was just thirteen, as part of her father’s
traveling revival show. With her hometown good looks and
thousand-watt smile, she soon became the star attraction. But
as Delilah grew up, she began to have doubts. Not about God
— her faith in Him never wavered. No, Delilah’s doubts came
out of taking money from all those smiling, desperate people
packing her father’s tent at every performance.
When Papa retired, Delilah hoped to leave the revivalist
life behind, but soon found she didn’t have the education or
skills to do much else. Out of desperation, she signed on with
America Worships, a tent revival a friend of her father’s worked
on. This friend, Joseph Russo, had a face like a squashed frog,
but he could play an audience better than anyone Delilah had
ever seen. When she accidentally walked in on him fangs-deep
in a client who’d paid for a private counseling session, the
Gethsemani panicked and brought Delilah screaming into
the All Night Society.
After she got over the initial shock of her new existence,
Delilah was, at first, thrilled by what Russo was doing. What
nobler cause could there be than the Damned spreading the
word of God? What better proof of His love? Unfortunately,
as she learned most of her sire’s “miracles” were just common
Kindred abilities, all her old doubts came rushing back.
These nights, Delilah is waiting for an excuse to jump ship
from the revival circuit, or maybe even the Lancea et Sanctum
altogether. It’s uncertain how her sire would react to being
abandoned by his bright young star, and even more uncertain
where she might actually find safe haven — but Angel Dee is
determined to take control of her Requiem.
40 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Delilah’s Humanity has yet to fall, and thus far she’s
avoided the Lonely Curse. She’s terrified of what her clan’s
heritage might do to her one night, so she obsessively checks
herself for signs of mutation or infestation. Her sire’s twisted
visage is a source of constant anxiety, but this manifests in
a strange defensiveness about his looks, as she fears she’ll
inherit them one night. She lashes out at anyone who dares
insult Russo’s face, and with her social skills and Disciplines,
such barbs can be devastating.
Clan: Nosferatu
Bloodline: Gethsemani
Covenant: Lancea et Sanctum (for now)
Mask: Martyr
Dirge: Idealist
Touchstone: Her father, Hank. She still calls him every
Sunday night, no matter where in the country she’s
performing.
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 2, Wits 3, Resolve 2
Physical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 2, Stamina 3
Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 3,
Composure 3
Mental Skills: Academics (Theban Sorcery) 1,
Medicine 1, Occult (Christian Mythology, End Times) 2,
Politics 3
Physical Skills: Athletics 2, Brawl 1, Drive (Long Hauls)
2, Firearms 1
Social Skills: Empathy 5, Expression (Preaching) 4,
Intimidation 2, Persuasion 3, Socialize 3, Subterfuge 2
Merits: Haven 2, Herd 3, Honeytrap, Status (Lancea et
Sanctum) 1, Allies (Revivalists) 4, Fame 1, Inspiring, Safe
Place 2, Staff 2, Stigmata, Striking Looks 2
Disciplines: Majesty 2, Nightmare 2, Resilience 1,
Theban Sorcery 1
Devotions: Cross-Contamination, Iron Dogma, Wet
Dream
Rituals: Crown of Thorns, Vitae Reliquary
Blood Potency: 1
Health: 9
Willpower: 5
Humanity: 7
Size: 5
Speed: 9
Initiative: 5
Defense: 4
Notes: The Stigmata Merit can be found on p. 193 of
Secrets of the Covenants.
Bloodline Gift: Stigmatica
All Gethsemani have an intrinsic connection to Theban
Sorcery, allowing them to substitute their flesh for the sacrifices
required to fuel miracles. Called Stigmatica for the marks de’
Ricci bore, whenever a Gethsemani attempts a Theban Sorcery
miracle, she can choose to take lethal damage equal to the
ritual’s dot rating instead of providing a Sacrament.
This damage manifests as the sudden eruption of stigmata
across the Ecstatic’s body, and cannot be negated in any way.
This is a rapturous process for the Gethsemani, and she only
feels the pain from her wounds after the ritual resolves. An
Ecstatic is limited to taking five points of damage in this
manner per night, corresponding with the five sacred wounds
of Christ (even if she’s already bearing her bloodline bane).
Furthermore, this damage cannot be healed until the vampire
next sleeps, or enters torpor.
New Theban Sorcery Miracles
With their unique method of performing Theban Sorcery,
it should come as no surprise that the Gethsemani have
developed a few miracles of their own. Taught almost exclu-
sively within their own bloodline, Ecstatic Theban Sorcery is
loud, bloody, and always a spectacle. Often performed before
an audience, these rituals are designed to evoke reactions of
both awe and fear.
Gethsemani characters with Bloodline Status can draw from
these rituals when choosing a free miracle for purchasing a dot
of Theban Sorcery, but note that this does not allow them to
learn the Discipline without Sanctified membership. It’s possi-
ble for a Theban Sorcerer outside the bloodline to learn these
rituals, but they require a Gethsemani teacher.
Crown of Thorns (•)
Target Successes: 5
Resisted: by Stamina
Sacrament: A sprig of thorns, swallowed by the ritualist.
The ritualist disfigures a victim within a mile of her location
with a tortuous ring of bony thorns formed from his own skull.
The victim suffers a point of bashing damage as tiny hooks of
bone burst through the flesh of his head in a ring running just
above his eyebrows. So long as they remain, the victim suffers
a penalty equal to Potency on all Social actions. Between the
bleeding wounds and the visible, unnatural thorns, the victim
is frightening to behold — many mundane Social actions may
be impossible as a result. After a scene, the thorns quickly and
painfully recede.
Although damage caused by these thorns heals as normal,
they leave behind gruesome, sticky scars for a number of nights
equal to the vampire’s Theban Sorcery dots. These scars plague
mortal and Kindred victims alike, and especially pious or
superstitious persons will react unfavorably.
Holy Visions (••)
Target Successes: 4
Contested: by Resolve + Blood Potency
Sacrament: A mirror smeared with the blood of the victim.
The vampire prepares this miracle and then activates it by
touching the intended victim before the end of the night. If
successful, the ritualist inflicts a rapturous vision, lasting for a
number of turns equal to Theban Sorcery dots. As long as the
vision lasts, the victim suffers the Insensate Tilt as their body
spasms and shakes in response to the divine imagery flooding
their mind. The ritualist cannot control the exact nature of
what her victim sees, but she can make the vision revolve around
a simple theme such as penance or charity. When the vision
ends, the victim gains the Inspired Condition with regard to
this theme, which could be up to their own interpretation if
the ritualist does not specify one.
Confession (•••)
Target Successes: 6
Contested: by Resolve + Blood Potency
Sacrament: A physical likeness of the victim, whether a
photograph or an artistic rendering.
The ritualist compels a victim within a mile of her location
to proclaim his sins. What counts as a sin is up to the mind of
victim, but will usually be whatever actions are weighing heavi-
est upon his conscience. The victim will shout out misdeeds
for turns equal to the vampire’s Theban Sorcery dots before
regaining control of himself. The victim cannot stop himself
from confessing while under this ritual’s power, but he can flee
to a location without witnesses, or otherwise try to mitigate
who hears his crimes.
Rain of Blood (••••)
Target Successes: 11
Sacrament: A single ruby of any size or cut.
The Gethsemani calls out to the Lord to smite her enemies,
invoking the name of Noah to summon a storm of thick,
corrosive blood. This applies whether she’s inside or outside.
The rain comes on gradually, at first with just a few spurts and
spits, then goes into a full-scale deluge without warning. Once
it’s in full swing, this downpour imposes the Heavy Rain Tilt,
affecting anyone caught within a forty-meter radius (or less, if
the vampire chooses). He can anoint allies with the sign of the
cross before the casting to render them immune.
This effect lasts a scene, and inflicts one point of lethal dam-
age per turn, even on Kindred. Only full cover can stop its holy
burning. Mortals must make a reflexive Stamina + Composure
roll to prevent being nauseated by the viscera raining down on
them. On a failure, they suffer the Sick Tilt (moderate) until
they can escape. This miracle can provoke frenzy in hungry
vampires, but the blood cannot be consumed as Vitae.
The sorcerer can end this miracle early with an instant action.
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 41

Stigmatic Feast (•••••)
Target Successes: 8
Resisted: by Stamina
Sacrament: A crown of thorns placed upon the head of the
subject, woven by the ritualist.
A variant of the more common Stigmata miracle, the
Gethsemani have learned to draw strength from the wounds
of Christ. If successful, the ritualist blesses a subject — who
must be present for the ritual — with stigmatic injuries for
turns equal to Potency. Whether mortal, ghoul, or Kindred
(or herself), they bleed a Vitae per turn from these wounds,
causing lethal damage to mortals from blood loss. Anyone who
consumes a point of Vitae shed this way gains an additional dot
of a single Physical Attribute of their player’s choice, raising any
corresponding derived traits. This bonus lasts until sunrise. If
this would raise the individual’s Attribute rating above the cap
imposed by Blood Potency, they gain a single point of Willpower
instead. If the victim of this ritual is Kindred, drinking their
blood risks Vitae addiction and the Vinculum as usual.
New Devotions
In addition to the miracles above, the Gethsemani have a
few baser tricks up their sleeves.
Iron Dogma
(Majesty ••, Resilience •)
The vampire makes her words ring true in the victim’s ear
long after she’s departed his company.
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn.
Cost: 1 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire must inflict the Charmed
Condition on the victim within the same scene.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Reflexive
42 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Magnifying the effect of Confidant, the victim now views
the vampire’s opinions, arguments, and beliefs as intrinsically
true, and is impossible to convince otherwise. As long as the
Charmed Condition lasts, all attempts to persuade the victim
of the vampire’s lies suffer her Majesty dots as a penalty. Halve
this penalty (rounding up), if the victim is presented with direct
evidence, such as video or photos.
Regnum Caelorum
(Majesty •••••, Obfuscate •••••)
This potent Devotion allows Gethsemani to control not only
what people see and hear within her Oubliette, but also how
they feel about it. This experience leaves most mortals shaken,
crying tears of wonder — or shame, depending on the content
of the Ecstatic’s sermon.
This Devotion costs 5 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Willpower
Requirement: The vampire must be within his Oubliette
when activating this Devotion.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Instant
Duration: Night
The vampire imbues his Oubliette with the raw force of his
faith and charisma, allowing him free reign to use Majesty
powers that usually only affect a single victim across crowds
of stunned onlookers. The vampire can use Confidant, Green
Eyes, Loyalty, and Iron Dogma on groups of people as long as
each victim can hear and see him, and is wholly within his
Oubliette. A group of humans resists with the highest appropri-
ate Resistance Attribute in the group, but any Kindred present
get separate rolls.
When using Green Eyes, Iron Dogma, or Loyalty on a group
within the Oubliette, the vampire only needs to pay the Vitae
costs once per activation, no matter how many people he wants
to influence.
 Keepers of the
THE ONES WHO WALL YOU IN
Have you ever made a mistake you wish you could take
back? One that seemed like nothing at the time, but then
spiraled out of control and changed your life forever. What
would you give to take it back? What would you give to keep
the past buried forever? Some secrets are worth killing over.
Or worse. The Keepers of the Dark understand that better
than anyone.
Humankind is blissfully unaware of the hungry beasts
squirming beneath their feet. The dark corners of the earth
shelter terrors that cavort upon the planet’s mantle. They are
hungry, they are angry, and they are desperate for a way out.
Unlucky for us, these writhing aberrations have help. Cultists
and other fanatics build elaborate lies to venerate them as gods,
and some are even foolish enough to think their worship will
elevate them above the chattel in the end to come. The Keepers
have sworn their Requiems to delay this end. It’s their duty, after
all, as they’re the ones who started us down this doomed path.
Eons ago, a brood of Nosferatu dug greedily and deeply in
service to a lust forgotten to history. Gold? Secrets? Power?
Only one thing is certain: what they were searching for was
less important than what they found. These beings, which the
Keepers call Chthons, were nightmares without form, older
than time and hungry as the void. In their hubris, these Haunts
did the unthinkable: they woke them up.
Those who survived became the Keepers of the Dark. A
secret society bound together by cursed blood, they work with-
out rest to keep the things beyond at bay. These self-appointed
Wardens track cults, arcane artifacts, and other Chthonic
influences around the globe, and each brings their own
special talents to the fight against the darkness. One is a glo-
betrotting archeologist who delves into tombs, stealing relics,
weapons, and histories that could reveal critical weaknesses
in the Chthons. Another is a librarian of a boundless archive,
risking her mind to take statements from traumatized mortals
and supernatural creatures who’ve survived the Chthons. Yet
another was once a simple miner who now constructs mazes
under the largest cities of the world, working to trap the enemy
beneath the earth forever.
“You shouldn’t have come down here.
I hope you’re comfortable; you’ll be staying awhile.”
Dark
Indeed, perhaps the greatest asset the Keepers possess is their
ability to forge powerful domains called Labyrinths. Within
these twisting mazes, the Keepers seek to slow the rise of the
Chthons and trap their minions in an endless black spiral.
Don’t mistake them for heroes, however — their utilitarian
philosophy overwhelms any semblance of morality they may
have once had. The Keepers are the ultimate pragmatists, and
will partner with everything from Belial’s Brood to the Seers
of the Throne if it gives them an edge. The Wardens don’t care
about the nature of their allies, or the cost such allegiances may
extract from their souls. No cost is too high to pay to stave off
the coming dark.
Why you want to be us
You’ve felt it. You’ve seen it. You think this world is broken,
cracked like a rotten egg with the foul stench of corruption
oozing out. The truth is worse: The world isn’t broken, but it
will be. Our tainted reality is but the first issuance from things
that pupate in the deep, dark below. You cannot stop them.
But we can.
Why you should fear us
What would you do to save your family? Your lover? Your
home? Your neighbor? Now round up. What would you do to
save them all? The long and wretched dark is drawing near, and
we will do anything to stop the clock from striking midnight.
If the price is our souls, so be it, but we will drag you to hell
along with us if it furthers even an inch of our cause.
Why we should fear ourselves
Nietzsche got at least one thing right — the dark stares back,
and it’s enough to break the most jaded soul. It takes a pure,
raw dedication to keep the dark at bay, and even the slightest
crack lets it in. It rots us. Changes us. It hollows us out and
turns us into something awful. No one tells us this before
we accept the duty, and once you fall, you don’t come back.
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 43
 Bloodline Origins
• Before recorded history, the Nosferatu who would become the Keepers of the Dark burrowed into
fertile soil beneath the city of Lygos. In their lust for wealth, they dug too deep, and unearthed a
terror beyond time or comprehension. The creature was a pale worm, writhing in a cocoon of its
own stringy ichor, and it consumed many Haunts with its hundred grasping maws. Those who
escaped survived in the tunnels by drinking the blood of burrowing creatures and adventurous
men. By the time they escaped to the surface, they were something else. They named
themselves for their sworn oath to bury the creature and its ilk in the deep, and thus
the Keepers of the Dark began their eternal toil to seal away the darkness.
• Long ago, a cult of sorcerers wielded their power with wisdom and restraint.
However, these were mortal men, born of the womb and destined for the grave. The
fear of their impending doom swelled within each of their hearts like a worm, and
so they sought power from other sources. In their hubris, they believed they could
make a pact with creatures beyond the veil of reality in exchange for eternal life
— to bargain with what had never been born, and therefore could never truly
die. In a way, they succeeded. These once wise men and women may still exist
today, corrupted and twisted by the fell touch of the things from places that
are not, and will never truly die without a helping hand. But the price that
seemed oh-so-sweet those forgotten ages long ago will soon come due with
interest, and unless stopped, those strange beings will take their due from this
world. Perhaps then death will be a blessing.
• Once upon a midnight darkly, a prince was mortally wounded on the horns of a
bull. He was beloved by the kingdom, and all the people of the land wept for him.
His father the king sought council from the greatest minds, from holy men to
doctors to wizards to shamans, but none could save the prince’s life. The king’s
final summons brought an inventor to his court, and the man shared the story
of a slumbering creature in the tunnels beneath the city’s mines, whose flesh
and blood could heal any wound. The king ordered the man to lead his son to
the creature with a small retinue, and the inventor reluctantly agreed. Seven long
nights passed before the man returned, cold and changed, without the prince. With
trembling words, he told of what transpired in the depths, of what he had become,
and of what the prince now served. He asked one favor of the king, who granted it
in horror. Under the inventor’s guidance, they built a maze the prince could never
escape — twistingly ever after.
Parent Clan: Nosferatu
Nicknames: Wardens, Mole-Rats (disrespectful)
Bloodline Bane (The Radiant Curse): The Wardens spend so much time in dark-
ness that light mystifies them, and on some level, they crave it. Any bright light, such
as a flashlight, a bonfire, or even a full moon, inflicts the Distracted Condition for
the rest of the scene if the vampire fails a Humanity roll to resist its lure.
Disciplines: Auspex, Nightmare, Obfuscate, Resilience

In the Covenants
The Carthian Movement: There are few things the Firebrands respect more
than dedication to a cause. The Wardens have that in spades, and those who earn
Carthian solidarity can destabilize threats with extreme prejudice. In many ways,
the Wardens are a global conspiracy in the form of a bloodline, and while the true
nature of their networks remains secretive, the value of those connections has not.
Carthian Wardens ferry information, equipment, and even Kindred into hostile
territories using their bloodline’s vast resources and many allies. If that keeps the
Chthons at bay and furthers the fight for Kindred freedom, so much the better.

44 Better Feared: Nosferatu

 The Circle of the Crone: Worshipping a dark goddess may
seem antithetical to the Wardens’ philosophy, but even the
bloodiest deity is still a lesser monster than the Chthons.
Acolyte Keepers use their lore to rally causes and guide the rest
of the covenant toward a worthy battle. The Mother’s Army
is, as the name suggests, an army, and nothing unites soldiers
like an enemy. Wardens rally the troops through a mythos that
holds the Chthons as abortive mutations of the Mother’s womb,
or the machinations of a usurper god. Naturally, the cults of
these upstarts are also fair game.
The Invictus: Invictus Wardens play global games of chess
with the Chthons and their cults. Membership in the First Estate
allows a well-connected Keeper to protect immense geographical
regions, and to fund both research and project development on
a massive scale. Need access to an ancient dig site in Tibet? See
you next Tuesday. Looking to acquire a specimen from the moon?
Let me direct you to my friend at the Smithsonian.
The Lancea et Sanctum: Penitence runs through the soul of
every Warden, making perfect disciples for the Dark Father. That
said, some Sanctified believe the bloodline’s devotion to their
apocalyptic cause is, perhaps, too great, to the point of eclipsing
their faith in the Lord. A clever Sanctified Warden hybridizes
her beliefs, presenting her mission as a natural outgrowth of
her religion. How better to recruit other Judges without their
knowledge?
The Ordo Dracul: Dedication to discovery makes the
Wardens a prized addition to the Ordo Dracul. However,
though they excel as researchers, their true value is in internal
affairs, to root out any illicit, dangerous, or cultish research
in the halls of the academy. Usually Sworn of the Axe, or
even the Impaled, these Wardens often study the Coil of the
Ascendant, a tool they can use to force their enemies out into
the light. The bloodline’s familiarity with secret societies also
gives them an advantage at inter-covenant politics, allowing
them to unseat rivals by eliminating their influences over
cults and other mortal organizations.
Rumors
“I hear there’s a Warren of Mole-Rats on every continent. London is
their central archive, and it’s where they keep accounts of every record,
statement, and encounter they’ve ever had with the weird.”
The Wardens amass information the same way as cancer
researchers: Keep what’s useful and seal the rest away. While
London is home to the most well-known of these archives, it’s
hardly the largest collection. It is, however, the only archive
that allows visitors — with a significant donation, of course.
The Keepers are particularly well-disposed to granting access to
other denizens of the night, in exchange for firsthand accounts
concerning the dark powers.
“The Keepers of the Dark act high and mighty, but that’s a cover.
They’re just a bunch of ex-Nazi licks who scrubbed their history after
the war. They were doing all sorts of evil shit for the Reich, like trying
to end the world and summon god-knows-what manner of monsters.
Story Seed: Chthonic Taxonomy
So, what are the Chthons really? That depends
on the story you want to tell:
The Chthons are vampires. Perhaps they’re
childer of the first Nosferatu, or the Brothers Worm
of legend. They could also be what happens when
a Strix possesses a vampire so long the fusion warps
their shared physical frame, or antediluvian elders
in the end stages of the Noctuku Strain (p. 127).
Maybe they’re not so easily defined, representing
a form of ur-vampire that existed long before the
Kindred became Kindred.
The Chthons are unrelated to vampires. The
Chthons are the Insatiable of Beast: The Primordial…
or the Idigam from Werewolf: The Forsaken… or
the True Fae from Changeling: The Lost. Maybe
they’re a melding of these creatures, some horrible
accident of fate that seeks to mend itself with the
purifying blood of humanity.
The Chthons are Infrastructure. These beings
aren’t really “beings” at all, but dormant mechanisms
of the God-Machine. Awakening these structures
hinders/helps the God-Machine by disrupting/
reactivating a forgotten system, which may attract
the attention of angels or the Unchained.
Fucking Nazis, man.”
False. The Keepers of the Dark have been around for far lon-
ger than any Reich, let alone the third. However, the Wardens
did play a role in confronting a branch of Nazi occultism called
the Thule Society after World War II. A renowned Warden
cult hunter and her coterie took down this cult’s surviving
members one by one, and presented them each with a choice:
Repent, or join the Fuhrer in Hell. To their surprise, a small
breakaway of the Thule Society was already working toward
this same goal, and the Keepers have provided funding and
guidance to this schism ever since. Strange bedfellows, yes,
but the Wardens know what it’s like to atone for past sins.
“It’s widely known the Keepers are obsessed with things beneath
the surface, but I’ve uncovered funding records linking them to rather
high-level NASA projects. Namely, Apollo 11 and 17 — the first and
last visits to the moon.”
The Wardens have theories about the existence of Chthons
on other worlds, and some even believe the earthbound ones
come from the stars. Stories circulate about the bloodline
funding space exploration, from the Space Race to modern
private space-faring ventures, but it’s unclear if this has led to
anything tangible. Recently, a faction of East Asian Keepers
has been working to place a ghoul on a Chinese lunar mission,
but to what end is unknown, even to the rest of the bloodline.
Even stranger, leaked documents suggest they have the backing
of an Uratha front group, but whether this is the hand of the
Forsaken or the Pure is another matter…
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 45

Elizabeth Brathwaite
“This is the only confirmed account of the beast that terrorized
Vawkavysk in the 1810s. Please do be a dear and wear gloves. That’s
real skin it’s bound in.”
Born into a wealthy British family in 1851, Elizabeth was
the only girl in a long line of boys. Plain and argumentative
by nature, she knew from an early age her marriage prospects
were nil, so she instead focused on her studies, eventually join-
ing the third class of women ever admitted into the University
of London. However, it wasn’t the school’s academic reputation
that brought her to its doors. Rather, it was the science depart-
ment’s links to a Chthonic cult. Obsessed with understanding
the occult since childhood, infiltrating was Elizabeth’s way of
taking a firmer rein on her reality.
Unfortunately, her induction didn’t go as planned. In the
midst of a grand ritual, the cult’s countryside temple ignited
with a flame so hot it left no bodies. Elizabeth was somehow
the only survivor, and she might have sworn off the occult
forever had the saboteur not revealed himself. Shocked to
find her among the wreckage, the Warden agent asked a single
question: “How?” When she replied, “I wasn’t finished,” he
hired her on the spot.
Elizabeth served the Keepers’ London archive for nearly
forty years before earning her Embrace, preferring not to
be “blinkered” by the Vinculum as a ghoul. Having suc-
ceeded her sire as chief archivist, she now commands one
of the greatest stockpiles of arcane knowledge in the United
Kingdom — if not the world — much of which she’s personally
collected. This includes the contact information of a number
of other supernatural creatures, including mages, mummies,
and even stranger beings.
Although her assistants wish she’d slow down, Elizabeth
remains an active investigator. Even tonight, residents of
the EU and UK who encounter the unexplained might get
a visit from an old, harsh-featured woman with eyes like
burning coal. It’s best to be honest with her. Earn a favor.
The extraction process is far less pleasant.
Elizabeth’s clan curse coats her skin with dry, scaling dust
that leaves a trail on whatever she touches, and even permeates
her coarse, gravelly voice.
Clan: Nosferatu
Bloodline: Keepers of the Dark
Covenant: Ordo Dracul
Mask: Conspirator
Dirge: Guru
Touchstone: The London archive, which she considers
the childe she never had.
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 5, Wits 3, Resolve 4
Physical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 3, Stamina 2
Social Attributes: Presence 2, Manipulation 3,
Composure 5
46 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Mental Skills: Academics (Research) 4, Computer 2,
Crafts 1, Investigation (Sequence of Events) 4, Medicine
2, Occult (Rituals) 5, Politics 2, Science 3
Physical Skills: Larceny 2, Stealth (Silence) 4, Survival 3
Social Skills: Empathy 2, Intimidation (Veiled Threats)
4, Subterfuge 4
Merits: Advanced Library (Chthons, Demons, Ghosts,
Mages, Werewolves) 5, Common Sense, Contacts
(Mages), Darksight, Eidetic Memory, Eye for the
Strange, Haven 2, Library 4, A Nose for Secrets, Ordo
Dracul Status 4, Resources 2, Retainer 4, Ritual Buster
3, Safe Place 5, Staff 3, Sworn
Disciplines: Auspex 4, Coil of the Ascendant 2,
Nightmare 2, Obfuscate 3, Resilience 2
Devotions: Gargoyle’s Vigilance
Blood Potency: 3
Health: 9
Willpower: 9
Humanity: 5
Size: 5
Speed: 10
Initiative: 8
Defense: 3
Notes: Elizabeth suffers the Webs bane (Vampire, p.
109), but does not risk detachment for going more than
a month without human contact.
New Merits
The Wardens have access to the following abilities in their
war against the Chthons.
Darksight (••)
Prerequisite: Keeper of the Dark, Acute Senses
Effect: Your character’s blood is attuned to darkness. His
senses are sharpened by the absence of light to such a degree
that he gains the Advanced Action quality on any Perception
rolls made in total darkness.
Labyrinth (• to •••••)
Prerequisite: Keeper of the Dark, Safe Space •
Effect: A Labyrinth is a mystical enclosure the Keepers of
the Dark use to keep the Chthons and their servants at bay,
usually in the form of a maze (or a Maze; see below). When
first entering a Labyrinth, intruders must succeed on a Wits
+ Composure roll, minus the Labyrinth’s dot rating. On a
failure, they gain the Confused Condition. Even on a success,
they must make this roll every half hour they remain until
they fail or exceptionally succeed.
 While inside the Labyrinth, your character can distribute her
Merit dots among Initiative, Defense, and Speed in whatever way
she likes, but it takes an instant action to reallocate these bonuses.
Drawback: A Labyrinth must be built primarily underground
to function.
Library, Advanced (• to •••••)
Prerequisites: Library •••, Safe Place (special)
Effect: Your character not only possesses a massive, credible
library, but she also hoards thorough information about highly
secretive supernatural topics. For each dot in this Merit, choose
a topic. This could be “vampires,” “mages,” or any other super-
natural force in the world. When your character consults her
library on one of those topics, take the Informed Condition
relating to it (Chronicles of Darkness, p. 289). You can do this
once per story, per topic.
Advanced Library has a special prerequisite: Your character
requires a Safe Place equal to its dot rating. As with Library,
characters can share a library location (and the players split
the cost in dots).
A Nose for Secrets (•)
Prerequisite: Keeper of the Dark
Effect: The Keepers have a sixth sense for cults and
secret societies. Whenever your character sees someone
who possesses Merits or other traits relating to a cult, he
experiences a strange sensation, like a crawling itch, a foul
odor on the breeze, or even the faint sensation of writhing
worms on his tongue.
Drawback: Your character won’t know the nature of the cult
or its connection to the subject, only that it exists.
Ritual Buster (• to •••)
Prerequisites: Keeper of the Dark, Occult •••, Rituals
Specialty in Academics or Occult
Effect: There are innumerable dark rites throughout the
world waiting to bring about the end times. While the Keepers
of the Dark aren’t innately inclined toward mysticism, their
knowledge of rituals and how to disrupt them gives them a
powerful edge on their enemies.
As an instant action, your character can impose their dots
in this Merit as a penalty to all ritual magic within (Blood
Potency) meters. This is a subtle act of will, only traceable if
the victim knows where to look. If the roll results in a failure,
your character can reflexively spend a Willpower to have it
dramatically fail instead. This Merit affects all ritual casting,
such as blood sorcery, Uratha rites, Krewe ceremonies, and
anything related to supernatural darkness.
Drawback: Using this ability takes a significant amount
of concentration. On any turn she uses Ritual Buster, your
character sacrifices her Defense.
The Sealed Door (•• or •••)
Prerequisite: Labyrinth •
Effect: Your character can use Vitae to fortify barriers in her
Labyrinth. This only applies to natural materials like dirt, stone,
or wood, not processed material like concrete or steel. At two
dots, smearing Vitae on a material grants an extra Durability per
point spent for a week, up to a limit of Blood Potency. At four
dots, the barrier actively resists intruders: Any attempt to bypass
the door suffers a penalty equal to your character’s Resolve, and
the first failed attempt to do so is a dramatic failure.
New Devotion
Along with the subtler abilities above, the Keepers use a pro-
prietary Devotion to create bizarre, unnatural prisons beneath
the earth. Called Mazes, these places are the bloodline’s most
potent tool against the Chthons.
Master of the Maze
(Auspex •••, Obfuscate •••••, Resilience •••;
Special)
The Warden oozes her essence into a Labyrinth, transform-
ing it into a special playground. Any building or structure can
be a Maze, but if the location is above ground, the effects listed
below do not function during daylight hours.
This Devotion costs 5 Experiences to learn, and the character
must have a dot of the Labyrinth Merit.
Cost: Variable Vitae and 1 Willpower
Requirement: The vampire must mark each entrance to
the structure with a point of Vitae (front doors, fire exits, etc.)
Windows, skylights, and holes in the walls do not need to be
marked unless they’re considered regular access points.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Instant
Duration: One week per dot of Blood Potency
The vampire gains complete control over the layout of the
Maze. By spending a Vitae and taking an instant action, they can
alter the layout in any way they see fit, with two caveats. First, the
Maze cannot change while being observed by an outsider. A victim
might wander down a straight corridor, look over her shoulder at a
distant sound, and turn back to discover she’s now at a crossroad.
Second, the Maze must always have at least one pathway that can
lead victims to an exit, even if that goal moves.
The Warden instinctively knows the location of any being within
their Maze, as well as the fastest way to reach her. They can travel
at a pace equal to Speed × (Blood Potency + 1), which compounds
further if the vampire uses the active effect of Celerity.
Note that this Devotion is not an illusion, and no amount of
Auspex will help see a victim through the Maze.
The vampire can renew this Devotion by re-marking the
entrances before the duration expires.
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 47

Twists of the Blood: Blessed by the Dark
The Keepers of the Dark have battled the Lygos and their
gods (p. 49) for centuries, but war has a way of birthing trea-
son. Whether forced to convert through torture, corruption,
or a simple lust for power, sometimes a Warden steps across
the threshold and embraces the black legacy of the Shades.
What happens when she falls into darkness and returns con-
sumed by their encounter with the Chthons? While neither
bloodline will admit it, conversion is possible. The Keepers of
the Dark and the Lygos share an origin, and this connection
runs deep enough to allow Wardens to become true servants
of the Dwellers Below.
First, a Keeper must prove himself to a Lygos in good stand-
ing, often through the sacrifice of crucial information about
another Warden. If the offer is sufficient, they gain the Shade
as an Avus. From there, the Keeper must survive an ordeal
that binds them forever to the Dwellers Below, wherein he’s
48 Better Feared: Nosferatu
cast into a deep, dark subterranean hole known as a Perdition
Pit. Whatever occurs within this pit is not spoken of outside of
the Lygos bloodline, but many believe the primordial darkness
remolds the very soul of the pilgrim. Many do not return,
but those who do are changed forever. This transformation
inflicts one point of aggravated damage per dot of Blood
Potency the vampire possesses, and enduring this process
willingly is a breaking point at Humanity 4 and higher. If
he survives, the vampire is now a Lygos for all mechanical
intents and purposes. However, all Warden Merits the new
Lygos had remain, and his new masters may encourage him
to act as a double agent
Embracing the darkness stains the convert’s soul. As a sign
of his betrayal, the sclera of one of his eyes permanently turns
black. This eye is highly sensitive to light, becoming blurry and
useless in all but the gentlest illumination. Those marked with
the eye suffer the Blinded (one eye) Tilt when exposed to any
light brighter than a candle.
 Lygos
THE ONES WHO SNUFF OUT YOUR LIGHT
Children fear the dark. In some, this phobia is fleeting, easily
dismissed with a moment’s thought. In others, it lingers for
years, requiring constant reassurance and parental comfort. Yet
when these children grow up, they’re expected to just get over
it. Put away the nightlight; pull the blanket down. Most people
manage to rationalize away their juvenile fears, but some never
do, panicking in unlit rooms well into adulthood.
Why is that? Why do some people never get over an irrational
fear of the dark?
Maybe because they know it’s not irrational. On a primal
level, they know that the things they hid from in childish terror
weren’t imaginary. That they’re real. That they have a name.
The Lygos are an ancient line, dating back to before true cities
sprouted over the world’s surface. They dwelled in places the
sun never touched, dragging victims down where none could
hear their screams. When other, lesser Nosferatu rose to the
surface to scratch out a meager existence in the light, the Lygos
remained below, as all Kindred should. They learned to listen
to the dark, to hear its secrets, and let it guide them to beings
that had never known the light, more wonderful and terrible
than any vampire. The Lygos came to serve them, these Dwellers
Below, and in exchange, they gifted the Truths of Erebus upon
them, so they might better cleave to their masters.
Rumors cling to the Lygos like wet earth. An Acolyte from
Bucharest says they devour light like other Kindred consume
blood. A Dragon in Istanbul claims they have no hearts, just
chunks of obsidian embedded beneath their ribs. However, no
matter how strange the rumor, all stories of the Lygos have a
commonality: They hate the light. Lygos have been caught sabo-
taging streetlights, snuffing candles, shattering flashlights, and
otherwise destroying any light source they can get their hands
on, even inactive ones. These Kindred don’t just inhabit and
encourage the dark — they worship it. Other vampires often hear
them uttering prayers as they knock over lampposts or smash
lightbulbs, as if birthing shadow were a holy act.
Due to this obsession, most Lygos live underground. Not
content with boarded windows and blackout curtains, a Creep
won’t sleep soundly without a few feet of dirt between her and
“Don’t be silly.
Of course you should be afraid of the dark.”
the sun. It takes extreme circumstances for a Shade to accept a
haven above ground, and if nothing suitable is available, she’ll
make her own, burrowing deep beneath the earth with her
own two hands. The Lygos are proficient Necropolis builders,
and almost never emerge from their tunnels except to feed, or
to carry out their bizarre work.
The Shades are content to let the Kindred whisper; what
the All Night Society thinks has never mattered to them. The
Lygos know the truth, after all. If they extinguish enough light,
and spread the righteous fear of the dark, their masters will
rise from the deepest places in the earth, covering the world
in blissful blackness. They do this not just for themselves, but
for the sake of all vampires. One night soon, they’ll thank the
Lygos. The Shades know the world began in darkness, and in
the end, that’s all that will be left.
Why you want to be us
You exist in a world of perpetual night, so why not command
the darkness? You find the dark comforting and know it’s where
you really belong. You’re tired of those in the world above calling
your appearance offensive, or your actions strange. Here in the
void, no one can judge you.
Why you should fear us
Other Kindred cling to the edges of light, but only we make
the darkness our skin. There is nowhere you can run from us,
because night is our ally. There is nowhere you can hide from
us, because we are the shadows where you seek shelter. There
is nowhere you can escape from us, because light is just an
imposition. Darkness is the natural state.
Why we should fear ourselves
Ours is a losing war. Every day the kine fill the world with
more light, soiling the purity of darkness. Few places are truly
dark, yet our masters compel us to make more. We fear disap-
pointing them — even more than the light, and our zeal blinds
us in ways it never could.
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 49
 makes him a subterranean monster. Furthermore, being
Bloodline Origins exposed to bright light makes him jumpy and paranoid,
• The Shades emerged centuries ago, far beneath the settlement ready to lash out at the least provocation, or to scuttle back
of Lygos, which would one day become holy Constantinople. into the safety of darkness. Lygos suffer a –1 modifier to
A coterie of Nosferatu hoping to build a Necropolis dug too resist all forms of frenzy while in well-lit conditions.
deep beneath the bedrock, awakening something terrible in Disciplines: Auspex, Nightmare, Obfuscate, Vigor
the earth. Most of these Haunts fled, but those who mastered
their fear saw the truth: These entities were not horrifying,
but beautiful. They wanted to help the Kindred, whom they In the Covenants
loved as distant family. Those who remained drank the
It’s uncommon for Lygos to join covenants. However, on
creatures’ sweet ichors and feasted on their pale flesh, and
rare occasions, a Shade will join up with a faction for the
were transformed for their devotion. Taking their name from
purpose of pointing them at his war against the light. Rarer
the city of their rebirth, the Lygos began their holy mission
still, a Lygos might balk when he catches a glimpse of the
to cleanse the lie of light.
real horror lurking at the heart of his bloodline, fleeing to
• Lygos have a peculiar relationship with other Haunts, the surface and offering his services for protection against
treating most Nosferatu with a mixture of pity and con- what lies in the depths.
descension, as if the rest of the clan were their misguided The Carthian Movement: The Firebrands want to bring
younger siblings. That’s because they are. The Lygos are Kindred together, and so do the Lygos. Everyone is equal
not a bloodline, but the ancestors of Clan Nosferatu. What in the darkness, and the Dwellers Below don’t judge anyone
most Kindred think of as “normal” Haunts are descendants for their looks or background — only their willingness to
of Lygos who fled the caves for the cities of men. These work together for the cause. It’s second nature for Lygos to
refugees sold the secrets of Auspex away to the Shadows in act unseen, and they form literal underground resistance
exchange for a place in the courts of the Damned. Too many cells to further the Movement’s aims, as well
years in the light withered their link to the Dwellers Below, as their own.
and they forgot the Truths of Erebus. The remaining Lygos
still view this migration as foolishness, and a betrayal of
the darkness that sheltered the clan for so long. They can’t
understand trying to exist in a world that so clearly rejects
them, and this is why they treat other Nosferatu with such
patronizing tones.
• Once upon a midnight darkly, Nyx, goddesses of the night,
fell into a great sorrow. Gods and mortals alike adored her
children, Aether and Hemera, who spread the brightness of
day wherever they went. But when Nyx herself emerged from
Tartarus, mortals cowered in their homes, and her own chil-
dren fled from her sight. Alone, the goddess wept tears of lone-
liness and tore at her flesh until she bled from her arms. Her
blood and tears fell upon the earth, and where they mingled,
creatures rose from the primordial mud. These new children
were not gods, but they were immortal like their mother, and
loved her with such intensity that they vowed to always remain
by her side. They walk the earth still, even as their mother has
all but faded away. They smother any brightness that pollutes
the dark so they might feel Nyx’s touch once more — lovingly
ever after.
Parent Clan: Nosferatu
Nicknames: Shades, Creeps
(disrespectful)
Bloodline Bane (T he Luminous
Curse): The Lygos’ hatred for light goes both ways.
Whenever a Creep is illuminated by anything but dim light,
his Humanity counts as one dot lower for the purposes of
the Nosferatu clan bane: Out of the shadows, the light draws
attention to his inhuman nature, highlighting whatever

50 Better Feared: Nosferatu


Story Seed: The Ones That Got Away
What became of the Nosferatu who fled the
creatures they uncovered beneath Lygos? Why,
they became the Keepers of the Dark (p. 43), and
dedicated themselves to preventing what they
saw from ever reaching the surface. These sister
bloodlines fight a hidden war beneath the earth, one
most Kindred aren’t even aware exists. The Wardens
strive to enclose the Shades in labyrinths of stone
and blood, while the Lygos want nothing more than
to inundate the Mole-Rats and their blasphemous
mazes with cleansing darkness.
If the Lygos are to play a prominent role in your
chronicle, consider including the Keepers of the
Dark as well, as they’re unlikely to let their enemy
go unchallenged.
The Circle of the Crone: With their primordial focus,
and their rejection of humanity, the Mother’s Army makes
a natural home for a Lygos seeking allies in the dark. Shades
are adept at setting up safe places beneath the earth for their
new friends, as well as procuring victims for the Circle’s gorier
rites. They’re also likely to hold these rituals in utter darkness,
to better bring worshippers closer to the Dark Mother… and
the Dwellers Below.
The Invictus: In the Lygos’ perfect world, humans live in
blind terror, unable to discern the monsters who prey on them
from the darkness that surrounds them. In other words, a
perfect Masquerade. This line of reasoning sometimes brings
Shades into the marble halls of the First Estate; just because they
reject the surface world doesn’t mean it’s not useful. Beware a
Shade with the political power to let whole neighborhoods rot
with neglect, choking the light as residents flee their homes,
never to return.
The Lancea et Sanctum: While they can respect the Church’s
dedication to something greater than themselves, most Lygos
view the Spear’s mission as pointless, or at odds with their own
work. However, a self-loathing Lygos might see the Sanctum as a
path to redemption. It’s easy to find the Satanic in the Dwellers
Bellow, with their deep caverns a kind of Hell, and in that case,
God becomes the obvious answer to their creeping influence.
Knowing His wrath is the only thing keeping such demons
trapped beneath the earth, a Sanctified Lygos must become a
beacon of terror: Those who do not fear the Lord do not fear
the darkness, so she ensures the flock fears Him very, very much.
The Ordo Dracul: With their habit of shining both literal
and metaphorical light into the dark corners of the world,
most Lygos find the Dragons rather offensive, and own their
ideas of transcendence are at complete odds with Dracula’s.
The Defiant believe they can become higher beings through
perfect understanding, whereas the Shades seek to transform by
emulating the things they worship. There’s also the issue of the
Truths. They superficially resemble the Dragon’s Mysteries, but
the differences in methodology and purpose would make most
Dragons recoil. Of course, the Order studies many loathsome
things in the pursuit of truth, and a Lygos willing to undergo
such scrutiny may find a home among them.
Rumors
“See that dark gap between those buildings? That’s Blackout Alley.
Don’t go in there. Yeah, I know it’s on our turf — I don’t care. I’m
trying to give you some honest, sire-to-childe advice here. You want
it or not? Good. Any kine who go into Blackout Alley don’t come
back out. Kindred too. That’s why it’s still dark; the city got tired
of workers going missing. There’s never a body, either. It’s like the
darkness eats them.”
This rumor is true, insofar as Blackout Alley is a real place that
people have a nasty habit of vanishing into. It’s in an otherwise
unremarkable part of Edmonton, and the locals avoid it like
the plague. It isn’t really eating anyone, but the Lygos want it
to seem that way. As important as spreading actual darkness is
to the Shades, promoting fear of it is also a top priority. When
Lygos are in a domain long enough, they’ll often create traps
like Blackout Alley, places where they suffer no light to shine,
and punish anyone who would dare intrude. They take care to
keep themselves hidden, however, as the whole point is to make
it seem like the darkness itself is devouring trespassers.
“Beware allowing Lygos in your domain, for where they go, disaster
follows. They undermine places of learning, casting them into the
dark abyss from whence they crawl. My childe in Milan told me
a tale of Shades collapsing a museum, destroying countless relics.
The Sanctified library that was destroyed in an “earthquake” last
week? Their work again. They do it because they despise such places.
Knowledge pierces the darkness of ignorance, and they worship
darkness in all its forms.”
Half true. The Lygos did destroy those places, but not out
of some grudge with high-minded concepts like the “light of
knowledge.” Both the museum and library were situated over
Necropoli built by the Keepers of the Dark, who favor such
repositories of knowledge. The demolition was only the latest
move in a long war with the other bloodline — the Lygos just
didn’t care what was above, and that carelessness is going to
catch up with them sooner rather than later. The All Night
Society tends to ignore the Creeps, but that library belonged
to a powerful bishop, who lost countless rare tomes in the
disaster. She isn’t going to sit idle when she discovers who was
responsible for her losses.
“So, I’m dead, right? Like, there’s five of them, one of me, and they
have some sort of homemade flamethrower. Then, out of the shadows
— like, she literally stepped out of the goddamn darkness — this crazy
Haunt starts tearing into the humans like they’re made of cardboard.
She’s crushing skulls, tearing off arms, even the fire barely slows her
down. After she’s done, she just looks at me, absolutely covered in
blood, and says: ‘The dark has spared you, sister, and now you will
spare the dark.’ Then she just walks away. I have no idea what the
fuck that means, but I think I owe her now. And after what I saw
her do? Fucking right I’ll pay up.”
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 51
 An odd but persistent rumor about the Lygos is that they
have a savior complex regarding other Nosferatu, which
sometimes moves them to acts of altruism when they see their
cousins in danger. This is true, but not the whole story. The
unfortunate Haunt above was indeed saved by a Shade, but
only because she was set up by one in the first place. When
the Lygos can’t solve a problem directly, they arrange to “bor-
row” the influence of another vampire by indebting him to
the bloodline. Usually, this involves creating a problem only
a Lygos can then solve, often in a violent manner; this grants
the bloodline access to political power normally beyond its
means, and spreads fear of monsters in the night — a concept
even Kindred can fall prey to.
Wen Mingli
“In the light, these buildings are empty. Banal. Pointless. In the
darkness, they could be anything.”
The second son of a wealthy banker, Wen was sent to Istanbul
to study architecture, but mostly spent his days drinking and
gambling online. It was during one such alcohol-fueled spree
that a quarter-life crisis hit like a sack of bricks. Stuck in a
downward spiral and questioning the point of everything he
was doing, Wen took to wandering the streets of the Old City
at night, hoping the various ancient buildings would inspire
him to care about his work again.
He never got the inspiration he was seeking, but he did
attract the attention of a Lygos who called some of those
buildings home. Sensing a lost soul in need of purpose, the
Shade abducted and Embraced Wen, indoctrinating him into
the bloodline’s holy mission. The fledgling drank it all in like
a man dying of thirst, and his desperation for meaning made
him an eager pupil. When Wen’s sire was satisfied with his new
childe’s dedication to the Dwellers Below, he released him to
find his own place to dedicate to darkness. Returning to his
native China, Wen knew exactly where he wanted to go: the
ghost city of Ordos.
Constructed in the remote province of Inner Mongolia,
Ordos New Town was meant to be a city of the future, built
for a population that never materialized. Now two-thirds
abandoned, Wen realized that, with some dedicated work, it
might be possible to plunge the entire city into permanent
darkness — a fitting tribute to the bloodline that had shown
him his true path.
Wen haunts several neighborhoods of the ghost-town, slowly
sabotaging what infrastructure remains, and terrifying its scarce
inhabitants into moving elsewhere. His presence has become
an urban legend, and while it’s questionable if a single vam-
pire can really empty an entire city, someone’s bound to start
investigating before Wen is through, especially as the Chinese
government moves to populate the area.
Wen’s clan bane manifests as a constant, manic energy. He
fidgets too much, stares too hard, and his voice wavers unpre-
dictably from one sentence to the next, making mortals feel
edgy and restless.
52 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Clan: Nosferatu
Bloodline: Lygos
Covenant: None
Mask: Perfectionist
Dirge: Follower
Touchstone: The Huangs, a family of migrant workers
who cling to Ordos despite everything. Wen admires
their tenacity in the face of adversity, and spies on them
every night.
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 4, Wits 3, Resolve 1
Physical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 3, Stamina 3
Social Attributes: Presence 2, Manipulation 3,
Composure 3
Mental Skills: Academics (Architecture) 3, Computer
1, Crafts (Construction) 3, Investigation 2, Occult 3
Physical Skills: Athletics 3, Brawl 1, Larceny 2, Stealth
(Darkness) 4, Survival (Urban) 2
Social Skills: Empathy 3, Intimidation 3, Persuasion 1,
Streetwise 3, Subterfuge 3
Merits: Anonymity 3, Close Family, Feeding Grounds
3, Haven 2, Languages (English, Turkish), Mentor 2,
Parkour 3, Safe Place 1
Disciplines: Auspex 1, Nightmare 3, Truths of Erebus 3,
Vigor 3
Lessons: Abundance of Nyx
Blood Potency: 2
Health: 8
Willpower: 4
Humanity: 5
Size: 5
Speed: 13
Initiative: 6
Defense: 6
Truths of Erebus
The Dwellers Below taught the Shades much, and the
bloodline’s elders have codified and spread these lessons so all
Lygos might benefit from their wisdom. These are the Truths
of Erebus. Similar to a Coil of the Dragon, the Truths bring
about personal transformation, but rather than overcoming
the Kindred Curse, the Truths adapt the Lygos to a Requiem
in the deep darkness, making them more akin to the things
they serve.
A Lygos treats the Truths of Erebus as if it were her primary
Mystery, but cannot learn it without a teacher. If a Shade joins
the Ordo Dracul, she can keep this cost break or pursue a
new Mystery. She cannot have two primary Mysteries. Defiant
Lygos can shift their focus to the Coil of the Ascendant, but
only if they haven’t learned the Truths past the first dot. They
cannot learn both. Non-Nosferatu Dragons cannot learn
Truths of Erebus.
Shades can also learn Lessons, procedures similar to Scales of
the Dragon. These rites are more ritualistic than Scales, focused
instead on gaining favor from the Dwellers below.
In addition to accessing the Truths, when a Nosferatu joins
the Lygos bloodline, he begins a slow transformation into a
creature more shadow than vampire. The first differences are
subtle but immediate: upon joining the bloodline, new Lygos
gain the True Worm Merit (p. 103), ignoring the Survival pre-
requisite. If a vampire already has this Merit, she is refunded
the Experiences spent.
The Lidless Eye •
If everything is darkness, then nothing is, and “nothing”
provides no barrier to sight. The vampire can see perfectly
in total darkness, ignoring all situational penalties and Tilts
like Blinded. Nothing can obscure her sight — not even the
destruction of her eyes. Furthermore, she becomes attuned to
the low places of the world, adding her Truths dots to Blood
Potency for the purposes of Kindred Senses when moving
through darkness.
The Nocturnal Bounty ••
The dark nourishes its children, providing all the sustenance
they need as long as they stay within its welcoming confines. If
he rests sealed away from any light, the vampire does not need
to spend Vitae to awaken with the next dusk, as the darkness
itself lends his body animation. Furthermore, whenever he
occupies total darkness, he benefits from the Blush of Life,
if he chooses. However, if he does not drink from a living or
Kindred vessel at least once a week, he loses access to this effect
until he feeds again.
The Dreaming Darkness •••
Sleep is just another sort of darkness, and the Dwellers
Below restore to their children something most Kindred
think lost to them: true rest. When the vampire rests in total
darkness, he experiences actual sleep rather than the small
death of Kindred slumber. As such, he regains a point of spent
Willpower for a full day’s rest. Lygos who achieve this level
of Truth often dream of the Dwellers Below, and sometimes
receive prophetic messages from their patrons.
The Caress of Gloom ••••
The primordial dark loves its children, cleansing their
wounds while they remain in its embrace. As long as the
vampire’s body remains in total darkness, she heals bashing
damage as the living do. If he is exposed to light at any point,
this resets the healing time.
The Welcoming Void •••••
Without the lie of light constricting her to a fixed form, the
vampire is free to move about the darkness, her true home,
as she wishes. When moving in areas of total darkness or
deep shadow, the vampire’s mass and size become mere sug-
gestions. She can pass through any gap or space larger than
a square inch, cannot be restrained through conventional
means (rolls to initiate grapples with her automatically fail),
and ignores all Environmental Tilts that impede movement
or agility. Under direct illumination, her body reverts back
to its “normal” form.
Sample Lessons of Erebus
More mystically focused than the Scales, Lessons of Erebus
are no less gruesome. Performed in a near-total absence of
light, Lessons treat darkness like a physical substance, one the
Lygos can implant or transmute in the crucible of a (sometimes)
willing subject.
Abundance of Nyx
Prerequisite Truth: The Nocturnal Bounty
Procedure: Working in total darkness, the Lygos opens up
the abdomen of a Kindred subject and removes several internal
organs, leaving a hollow for the darkness to inhabit. This pro-
cedure takes an hour and inflicts two points of lethal damage,
although the Shade can take an extra hour if she doesn’t wish
to harm her subject. Lygos can perform this surgery on them-
selves, but this requires a successful Resolve + Stamina roll to
see it through to the end. Failure means the Lygos cannot bring
himself to perform this agonizing self-vivisection and must wait
until the next night.
Outcome: For the rest of the night or until he expels it, the sub-
ject carries a measure of true darkness within him, which he can
vomit forth as an instant action. This cloud of darkness smothers
any source of light it touches, no matter how powerful. With the
exception of fire and sunlight, all light sources within nine meters
cease to function for minutes equal to the Lygos’ Blood Potency,
and cannot be reignited in that time.
Denial of the Enemy
Prerequisite Truth: The Lidless Eye
Procedure: The Lygos smears a point of Vitae over his sub-
ject’s eyes, gluing them shut. He then buries them at least two
meters underground in a light-proof container for between one
and six hours, chanting constant benedictions to the darkness.
The Vitae must remain on the subject’s eyes throughout the
entire procedure, or else it will fail. At the end of the duration,
the Lygos digs up the subject and ritually snuffs out a candle
as they emerge from their container.
Outcome: For a number of hours equal to the time they
were buried, light avoids the subject, sliding off of them like
raindrops striking glass. Only fire and sunlight are unaffected.
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 53
 It becomes impossible to look at the subject, and any technology
that depends on light-gathering (e.g., most recording equipment
and security sensors) fails to register their presence. Only sight
is affected; the subject can still be heard, touched, etc. A being
with supernaturally keen eyes attempting to perceive the subject
triggers a Clash of Wills versus the Lygos’ Truths of Erebus +
Blood Potency. This Lesson is not an illusion, however, and
Auspex has no effect on it. The subject cannot end this effect
early, and some Shades use the entire process as a tool of
indoctrination or punishment.
Heart of Darkness
Prerequisite Truth: The Welcoming Void
Procedure: The Lygos splits open a Kindred subject’s ribcage
in a pitch-black room, exposing the heart and inflicting a point
of lethal damage. Whispering blessings to the Dwellers Below, he
then paints the heart with a mixture of ash and blood until it is
completely black, then seals it back up again. This coating lasts a
full 24 hours, during which time the Lesson is considered active.
A Lygos cannot perform this Lesson upon himself.
Outcome: While the Lesson is active, the next breaking point
the subject suffers, no matter the dice pool or circumstances, auto-
matically succeeds with a single success. The Heart of Darkness
absorbs the sin and trauma into itself, protecting the subject from
detachment. However, accepting darkness isn’t without conse-
quence. The subject is considered detached from their topmost
Touchstone for the next night after the Heart absorbs a sin.
54 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Twists of the Blood: Blinded by the Light
The Lygos and the Keepers of the Dark (p. 43) have been
at war for centuries, but what happens when a Shade decides
his ancient enemies have the right of it — that the “Dwellers
Below” should remain locked beneath the earth? Is it possible
to defect to the enemy? Neither bloodline likes to admit it, but
such conversions can and do happen.
As much as they despise each other, the Wardens and the
Shades seem to share an origin, and this kinship allows a Lygos
to renounce the Dwellers and become one of their Keepers.
First, a Lygos must convince a Warden his intentions are sin-
cere. If he succeeds, this vampire becomes his sponsor within
the bloodline, like a second Avus. This sponsor leads a ritual
to purify the prospective convert’s blood with fire and light.
The ritual is traumatizing to both flesh and spirit: The former
Lygos takes aggravated damage equal to Blood Potency, and
suffers a Humanity 4 breaking point, if applicable. Assuming
he survives, the vampire is now a Warden for all mechanical
intents and purposes, though he retains the use of any Truths
or Lessons of Erebus he already possesses.
However, the Dwellers Below take a final revenge against
those who would spurn them. One of the convert’s eyes forever
transforms into a pus-colored deformity, marking the vampire
as a traitor to the Lygos. The disfigured eye is useless in low
light, becoming blurry or hazy in all but the brightest illumi-
nation. Those marked with the eye suffer the Blinded (one
eye) Tilt when acting in anything less than full illumination.
 Von Schreck Family
THE ONES WHO MAKE YOU SCREAM
Scary movies have a life of their own. If you ask histori-
ans, most will tell you the first horror film was Le Manoir du
Diable (The House of the Devil) in 1896, or the 1910 adaptation
of Frankenstein. A hundred years of horror have profoundly
affected the human psyche. It’s affected vampires too.
The celebration of horror is a paradox. People love to be
scared; in kind, they love fear. From this seeming contradiction,
an odd bloodline of Nosferatu has emerged: The Von Schreck
Family. Their progenitor, Hermann Von Schreck, attached
himself to film projects as early as Edison, though the blood-
line’s real debut came in the 1960s, alongside schlocky horror
fair for drive-ins and early chain theaters. Both monsters and
heroines, the Scream Queens cemented themselves as elites of
the genre. One by one, Hermann brought more likeminded
monsters into the fold, making them fierce, frightful, and
famous. He built a family.
They’re not a real family, of course, but who cares? It’s the face
that matters, and that’s what the public sees. Hollywood has the
Coppolas, Z movies have the Von Schrecks. They may not look
alike, but when you’re dealing with a Scream Queen, you know
you’re getting commitment to the art of the scare. To quality.
And what a commitment! For seventy years they’ve expanded
their hold over the genre to television, novels, stageplays, and
even video games. They have controlling shares in multiple
streaming services, and traveling horror revues based on classics
like Curse of Stabula, The Killings on Amberly Lane, and Mutant
Holocaust High School!
There’s a reason for all this mythmaking, of course, one
that goes beyond dedication to the craft. Ask any Nosferatu
and they’ll tell you a simple truth: Fear tastes better. Above
all, the Von Schrecks are performative predators. They seethe
a sensuality that’s both alluring and repulsive, and not just
from the director’s chair. See the editor, sitting in the cramped
room, splicing his victim’s final moments frame by frame; see
the starlet stalking the set, hair smeared with thick red streaks
her fans think is stage blood; see the producer, a spider keeping
the wheels ever turning with money, favors, and Vitae.
Cults and fan clubs are the bloodline’s stock and trade, and
many Scream Queens use these networks to recruit blood dolls,
“Great, great, but this time,
scream from the diaphragm. Action!”
ghouls, and agents (or the rare triple threat). That said, a vampire
can only wait so long before people start asking questions about
their unaging visage on celluloid. Each Scream Queen has only
a short time in the limelight before a “tragic demise,” followed
by a decades-long refractory period before they can reemerge as a
spiritual and physical successor. Those decades of downtime give
them plenty of time to come up with some really wicked ideas.
Von Schrecks walk the razor-thin edge between exposure and
overexposure. They write, shoot, and star in despicable acts
of depravity, selling their “art” to an audience as bloodthirsty
as any vampire. As the Family’s influence grows, their ability
to market their crimes spreads. When enough horror stories
oversaturate the market, it’ll be impossible to tell the difference
between fantasy and reality.
Why you want to be us
Do you want influence, money, and power? Fuck no! You
want the screams. You crave them! It doesn’t matter if they come
from blood-spattered teens at a lakeside cabin or brainless fans
at a low-rent sci-fi con. Being a Von Schreck is being immortal
in a way even the eldest vampire couldn’t understand. It’s to be
remembered, feared, and loved for being a monster — forever.
You really can have it all.
Why you should fear us
Because you love it. That tingle at the bottom of your spine,
that tension in your shoulders telling you to run, that quick-
ened step up the basement stairs. That’s us, baby. We’ve sown
the seeds of fear on silver screens and late-night airwaves for
generations. We’ve rewritten humanity’s subconscious fears to
be both insidiously specific yet deliciously addictive. Fear us.
Feed us. Worship us. Got it? Great. Now… roll camera!
Why we should fear ourselves
Everyone wants to be a star, but there’s only enough room
for one leading lady. Only one of us can be the brightest, and
we can never really be happy for our siblings. Sure, we’re not
actually a family, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be just as
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 55
 dysfunctional — and lethal — as the real deal. And then there’s
the problem with visibility. Sometimes our love of the
spotlight goes a bit… overboard. But who hasn’t dealt
with bad press? Or a few stalkers.
Bloodline Origins
• Hermann Von Schreck wasn’t the first of his line,
only the most famous. All he did was change the
bloodline’s medium from fiction to film. His sire
and Avus was a monster whose roots stretched
back to Transylvania, and the velvet black capes
of Vlad Tepes himself. She called herself Orla,
claiming to her childe she was one of Dracula’s
secret brides. When the Dragon began his vain
studies into the Mysteries, she grew alienated
and followed a young insurance agent back to
London to inspire a legendary tale. That’s
how she remembers it, at any rate. The
names and genders in the resulting
media may have been changed to
protect the guilty, but Orla doesn’t
care. All she craves now is the
family Hermann
stole from her.
• The movie was
the first time
in a hundred years
the vampire had seen a sun-
rise, and she wept blood-red
tears of joy at the sight. She
laughed and cheered in the
dark, and realized the true
power of what she had seen.
When she departed the theater,
leaving behind dozens of drained
bodies, she’d changed into some-
thing greater. She began a slow campaign to bring
her story — and the story of her kind — to life on the
screen. She would introduce the kine to their masters
over generations, for what better way to convince the
prey not to fear their predators than a bloody good story?
• Once upon a time in Hollywood, there was a cult. They
could see doomsday was fast approaching, and knew they
would only be spared by making a true sacrifice to what-
ever gods might listen. Hollywood is short on maidens,
however, so they kidnapped a young starlet, cutting her
throat as she screamed for mercy. Her blood stained the
ritual circle a brilliant red as she died, and they called
out to the ancient powers to stay the world’s demise
and save it from fear. How surprised they were when
the starlet rose for an encore, and let them know
that fear had come home at last. Then, it was their
turn — chillingly ever after.
56 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Parent Clan: Nosferatu
Nickname: Scream Queens, Fangorians, the Family
Bloodline Bane (The Exhibitionist Curse): Von
Schrecks have to be the center of attention, especially
when they dine out. Unless a Scream Queen is being
observed by mortals — directly or indirectly, but in
real time — she must spend a Willpower to gain full
sustenance from feeding, or else each vessel’s Vitae
capacity is capped by half her Humanity dots (round-
ing up). This bane does not apply if the Scream
Queen is in frenzy, or when drinking Kindred
Vitae, but Von Schrecks sometimes like an
audience all the same.
Disciplines: Majesty, Nightmare,
Obfuscate, Vigor
In the Covenants
The Carthian Movement: Both the
Carthians and Von Schrecks under-
stand the power of trade unions, and
embrace the propaganda power of film
production. Fangorian Firebrands are
socialites, collectors, and producers
of big ideas, artists of shock and
awe whose influence can weaponize
the jump scare for the common
vampire. They’re also not above
seeding their projects with anti-In-
victus messaging, and their access
to media production gives them
an unmatched ability to build
relationships, or burn them to the
ground.
The Circle of the Crone: The
Von Schrecks fit into the Circle’s
bloodsoaked spectacles like pigs
in shit. While Acolytes sometimes have
trouble taking Scream Queens seriously,
their single-minded devotion to blood and
guts always wins them over in the end. The
bloodline’s knack for luring gullible mortals
into rituals through fake casting websites
makes them the Kindred equivalent of
the guy who always buys the first pitcher.
Scream Queen Acolytes create passion
plays rooted in holy symbolism and
religious allegory — what else is
a Final Girl but another face
of the Maiden?
What better way
to pay homage
to the Dark Mother
than to inspire a hundred
thousand nightmares?
 The Invictus: Movies need money, and the First Estate loves
an easy investment. The Von Schrecks have a reputation for
high returns from even bargain basement productions, and
with small budget horror making a comeback, it’s never been
cheaper to impose the Masquerade from the big screen — or
more effective. With the modern explosion of streaming
services, demand for genre films is only going to get bigger,
and the Invictus reaps more than profit from the bloodline’s
artistry: They gain analytics for every view, every pause, and
every point of access for millions of kine.
The Lancea et Sanctum: Films like The Exorcist and its
devout following brought the first Von Schrecks into the
ranks of the Sanctified. A Faithful Fangorian channels all her
creative energy into guiding mortals back to God’s embrace
through cinematic suffering. Many of the bloodline’s projects
resemble horror Passion Plays, and some have even poured
their efforts into the creation of Christian slasher films —
macabre versions of religious blockbusters like The Passion
or God’s Not Dead — in the hopes of tapping that particular
financial vein. While their attempts have been unsuccessful
so far, all it takes is one hit to make a lifetime of religious
horror heads.
The Ordo Dracul: Given the bloodline’s (self-described)
connection to the Dracula mythology, it’s no wonder many Von
Schrecks are drawn to the Dragon’s Mysteries. Fangorians often
possess an attention to detail; some become collectors of occult
memorabilia, or experts on pop culture–tainted mythology.
That fan-like obsession makes Defiant Scream Queens broadly
useful to the Order, whether they’re piecing together the contra-
dictory works of Dracula for a documentary, preserving Scale
demonstrations from old nitrate film, or just lobbying princes
for exclusive access to Wyrm’s Nests.
Rumors
“The Von Schrecks are actually the outgrowth of this Hollywood
blood cult from the 1960s, the Church of the Divine Cannibal. Real
crazy fucks who went around killing and eating extras for horror movies.
There’s no record of them, but if you dig through missing person reports
from that decade, you’ll see what I mean.”
The Church of the Divine Cannibal was a cult of C and
D-list stars back in the 60s who did exactly what this rumor
claims — they ate wannabe actors. The cult vanished suddenly
on July 28, 1968, and though several of its surviving members
did end up being Embraced by the Von Schrecks, that’s where
the connection begins. Those who survived tell a similar story
of that fateful night: At the height of a cannibal orgy, the half-
eaten corpses came back to life and fused together to become a
pair of enraged monsters, murdering the cultists and razing the
compound to the ground. Those monsters are still out there,
as far as the survivors know, though none of them have yet had
the courage to make a movie out of the story. Yet.
“The Von Schrecks know how to age. It sounds stupid, right? But
it’s true. How else do you think they manage to stay in the spotlight
for decades at a time without princes calling for their heads?”
Hollywood trickery at its finest. Fangorians work in an
industry known for making actors look any age the part calls
for, and no effect is out of reach with enough cash. Members
of the bloodline often employ virtuoso makeup artists to age
them up for the cameras, or even hire body doubles for live
appearances so they can keep the charade up as long as possible.
Many Scream Queens transition behind the camera in order
to stave off their fake deaths even longer, as most in those
roles require little more than a dusting of gray hair to pass for
decades. Others take the plunge deeper and go full recluse,
save for rare appearances, in order to keep their fanbase alive
and rabid.
“There’s a new trend going around Christian streaming services —
Jesus horror, if you can believe it. They’re like normal horror movies,
but filled with all sorts of evangelical stuff from Revelation and the
apocrypha. And the worst part? They’re getting popular. The people
watching them might not even realize they’re supposed to be, yanno,
scary. They’re converting people.”
Religious film has always evoked a powerful response from
the faithful and their wallets. For fourteen years, the second
highest grossing R-rated movie of all time was The Passion of
the Christ, and smaller streaming platforms can afford to target
specific social groups, like evangelical Christians. A married
pair of Sanctified Von Schrecks, Paulette and Jackson, realized
leaning into the bloodier, seedier parts of the Bible could tap
into a market that would normally shun anything that even
hints of horror. The couple is making hand over fist on this
venture, doing the Dark Prophet’s work on a national scale.
Their next flick, The Life and Death of Saint Longinus, is going
to be huge. Be not afraid? Fuck that.
Missy Malice
“Six on one? I’m ready for my closeup, motherfuck.”
Melissa Lewis was never like one of those other girls. Always
attractive in a trashy, scary kind of way, by nineteen, Melissa had
run away to California and earned the starring role at a year-
round, X-rated haunted house. Her look and screams brought
attention from schlock movie talent scouts, and at twenty the
newly minted Missy Malice was screaming her way through the
early-2000s horror scene. By twenty-one, she’d been Embraced
by the childe of Hermann Von Schreck himself.
Dying was the best thing that ever happened to Missy.
Since her death, she’s starred in sixteen horror movies,
directed two, and produced nine. She’s proud of those
numbers, but even prouder of her kill count, which is in
the double digits now. Missy loves playing the damsel in
distress, or the wild yet vulnerable heroine, but it’s all acting
for the camera. She’s the hunter she was born to be, and
relishes provoking the same screams in others she brought
to the silver screen.
Missy only has a few more years before she’ll have to “die”
in a tragic drug overdose or car crash, so she’s making big
plans for her downtime. She’s going back to her roots with
a full-scale replica of H. H. Holmes’ murder castle, an exclu-
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 57
 sive, adults-only horror show she calls the Palace of Malice.
Missy can’t operate it alone, though. She needs people with
brains and brawn, so she’s amassed a small army of dedicated
cultists, blood addicts, and PAs from her dedicated fanbase.
However, she still needs Kindred to help test it out, and if
she can’t find them willingly, she’ll have to bring them onto
her project through other means.
Missy’s clan curse manifests through her eyes, tinged with
a constant hunger that induces the unease of fight or flight in
whoever looks into them.
Clan: Nosferatu
Bloodline: Von Schreck Family
Covenant: Circle of the Crone
Mask: Monster
Dirge: Cult Leader
Touchstone: Her official fan club, the Malicious
Multitude. Rumor has it they’re organizing the first
MaliceCon, and Missy plans on “dying” at the grand
finale.
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 2, Wits 2, Resolve 3
Physical Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 3, Stamina 2
Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 3,
Composure 1
Mental Skills: Medicine (Drugs) 1, Occult 3, Politics 2
Physical Skills: Athletics (Chase) 4, Brawl 3, Drive
(Stunt) 1, Stealth 3
Social Skills: Empathy, Expression (Triple Threat) 3,
Intimidation 4, Persuasion 2, Socialize 3, Streetwise 1,
Subterfuge 2
Merits: Barfly, Circle of the Crone Status 1, Contacts
(SAG, TMZ), Double Jointed, Herd 5, Fame 2, Fleet of
Foot 3, Professional Training (Actor) 2, Resources 3,
Striking Looks 2
Disciplines: Celerity 1, Majesty 1, Nightmare 1, Vigor 4
Devotions: Watch Party
Blood Potency: 1
Health: 7
Willpower: 4
Humanity: 3
Size: 5
Speed: 17
Initiative: 4
Defense: 6 (Active Defense 7)
Notes: Professional Training is on p. 46 of the
Chronicles of Darkness Rulebook. Missy’s Asset
Skills are Empathy and Expression. Missy suffers the
Plague of Purity bane (Vampire, p. 108), but does not
risk detachment for premeditated killing.
58 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Bloodline Gift: Know Your Audience
A Von Schreck puts her blood and soul into her work, some-
times quite literally. When a Scream Queen makes a movie, she
can expend a point of Vitae while touching a hard copy of it to
stain it with her essence. This can be a film reel, a VHS, or even
a shooting script. She must have a non-trivial connection to the
work, whether as a performer, producer, screenwriter, or crew. It
must also be a complete product, as defined by the Storyteller — a
clip won’t do, and neither will a first draft.
Henceforth, the vampire always knows if a given mortal has
taken in this version of her work. If she meets a viewer within
a month of watching, the Von Schreck gains the 9-again quality
on all Empathy, Expression, and Intimidation rolls to play off
her star power, including on Disciplines. The object maintains
this supernatural quality until the vampire makes a new one.
Devotions that key off this ability expire in their own time.
New Devotions
Sometimes called The Business, the Von Schrecks have numer-
ous Devotions to play up to their nature as both creatures and
purveyors of nightmares.
Bloody Good Flick
(Nightmare ••)
Sometimes, we want to be scared. With this Devotion, the
Von Schreck imbues her Beast into her film, creating a mas-
terpiece of beautiful horror.
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn.
Cost: 1 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire must use her bloodline gift on
a copy of her film.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Instant
Duration: One month
Victims who watch the entire movie suffer the Spooked
Condition, as every subconscious fear seems to leap from the
shadows. Viewers can try to stop watching with a Resolve +
Composure roll, penalized by the Nosferatu’s Blood Potency
dots, but failure means they remain enrapt for the runtime. Even
after Spooked ends, the audience can’t stop thinking about it. For
one week, the vampire can inflict Discipline powers on a victim
of her movie without paying the cost, using their lingering fears
and fascination to fuel her tricks.
Death by Cliché
(Nightmare •••)
The vampire clouds his audience’s minds and dulls their
survival instincts, crippling their ability to work together against
their common enemy. In this fog of cliché, the vampire can be
the consummate movie monster.
 This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn.
Cost: 2 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire must spread her Vitae at a central
point in the area of effect.
Dice Pool: Presence + Intimidation + Nightmare
Action: Instant
Duration: Night
Roll Results
Success: Anyone who enters the area starts to behave as if
they were in the middle of a B-movie. The extent of this effect
is up to (10 × Blood Potency) meters. Characters can contest
this Devotion with Resolve + Blood Potency, but must exceed
the vampire’s successes on the activation roll. Those who fail
gain the Walking Cliché Tilt.
Anyone subject to the vampire’s bloodline gift cannot make
a resistance roll — she’s already in their heads.
Exceptional Success: The vampire delights in her victims’
turmoil so much she regains a point of spent Willpower when
she springs her trap.
Failure: The vampire herself is the only cliché present.
Dramatic Failure: The vampire suffers the Walking Cliché
Tilt for the rest of the scene.
Timeless Classic
(Majesty •••••)
The Scream Queens aren’t kidding when they say movies
have a longer shelf life than vampires. With this Devotion, the
vampire can cheat death, albeit at the cost of her art.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Willpower
Requirement: The vampire must use her bloodline gift on
a copy of her film.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Instant
Duration: Indefinite
If the vampire is about to take an injury that would knock
her into torpor or cause Final Death, she can choose to have
her connected film take the brunt of the attack instead,
refreshing the Willpower point she invested into the object.
This is a reflexive action, and destroys the chosen copy of
the movie.
This Devotion doesn’t protect the vampire from further
violence; it merely transfers the fatal blow, perhaps giving her
enough time to escape.
A vampire can only have one instance of this Devotion
active at a time.
Watch Party
(Vigor •••)
The vampire collects a toll from anyone brave enough to
watch her Requiem’s work.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Willpower per victim
Requirement: The vampire must use her bloodline gift on
a copy of her film.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Instant
Duration: One week per Blood Potency
The vampire inherently knows when anyone watches her
movie, and if she’s within (Blood Potency) miles of its location,
she can extract a terrible price of admission. As the victims
watch, the vampire can drink their blood as if she were physi-
cally present, at a rate of one Vitae per turn; for bookkeeping
purposes, this is considered a violent feeding (Vampire, p. 94).
This requires the Von Schreck to spend a Willpower per victim.
This draining effect lasts (Vigor) turns per vessel. However, the
vampire can only do this once per person in a night.
As the body begins to drain, victims who want to look away
from the screen must succeed a Resolve + Composure roll,
penalized by the vampire’s Blood Potency dots. Success means the
vampire can’t feed from them anymore. If the film is also subject
to Bloody Good Flick, treat this as a single resistance action.
If a victim is a vampire, the Vinculum and blood addiction
apply as usual.
This Devotion is an exception to the bloodline’s bane.
WALKING CLICHÉ
(PERSONAL TILT)
Description: Fog rolls, lights flicker, and you’re overcome
with a heady dose of irrationality. You know the best way to get
out of here. You know how to survive this. To hell with anyone
who says different.
Effect: Your Mental actions suffer a –3 modifier as a surge of
bullheaded certainty floods your every move. Furthermore, any
time you try to make a teamwork action, an extended action,
or any other action that relies on common sense, you suffer a
penalty equal to the vampire’s Nightmare dots, which stacks with
the penalty to Mental actions.
Causing the Tilt: The Death by Cliché Devotion, usually,
but instances of mass hysteria have similar effects.
Ending the Tilt: Rationality returns in a number of ways:
you escape the vampire, one of the other victims is killed, or
you have the sense knocked back into you with an injury.
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 59
 Yagnatia
THE ONES WHO RULE YOU
He carries himself in the manner of one born with a silver
spoon in his mouth, but the too wide grin suggests a dagger. The
blood beneath his fingernails is fresh with the scent of copper,
yet he still expects you to wipe your boots before you step into
his parlor. Mind the carpet! It hasn’t been fed. When he invites
you to stay for dinner, you’re not sure whether to be frightened
or flattered. A little of both eases digestion, they say, but
answer quick lest your host be offended. Answer quick or you’ll
be the silverware.
The Yagnatia defy their clan’s lot in the Danse Macabre.
Most Haunts are self-loathing serfs who fear their own faces,
and wouldn’t know power if it staked them through a throne.
But to a Boyar, horror is divine right. Wearing her clan’s curse
on a velvet sleeve just means she’s more fit to rule.
This regal terror isn’t just temporal power. It’s spiritual.
Witch-Kings and Sorcerer-Queens, the old gods of Russia
blessed the Yagnatia as they rose to rule the Dark Ages, and
so they reign their fiefs with a wormwood wand, not a scepter.
Before the Circle of Crone spread like a parasite across the Old
World, the Boyars knew the secrets of Crúac, holding the night
against Westerners set on tearing down pagan ways. The Lancea
et Sanctum and Clan Ventrue — pretenders to imperial legacies
they themselves destroyed — were the bloodline’s undying foes
in a war for the Russian nightlife, and the Yagnatia still bear
those grudges with a bitter glee.
The Boyar will to power takes many forms. They lair in
both fortified manses and high-security skyscrapers, content to
shepherd their vassals away from corruption and quaint ideas
like democracy. Some are warlords cum wizards, commanding
dead armies fat on the ichor of dark gods, while others play
the stock market with spiritual insider trading. However they
choose to spend their Requiems, the Yagnatia value a strict
caste system above all else. Those born above remain above,
and those below should remember their manners.
Yet, for all their fealty to tradition, the Yagnatia have few
holdings left in the Motherland. As the centuries wore on, the
Sanctified won the souls of Russian Kindred, and the Ventrue
won their minds, but the death blow came when the Bolsheviks
seized power. In a frenzy of Embraces, the bloodline’s ene-
“My crown is my blood,
and my blood is the birthright of my gods.”
60 Better Feared: Nosferatu
mies commanded their fledglings to topple “tsarist” Yagnatia
domains, sweeping away their wealth, their faith, and their
death grip on feudalism. Following the civil war, the Boyars
scattered. Some remained in their ancestral land, but more than
half fled to Western Europe and East Asia. Many feared this
would break the bloodline’s link to the land, but the Yagnatia
are nothing if not adaptable. Most found new spirits in new
environs, and new gods to legitimize their rule.
The Boyars keep their numbers small. Only those of noble
heritage may join the bloodline, though in recent years they’ve
begun to welcome more non-Slavs. However, a Yagnatia never
Embraces without permission from her titled elders, and this
practice has led to rumors of impotent Vitae — rumors the
Yagnatia themselves spread among their rivals, spinning tales
of witches and an infertile bite.
Better the Kindred believe they could never rise again.
Why you want to be us
Would you rather be a tunnel grub or command men with
an awful glance? We chose the latter, and thus we became the
chosen in turn. We are beloved of the gods, and so they allowed
us to remake them to better fit our needs. You need only look
upon our faces to see their blessings. Few are worthy of our
Vitae, but those who are become more than sniveling Haunts.
Why you should fear us
Humans have such limited philosophies. This is true of
the lower classes as well (both living and dead), but humans…
humans cling to the silly belief that they’re owed something for
being alive. That they deserve life. The gods are not so generous.
We teach the low that life must be earned, and remind the high
that the gods can always choose to take it away — and that we
are the instrument of that choice.
Why we should fear ourselves
We could be wrong. Maybe we’re just like all the other rats
but managed to upholster our garbage. What happens when
everyone else realizes it? What happens when the spirits we
command by the grace of our gods see it’s all a pretense,
and that we’re just blood-sacks playing at nobility with
forces we don’t really understand?
Bloodline Origins
• The first Yagnatia was the last pagan Prince
of Vladimir, cursed by the witch-queen
Afanasiia for mocking her rites. Though
he was no Christian, the Prince
had grown to hate the old gods,
for they failed to stop the new
one’s followers from coming
to his lands. In answer to
his disrespect, Afanasiia
and her coven hexed his
rule, foretelling his fall
before another season
passed, and that he
should have no heirs
without repentance.
For her wisdom, the
Pr ince slaughtered
them all. A f ter the
season passed, and the
Prince’s traitor brother
took the throne, Afanasiia
returned. Now one of the dead,
she of fered salvation among
the Kindred if he would serve
t he t r ue god s, a nd if hi s
progeny would drive t he
usurper Christ from the
Motherland. With nowhere
else to turn, he agreed, and
his childer still swear the same
oath.
• The last ruler of a fallen kingdom,
a heathen king was pursued by
worshippers of the Christ. With
no one else to aid him, the king
turned to distant kin in a strange
land, wretched cousins his family
once spurned. He begged of their
skill to conceal things that must
be forgotten, and they took him
deep into the forest, hiding him for
many years and teaching him their
ways. For their faithful service, the
king shared his blood and his title,
as well as the magic of his homeland,
bidding his cousins rule their nation
as he had his own kingdom. Even
tonight, they protect it from those
who would break the faith.
• Once upon a midnight darkly, Ivan Tsarevich
heard moaning from the dungeon of his
wife’s keep. His lady, Marya Morevna,
warrior and sovereign, bid Ivan never
enter this part of her castle, for she had
locked away her past within its walls.
However, Ivan’s curiosity often dwarfed his
sense, and he crept inside to find the sound’s
source. There he found a whisp of a man,
chained to the wall and dying of a great
thirst. He begged Ivan for just a drop
of blood, and Ivan, being more honest
than clever, gave him a whole bucket.
But that was not enough. The wretch
drank bucket after bucket of Ivan’s
blood, and after the seventh, his
strength returned and he revealed
his name: Koschei the Deathless,
who hides his soul in the head
of a pin. Koschei escaped the
dungeon and abducted Marya,
taking her to the magic island
of Buyan, the Kingdom of Life.
Ivan still searches for his bride,
cursed to guard her empt y
throne — honorably ever after.
Parent Clan: Nosferatu
Nick n a me s : B oy a r s, Voz hd s,
Pretenders (post-1917; disrespectful)
Bloodline Ba ne (T he Curse of
Bielobog): The Boyars honor the gods
of the land, and they must answer for all
disrespect. A Yagnatia’s Humanity caps
any dice pools or traits used to resist
the Numina of ephemeral beings. This
also applies to Strix Dread Powers and
Embodiments.
Disciplines: Dominate, Nightmare,
Resilience, Vigor
In the Covenants
The Carthian Movement: Yagnatia
who remained in Russia after Red October
found it expedient to join the Movement.
No longer Boyars, these “Kolduny” made
names as citizen soldiers, wielding blood
magic with a hammer and sickle instead
of a hawthorn wreath. Many were oppor-
tunists, building up the same old hier-
archies through a Bolshevik lens, but a
few found a zeal for communism.
Even after the Wall fell, a minority
remained hardliners, undead
Stalinists bent on decrying every
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 61

False Gods
The Yagnatia family creed isn’t really the religion
of Kieven Rus’, and modern pagans would no doubt
be horrified at the bloodline’s self-serving dogma.
The Boyars coopted their victims’ faith, twisting
it into a parasitic cult and casting themselves as
children of the gods. Ironically, parts of the real
Slavic folk religion survived in the Orthodox Church,
which for a time was far better at preserving mortal
paganism than the Yagnatia.
imagined revisionist. Outside the former Soviet Bloc, Yagnatia
Carthians aren’t as common, but tend to fall into a New Age
branch of leftism, acting as unorthodox spiritual advisors to
the Revolution.
The Circle of the Crone: Acolyte Yagnatia differ little from
apolitical members of the bloodline. They seek leadership roles
in the covenant, and dedicate themselves to bringing the Slavic
gods to the rest of the Mother’s Army. Indeed, the Circle of
the Crone and the Yagnatia are synonymous in some Eastern
European domains, and Boyar princes often treat the covenant
as just another organ of their rule, or (at best) a junior partner.
When the first Witches came to Russia, the Boyars were already
bent over cauldrons, sacrificing to the lunatic goddess of Crúac.
This merging of bloodline and covenant proved useful after
the Reds threw out the tsar, when it became less fashionable to
claim a noble title. But a priest to Czernobog? One shouldn’t
deny a comrade her faith — not one with the magic to back it up.
The Invictus: Pretender neonates are often drawn from
mortal nobility, and this makes the Invictus an easy political
choice. Oaths are also a valuable resource for feudalists like
the Yagnatia, and even unaligned Boyars will pay a high fee
for notaries. Like their Carthian cousins, Boyars in the First
Estate act as spiritual consultants, sometimes taking on semi-of-
ficial roles as envoys to the Acolytes and other pagan Kindred.
Others invent roles for themselves as knights, and an Invictus
prince who commands a cadre of warrior-sorcerers is one to
be reckoned with.
The Lancea et Sanctum: If the Yagnatia have a non-starter
covenant, it’s the Lancea et Sanctum. Any Boyar who gets
permission to Embrace isn’t going to pass her Curse on to
someone inclined toward the Church. The Sanctified had a
heavy hand in breaking the bloodline’s monopoly in Russia,
and it’s a slight the Boyars haven’t forgotten. Still, vampires
aren’t always the best judges of character when it comes to their
childer. Sanctified Yagnatia are rare, but not unheard of; most
are Orthodox Christians who can’t stomach Requiems spent
as false gods. They have little contact with their pagan siblings,
who refuse to recognize “Christian” apostates in their peerage.
The Ordo Dracul: Boyar Dragons are terrifying egomaniacs.
Convinced of their own godhood, they use the Coils to prove
their narcissism, discarding Humanity as an unwelcome anchor
62 Better Feared: Nosferatu
on religious and academic freedom. Defiant Yagnatia are fond
of Scale research, and often have access to isolated domains
where they can tinker without fear of prying mortal or Invictus
eyes. Kindred, revenants, mortals, and spirits are fodder for
their experiments in merging flesh and ephemera, though so
far they’ve only recorded “interesting failures.” Their methods
are more about tossing ideas at the wall to see what sticks, but
it’s just a matter of time before something awful does.
Rumors
“Used to be a Boyar coven that met over by that big plot of parkland
the city’s been ‘developing’ for two decades. One night they were casting
some ritual or another, and apparently whatever black magic they called
up drew unwanted attention. I’ve never met a werewolf in meatspace,
but I hear they can do a number even on elders, so imagine what hap-
pened when a whole pack of the SOBs decided to put the kibosh on the
Russkies. Well, I did say ‘used to be,’ didn’t I?”
With their frequent meddling in the spirit realm, the
Yagnatia have feuded with werewolves many times, especially
back in the old country at the height of their powers. However,
a few Uratha share some common ground with these Kindred:
Namely, the Ivory Claws. The Tzuumfin believe they’re purest
of the Anshega, and some even claim the Yagnatia’s royal
founder was kin to their Wolf-Blooded families. At least one
Yagnatia domain has relations with Ivory Claws, who help
the bloodline repel Bone Shadows, disgruntled Acolytes, and
other, stranger spirit police.
“They didn’t just show up one day and plant their flag on empty
land. Someone was there first. There’s a name I keep hearing… or, I
don’t know, a title? Epithet? Look, just don’t repeat it… fuck, don’t
even write it down: Betrayed.”
As the Kindred wormed their way through history, they
sometimes met other dead. Most fell to the Danse Macabre,
or became Kindred themselves, but a few survived to carry on
the old hates. The Yagnatia say they warred with such a group
long ago, and defeated them for control of Russian nights. A
group of six or seven strange clans, these vampires take it as
an article of faith that a Kindred deceiver broke a promise to
their ancestor, and work to destroy the entire All Night Society
for the crime. The Yagnatia are near the top of that list, and
the Boyars offer a special bounty for any information about
these “Betrayed.” The bloodline is rumored to guard detailed
histories of these non-Kindred and their tactics.
“You ever hear how the tsars claimed to be the real successors of
Rome? That’s the Russians for you: Go big or go home. Anyway,
the Yagnatia tried to do that too. Said they were legit heirs to the
Camarilla, not the Invictus. Not sure how they figured that, but a
Sanctified historian I know says the bloodline goes a lot further back
— and west — than Russia.”
Half true, as far as anyone can prove. As Ivan the Terrible
solidified his empire, the new Boyar Caesar of Moscow declared
himself Night King of All the Russias. For his trouble, he was
assassinated by unknown assailants. While the idea of a Second
Camarilla held some weight in the bloodline for the next few
centuries, this pretense was swept away with the October
Revolution. Apart from that, the Boyars deny any connection
to Rome, and all suggestions of foreign origin are cause for
entry in the bloodline’s extensive Rolodex of spite. As if the
Yagnatia didn’t hate the Ventrue enough, most Kindred who’ve
spread this rumor hail from the Macellarius bloodline, unapol-
ogetic Romanophiles themselves. One Glutton elder laments
the standoffish attitude of his “bent” cousins, and hopes one
night their families might make peace over mutual foundations.
Whatever that means.
Jim Lykinov
“What, did you want me to say please? Will that grow your arm back?”
Yakov “Jim” Lykinov doesn’t give a damn about titles, which
makes him just about the biggest iconoclast the Yagnatia have
ever produced. In life, he was just a Bratva-adjacent loan
shark, and any link to human nobility is a stretch. Few of his
fellow Boyars know how he got Embraced in the first place
(or who did it), let alone why he was granted a seat at such a
prestigious table. He’s not about to let that secret go, though.
It’s much too valuable.
Jim calls himself a knight, a defender of the faith of his sire
and grandsire and unto the first Yagnatia. He even had a sword
made. In reality, Jim is more of a blunt hammer to smash into
the bloodline’s many nails. He travels through his family’s
remaining domains as a last resort solution, the guy you call
when no one is senseless or brutal enough to finish the job.
Apart from being a bagman, Jim’s looking for something at
the behest of a few ancient, Old Church Slavonic–speaking
elders. He’s not clear on what it is, but they’ve retuned and
conditioned him such that he doesn’t really need to know. He
just goes where they tell him. For years he’s been collecting bits
of Latin manuscripts, all of them describing the location of…
something. Jim’s brain quite literally can’t see what he’s looking
at, but he has his suspicions after a few close encounters with
the Owls.
The Yagnatia have a reputation for angelic looks (they don’t
just vet candidates for their heritage), but Jim is forgettable
in an unsettling way. It’s as if a sculptor got to the finer
details of his face and decided to call it a day. His eyes are
almost white, and some even mistake him for being blind.
It comes in handy.
Clan: Nosferatu
Bloodline: Yagnatia
Covenant: Circle of the Crone
Mask: Competitor
Dirge: Nomad
Touchstone: His sword. Jim’s conception of himself as a
knight is the most human thing about him.
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 2, Wits 3, Resolve 2
Physical Attributes: Strength 4, Dexterity 3, Stamina 2
Social Attributes: Presence 2, Manipulation 2,
Composure 3
Mental Skills: Investigation 2, Occult (Crúac) 3
Physical Skills: Athletics 1, Brawl 2, Firearms 2,
Larceny 3, Stealth 2, Weaponry 3
Social Skills: Animal Ken 2, Empathy 1, Expression 1,
Intimidation (Brute Strength) 2, Subterfuge (Motives) 4
Merits: Circle of the Crone Status 1, Herd 4, Kindred
Dueling 3, Unliving Anchor 3, Yagnatia Status 2
Disciplines: Crúac 3, Dominate 1, Nightmare 1,
Resilience 3, Vigor 1
Devotions: This Awful Grip
Rituals: Boyar’s Caul, Divine Right, Hawthorn Barrier,
The Hydra’s Vitae
Blood Potency: 2
Health: 10
Willpower: 5
Humanity: 4
Size: 5
Speed: 13
Initiative: 6
Defense: 4
New Crúac Rites
The Yagnatia practiced blood magic long before the Circle
of the Crone rose from fractious pagan cults. Any Boyar
with Bloodline Status can purchase Crúac as an out-of-clan
Discipline, receiving a free ritual from the list below at each
appropriate level. However, unless she joins the Mother’s Army,
or another covenant with access to Crúac, she cannot learn
common rites for free, though she can still pay Experiences
for them. Other vampires can learn Yagnatia rituals, but they
must have a Boyar teacher.
These rites tend to call upon and command spirits, and any
Yagnatia who doesn’t pay proper deference is sure to make some
strange enemies. For more on ephemeral beings, see p. 122 of
Chronicles of Darkness.
Boyar’s Caul (•)
Target Successes: 4
The ritualist spreads the sacrifice over her face as she casts
this ritual, then enters daysleep. By the next dusk, the blood will
have congealed into a ghastly mask made of ectoplasm, sculpted
by spirits of prophecy into the face of someone important to
the vampire’s current schemes.
The Yagnatia can make an Intelligence + Occult roll to
interpret the meaning the spirits wished to impart on her. On a
success, she can ask a number of yes/no/maybe questions about
the face equal to the rite’s Potency. If she knows Auspex, she
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 63
 can also use The Spirit’s Touch to ask questions from the list
for Uncanny Perception, but only once in the night.
Wearing the caul grants a +3 on Investigation rolls to identify
or locate the face’s owner. At the end of the night, it falls to ash.
Divine Right (••)
Target Successes: 5
The vampire takes on the mantle of her gods, blessed by
spirits of divine glory. At the time of her choosing, but before
the end of the night, anyone who openly questions or defies
her authority automatically fails the action. The victim gains
the Guilty Condition, lamenting her challenge to such a holy
being. This effect applies a number of times equal to Potency;
after that, the rite ends.
The Mother’s Blessing (•••)
Target Successes: 8
While Yagnatia can Embrace without this rite, it’s considered
poor form. With the Mother’s Blessing, a Boyar consecrates
another vampire with a loyal childe, one who enters the night
stronger than her rivals.
If the ritual is successful, the subject is blessed by a spirit of
procreation. For the next 24 hours, any childe created while
under the effect of this ritual enters the Requiem with a first
step blood bond to her sire, which does not expire until the
sire chooses to release her from vassalage. However, the childe
is immune to her sire’s true blood bond, and that of any other
Yagnatia, as long as her tutelage lasts. Furthermore, the childe
gains the 8-again quality on all rolls to initiate or detect blood
sympathy with members of her bloodline.
The effect of this ritual only applies to a single Embrace, and
a vampire can only be blessed this way once per lunar month.
A vampire cannot cast this ritual on herself, and it only
works on Boyars.
Hawthorn Barrier (•••)
Target Successes: 7
The vampire summons spirits of protection to her aid. By
setting a barrier of hawthorn branches before an aperture, she
can create an invisible ward made of Essence. Unless given
permission by the vampire, mortals cannot cross this barrier,
and any Kindred attempting to cross must succeed on a Resolve
+ Blood Potency roll, minus the ritual’s Potency. This allows
the intruder to cross the threshold, but she takes lethal dam-
age equal to the Boyar’s Crúac dots minus successes on the
resistance roll, as the spirits take umbrage to their violation.
This ward lasts 24 hours from the time it was cast. The
vampire can apply it to multiple apertures in a single casting,
but she must have enough branches, and she must be within
line of sight.
If the hawthorn branches were taken from mandragora (Half-
Damned, p. 115), the casting roll gains the 9-again quality.
64 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Awaken the Dukh (••••)
Target Successes: 9
The vampire makes a bargain with the spirit of an object,
offering Vitae via the sacrifice in exchange for service. The
object can be no greater than Size 5. If successful, the spirit gains
limited control over its physical representation in the world of
flesh: It can perform simple tasks, and even move under its own
power. For example, a toy car could roll around the house on
patrol, whereas a carpet could furl and unfurl itself, or twist
around a leg. The object gains a dice pool to affect the world
equal to Crúac + Size + Potency, but the Storyteller has final
say over what kind of actions the being can take.
This effect lasts a week, but the vampire can renew the pact
with an appropriate oblation before the duration expires:
burning something for a fireplace, cleaning a space for an
animate broom, etc.
Boyar elders warn neonates to be cautious with this rite.
While spirits often enjoy their time in the world of flesh,
they’re not under any compulsion to follow the vampire’s
orders. Mindful Yagnatia make offerings to these spirits, or
promise to fulfill a task. That said, the ritualist has some
inherent leverage, and can cease the rite’s effect by spattering
it with Vitae before the duration expires, shunting it back to
the Shadow.
Vessel of the Dukh (•••••)
Target Successes: 9
By sacrificing a fresh human corpse, no more than a night
dead, the vampire can form vessels for animalistic spirits of
the land.
To perform this ritual, the vampire undertakes a horrific
surgical rite, summoning a primordial spirit as she mutilates
the corpse and coaxes out hidden horrors in its flesh. If suc-
cessful, she can create a Brief Nightmare, as defined on p. 143
of Chronicles of Darkness. The strength of this creature is
determined by Potency: A Minion requires no extra successes, a
Horde requires an additional three, and a Lone Terror requires
five. The Storyteller is the final arbiter of Dread Power choices
for this creature, depending on what kind of spirit inhabits the
body. Only Firestarter is barred. The vampire can continue
accruing successes if she wishes to create a more powerful
monster, but the number of rolls is still limited by the usual
extended action rules.
Horrors are vulnerable to fire in the same manner as
Kindred, and are animalistic but loyal to the Boyar. They can
regain Willpower by drinking Vitae or human blood, and exist
for a month. The vampire must cast the ritual again before
the duration expires to maintain the creature’s existence,
repaying all costs and meeting the same success threshold.
Some Yagnatia keep these creatures as pets for many years,
even granting them names for faithful service.
Casting this rite to create a new Horror is a breaking point
at Humanity 2 and higher.
New Devotion
While the Yagnatia take pride in their blood magic, they
still find value in their natural gifts. The following Devotion
is common among Boyars in the Circle of the Crone, though
rumor suggests they stole a similar ability from a bloodline
of Sanctified Ventrue.
Mission from Gods
(Dominate •••)
Being a prophet of the gods’ will can be a difficult task.
Sometimes, you have to push people in the right direction
before they’ll get the message.
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn.
Cost: 1 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire uses Entombed Command on
the victim, then activates this Devotion.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Reflexive
Instead of a full-blown order, the vampire implants her victim
with an obsession. It worms around in the back of his mind
and won’t leave him alone until he does something about it.
For the duration of Entombed Command (or until he resolves
it), the victim suffers the Tasked Condition. As long as this
Condition lasts, anyone who tries to manipulate the victim into
fulfilling this goal exceptionally succeeds with three successes
instead of five.
Twists of the Blood: Fallow Obfuscations
This version of the Yagnatia alters the bloodline’s bane from
the one presented in Bloodlines: The Chosen (p. 105), mak-
ing their rare Embrace a custom rather than a drawback, and
tweaking their favored Disciplines to a more imperial bent. If
you prefer the First Edition Boyars, use the system below. A
short, alternate conversion of this bloodline also appears on
p. 26 of Bloodlines: The Resurrected.
If you want both versions of the bloodline to exist in your
chronicle, perhaps a schism took place around the time of the
Russian Revolution. Those who developed the bane above were
sympathetic to the new ways, breaking their celibacy for a more
direct link to the gods (or maybe that was their punishment).
Eschewing Obfuscate for Resilience, they knew a revolution
can’t be won from the shadows. These Yagnatia align more
often with the Carthian Movement, while the “pure” bloodline
remains loyal only to itself.
Bloodline Bane (The Curse of Afanasiia): Hexed for their
progenitor’s hubris, the Boyars cannot spread their blood without
divine consent. Unless a Yagnatia receives The Mother’s Blessing
from one of her elders, the Storyteller rolls (10 – Humanity) dice
if she tries to Embrace, representing the disapproval of her gods.
On a failure, the Embrace proceeds, and the Yagnatia loses a
Humanity dot as usual. On a success, the fledgling dies horribly,
rotting from the inside out. On an exceptional success, the vic-
tim becomes a Nosferatu draugr. This bane applies to uplifting
revenants, but not to spawning them.
Disciplines: Dominate, Nightmare, Obfuscate, Vigor
Chapter One: Grave Blooms 65
 Part 3: Family Reunion
The building rested for almost a century before the intruders arrived.
Stories about the place made their way around Cicero for years, retold at sleepovers and on dark
autumn nights. It had been a meat packing plant, people said, and once upon a time, every man in
the neighborhood worked there. It put cash in pockets and meat on the tables of Middle America.
Then one day, ninety-eight workers woke up to discover they could no longer remember where
they worked or how to get there.
The building hadn’t vanished. No, the signs still hung on its sturdy brick walls. It loomed in the
background of every photograph, obstructed the skyline from every rooftop, and pushed devel-
opment around it like a stone in a river. Everyone thought it should be torn down, though you
wouldn’t remember why you felt that way once you turned from it, let alone what it was even called.
It was common knowledge the place was cursed; kids, thugs, and even the most desperate homeless
instinctively knew not to go inside the big brick building down by the river. Or maybe they just
forgot they could. Either way, their absence kept them safe and the building asleep.
That is, of course, until the intruders arrived that hot summer night. How they found their way
in is irrelevant, but when they did, they brought the scents of stolen blood, gasoline, and gun iron.
This place, long forgotten by the waking world, was suddenly naked, as if a sheet had been pulled
from its dormant form.
Hunger has a way of blinding us to danger.
Deep down in the steam tunnels beneath the building, something stirred, and it was hungry too.

***
“Wake up, Johnny.”
Littlejohn’s eyes were already open, but until the stake slid out, he hadn’t seen a thing. His senses
returned in a rush and, for a second, he thought he was still on the street. He was dazed but alert,
like someone had frozen time around him, or flipped him on and off like a TV. The program kept
going, but he’d missed the plot.
The smell hit him first. Decay assaulted his nose with flashes of mildew and mold, almost strong
enough to overpower the rusty scent of dry animal blood. He’d smelled this kind of rot before,
in crack dens where the power had been cut and uneaten food in dead refrigerators decomposed
down to slime. But never anything so… historic. This place had been abandoned for more years
than he’d been alive or dead.
Then the pain hit.
Littlejohn took in the damage and decided he was lucky he couldn’t feel anything from the waist
down. The car had all but cut him in half, but his captors had dragged him in and bound him to
a steel chair. He was mummified in thick, braided manila rope three fingers wide, and lengths of
it had slipped inside his wounds like an intestinal prosthesis. He tried to raise his arms, but they
were strapped to the chair with lengths of black webbing strap, the kind meant to secure cargo to
a truck bed for long haul transport. Dabs of Vitae soaked through the bindings and dripped with
a staccato beat onto the cracked concrete floor beneath him.

66 Better Feared: Nosferatu

 “There we go.” Old John’s mistake, Rafael Ladue, smiled down at him. “Welcome back, big
brother.” It hadn’t been a dream.
“Ladue.” Littlejohn forced the name through gritted teeth. He could feel the braids working
against his ribs as he pulled the air into his lungs. “What the fuck…?”
“You doing okay? Comfortable?”
“Been better.”
“It wasn’t supposed to go down like that. Here.” Ladue snapped his fingers; a lanky white man
with frosted blond tips and an obscure band shirt strolled from behind a pillar. He was carrying a
shotgun and moving like he knew how to use it. Ladue motioned to Littlejohn. “Give him some.”
The man nodded and held his forearm in front of Littlejohn’s mouth. He didn’t have to offer
twice. Littlejohn bit into the man’s flesh and drank down the rich, warm blood flowing into his
mouth. The man groaned and started to go limp as Littlejohn swallowed his life. With each gulp,
he pushed blood into his broken body, healing his stomach and legs. Sensation returned to his
spine like a hot rail spike; he continued to drink.
“That’s plenty,” Ladue said. When Littlejohn didn’t stop, he pulled the lanky man away. “Go rest,
Billy. And heal up.” The man nodded and stumbled back where he’d come from.
Ladue turned back to Littlejohn. “Better?”
Littlejohn ran his tongue around his mouth, collecting every errant drop of blood. He was still
hungry, but this helped. “So, what is this? Some kind of fucked up family reunion?”
“Something like that.” Ladue struck a thinking pose, his fingers dancing on the tip of his chin.
“You know how in gangster movies they always say, ‘it’s nothing personal’? Well, this time, it is.”
“Ain’t got shit between us, Ladue, but if you want it—” Littlejohn pulled against his restraints.
The chair scooted half an inch from the sudden motion, but no more.
Ladue pursed his lips, unimpressed. “Oh, don’t get up on my account. You’re tough, but I don’t
think you can break those. I bought them special for you.”
“You feel like betting? I got some extra cash.”
“Nah, I’m good. You’d kick my ass. That’s why I brought friends.” Ladue waved his hands around,
and Littlejohn saw six other people around the room, walking the perimeter, making small talk,
or just keeping watch. Now that the pain and numbness had eased, he could hear their heartbeats
clear as day. Of the three he could clearly see, each was packing. Billy had a police issue shotgun,
and two others were carrying an AR-15 and an honest-to-god Uzi. The one with the AR-15, a Black
woman with cornrows, had a machete dangling from a strap on her muscled thigh. Littlejohn didn’t
recognize any of them, but he knew the hungry eyes, which probably meant they were fresh ghouls
hopped up on Ladue’s Vitae.
Littlejohn scanned the room. The walls were old American brickwork, with huge loading bay
doors that ran on rusted tracks. Pot lights hung from the ceiling on dusty, cobwebbed cables
nested among steel rafters. They flickered on and off, threatening to die at any moment. The floor
was divided up by carefully placed machinery and conveyor belts, and Littlejohn realized why it
smelled the way it did: This was one of Cicero’s derelict meat packing plants. From the look of it,
abandoned in the middle of a shift. The belts and tables were filthy but devoid of debris. Either
the ghouls had come in to clean early, or rats and time had tidied up for them.
Whenever this place closed, the smell of blood still permeated every inch of mortar. Every speck of dust.

If You Can’t Be Both 67

 Ladue sat down on a steel table across from the chair. His thin, twiggy legs were crossed at the
knees, and he swung his Doc Martins back and forth like a curious child.
Littlejohn turned his attention to the table. “Where’s Zhoniqua?”
Ladue shrugged. “Gone. She was here to fuck you up and rescue your girl, but once she realized you’d
conned her… well, she didn’t kill you. You’re welcome. Real chip on her shoulder, that one. Thinks she
can save every hooker in Chicago, one pimp at a time. I don’t think she really gets it, yanno?”
“It’s just us?”
“Looks like.”
“You a Firebrand now, Ladue? Why not let Jefferson do the dirty work?”
Ladue clucked his tongue. “Family shouldn’t talk politics.”
“Stop saying shit like that.”
“Well, it’s true. Why else would you keep using the name he gave you?”

***
“What’s your name, kid?”
“John, sir. John Roach.”
“Well, that’s no good. See, I’m already John. Old John. You know that?” The boy nodded. “You’re gonna
be a big one. Already as tall as me at — what’d you say, twelve? Man, kids grow like weeds these days. You
aren’t gonna be little for long, Johnny.”
The pale man threw his head back and laughed so suddenly the boy almost ran. Before he could, a cold
white hand wrapped around his wrist with the strength of a snake bite.
“I got it! Let’s call you ‘Littlejohn.’” The pale man purred into the dark basement, and behind them, the
boy could hear the steady hum of machinery.
He would come to know it well.

***
“Earth to Roach.” Ladue snapped his fingers just in front of Littlejohn’s eyes, pulling him back to
the present.
“Sorry. Blood loss. Mind drifts when I’m hungry.”
“I’d be happy to help you fix that. Looks like we both have something the other needs.”
“You need a date? Shit, Raf. You didn’t have to go through all this! I’ll hook you up. Family
discount.”
Ladue laughed, high and genuine. “Cute, but no. See, after Old John gave me the bite, he
mentioned this cache of his. Bastard was crazy as a shithouse rat, but twice as smart. Apparently,
he had money, deeds, and secrets — power all over town. More than any of us ever knew. Kept
it all in a fireproof box, which I was supposed to digitize at some point. Know what I’m talking
about?”
Littlejohn kept his face a blank slate. Ladue continued. “Thing is, not long after he lays that on
me, Old John’s dead and his bordello’s burned to the ground. Nobody finds any box in the wreck-
age. I always wondered what happened to it. Then, a couple months ago, I find out his piece-of-shit
ghoul — who ended up a Haunt but still grew up to be a big, bad pimp like daddy — not only had

68 Better Feared: Nosferatu

the balls to dump the Movement, but wormed his way into the Invictus. That got me thinking…
maybe he’s smarter than he looks. Or maybe he knows where that box is.”
Littlejohn smiled. “Don’t know anything about a box.”
“Don’t,” Ladue snapped. “Don’t lie. You’re in deep shit. You’re fucked.”
“They ask you to do me? Walt and Justine? Carter?”
“No.” Ladue leaned in. “I volunteered.” Littlejohn wrinkled his nose as Ladue carried on. “Look,
I can get it out of you. I can make you tell me.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“Because we both survived that evil prick. I’m willing to play Let’s Make a Deal because you’re
the closest thing I have to a sibling. The Carthians want you ‘out of the picture,’ and I figure a few
years with a stake is good enough. You tell me where the box is; I wake you in a decade or two. We
part as dysfunctional family.”
Littlejohn smirked. “I’m a pretty good liar. Even when I was blood-bound like a mule, I kept shit
from the old man you wouldn’t believe. You’d never know I was lying about it, and if you killed
me, you’d for damn sure never know.”
“Which is why I wanted to talk first. I’m not your friend, but I don’t have to be your enemy.”
“You hit me with a car. And a Gangrel. Get fucked.”
Ladue sighed. “Okay, hardball it is. We only have tonight, so I wanted to make this memorable.
Know why I picked this place?”
“It matches your winning personality?”
“Because it has an old friend of yours in it. Look.”
Littlejohn turned his head. Behind him loomed an immense shape. It was an old beast, painted
sky blue and bolted to the floor at all four of its thick feet. Decades of blood and meat reached out
to his senses in undulating waves. Littlejohn knew every button, every gear, every crease and crack.
He could hear the chipping of bone and teeth, and the screams of the not-quite-dead.
“It’s not really the same one,” Ladue offered. “But same model. Even the color. I need you to
know I’m serious, John.”
Littlejohn tried to look away, but his eyes were frozen to the machine. Buried memories wrestled
to the surface of his mind, and he could feel blood tears sting the corners of his eyes.
“I swear, you tell me where it is, and I will wake you up when the heat dies down. But I only
have tonight.”
Ladue walked a wide circle around Littlejohn and approached the machine. “So… what’s it going
to be?” He flipped the power switch. The pair listened as the industrial meat grinder began to spin
up, its ancient, whirling blades chopping into the air, waiting for a meal.

***
Meanwhile, dribbles of Littlejohn’s Vitae coursed down the legs of the chair and seeped into a crack
in the floor. They oozed through the concrete foundation, wriggling like bisected worms down
into the old steam tunnels. In the soil beneath the plant, something had been sleeping for a very
long time, waiting for a taste of blood.
It woke up hungry for more.

If You Can’t Be Both 69

 chapter two
Hellscapes
We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.
Oscar Wilde, The Duchess of Padua

They say people never look up, but they seldom look down either. Do you ever give much thought to the run-off swirling
down the storm drain, or the darkness under the sidewalk grate? Of course not. It’s just as well, really. If you did, you might see
the dead eyes staring back, or the greedy hands reaching up between the bars. No, best not to look. Better to quicken your step,
avert you gaze, and pay no attention to the monsters watching just beneath the surface.
This chapter examines Necropoli (also called Warrens), the fetid kingdoms Nosferatu build beneath the ground. Below you’ll
find rules for building your own earthbound domains, as well as five examples from all around the world.

Welcome to Hell
The Haunts exist on the margins of the All Night Society,
shoved into the deepest shadows and the narrowest cracks. The
rest of the Damned don’t think about Nosferatu unless they
have to; out of sight is out of mind. While the clan may gripe
about that treatment, in truth, this indifference suits them well.
If the other clans found out what they were building down in
the depths, they might try to take it for their own. Or destroy it.
Necropoli are places only the Nosferatu rule. Whether under-
ground networks of tunnels and tombs, miniature empires hid-
den in hollowed-out warehouses, or whole towns ripped away
from the map, these domains are unique among the clans. One
Necropolis is a series of decommissioned and forgotten subway
tracks, restored and oiled with blood, allowing swift travel
beneath the city streets. Another is an old mine just outside of
town, where troupes of men shuffle off to trade their blood for
the treasures revenant miners pry from the earth. A third is the
twisted wreck of an enormous tanker ship, half-sunk into the
silt of the bay, where dead things watch the glimmering surface
above for their next meal. Necropoli are fortresses and open
forums, record halls and larders. Their forms and functions
are as twisted and varied as the Haunts themselves, and every
bit as disturbing to outsiders. They’re where the Haunts can
truly be themselves.
Only the Haunts gather together in such communities,
and have done so for millennia. The Nosferatu have always
been builders — they had to be. Serpents and Lords can force
themselves into the halls of power and have mortals dancing
to their tune in a night; Shadows slip between the camera
feed frames to inhabit forgotten spaces, with other residents
never the wiser; and Savages don’t need a roof as long as
they have a patch of dirt. But Haunts aren’t gladhanders or
sneaks or survivalists. They’re monsters, and monsters live in
the muck, under bridges, caves, and sewage drains, away from
the terrible truth of light.
Necessity is a good teacher, and the Nosferatu are excellent
students. A few pieces of sheet metal here, a trapdoor there, and
what began as a shelter from the sun and society becomes a home.
Still, a home isn’t home without neighbors… but who wants to
live with a monster? The other monsters, of course, and fuck all
the ones who pretend to be something else.
Other clans aren’t welcome down in the depths. Their author-
ity is worth less than the runoff dripping down the rusted pipes.
Rejects rule the Warrens, and any “Kindred” foolish enough
to forget aren’t going to survive the visit.
Ex Urbe Mortis
The first Necropolis worthy of the name was built beneath
Rome, ironically at the behest of another clan. The Dead
Julii desired a place of magnificence from which to rule the
Camarilla, and they bade the Worms of Rome to burrow
deep and craft a dark reflection of the city above. The Roman
Necropolis was a thing of white marble and proud columns,
the first and last city created by the dead, for the dead.
When Rome burned above, the Necropolis remained below, and
parts of it still stand tonight as the last shards of the Camarilla, a
legacy of its lowest members. The Haunts have never forgotten this,
and while other Kindred do their best to rise to greater heights,
the Nosferatu dig ever deeper, even as the surface falls to ash.

Chapter Two: Hellscapes 71

 In the Covenants
In order to sustain their numbers, most Necropoli are
inter-covenant affairs. However, a given city might have
enough Haunts in a single covenant to form their own Warren,
and such structures can be powerful forces for their faction’s
agenda or philosophy.
The Carthian Movement: Firebrand Necropoli are com-
munal hives, resembling guerrilla bases and underground
resistance cells more than living spaces. With soapboxes on
hand for whatever cause they’re championing that night, a
Carthian Warren’s unity is a powerful weapon, though they
often have trouble with the “secret” aspect, as their righteous
anger struggles to contain itself to just one location.
The Circle of the Crone: Warrens dedicated to the Crone
are hellish, viscera-splattered caves with arcane totems marking
the borders, promising a slow death to all intruders. Acolyte
Necropoli form to consecrate territory to the Dark Mother, or
to tear down something or someone that offends her. They’re
more primitive than other Necropoli, exploiting natural caverns
and sinkholes, with dark altars where cultists can spill entrails
to divine their deity’s unholy will.
The Invictus: Warrens sponsored by the First Estate
often center around maintaining the Masquerade. Most are
hubs where the Haunts can file away reports and coordinate
enforcement, but some dedicate themselves to wetwork if the
Invictus is on its back foot in the domain. In cities where the
Conspiracy of Silence rules, a Warren might be the center of
power, a hidden boardroom where the Inner Circle convenes
to make the real decisions. These Necropoli are slick affairs,
like oversized panic rooms covered in gleaming steel panels,
stocked to the brim with the finer things in death. Hidden
doesn’t have to mean shabby.
The Lancea et Sanctum: Sanctified Necropoli are under-
ground temples where hooded priests read from the Testament
by the light of flickering halogen bulbs, and warbling, hissing
choruses sing out in supplication. These Warrens safeguard
precious records or holy relics, but sometimes they’re just meant
to tighten the Judges’ grip on a given area. The cores of these
Warrens are always churches, but whether this means soaring
arches lined with cracked stained glass, or spartan chambers
and unadorned pews, depends on the sect.
The Ordo Dracul: The Order is the least likely covenant
to build Necropoli, as the unity of purpose they require is
rare among the Defiant. When they do build them, however,
Dragon Warrens are nightmare versions of scientific facilities,
with lecture halls carved out of sewer brickwork, and rows of
blood-stained labs where the cries of “patients” echo for miles
underground. Information gathering is the most obvious
goal for these Necropoli, but a concerted effort to “liberate”
a Wyrm’s Nest could bring such Haunts together. A Warren
built over a Nest develops all sorts of dangerous and esoteric
features, any one of which might become the covenant’s next
breakthrough.
72 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Terminology
Younger Haunts view the word Necropolis as
rather archaic, or even pretentious in the modern
age. Over the centuries, the more casual term
Warren arose to refer to Nosferatu-only spaces,
but many elders see this word as too crass for
the important structures it represents. Ultimately,
both terms have validity, and see almost equal use
among Haunts.
Pale Imitations
Occasionally, one of the other clans tries its hand at an
exclusive society. Such experiments never go on for very
long — or end well — but they’re horrifying and fascinating
case studies while they last. The Haunts prefer to call them
teachable moments.
Daeva Utopias: When the Serpents gather together, the
Vitae, alcohol, and sex flow like water, and screams of ecstasy
drown out the cries of agony. Glittering monuments to excess
and desire, Utopias tend to be cults of personality, with a single
Daeva calling on other Serpents to share in his vision. Like
fireworks, such places are beautiful, but fleeting. Jealousies
flare, tempers rise, and appetites run rampant until the whole
thing comes crashing down in glorious fashion.
Gangrel Freeholds: It’s rare for the independent Savages to
try communal living, but it does happen from time to time.
A family or coterie will carve out a swath of territory for their
own, offering land and blood to any clanmate who wants to
join up. It’s a force to be reckoned with while it lasts; nobody
wants to mess with a lone wolf, never mind a whole pack.
That said, Gangrel aren’t well known for accepting authority,
and those who won’t submit find it’s easier just to move on.
Freeholds often end with a whimper, not a bang, as members
simply drift away.
Ventrue Kingdoms: Sometimes, the Lords decide they need
a place away from the petty squabbles of their inferiors, where
the true elite of the All Night Society can gather to shape the
fates of lesser beings. Ventrue Kingdoms always begin well, and
are organized down to the stationary font — Ventrue love hier-
archies, after all. Unfortunately, what they love more is power,
and in a room full of CEOs, nobody wants to be the janitor.
Kingdoms collapse under the weight of their subjects’ egos, or
grind to a halt as the struggle to be king overwhelms whatever
purpose brought them together in the first place.
Mekhet [REDACTED]: The Mekhet don’t bother with
such nonsense. Maybe they rent a meeting place, or maintain
a bunker for emergencies, but only fools gather all together
in one place. Much better to pull the strings from a distance,
where no one even knows your name. For what the Shadows
get up to when they do organize, see Strange Shades: Mekhet.
 Brick by Ugly Brick
This section details the construction of Necropoli, a device
meant to add strange detail and squirming depth to all-Haunt
chronicles. Nosferatu may be the least understood of all the
clans, and a chronicle where every player is portraying one
should be fundamentally different from other stories. The
presence of a Necropolis should be felt through a sense of
greater organization among the local Haunts, or subterranean
rumors hinting at something sinister beneath the streets. A
Warren is a tangible, solid place, one player characters can
experience through the slick brickwork beneath their feet,
and the smell of old blood and fresh sewage. With proper
construction, a Necropolis can be another character in its
own right.
This system isn’t intended to load Storytellers or players
down with unnecessary bookkeeping; mood and atmosphere
should always come before systems, so don’t feel constrained
by these rules. It also isn’t necessary to go through this
process if the Necropolis is just a background feature of
the chronicle, though the steps below might be helpful in
teasing out details.
Treat the following as a cooperative exercise, and don’t
be afraid to go off-script if it suits the feel of the chronicle.
Necropoli are weird, and defy easy categorization.
Step One: The Heart
At the center of every Necropolis is the Heart, the literal
and metaphorical core of the under-city, connecting every
haven, hideaway, and lair. It goes by many names — the Board
Room, the Senate Floor, the Forum, the Oil Baths… all of
these are Hearts, and none are quite alike in their malignancy.
It’s the place Nosferatu gather to gossip, worship, and scheme.
Most of all, however, it’s where they come to feed, from which
all the other effluvia flow from. No matter how strong its
founding ideals, or fortified its blood-stained walls, or zealous
its membership, a Warren that can’t keep the people fed is
doomed to fall.
A Heart can take any form imaginable. The only constants
are security, size, and blood flow. For a chamber to count as
a Heart, it must be secure enough to block out the sun and
casual intruders, large enough to contain all residents (even
if that would be standing room only), and have a method in
place of getting blood to hungry fangs. This last requirement
could be as simple as an array of pitted iron manacles to hold
victims, or as complex as a series of shining spigots and brass
tubes, pouring pints of blood into rusted tankards at the twist
of a lever.
Choosing the Heart’s physical form is a narrative decision,
with no hard mechanics attached. As long as the above con-
ditions are met, it can be anything the players and Storyteller
agree on.
Systems
The Heart provides a dot of Safe Place for every Haunt who
claims membership in the Necropolis. Characters can pool
these Merits, and increasing them represents a more secure
chamber within the Warren. Should a character lose access
to the Necropolis, she also loses this Merit. Sanctity of Merits
applies, except the free dot granted upon membership.
However, the most vital resource a Heart provides is blood.
Any Necropolis resident can take (Clan Status + 1) Vitae per
week from a communal blood supply within the Heart. This
Vitae is free for all, and residents must work together to keep
it flowing.
Of course, Kindred are selfish, greedy creatures when it
comes to blood. A resident can sneak some extra Vitae with a
successful Wits + Stealth roll, penalized by the amount she takes
over her usual allotment. This penalty is cumulative within
the same week. Success means she gets away with it, guzzling
a few extra drops. Should the would-be thief fail, however, her
fellow Haunts will catch her in the act, and they won’t be very
impressed. Any character caught drinking more than her fair
share gains the Necropolis Pariah Condition (p. 79), as word
of her greed spreads throughout the Warren.
Step Two: Veins
A Necropolis is a place of connection, of give-and-take.
Obligation flows from one citizen to another like blood, ensur-
ing everybody knows their neighbor — whether they want to
or not. Veins are the manifestation of this civic feeling, and
they help define the Haunts who call the place the Necropolis
home. The Veins of each Necropolis consist of three factors:
a Focus, a Benefit, and a Burden.
The Focus
The Focus is the Warren’s guiding principle. Building and
maintaining a secure, underground structure that can sustain
multiple Kindred isn’t easy, and Nosferatu only bother if they
have good reason. Without a Focus, the Warren is just a fancy
haven, one other Kindred are likely to covet.
Choose a Focus from the broad categories below, and then
personalize it with a short phrase, similar to a long-term
Aspiration. Once per chapter, a character gains a Beat when
they act in concert with the Warren’s Focus.
Control
The Nosferatu have found a place they like, and they’ve
built a Necropolis beneath it to make sure it’s theirs forever.
Finders, keepers, after all. This could be a location below the
city’s financial sector, ensuring the Haunt’s warped fingerprints
are on every wad of dirty cash that passes through the system.
Chapter Two: Hellscapes 73
 Another might be nestled beneath the local art gallery, its res-
idents deciding who or what will be the Next Big Thing from
the darkness, laughing at all the posing Serpents who can’t even
get through the front door.
Rarely, a Control Necropolis is meant to leash something
more abstract, like a series of nests spread throughout an urban
power grid, giving its residents power over when to turn off
the lights.
Examples: Bend the police force to our will. Claim the Butcher’s
Block district for ourselves. Capture all seven Pools of Eyes.
Information
Nosferatu can learn things even Shadows can’t conceive,
things that can only be found by digging up the darkest,
filthiest corners of the world. Necropoli founded with this
Focus are whisper networks swirling with bloody rumors and
dirty truths. They tend to be sprawling, twisted labyrinths
studded with spy holes and listening tubes, inflicting a sense
of creeping paranoia on anyone venturing too deep.
Information Warrens are also the most likely to tolerate
outsiders; some secrets just can’t be trusted to any form of
correspondence. Whether these guests ever leave is another
matter, however.
Examples: Gather blackmail on every member of the Invictus.
Outdo the Shadows at the information game. Discover the truth
behind the prince’s rise to power.
Protection
The Nosferatu have banded together to defend something
— most often themselves, but Haunts sometimes feel strongly
enough about an artifact, location, or person to build a Warren.
A wise or influential elder might conceive of herself as the
Focus, ensuring she always has a safe space to sleep through
the ages. Warrens founded for Protection are built for defense,
with thick walls of crudely welded sheet metal, pitfalls ending
in rusted rebar, and chambers where squirming, hungry things
wait to feast upon intruders.
Examples: Defend ourselves from persecution. Protect the
Crumbling Library from harm. Safeguard the White Worm while
it slumbers.
Sabotage
Spite flows through Nosferatu Vitae like squirming mag-
gots, and a Necropolis with this Focus is the strongest out-
ward manifestation of that hatred. While most Warrens are
about raising Haunts up, one dedicated to Sabotage is about
tearing something — or someone — down. Perhaps the local
Nosferatu are all members of the Mother’s Army, waging a
now decades-long campaign to expunge the Sanctified from
their city. Maybe a pack of werewolves ripped a Haunt to
pieces, not knowing it was the prince’s favorite childe; now a
Necropolis grows like a tumor beneath the park the wolfmen
covet so fiercely.
Unlike other Focuses, a Warren founded for Sabotage has an
end goal, one its residents could actually achieve one night. If
74 Better Feared: Nosferatu
they do, the Nosferatu might maintain their community, shift-
ing their Focus to a new goal, or, absent a common enemy, the
Warren might fall to infighting, its former residents scattering
like rats in a fire.
Examples: Let no Ventrue have peace within the city. Leave the
Yamamoto family in ruins. The Broken Spades krewe must pay.
The Benefit
All residents have access to a Benefit, an advantage that
comes with residing in the Necropolis. This is usually a
circumstantial bonus or protection rather than dots on a
character sheet. Benefits can be mundane or supernatural
in effect, but should always tie back to the Focus. They tend
to be subtle and specific, and make it easier for residents to
further their community’s agenda.
Examples: Residents of the Corpseyard take a +5 modifier to any
Crafts roll that incorporates bones harvested from the mass graves that
lie at the Warren’s center. Hunting actions exceptionally succeed on
three successes instead of five for residents of Aspen Street, but only
when they adopt the persona of “the Burlap Man,” an urban legend
spawned by their Rat King.
The Burden
The Burden is a behavioral restriction residents must adhere
to. This could take the form of a task each resident must peri-
odically complete, or even a code of honor that only applies
below the earth. Whatever the specifics, the Burden should
impact the residents’ Requiems without being debilitating
or overwhelming.
Much like the Benefit, the Burden can be mundane or
supernatural in nature, but it should still reflect the Focus. If a
Nosferatu fails to abide by the Burden, or violates it, she gains
the Necropolis Pariah Condition (p. 79).
Examples: Once a month, each resident of the Corpseyard must
add a fresh body to the graves — how they do this is entirely up to them.
On Aspen Street, each resident “adopts” one of the homes above, and
is responsible for ensuring the humans inhabiting them respect strange
local customs involving burlap and blood.
Step Three: Residents
A Necropolis without Nosferatu is just a stretch of empty
tunnels and dusty corridors. Residents make it more than
chipped stone, rusted metal, and old blood. In a Warren-
focused chronicle, the player characters act as the principal
residents. They may not be in charge, but they’re the movers
and shakers, or the up-and-comers. They’ll be the ones pushing
things to new (metaphorical) heights, or the ones to bring the
whole thing crashing down.
But a Necropolis is bigger than just one coterie. The steps
below outline ways that players can create a whole cast of vam-
pires and underlings to rub their greasy elbows with down in
the crowded darkness.

Your Fellow Scum
First, create residents who form the core population of the
Necropolis, whether they be Haunts or ghouls along for the ride.
They’re about the same status as the player characters (give or
take), though this depends on the story. They can be friends
or foes or frenemies, but they should always have connections
to the protagonists.
Build up to one resident per player. Not everyone has to make
a resident, but everyone should contribute to the conversation.
Start with a Name and a Concept, just like any other character.
• Aspirations: Each resident has two Aspirations. One must
relate to their job in the Necropolis (official or unofficial),
while the other helps define them personally, or just their
existence above ground.
• Anchors: Each character has a Mask and Dirge, or a Vice and
Virtue, in the case of ghouls. Players decide what the Mask/
Virtue of each resident will be, based on how they interact
with their characters. The Storyteller, however, chooses all
Dirges/Vices, which should define their role in the Warren.
Example Archetypes can be found on p. 95 of this book, and
p. 84 of Vampire: The Requiem.
• Traits: Residents prioritize Attribute dots in the 5/4/3 cat-
egories like player characters, and distribute 15 dots among
the three Skill categories. They then gain 5 dots of Merits.
Calculate Advantages as usual. Kindred gain three Discipline
dots, while ghouls gain one. The Storyteller can choose to
adjust traits as befits a character’s age and status.
• Curses: Decide how each resident’s clan bane (if any)
expresses itself and how it defines their lives in the Warren.
• Connections: Residing within a Necropolis forces Haunts
into each other’s businesses like little else, and it’s impossible
to remain aloof from the nasty plots of your fellow monsters.
Each player should choose at least one resident and describe
how their character relates to them. Are they bitter rivals?
Reluctant collaborators? Secret lovers?
Your Asshole Boss
Next, create a Rat King. This resident is at the top of the
heap: They’re the vampire who enforces the rules, maintains
the Heart’s blood flow, and otherwise assures everyone falls
in line. One or more of the troupe’s characters might take on
this role themselves, if they’re sufficiently powerful, but it’s
more common for the Storyteller to portray the Rat King, with
input from her players. For traits, start with the same ones
as normal residents, but augment dot allocations as needed.
While the Rat King is in charge, they aren’t a wholly
unknown factor, unless that’s appropriate for the story. Each
player should volunteer an anecdote about a run-in their char-
acter has had with the Rat King.
• The same hoary elder has ruled the Necropolis beneath Milan
for as long as anyone can recall, and her judicious use of the
Vinculum enforces her will through long stretches of torpor.
• A Carthian Warren uses an anonymous council to make
decisions. Each resident is guaranteed a term on the council
on a randomly generated schedule, with the caveat that all
must obey its diktats without question.
• The Edinburgh Necropolis bows to a pale-fleshed creature
that isn’t Kindred at all. It whispers in every Haunt’s dreams,
and demands sacrifices when the moon is right.
• One Dragon Necropolis has no Rat, just a mailbox where
orders and judgments appear during daylight hours.
Your Hoi Polloi
The above aren’t necessarily the extent of the Necropolis’
population. By nature, Nosferatu are hard to pin down, and
prone to showing up when they’re least expected. As the chron-
icle advances, who knows what horrors might slither from the
Warren’s dripping corridors?
If you want to fill out the population of the Warren more
thoroughly, come up with a few extras. Each player can come
up with a couple of names, and reputations to go along with
them. These characters might be more vampires and ghouls, or
mortals connected to the Warren through manipulation, fear,
and blood. The Storyteller should keep a list of these charac-
ters, and she can create traits for them if they become a bigger
focus in the story. The Chronicles of Darkness Rulebook also
includes templates for incidental characters (p. 119).
Step Four: Clots
Nosferatu are weird, even by the high standards of the All
Night Society, and anywhere they lurk long enough tends to go
a bit… strange. Hallways twist at sharp, not-quite-possible angles,
and the darkness goes a bit deeper than the grime-stained
walls should really allow. Clots are features of the Necropolis
no one planned or created — they just sort of happened. Every
established Warren has at least one Clot, and older settlements
may have many more.
While Clots are useful to the residents of a Necropolis, no
one really controls them, and they can be just as dangerous to
the Nosferatu as intruders, if they’re not respected. Many a
Warren has fallen trying to rid itself of a Clot.
Choose one Clot from the list below to add bizarre flair to
your Necropolis; Storytellers can allow a second if it suits the
chronicle, but more than that might be unwieldy. Don’t hesitate
to create new Clots if the examples below don’t fit your needs.
Black Door
Sometimes, when a Necropolis is particularly deep, or
bears witness to one too many deaths, a door will appear.
This door is always in the deepest part of the Warren, and
is often incongruous with its surroundings: Lacquered wood
set into rough stone walls, or dull steel somehow attached to
packed earth. Its exact form varies, but it is always, without
fail, black. It won’t open — not at first. Not until someone
Chapter Two: Hellscapes 75
 figures out the trick. Maybe they have to knock on its frame
in time to a morbid children’s rhyme, or trickle blood on
the handle while describing the last death they witnessed.
However, once unlocked, a Black Door always leads to the
same place: The Underworld.
Some Necropoli ban the Black Door’s use, sealing off what-
ever tunnel it’s attached to (though there always seems to be
a way to slip through). Others use it as a garbage disposal, as
few places are better to hide inconvenient bodies than the land
of death. The bravest and most foolish residents explore the
caverns beyond the door, hoping to exploit whatever resources
they can find. Some even come back.
System: Opening the Black Door inflicts the Underworld
Gate Condition on the area. However, this requires the door’s
key, a ritual or object as described above. See Chronicles of
Darkness, p. 136, for more on Underworld Gates and their
interactions with the living world.
Catacombs
Whether it’s a junkyard maze of rusting cars, walls of gutted
appliances, or winding, narrow tunnels covered in grinning
skulls, the area surrounding the Necropolis is difficult to
navigate, and this helps discourage or trap casual intruders.
Strangely, it doesn’t seem to matter how large a Necropolis with
this Clot actually is: There’s always enough room for someone
to lose their way…
System: Navigating the Catacombs requires an extended
Wits + Investigation roll, with 10 successes as the target. Each
roll represents an hour of wandering whatever mad structure
the Catacombs represent. These places are inevitably dark,
musty, and choked with cobwebs or other debris, inflicting
a 3-die penalty on all Perception rolls. Residents of the
Necropolis do not have to make this roll most of the time,
but it may still be required if they’re distracted or in a hurry.
In such a case, a resident can add Clan Status to these rolls,
representing how familiar they are with the Catacombs and
the Warren in general.
Guardian Swarm
Something other than the Haunts stalks the halls of the
Necropolis in an endless patrol for trespassers and blood.
Perhaps it’s a carpet of chittering rats, or a pack of hollow-eyed
dogs, red-stained lips pulled back from sharp, yellow teeth.
Regardless of the exact form they take, these creatures are
hungry, and if you don’t belong, they’ll take their next meal
out of your flesh.
System: Guardian Swarms are packs or hordes of mutant
animals that live in the Warren. These creatures are unnatural
(flat-white eyes, stitched-together limbs, too human voices,
etc.) and will attack any non-resident they come across. If the
Guardians have their Health track filled with lethal damage,
they’ll disperse. However, they will return after a week to
roam the Warren once again. Any resident who encounters
the Labyrinth Guardians must feed them a point of Vitae, or
suffer their attacks — their vigil has a price, after all.
76 Better Feared: Nosferatu
GUARDIAN SWARM
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 1, Wits 3, Resolve 3
Physical Attributes: Strength 4, Dexterity 3, Stamina 2
Social Attributes: Presence 3, Manipulation 1,
Composure 3
Skills: Athletics 2, Brawl 3, Intimidation 4, Survival 3
Health: 12
Willpower: 6
Size: 10 (For the group; individuals vary)
Speed: 12
Initiative: 6
Defense: 5
Attack Damage Initiative Dice Pool
Bite/Claws 0L +1 7
Necropolis Specter
Nosferatu linger on the outskirts of the All Night Society,
inhabiting ruins and forgotten places with bloody reputations,
and sometimes they find they aren’t alone. Necropoli often
end up incorporating haunted places by accident, but even
those that don’t start out that way can wind up with a ghost
or two, as the appetites of the Nosferatu take their toll on
the locals.
The Necropolis Specter is such a ghost, one with enough
awareness that the residents have come to an accord with it.
Of sorts. The ghost helps protect the Warren with whatever
powers it possesses, and in exchange, the residents perform
some service for it. Whether this is maintaining a small shrine,
taking care of its living family, or something altogether more
esoteric, is up to the individual Specter. This might even tie
into the Warren’s Focus or Burden.
System: The Necropolis Specter is a Rank 3 ghost. Build it
using the ephemeral being rules found on p. 122 of Chronicles
of Darkness. Its Anchor should be a place or object that resides
within the Necropolis proper. The older the ghost is, the more
it will demand for its services, and the more trouble it can cause
if it decides to lash out.
Sepulchral Garden
Life often blooms from death, and any life born of things
as dead as the Nosferatu is bound to be strange. A garden has
sprouted within the Warren, springing up from damp earth,
moldering garbage, or discarded corpses. Wherever the garden
grows, its plants are lovely little horrors: bruise-black flowers
seeping a slime that smells of pus, trees weeping a sap that
looks (and tastes) like stale blood, or just clusters of knee-high
deathcap mushrooms, glowing faintly in the gloom and calling
out with alluring voices.
 System: A resident can harvest cuttings from the Sepulchral
Garden to make a special poison. By mixing them with a point of
Vitae and succeeding an Intelligence + Medicine roll, she creates
a sweet-smelling substance that resembles crimson honey. This
is a Toxicity 4 poison that affects vampires and other corporeal
dead, but is harmless to the living. In fact, if a mortal is made
to ingest the substance (which tastes as good as it smells), their
blood becomes toxic, and the next vampire to feed on them will
suffer the effects of the poison. Failure on the preparation roll
means the resident poisons herself.
Uncanny Altar
Where did it come from, this strange artifact of metal and
stone? No one in the Necropolis admits to building it, but it
wasn’t here before the Haunts arrived. It’s not dedicated to
Longinus, or any of the myriad divinities the Acolytes worship,
but it venerates something. Do the odd, angular shapes carved
in the side form a face, or is that just a trick of the flickering
light? Maybe don’t get too close.
System: Any resident who rests in the same room as the
Uncanny Altar must roll Resolve + Composure when they next
wake. Success grants the character the rote quality on their
next Mental Skill roll. However, they also take the Spooked
Condition, distracted by otherworldly whispers at the edges
of perception. Failure on the roll means the voices are all the
more intense: The resident gains the Shaken Condition and
no benefit.
Step Five: Merits
There are intrinsic perks to joining a Necropolis, but it pro-
vides residents with more concrete resources as well, if they’re
willing to put in the work. Some Warrens are underground
fortresses, offering layers of protection against the Haunt’s ene-
mies, while others boast innumerable entrances and exits into
the world above, allowing a resident to travel almost anywhere
in the domain undetected. Such features are represented below
by special Merits, only available to residents of the Necropolis
that provides them.
Should a character be removed as a resident, she loses
access to any Necropolis Merits she’s purchased. The player
can choose whether to let the Sanctity of Merits play out as
usual, or hold off in the hopes of worming her way back into
the Warren’s good graces. The latter might be easier said
than done, however: Once broken, trust is difficult to regain
among the Damned.
Chapter Two: Hellscapes 77

Apocrypha
Necropolis Merits from The Beast That Haunts
the Blood: Nosferatu that aren’t converted below
can be substituted with more general Merits from
Vampire: The Requiem Second Edition. These
effects might also be suitable for Benefits, or as
minor gifts a Warren offers prospective residents.
• Caldarium: Mystery Cult Initiation (Vampire, p.
121).
• Dark Temple: Altar (Vampire, p. 109).
• Sepulchers: This system is already covered by
the Heart, but the Skill enhancing effect could
fall under Interdisciplinary Specialty (Vampire,
p. 121).
Decide which Merits membership grants from the list below.
Each Warren grants access to two Merits, one of which must be
tagged with the appropriate Focus. The second is a free choice.
As with Clots, these Merits are only examples. If none fit for your
Necropolis, come up with your own.
If you aren’t using the complete Warren system, all of these
Merits work fine for regular play, but the Storyteller might require
a Clan Status prerequisite.
Bleak Annals (• to •••••)
Tags: Information
Effect: A Necropolis dedicated to Information almost always
has an archive, and your character is mistress of her own special
corner of it. At base, this Merit provides a dot of Library that ties
to a Mental Skill appropriate to the Necropolis. Characters can
increase their Library with Experiences. For each dot in Bleak
Annals, your character also gains a Specialty in the Mental Skill
enhanced by Library, reflecting her private collection. If she
performs a successful research action with the Library, she can
access these Specialties for the rest of the chapter.
Corrupting Influence (• to •••••)
Tags: Control
Effect: Your character’s efforts to extend the Warren’s
Control Focus have been rewarded. Once a chapter, she benefits
from any of the following Merits at a rating equal to her dots in
Corrupting Influence: Allies, Contacts, Mentor, or Retainer.
Merits gained must reflect her Necropolis’ area of control.
Dark Hub (•)
Tags: Control, Information
Effect: The Internet has been a mixed blessing to Kindred in
general, but an absolute boon to the Nosferatu, who take full
advantage of the ability to trade secrets and ruin lives without
ever meeting anyone face-to-face. The Dark Hub is a chamber
78 Better Feared: Nosferatu
in the Necropolis packed with humming servers and flickering
monitors. On any Computer roll made within the Necropolis or
the surrounding area to acquire services from the Internet, your
character exceptionally succeeds on three successes.
Honeycomb (• to •••••)
Tags: All
Effect: Most Necropoli are full of hidden passageways, but
this one has spread its tendrils all throughout the surrounding
area, giving its residents ready access to all sorts of unexpected
places. For each dot of Honeycomb, your character knows two
hidden exits from the Warren into the world beyond. These
egress points can be anywhere that hasn’t been purchased as a
Safe Place by another character. Such passages are well-hidden,
and any mundane rolls to notice them fail if someone isn’t
actively looking for them.
Drawback: Traveling these tunnels is stealthy and secure, but
it isn’t fast. Travel must be done on foot, usually single-file, and
the routes are often circuitous due to necessity and paranoia.
When using this Merit to travel to a destination, add half again
the amount of time it would usually take to walk there.
Home Turf (• to •••••)
Tags: Protection
Effect: A Warren with the Protection Focus has many built-in
defenses, and this Merit represents the time your character has
taken to familiarize himself with them. During any combat
within the Necropolis, your character can distribute his dots
in Home Turf as bonuses to Defense, Initiative, or Speed, in
whatever combination he desires. These bonuses cannot be
changed until the violent encounter is resolved.
Drawback: Your character cannot use Home Turf against
another resident — they know all the same tricks.
Lost & Found (•)
Tags: Protection, Sabotage
Effect: Things that are lost or thrown away seem to travel
downward, as if responding to some intrinsic pull of entropy.
Many such objects wind up in Necropoli, where they’re snatched
up by the residents and given new purpose. A Lost & Found can
take many forms, from a pit of junk to a meticulously catalogued
room full of rusting, slimy treasure, but they all have the same
purpose. If your character needs a piece of equipment with two
dots of Availability or less, she might be able to locate it in the
Lost & Found. A successful Wits + Investigation roll, repre-
senting an hour of picking through the trash trove, means she’s
found something adequate for her needs. This roll can only be
attempted once per chapter. Note that this usually doesn’t apply
to weapons, which are covered by the Necropolis Arsenal Merit.
Drawback: One man’s trash might be another man’s treasure,
but it’s still garbage. Equipment pulled from the Lost & Found
is broken, faulty, or otherwise inferior in some way. Unless the
roll was an exceptional success, apply the Fragile or Volatile
 Necropolis Creation Quick Reference
STEP ONE: THE HEART
Determine the Warren’s Heart and how residents take blood from it.
STEP TWO: VEINS
Select a Focus, Benefit, and Burden for the Necropolis. The four Focus archetypes are:
Control, Information, Protection, and Sabotage.
STEP THREE: RESIDENTS
Create residents to populate the Necropolis, including a Rat King and any extras (if applicable).
STEP FOUR: CLOTS
Select a Clot to manifest in the Necropolis.
STEP FIVE: MERITS
Choose two Necropolis Merits residents have access to. One must be tagged with the appropriate Focus archetype.

Condition (Storyteller’s choice) on anything procured with this
Merit; see Chronicles of Darkness, p. 102.
Necropolis Arsenal (•• or •••)
Tags: Sabotage
Effect: A Necropolis dedicated to Sabotage makes sure resi-
dents have the right tools for the job. Your character has access to
her Warren’s armory, and can acquire a variety of weapons and
useful defensive items through it. At two dots, this represents
basic equipment: knives, small firearms, light armor, etc. At
three dots, she’s been trusted with the good shit: machine guns,
machetes, explosives, riot gear, and even supernatural objects.
Drawback: Your character must have a good reason to check
equipment out, and must return it intact. If not, she risks gain-
ing the Necropolis Pariah Condition for abusing her privileges.
Tumbling Down
Nosferatu aren’t always as united as they seem, and their
enemies aren’t always external. Sometimes (often) Warrens fall.
Necropoli can survive a little selfishness and squabbling here
and there; such is the norm among Kindred, but an attack on the
Heart is as destructive as a stake to a vampire’s. Compromising
a Heart is straightforward, but by no means easy. Vampires
guard their blood supply viciously, and all but nascent Hearts
are well-protected against sabotage. To bring down a Heart in
a lasting way, it must be damaged to the point where it cannot
supply blood for at least a week. A shorter disruption won’t be
enough to damage the residents’ faith in their system — they have
to feel the hunger clawing at their throats.
However, to permanently bring down a Necropolis, one must
also attack its Focus, shattering the sense of unity that binds the
Haunts together. This destruction of purpose varies depending
upon the nature of the Focus. For an Information-based Warren,
it might start with burning down the bloated archive at the heart
of its network, and a Control Focus may require a guerrilla cam-
paign to destroy resources and murder key contacts.
If both the Heart and the Focus are broken, the Necropolis
falls. All characters lose access to any Merits granted by mem-
bership, and every resident loses a point of Clan Status, as news
of their failure spreads to the rest of the city’s Haunts.
The destruction of a Warren isn’t always literal. It may be
possible for a dead Necropolis to be restored to glory (or func-
tionality) through the concerted efforts of enough dedicated
Nosferatu. Such an undertaking, however, would likely be a
story of its own.
NECROPOLIS PARIAH
(PERSISTENT)
You’re on the outs and everyone knows it. You lose access
to the Necropolis Benefit, and Social rolls with residents that
normally add Clan Status suffer a –1 modifier. This penalty
builds up on a one-to-one basis each time you would gain this
Condition again, and the amount of penance required to
resolve it increases accordingly. If the penalty exceeds your Clan
Status (even if it’s zero), you have until the next night to resolve
Necropolis Pariah. Failure to do so ends the Condition without
resolving it, which results in your ejection from the Necropolis.
Possible Sources: Taking more than your fair share from the
Heart, violating the Burden.
Resolution: Donate Vitae to the Heart. Perform an act of
civic service. Voluntarily sacrifice a dot of Clan Status.
Beat: Lose access to Warren resources due to your behavior.

Chapter Two: Hellscapes 79

 The Coal Shafts
Sik-ooh-kotok (Lethbridge), Canada
Deep in the Albertan south, Sik-ooh-kotok has always been a
bastion for the Nosferatu. The Coal Shafts started as a hiding
place from the hated sun, but now they drip with power as the
greatest Kindred come home to roost. Intrigue and danger are
afoot, though, as the other clans test their chains, and covenants
threaten to tear the domain apart from within.
Where we came from
The first of us arrived in the 1870s and 80s when the settlers
found coal along the Old Man River, but most of us didn’t arrive
until the first railways came in ’85. We snuck into the mines,
picking off our victims one by one. Who would question a miner
feeling exhausted and sick after a long shift? And if someone
disappeared in the darkness, well, it’s a dangerous job…
The mines started closing in the early 20th century with the
oil boom in Western Canada. Coal wasn’t profitable anymore,
not worth descending down the shafts where sharp teeth waited
to prick the skin. It was a mixed blessing for us. The Warren
was now truly ours, a safe place where Haunts can rest away
from mortal eyes, but our food no longer wandered close to
our homes.
As Lethbridge adapted to a new global economy, we ven-
tured out of our mines and seized control of the town that
was rightfully ours.
Who we are tonight
The first Kindred in Lethbridge were Haunts, and it remains
Haunt territory tonight. That much didn’t change, but our
purpose evolved. As the University became more and more
central to the city’s lifeblood, we fused our faith with scientific
innovation. The Lancea et Sanctum and Ordo Dracul joined
forces to understand the Kindred condition and build the best
monster possible. The Warren’s dark caverns, far from where
any mortal can hear the screams, echo with their gurgling exper-
iments, creating monsters that are both holy and blasphemous.
Their alliance also keeps the other covenants in check,
although such vulgar politics aren’t supposed to matter in the
Necropolis. The Sanctified have the sheer numbers to sway the
domain, but the Dragons are hot on their heels, and aren’t above
bribing the Judges with new monstrosities to get their way. It’s a
dangerous night when a priest returns to the surface with a grin
on his face, covered in soot and blood. And that’s ignoring the
Establishment’s debauched parties and the Firebrands’ hidden
dynamite caches, secreted away amongst the twisting tunnels.
The mines aren’t just a place to hide from the sun — they let us
hide from each other, plotting and conniving our way to rise
to the All Night Society’s pinnacle.
These politics are the biggest threat to our society. All are
80 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Underworlds of Darkness
The following settings provide a glimpse of the
ways Nosferatu structure their Warrens. Use them
as seeds for your own chronicles, or as examples of
how the systems presented in this chapter reflect the
Haunts’ nightly struggles. While each Necropolis is
tied to a particular location and history, Storytellers
are encouraged to adapt plots, characters, and story
hooks to their own Warrens.
equal within the Coal Shafts, but the covenants still jockey for
power and influence, even if they go out of their way to make it
look like they aren’t. Make no mistake though — the other clans
would love to take the foundation we’ve built and reel all the
benefits for themselves, without having to do the hard labor.
It’s all a twisted rosebush labyrinth: beautiful to look at, but
twisted and dangerous to touch. Rest assured, your nights in
Lethbridge won’t be quiet, but they sure as hell won’t be boring.
Secrets and Lies
The Coal Shaft’s Carthians are a small but dedicated crew.
Led by Misty Little Bear, they’ve allied with the Dragons to
uncover the mystical underpinnings of Carthian Law. While
their work is still preliminary, Misty believes they’ve found a
way to amplify the Law’s impact using consecrated ore, which
spells trouble for the Sanctified.
Mortals are used to the rattlesnakes slithering through
Lethbridge’s grass. The snakes are mostly protected by local con-
servation groups, although every once in a while, someone claims
the reptiles are vermin and tries to eradicate them. Kindred
quietly back the conservationists for entirely selfish reasons.
Whenever a snake dies to violence, it vomits forth a new body
the following midnight, leaving its original corpse behind like a
shed skin. The undead serpents possess malevolent intelligence,
and a few Haunts suspect the truth: they are in fact animalistic
revenants, impossible monsters that shouldn’t exist, yet do — and
they always make their way to the Coal Shafts.
Sik-ohh-kotok’s Nosferatu still age, albeit slowly. Punch an
elder hard enough and you’ll find he doesn’t have bone under
his dead muscles anymore, but coal. Given enough time, this
anthracite petrification oozes its way into the vampire’s flesh,
stiffening and immobilizing the ancient creature. Before that
happens, the elders roost deep within a secret chamber in the
Necropolis, becoming twisted, bloody stalagmites in their
clan’s lair. Drinking the blood dripping from these humanoid
coal formations allows younger Haunts to tap into the elder’s
knowledge and power until the next sunrise.
Residents
Monica Jennings, De Facto Prince: Technically, Monica
Jennings is Lethbridge’s prince. No one calls her that, and every-
one is theoretically equal in the Coal Shafts, but when someone
has to step up, it’s inevitably Monica. She’s not a bishop, but she
uses her Sanctified flock to get the other clans to toe the line. She
also isn’t big on change; Lethbridge’s success story has served the
Haunts well, and she prefers the city to keep its small-town feel.
Unfortunately for her, the other covenants hold stronger ties to
the University’s younger, liberal population, making it hard for
her to keep things from changing each passing year. If Monica
refuses to allow change in the Coal Shafts, the other covenants
are all planning their own coups.
Jim Greaves, Close to a Breakthrough: Jim is the Dragon’s
Grand Wyrm at Iniskim. While the Defiant are the most diverse
covenant in town, Jim’s Haunts dominate them politically,
although he makes a big show of deferring to the Mekhet
contingent in order to keep them placated. Jim is particularly
focused on the university’s neuroscience division — unsurpris-
ing, considering his curse left him with craniorachischisis,
exposing his dead brain from under his skull. Greaves obsesses
over all aspects of the Kindred mind, seeking an understanding
of how vampires think and learn. His current pet project aims to
discover if the Nightmare Discipline has a neurological impact
on its victims, or if the effect is purely supernatural. Jim needs
Kindred and kine test subjects, and he isn’t particular about
how willing they are.
Anamaria, Mystic Infiltrator: For a small city in a conservative
province, Lethbridge has shockingly active pagan and BDSM
scenes, which Anamaria uses to her full advantage. The Mother’s
Army has never made many inroads to southern Alberta, so
Anamaria uses private gatherings as cover when she needs to
work her blood sorcery. If word gets around about spooky shit,
she’s sure to look into it, although she buggers off at the first
sign of Sanctified. She’s intrigued by the odd stalagmites hidden
within the Coal Shafts, and suspects the secrets of her covenant’s
“hag visitations” are contained within. Her bane makes those her
gaze falls upon feel uncomfortable, like she’s mentally undressing
them or sizing them up to eat them. Or, more likely, both.

THE COAL SHAFTS

Heart: The elevator shafts of the abandoned coal mines.
Focus: Uncover secrets about the Kindred condition
(Information, formerly Protection). Residents of the Necropolis
gain a Beat whenever they contribute to the study of vampires,
or invent a unique power of the blood, like a Devotion.
Benefit: When spending Willpower on Academics, Occult, or
Politics rolls about vampires, residents gain the 8-again quality.
Burden: Let no member of another clan enter the mines.
Clot: Guardian Swarm (undead rattlesnakes)
Residents of the Coal Shafts have access to the Bleak Annals
and Dark Hub Merits.

Chapter Two: Hellscapes 81

 The Quaint Village
Scotland, United Kingdom
Have you ever driven through a town that just seems wrong?
Where all the people are perfectly friendly, the buildings tidy
and well-kept, yet something sets your teeth on edge? Maybe
it’s how their smiles all seem a little forced, or how instead of
times, all the businesses advertise that they close “at sundown.”
Perhaps you should trust your instincts and not linger too
long. Oh, how odd: Your car seems to be out of petrol — but you
could have sworn you had plenty in the tank! No matter, you
can get more at the station when it opens tomorrow morning.
You just need somewhere to stay the night.
Where we came from
To say we’re off the map is putting it kindly. If it weren’t for
the Internet, the rest of the country might’ve forgotten we ever
existed. Suffice it to say, not a lot comes in, and not a lot comes
out. Rarest of all, though, is when something comes back.
It was only a few decades ago when Dottie Tonner did just that.
Most of us were just kids when she left, thinking she was gonna
make it big in some city. Instead, she got killed and turned into
the monster she is today. Or maybe she was always this toxic,
and it just took dying to bring it out in her. Anyway, she was the
first vampire the town had ever seen, and we were… unprepared.
Dottie doesn’t talk about what happened in the city, like who
turned her, or why she came back — none of that. She sure as
hell likes being boss, though. She started small: set up shop in
the basement of her own home, turned her parents into blood
slaves. Her mom’s still around, but her dad offed himself early.
Guess he couldn’t cope with what his “little girl” became.
Dottie’s a nasty piece of work, but she’s smart. She took her
time, turning or binding anyone in town with authority until
we controlled the whole thing, and she controlled all of us.
Every Embrace expanded the Warren, and each new victim
meant a new basement or service tunnel added to the maze.
Whole town’s compromised now, but it still looks normal up
above. You need to dig down to find the rot.
Who we are tonight
Dottie moved into the courthouse the minute she could get
away with it. It had lots of unused basement space (who needs
records?) and she needed somewhere to keep the first dissidents.
The barely used cellblock was well-built on that front. The court’s
a nice, central location, so when she got the tunnels started, we
didn’t have to dig far. We’re a small town, and there’s not a single
building that doesn’t have some sort of trapdoor, subbasement,
or cellar that our underground home links up to.
We’re always watching, and people who make too much
trouble get a new roommate. We feed and terrorize them until
they understand it’s better if they just behave. Pretend there’s
nothing wrong, just like everyone else.
82 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Dottie takes on stubborn cases herself, and the lady enjoys
her work. Her pet projects are never really the same afterwards,
but they never cause trouble again. Between blood and fear, we
pretty much have this town sewn up. Oh, the humans realize
something’s wrong, no question. Nothing is open after dark,
and everyone knows walking outside at night is an invitation
to disappear for hours… or days. They’re not really “missing,”
though. We just take them on a little vacation. We do our best
to make sure they survive the experience; scared is good, but
we don’t want to push them into desperate — that’s how you
get torch-wielding mobs.
Visitors are a whole other matter. Dottie’s been a big fish in
a small pond for decades now. She gets bored easy, so outsiders
tend to catch her interest. Poor sods. Any tourists who stay the
night are hers to play with, and presenting her with a catch is
the best way to get on her good side. It’s not just us, either. The
townsfolk have figured out that if visitors stay overnight, things
get just a little less awful for them for the next couple weeks.
They don’t know it’s because the Queen Bitch of this madhouse
is busy scaring said visitors to death for her amusement, but they
also don’t ask questions when they vanish in the night, either.
People who come through town up above are encouraged to
stay, or they might run into “car trouble,” or even get arrested
on some bullshit charge — anything to keep them overnight.
Poor bastards almost never reach wherever it is they were trying
to get to, but the rest of us sure appreciate them keeping Dottie
busy for a while.
It’s Dottie’s world, and the rest of us just live in it. Meet her
and she seems normal enough, but if she looks at you for too
long it feels like a hundred spiders are crawling around inside
your skin. Even nastier if she touches you. Worst part? She’s
a hugger.
Secrets and Lies
Dottie keeps her childer as ignorant as possible about the
existence of other Kindred, and they know nothing of the
covenants or other clans. Should one of them learn the truth
about how petty and small the Necropolis really is, their sense
of betrayal could threaten everything Dottie’s built.
Dottie has only Embraced a handful of times throughout
her reign, and she’s forbidden her childer from the act without
her supervision. Unbeknownst to her, one of her brood has
broken this rule. Heartbroken at not being able to be by his
boyfriend’s side anymore, this childe managed to Embrace his
lover on instinct. Unfortunately, the boyfriend didn’t take well
to being turned into a warped, undead monster, and is currently
chained up in a hidden basement of the Warren. Should he
be discovered, or escape, there’s no telling what sort of chaos
might ensue.
Not all of the population is as under control as Dottie thinks.
A group of local teens knows how bizarre their town really is,

Take the Low Road
Unlike the other Warrens in this chapter, the
identity of the Quaint Village is left deliberately
vague, so as to be more accessible as a plug-and-play
Necropolis. The Highlands hide many little towns a
vampire could run with enough blood bonds, and
any of the Hebrides might have a Warren tucked
away. It doesn’t even have to be British. Perhaps
Dottie’s domain is a remote corner of Norway,
where the sun never rises in winter.
and they’ve been reaching out online to find others with similar
experiences. In their desperation, they’re attracting attention
from a few groups who would find an isolated town full of
vampires very interesting indeed.
Residents
Dottie Tonner, Once and Future Underqueen: Dottie started
out as a small-town girl with a big dream, and became the petty
tyrant of everyone’s nightmares. She hasn’t completely lost her-
self to the Beast — not yet — but she’s impulsive and egotistical,
assured of her own invincibility in her town. This attitude may
well be her downfall one night, as she pushes the already buckling
Masquerade with every brazen feeding and autocratic demand.
Dennis Kennedy, Problem Childe: One of the town’s former
constables, Dennis was forced into early retirement when the
Lonely Curse caused a gray, fungus-like growth to replace most of
his skin. Relegated to spending almost all his time in the Warren
Popobawa’s Roost
Dar es Salaam, Tanzania
Dar es Salaam is a city on the go, one of the hubs anchoring
the Swahili coast. As mortals rise, so do the Haunts. They hide
among the kine masquerading as the popobawa, a local cryptid,
and have made a good Requiem out of the deceit. They aren’t
the only ones, though. As blood slips over grinding gears, the
God-Machine’s angels watch the Haunts mutate into something
darker and hungrier than before.
Where we came from
Vampires have hunted the Swahili Coast ever since the
first trade boats sailed south along the Indian Ocean. We’ve
been here as long as anyone could remember, but our Warren
in Dar es Salaam is new. Dar started off small. The socialist
government’s Ujamaa policies discouraged urban growth, so
the kine stayed in the countryside — something about cities
being hotbeds of parasites and capitalist oppressors. That
changed in the 80s when Dar’s population went from a couple
hundred thousand to a couple million. We saw the apartment
proper, Dennis’ combination of bitterness and boredom has him
questioning his sire’s teachings. Dottie’s brood can’t be the only
vampires around, and even if they are, eternity here is starting
to feel more like hell. To that end, Dennis has been modifying a
van taken from some unfortunate tourists, hoping to turn it into
a means of escape. Dottie would be furious if she found out, of
course, but maybe some of her other childer would join him…
Piper Hopkins, At Her Wit’s End: Piper is the town doctor,
and one of the first people Dottie turned into a ghoul. She’s
covered the Warren’s tracks for decades now, and it’s becoming
harder every year. As Dottie becomes more careless, so do her
childer, which means all the more horror Piper can’t explain
away. Her sheer exhaustion, and the mounting impossibility of
her task, is starting to clash with the Vinculum. She might do
something desperate before the conflict tears her mind apart.
THE QUAINT VILLAGE
Heart: The holding cells beneath the courthouse.
Focus: Total domination (Control). Residents gain a Beat when
they scare a villager into submission, silence someone who’s been
asking questions, or otherwise reinforce Dottie’s rule.
Benefit: Residents take a +5 rather than +3 when spending
Willpower on rolls to cow the locals, whether through social
or physical means.
Burden: If able, residents must capture overnight visitors
and present them to Dottie, without having tasted their blood.
Clot: Catacombs
Residents of the Quaint Village have access to the Corrupting
Influence and Honeycomb Merits.
buildings rising into the night sky and seized one for our own.
We hollowed it out, turning it into our personal stronghold,
a place where Haunts could feast in the burgeoning cityscape.
In the 90s, mass hysteria gripped the city. An evil spirit known
as the popobawa roamed the streets, inciting mass panic in the
population. No Kindred has ever reliably reported its existence,
but we saw another opportunity and seized it. We weren’t behind
the sightings, but come on — a bat-like creature causing fear? That
sounds like a Haunt to me, and we are opportunists to the core.
We became mapopobawa stalking the night, using the legend
to our advantage and giving the Roost its name.
Who we are tonight
Apparently, we aren’t the only mapopobawa in Dar’s shad-
ows. It started when a bunch of neonates swore they spotted
humanoid bats flying around one night, monsters made of gears
and bleeding oil. Weird enough shit that we thought they might
have caught a touch of the old hysteria themselves. Then our
elders started seeing them too.
Chapter Two: Hellscapes 83
 At first, we feared the Owls, returned from the pages of
Islamic legend once again, but these were something different.
Most stalk mortals, driving them mad with fear, but sometimes
they appeared to our fellow Kindred, demanding they leave
the area. Most of the time they just watched us from afar. It’s
unsettling, knowing something is out there with plans for you
and yours. Not that we would know anything about that.
Then the mutations started. Maybe we’d watched these tech-
nological mapopobawa for too long, but whatever the cause,
the blood clotted in our veins, metastasizing into cancerous
gears beneath our skin. Haunts started becoming the legend we
pretended at, growing leathery wings and bizarre growths that
stopped us from blending in with the kine. As far as we know,
only our Warren is subject to these mutations — if any other
Kindred are cursed with them, they hide it well. We need answers;
otherwise, the Roost really will be home to mapopobawa.
Secrets and Lies
Adil dug tunnels deep under the Roost and stumbled upon
something wondrous and horrible. A massive clockwork
machine, constantly lubricated by blood-filled bladders, fills a
cavern beneath the city. While the blood has no obvious source,
Adil’s found it not only refills his Vitae, it grants him powers
no other vampire possesses. He’s slowly been introducing other
Haunts he trusts to this new supply, but hasn’t realized he’s
caught the attention of the Infrastructure’s angelic defenders…
and their fallen adversaries.
Convinced Dar’s booming Kindred population will bring
nothing but trouble, the Carthians look to bring back Ujamaa.
They don’t aim for anyone to meet their Final Death, but they
are evicting as many Kindred as they can into the countryside,
starting with the Roost. Firebrands Nosferatu must decide if
it’s their clan or their covenant they wish to betray.
The Invictus envy the position of the al-Amin (Dark Eras 2,
p. 139) within Tanzania, but even during the colonial days, the
First Estate struggled to find a foothold in the country. They’ve
had more luck lately though, using connections to foreign inves-
tors to grow their network. Worse, they’ve identified one of the
Roost’s weak points, a trio of mutually blood-bound neonates.
The young Kindred are all childer of Nosferatu elders, a fact
the Establishment intends to abuse, despite promises to the
contrary they’ve made to the neonates.
Residents
Fatimah, Ancient Matriarch: Dar is one of the few cities the
al-Amin dominate outside their Middle Eastern heartlands.
Fatimah traveled down the trade routes from Oman all those
centuries ago, and now acts as a nightly reminder of where the
Haunts came from. She isn’t the strongest or most influential
within the Arbiters’ ranks, but she is the oldest, and the stories
she remembers make her a trusted advisor within the Roost.
84 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Bishop Emmanual, Religious Syncretist: Emmanual leads
Dar’s Church Eternal, embracing all vampires, regardless of
personal faith, as part of one Kindred nation. He works closely
with the al-Amin to ensure cooperation between Christian and
Muslim Kindred, and navigates his flock’s denominational
diversity. He’s also the silent sponsor of the growing Acolyte
presence within the city, believing the prince should permit
them to practice their faith in peace. Emmanual believes Africa
must fuse its indigenous beliefs with modern faiths in order
to thrive. For the Kindred, the Crone represents the former,
and the Lancea et Sanctum the latter; they need to put their
differences aside to finally find common ground. This opinion
is not widely known or shared, and if other Kindred find out
about Emmanual’s position, he would face a rebellion led by
his closest friends and supporters.
Niku, Masquerade Breech: Niku thinks Kindred society is
bullshit, particularly when it comes to the Masquerade. The
other clans, the other covenants, they beat the Haunts down just
like the colonizers and slavers did all along the Swahili Coast for
centuries. He knows other Carthians have good intentions, but
they get so caught up in politics and theory that they miss the
bigger picture. This is Africa’s century, the time when the boom-
ing metropolises will replace helpless villages within the global
consciousness. Dar can be at the forefront of the Movement,
but it’ll take the cooperation of Kindred and kine to reach its
full potential. Disregarding the Masquerade, Niku’s reached
out to shamans and occultists, fostering mortal allies around
the Necropolis so that when the revolution begins, the other
clans will find themselves outnumbered. If you need to find
a psychic or medium, Niku is your bloodsucker, but he needs
help staying one step ahead of the Kindred who disapprove of
his methods. It’s getting harder to keep things quiet with each
passing night, as his allies grow hungrier for the Roost’s secrets.
POPOBAWA’S ROOST
Heart: The basement of the Roost.
Focus: Provide a safe space for the growing Nosferatu pop-
ulation (Protection). Residents gain a Beat when they defend
another Haunt socially or physically, contribute to fortifications
in the Roost, or (more recently) fend off attacks from the “real”
mapopobawa.
Benefit: On actions drawing on the Popobawa’s legend, resi-
dents gain the 8-again quality on Intimidation and Nightmare
powers. The latter includes Devotions.
Burden: Use the myth of the popobawa when hunting at
least once in a lunar month.
Clot: Uncanny Altar (a piece of Infrastructure disconnected
from the God-Machine)
Residents of Popobawa’s Roost have access to the Home Turf
and Necropolis Arsenal Merits.
 The Lost Necropolis
Tarquinia, Italy
Western Vampires look to Italy as the All Night Society’s
birthplace, but Rome’s legacy doesn’t enamor everyone. Some
Kindred remember their forebears stalked the night before the
Camarilla rose. In Tarquinia, the Haunts work to tear down
Rome’s historical façade, but they may end up going down with it.
Where we came from
Fuck Rome and fuck the Romans. Whether you call our
city Tarchuna, Corneto, or Tarquinia, we remember where we
came from, and just how much Rome stole from us. European
Kindred hate each other, yet half of them are in a mutual
circle-jerk over how glorious the Camarilla was, conveniently
forgetting the Romans were thieves and killers. Yes, I know
we’re all thieves and killers. That’s not the point. We’re honest
about what we are, but the Camarilla? They pretended to be
more than the monsters, and vampires are still pretending they
were better than everyone else.
The Etruscans, our ancestors, created the first Necropolis,
and we Haunts hid in its shadows. I won’t lie and say the times
were all good, but our forefathers had something unique that
belonged to them, and them alone. Then Rome started growing,
leeching culture and lives away from the other Italian tribes.
When Etruria finally fell, the Legio Mortuum pillaged our
tombs, and the Julii convinced the weakest Haunts to join
 
them and create the fiction of the Roman Necropolis. Those
who refused, they staked to the mountainside to greet Apollo.
I want to be very clear about this next bit: Fuck Mussolini too.
That said, when he started renaming places to invoke the Empire,
at least he had the decency to pick an Etruscan name. Yeah, the
Tarquinii were Roman kings, but they were an Etruscan line.
It was about the same time we found the caverns into the old
Warren — the secret library the Julii never purged.
Who we are tonight
Tonight, Tarquinia’s Haunts are a Kindred nation apart. Want
to know how much restoring our history has changed things? The
Invictus and Carthians are working together! Both want to break
the Roman stranglehold on our imagination; the Establishment
wants Tarquins — not Romans — to rule Tarquinia, while the
Firebrands insist fixating on an imperial past prevents us from
adapting to the present. If our Etruscan legacy can mend that
divide, imagine its potential for the rest of the All Nights Society.
Of course, when I say we’re a nation apart, I mean the
Necropolis. We Haunts reclaimed our past, but the others
refuse to see the truth, beguiled as they are by the Camarilla’s
beautiful lie. We are harsh, and we are ugly, but that’s what it
takes to see the truth. So we sit amongst our tomes, working
together to devise a better domain, even if it doesn’t reach
beyond our Warren. One night, the truth will be free, and
when that dusk comes, we’ll be ready. Roma delenda est, assholes.
Chapter Two: Hellscapes 85

Secrets and Lies
A ghost claiming to be the shade of Tarquin the Proud, the
last king of Rome, guards the Lost Necropolis. The Ordo Dracul
is skeptical Tarquin’s shade could have persisted for so long,
but the ghost is a useful guardian, so they humor its claims.
Unknowingly, the vampires got more than they bargained for,
as a masked ghost claiming to be Lucius Junius Brutus hunts
Tarquin, hoping to drag him back to Tartarus.
Not all the Carthians are happy with their arrangement with
the Invictus. The Old Man is called “Old Man” for a reason;
the point of the Revolution is to knock the bastards off their
thrones. To that end, a few Carthians have made overtures to
the much maligned (very Roman) Lancea et Sanctum, forming
an alliance of convenience against the Invictus. The irony is
lost on no one, but both the Movement and Sanctified agree
once they deal with the Invictus, it’s back to business as usual.
Michele Tarquine awoke something lurking in the dark. It’s a
vampire, but not like the Kindred, preferring to feast on flesh
rather than blood. Its Vitae is silvery blue, quite unlike the red
mess modern Kindred gorge on. Yet, it possesses recognizable
Disciplines and wields blood sorcery that combines Theban
miracles with Cruác rites. All who meet it know it’s a vampire,
and it claims to predate even the Etruscans. Where does it
come from, and what does it mean for the clans?
Residents
Bacci Rossi, Defiant Agitator: Bacci represents the
Dragons in the prince’s court, where she advocates for the
expulsion of the Lancea et Sanctum. In her eyes, the Catholic
Church — and, by extension, the Sanctified — continue the
Roman legacy of subjugation and persecution. Her words don’t
win many friends, but they carry weight with the Necropolis’
more extreme elements. More restrained Nosferatu fear her
words are tarring the entire Warren with the same radical
brush, making it harder for them to bring their cases before
the prince. A conspiracy grows within the Necropolis, aimed
The Rusted Graveyard
Nouadhibou, Mauritania
Stereotypical Nosferatu inhabit graveyards, but nothing says
it has to be human ones. Nouadhibou hosts the world’s largest
ship graveyard, sitting forlornly in the city’s bay, making it the
perfect forum for an aquatic Necropolis. These marine Haunts
hunt for blood amid the dilapidated hulls, but new horrors rise
from the deep and threaten to consume the entire Warren.
Where we came from
The Sahara is a bitch to deal with at the best of times, and
that’s before the Embrace, so there have never been many vam-
pires in Nouadhibou. Still aren’t, but our population boomed
86 Better Feared: Nosferatu
at convincing Bacci to tone down her denunciations — or
silencing them altogether.
Isabelle Bartolomei, Establishment Reformer: The First
Estate is steeped in Roman tradition, right? Not so, says Isabelle
Bartolomei. Originally from Corsica, she argues the Invictus
evolved beyond Rome’s walls centuries ago, and attempting to
rebuild the Camarilla only breeds stagnation. She joined the
Lost Necropolis to study its “alternative” historical narrative. Her
ultimate goal is to revitalize the Invictus worldwide, but for now,
she’s focused on changing the First Estate’s perspective within
Tarquinia. Not every Haunt is thrilled by her efforts, though,
and some see her as just another invader, stealing their culture
for her own ends. If Isabelle is to succeed, she’ll need allies to
protect her from enemies inside and outside her clan.
Leinth, Welcoming Face: Tarquinia’s Acolyte Hierophant is
Leinth, who builds her cult to reflect the Etruscan mythology
the Romans appropriated and erased. The majority of her
Acolytes are Haunts, but she welcomes all clans into the fold,
putting her at odds with more conservative Nosferatu, who feel
the other clans were complicit in Rome’s crimes. Worse, she
allows these non-Nosferatu into her section of the Necropolis,
violating its sacred boundary. So far, Leinth and her critics have
only exchanged harsh words, but the Necropolis will face civil
war if tensions continue to escalate.
THE LOST NECROPOLIS
Heart: Etruscan burial chambers beneath the library.
Focus: End the myth of the Roman golden age (Sabotage).
Residents gain a Beat for vandalizing or destroying Roman arti-
facts, or engaging in violence over the legacy of the Camarilla.
Benefit: Residents add +5 rather than +3 when spending
Willpower to subvert another vampire’s authority.
Burden: Always challenge myths of past glory and golden ages.
Clot: Necropolis Specter (“Tarquin the Proud”)
Residents of the Lost Necropolis have access to the
Corrupting Influence and Necropolis Arsenal Merits.
back in the 80s when a bunch of fishing companies went belly
up and scuttled their ships in the bay. It’s an eyesore for mortals,
but for us, it’s refuge from the oppressive, omnipresent, bastard
ball of fire in the sky that’s just waiting to smite us. A place to
sleep where the mortals won’t bother us is worth the indignity
of traipsing through rusty water every time we want to feed.
Who we are tonight
Nouadhibou’s got the dubious honor of having the largest
ship graveyard in the world. Funny, right? We sleep in both a
junkyard and a graveyard. The Necropolis is growing now that
we have space to expand into, but it’s pretty much the extent
of the entire domain. We sleep in the sand and the mud, safely
buried underwater; not like we need to breathe anymore. The
sun can’t touch us as blood mingles with salt water, and we
cultivate bloody corals in aquatic Wyrm’s Nests. We might be
waterlogged corpses, but we’re predatory waterlogged corpses,
as silent and deadly as the sharks and angler fish the Blood
twists us into.
It’s easier to count the Kindred who aren’t Haunts, so we
graciously let them into the Necropolis, as long as they don’t
start shit. These nights, we need all the help we can get. A few
years back, we noticed some mortals behaving strangely before
some damn ocean bugs tore their way out of their mouths.
We killed the little shits, but the Dragons among us were still
able to identify them — some freaky shit they called Cymothoa
sanguinaria.
Point is, they’re some sort of underwater, vampiric parasite.
We didn’t find many at first, but now the seafloor is crawling
with the little shits, and some of them aren’t so little now.
Whatever’s going on, these bugs are mutating, growing larger,
and hungering for Vitae.
Secrets and Lies
The Dragons don’t know where the C. sanguinaria infestation
is coming from, but they desperately want to find out. Rumors
of the bizarre parasites draw researchers from across North
Africa and Southern Europe to Nouadhibou, and not all of
them are willing to announce their presence, or play nice with
the Graveyard. In secret bunkers, foreign Dragons implant
the parasite into humans and ghouls alike, not caring if they
destabilize or destroy the Necropolis in the process. For more
on C. sanguinaria, see p. 88.
Nouadhibou’s ghouls and dhampirs get the shit end of the
stick. The Haunts have their Graveyard, but the half-damned
have no one but each other, and they’re getting sick of it. At
best, the Kindred are neglectful, while at worst they’re slavers
manipulating and abusing addicts. A small clique has taken a
page out of the Carthian playbook and is looking to stir up
shit with any vampire who looks at them the wrong way. It’s a
small group so far, but if things don’t improve soon, it could
raze the Graveyard to the bottom of the sea.
Why would anyone come to the Rusted Graveyard? The envi-
ronment of Nouadhibou is singularly hostile to vampires, yet
an unusual volume of Kindred pilgrims show up nonetheless,
drawn by something they can’t explain. Now bloodsucking
isopods are invading the city for reasons unknown, and who
knows what other monsters might show up. Somewhere nearby,
trapped in a dilapidated hull about to collapse, a sand-desiccated
body calls out to its children. They come by land, air, and water,
answering a call older than language. It is glad, for the heat has
left it so very thirsty.
Residents
Moctar, Chain Breaker: Mauritania bears the ugly distinc-
tion of allowing slavery to fester within its borders, despite mul-
tiple attempts at eradicating it. Moctar knows this, having been
born a slave decades ago, only escaping after becoming Kindred.
Following his Embrace, he rose through the ranks of the
Firebrands and the Necropolis, and tonight he’s Nouadhibou’s
prince. His reign is controversial, however, as he’s willing to
flout the Masquerade to help mortals escape bondage, hiding
them in the Graveyard. Moctar plays a delicate game with the
city’s Invictus, pushing the limits of the Traditions where he can
without breaking them so much they decide to dethrone him.
Loula, Wyrm’s Nest Specialist: Loula’s not a fan of water.
She shows her face in the Necropolis, and doesn’t mind rest-
ing there, but her real passion is railways. For decades now,
she’s been researching how the train from Nouadhibou to the
Saharan mines influences the development of Wyrm’s Nests
within the desert. However, now that the Warren needs all
hands on deck to deal with the infestation, Loula’s had to put
her projects on hold. The only upside is she’s gotten very good
at tracking Nests, and suspects they lie at the heart of the recent
isopod invasion.
Abbas, Landlocked by Choice: Abbas is the Invictus liaison
between Nouadhibou and the Canary Islands, in charge of the
hair-raising job of transporting vampires and migrants across
the Atlantic Coast. He’s a fixer, able to obtain all kinds of forged
documents to help smooth over his clients’ lives. While he’s on
good terms with the other Haunts, he’s reluctant to enter the
Rusted Graveyard. He claims spending years traveling to the
Canaries gave him an aversion to ocean water, but whispers
say he encountered some primal horror within the Graveyard.
What it is and how it could be worse than the current infes-
tation is unclear, but the rumor states it still stalks the ships
tonight, and Abbas wishes to avoid offending it.
THE RUSTED GRAVEYARD
Heart: A large fishing trawler at the center of the Graveyard.
Focus: A private place away from the sun and the kine
(Protection). Residents gain a Beat when they bring new Haunts
into the Necropolis, or keep interlopers away.
Benefit: Necropolis members can move underwater unim-
peded by tides or currents. They do not suffer penalties to
Physical actions for being underwater.
Burden: Patrol the ocean waters at least once per week.
Clot: Guardian Swarm (twisted sea life). This doesn’t include
C. sanguinaria; they’re much worse than a Clot.
Residents of the Rusted Graveyard have access to the Home
Turf and Lost & Found Merits.
Chapter Two: Hellscapes 87
 Cymothoa Sanguinaria
Oh no... OH NO!
Cymothoa sanguinaria is a rare vampiric isopod endemic to
Iceland, Japan, parts of the American Southwest, and, more
recently, Mauritania. While they share certain qualities with
Kindred, they aren’t supernatural (as far as anyone can tell),
but are rather the result of Mother Nature’s own cruel sense
of humor. Unlike their close relative, the tongue-eating louse,
these parasites eschew fish for mammals — especially humans.
Usually found in hot springs and other humid environments,
the parasite’s tiny larvae infect hosts by crawling into the nasal
cavity or mouth, then anesthetizing and hollowing out a chunk
of the tongue as their victims sleep. Concealed within the organ,
they periodically release hormones and psychotropic chemicals
to turn their meat suits into mindless, blood-seeking thralls.
Symptoms of C. sanguinaria infection are similar to the
Bestial Triad, a quality that hasn’t gone unnoticed by Kindred
scientists, but whether these wretched bugs have any link to
true vampires remains an open question.
Systems
All C. sanguinaria hosts suffer the Fugue Condition. The
effect of this Condition is triggered in two ways: whenever a
host goes to sleep, and whenever they suffer a breaking point,
the latter being all the more likely under the parasite’s raven-
ous influence. Fugue cannot be resolved without extracting
the creature.
88 Better Feared: Nosferatu
While dominant, the parasite forces its host to seek out fresh
blood in order to progress its life cycle: It might invest its host with
a murderous rage, or just an overwhelming urge to mate. The more
blood the host collects, the more eggs the parasite can lay in his
digestive track, withering his intestines as they sap away nutrients.
The parasite consumes blood by extending from the host’s
tongue, using the system for the Assault on p. 94 of Vampire:
The Requiem. Its bite is more powerful than its size would
suggest, and it can inflict lethal damage even to vampires.
Hosts gain Unseen Sense: Vampires upon infection; both C.
sanguinaria and its victims fall into this category. Once fertilized,
the creature becomes fiercely territorial and will force its host
into fights with perceived competitors, including Kindred.
Symptoms move through three stages. A host enters the first
within a week of infection, and progresses into subsequent stages
as the parasite grows and devours the tongue. Storytellers can
time this progression as they see fit, though if a player character
becomes infected, plus or minus a week per stage works as a rule
of thumb, depending on how much blood the parasite gathers.
Treat the associated Conditions at each stage as persistent,
with the usual resolutions as Beat criteria. As with Fugue, only
removing the parasite can resolve them. While C. sanguinaria
is in control, the effects of these Conditions go dormant, and
the host is immune to social and mental Disciplines.
All Attribute modifiers are cumulative.
 When the parasite takes final control, it seeks out a brooding
pool. Once it finds one, it sets off an agonizing spasm in the
host’s bowels, expelling most of his intestinal tract along with
Digging Deeper the eggs. It then forces the host to protect the pool for the rest
Cymothoa sanguinaria first appeared in Night of his brief life. Unable to eat, the human soon starves, and his
Horrors: The Wicked Dead (p. 36), a First Edition blood becomes a quick meal for the parasite’s young.
supplement. Unfortunately, we just don’t have the
space to get into how awful these little bastards really
are, but Wicked Dead still offers plenty of gruesome
advice on how to use them in your chronicles. You
Little Legs, Big Fangs
shouldn’t have any trouble reconciling the mechanics Normally, C. sanguinaria has no meaningful traits outside its
here and the more extensive setting material there, hosts. It’s a small creature, and even third-stage parasites won’t
beyond a few tweaks. survive a good stomp. However, the larger isopods threatening
For yet more parasitic horror, Night Horrors:
Spilled Blood details blood worms (p. 115), Nouadhibou (dubbed C. sanguinaria thois by local Dragons) are
creatures that infect Kindred in much the same way more than capable of doing damage on their own. Traits are
C. sanguinaria infects mortals and ghouls. provided below, using the Horrors system found in Chronicles
of Darkness, p. 140. Giant parasites can puppet hosts, but they
need something bigger than a human. Like a great white shark.
Have fun.
Stage 1
The parasite is now large enough to start hunting. As such, GIANT PARASITE
the victim gains a boost of endurance and well-being, gaining
a +1 to all Physical Attributes, and ignoring the numbness in Virtue: Relentless
his tongue, as well as other mysterious injuries. However, he
also feels less inhibited, even “frisky.” Friends might at first Vice: Violent
dismiss this as a midlife crisis, but they won’t be able to ignore Aspiration: Find a host big enough to parasitize.
it for long. At this stage, the host gains the Wanton Condition.
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 1, Wits 3, Resolve 2 
Stage 2 Physical Attributes: Strength 5, Dexterity 3, Stamina 5  
The parasite takes its adult form, and the victim’s lust for Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 1,
life twists into a superiority complex, reflecting the creature’s
Composure 3
aggressive desire to mate. The host now takes a +2 on Presence Mental Skills: Investigation (Blood) 2
and Wits (including derived traits), as his cutthroat attitude Physical Skills: Athletics 4, Brawl 3, Stealth 1, Survival 5 
makes him difficult to challenge. However, he also suffers a –3
to Composure, blowing up at even minor hassles; this applies Social Skills: Intimidation 5
to breaking points and resisting the Fugue Condition. At this Potency: 3
stage, he gains the Competitive Condition, ending Wanton. Health: 10
The creature is now mature enough to mate. It can insemi-
Willpower: 8
nate itself, but it prefers its own kind, and will seek out other
hosts. Sometimes the parasite mistakes Kindred for hosts, and Size: 5
this can lead to unpleasant and/or violent encounters. Speed: 13 (18 in water)
Initiative: 6
Stage 3 Defense: 7
By the final stage, the parasite has eaten most of the victim’s
tongue. The host takes an additional +2 on all Physical Attributes, Armor: 1/1
but a –3 on Intelligence actions, and his Composure penalty Bane: Extreme cold
increases to 5. All failed Mental Skill rolls become dramatic
Dread Powers: Chameleon Horror, Hunter’s Senses
failures, but he’s also not smart enough to suffer wound penalties (Hosts), Natural Weapons 1
anymore. At this stage, the host gains the Bestial Condition,
ending Competitive. If he ever dramatically fails a roll to resist Attack Damage Initiative Dice Pool
Fugue, the parasite gains permanent possession of his body. Bite 1L +0 8

Chapter Two: Hellscapes 89

 Part 4: Hide & Seek
“I need an answer, John.”
Ladue stood over Littlejohn, twirling the stake between his fingers. Behind him, the blue meat
grinder whirred and groaned like it too wanted an answer. For a moment, a wordless tension hung
in the air between the two dead men — until it was shattered by the sound of grinding metal.
“The hell was that?” Ladue called out to his ghouls. The one with the Uzi shrugged and looked
back and forth between the others in confusion. Ladue rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “For
fuck’s… what are you waiting for, Billy? Check it out.”
The ghouls spread out to investigate the noise. Ladue turned back to Littlejohn and checked his
watch. “A little late for the cavalry. Sunrise is in less than two hours.”
“Not my backup. Maybe you have some enemies.”
“Tons. That’s why I need that box. It might not be tonight, but we can both walk out of here. I
just—”
“Rafael!” Billy called out from across the room.
Ladue frowned. “I’m in the middle of something!”
“We found a hatch. Ventilation or something. But, uh… that’s not all. The door…”
“What about it?”
“It’s… gone.”
Ladue’s eyes widened. He looked down and found a matching expression on his captive’s face.
Littlejohn craned his neck to get a better look at the plant, searching for evidence to back up the
cold feeling spreading through his ruined gut. He focused his vision past the overhead lights and
checked for holes in the ceiling, but there were none. Even the skylights and windows, high and
out of reach, were unbroken, and either blotted over with a thick layer of black paint or boarded
up with wide sheets of plywood.
The building was sun-proofed.
He scanned the rest of the work floor and then back at the windows. Now they too had vanished.
For all intents and purposes, they were trapped in a coffin, one made of brick and iron.
“This better not be you,” said Ladue.
Littlejohn shook his head. “Not me. How’d you find out about this place?”
“Everyone in the neighborhood knows about it. Creepy old building, urban legends, usual bull-
shit. No interruptions.”
“You have to cut me loose. We’re not alone.”
“Fat chance. This could be a trick. Learn some new Haunt voodoo?”
“It’s not a trick. Something’s wrong .”
wrong.”
Ladue stared down at Littlejohn, anger and anxiety warring across his face. Before he could reply,
however, a yelp announced the arrival of a body, hurtling through the air directly for him. Ladue

90 Better Feared: Nosferatu

dove to the side and the figure slammed into the steel table. The Daeva dropped the stake as he
rolled to his feet, drawing a pistol from his jacket and pointing it at the shape.
The impact folded the table in half, and in the center was Billy. The landing had broken his
back, and he writhed like a dying spider, trying to clutch the hole his throat once occupied. A
massive strip of flesh had been torn away from the base of his chin to his chest, revealing his ribs
and the pulsing meat around his heart. But the worst part was his right arm, hanging limply at his
side, the flesh deflated and sagging like a used condom. The bones weren’t just broken — they’d
been removed.
“Oh, fuck,” Littlejohn and Ladue said in unison. For a second it seemed like they might laugh, but
then gunfire brought them back into the moment. One of the ghouls was screaming and unloading
round after round into something hidden behind a brick chimney. A wet laugh sounded between
each blast. The ghoul pulled the trigger until it clicked, then spun on his heel and tried to dive
for cover, but he was too slow.
From behind the bricks, a pair of arms shot out, so pale they were almost blue. Their fingers
were tipped with long, curved claws that wept black tar; they wrapped around the ghoul’s head
and lifted him off the ground. The hands began to shift, their muscles pulsing like a thick, viscous
liquid. Dark veins began to streak from the hands up the forearms. The ghoul screamed as his
ropey muscles began to deflate and his skin turned sheet white. He was liquefying from the inside,
and the thing’s hands drank him up like a mosquito.
“I need bodies on me!” Ladue yelled. “Everyone circle up!”
Three ghouls rushed from behind cover, each in various stages of panic. Whatever they’d been
trained for, this wasn’t it.
The only woman among them gave a report. “Billy and Mick are out. We can’t find Reggie.”
Ladue nodded, then looked down at Littlejohn. “Last chance. The box.”
Littlejohn shook his head. “I don’t know where it is.”
“Then I’m sorry about this. Mandy?” The woman stepped forward, and Ladue pulled the machete
from the holster at her hip. He raised it over Littlejohn’s head.
Littlejohn forced his eyes open, refusing to go out like a coward. Ladue brought the blade down…
into the straps that bound him to the steel chair. He struck twice more, each time cleaving cleanly
through the straps. He brought it down a fourth time and the blade snapped as it bit through part
of the braided rope and into the chair. Ladue had some Serpent strength, but he’d bought these
ropes to hold something even stronger. They held.
“That’s the best I can do.” He turned to his ghouls. “Stay on me. We’re going to find that door.”
Littlejohn didn’t wait to watch them go. He was almost starving, but he focused on what reserves
he had left and forced them into anything he could still move.
Who had he been trying to fool? Nostalgia? Fuck that. He left this neighborhood for a reason.
Panic and rage wormed around his muscles, and he gnashed his teeth so hard he thought they
might crack. He began to push like he had never pushed before.
I am not dying—
The ropes strained.
In FUCKING—

If You Can’t Be Both 91

 Threads from the braids began to snap.
CICERO!
The ropes exploded off Littlejohn’s body and he fell out of the chair. That push had taken almost
everything he had, and his throat now burned with thirst. Billy the ghoul’s body lay only a few feet
in front of him. He could smell sweet blood left inside the battered corpse, and he crawled forward,
frantic and heedless of anything but his hunger. He reached its side, and with a quick motion, he
tore through his pants and sucked the last cooling mouthfuls of blood from the femoral artery.
Wasn’t much, but it almost helped. Littlejohn shut his eyes and felt the hunger subside.
A cold voice whispered in his ear. “Nos… feratu…?”
Littlejohn froze. Pale hands wrapped around his face and gently turned his head. Littlejohn could
feel something writhing in the palms pressed to his cheeks. Mouths. The palms had mouths of
their own.
Above him stood something that might have once been a person. It was shorter than he was, but
burly, built like a farmer. It was naked, its entire body as translucent as its arms. Its withered, dead
genitals hung in a mass of dark hair as it moved. Its head was broad and lined with dark veins, the
scalp shaved down to the shadow of pattern baldness, with coarse, oily stubble on the cheek the
only hair remaining. A thin, T-shaped scar ran along the corners of its lips and down the center
of its chin.
The thing lowered its face to within inches of Littlejohn’s, flaring its flat nostrils as it inhaled his
scent. After a moment, it leaned back and took a better look at him. Its pupils were the reflective
black of a shark’s, and Littlejohn could see his own wide eyes reflected back in them.
It smiled, and the scar on its mouth began to split, revealing wide, fanged tendrils of flesh where
the jawbone should be.
“Nosferatu!” Its voice was heavy and accented, thick like the immigrants around Pulaski Park.
Polish? Ukrainian?
“What are you?” Littlejohn whispered.
“Voytek. You wake me… long time.”
It tilted its head, eyes still locked on his. It said something else in its heavy accent, but its voice
was overtaken by a shout.
“Nothing in the tunnels! Where is everyone?”
The creature raised a clawed finger to its lips, and Littlejohn heard the sound of approaching foot-
steps. Reggie, the missing ghoul, was making a poorly timed return. Against his instincts, Littlejohn
began to shout a warning, but before he could make a sound, the thing slashed its talons across its
own forearm and forced the seeping wound into Littlejohn’s open mouth.
Its blood flowed in icy, trembling clots. Littlejohn tried to hold back, but even after drinking
from Billy’s corpse, his thirst was too great. The monster squeezed the side of his face, forcing more
blood into his mouth. He swallowed, and it clung to his throat like molasses.
The creature made three clicks with its tongue and whispered, “Reborn.” Then it said a word
Littlejohn didn’t understand, hidden under layers of accent and dust.
“Billy? Oh, shit!” Littlejohn looked up to see Reggie, frozen in place. His jeans and polo shirt
were smeared with oil from crawling through the tunnels below. A shotgun swayed in his grasp.
He looked back and forth between the broken table and the creature’s naked back and raised the

92 Better Feared: Nosferatu

gun. The monster spun on him, its mouth peeled back to reveal the barbed maw of a deep-sea fish.
It purred with anticipation.
To Reggie’s credit, he didn’t hesitate. The blast caught the thing in the side of the face, tearing
half the flesh and one of its writhing mandibles away. It was a good shot, but not enough to slow it
down. It leapt forward and swept its claws through Reggie’s stomach. A handful of raw, trembling
meat hit the floor, and the ghoul fired again, this blast catching the creature in the chest.
Littlejohn watched as it began to heal from the first shot. Reggie fired again, but the thing was
too close. It dodged under the blast and latched its segmented mouth onto the bloody hole in the
ghoul’s waist. It arched its back and pulled, and Reggie’s flesh began to unravel like the yarn from
a sweater. The shotgun clattered to the floor as he died screaming.
The creature tore a handful of meat from the ghoul’s corpse and swallowed it without chewing.
It turned back to the chair, its maw smeared with gore, but Littlejohn was already gone, a pool of
dry blood and a ruined jacket the only things left of him.
While the thing was occupied with its meal, Littlejohn had wrapped himself in shadows and
ran, circling back to where Reggie had come from. At the back of the plant, a rusted steel hatch lay
open, exposing the steam tunnels below. With nowhere else to go but down, he lowered himself
into the hole and began to crawl.
Behind him, he could still hear the whirring of the meat grinder, along with the rasping, sucking
laughter of the creature as it savored its meal.

If You Can’t Be Both 93

 chapter three
Dreams & Nightmares
Sometimes in the darkness you can see more clearly.
Robert Macfarlane, Underland

The Kindred aren’t human, and the Nosferatu have the gall to admit it. Plague dead risen to reclaim their families, rotting
revenants drunk on blood, murdered lovers bent on revenge — Haunts have many ways to express their inhumanity.
This chapter includes new tools for Storytellers and Nosferatu players, including updates to systems from their First Edition
clan book. It also presents an optional system for turning their curse into a blessing. Or, at least a mixed one.

A Haunted Toybox
Below you’ll find special Merits and Devotions for your
Haunt characters, as well as new Archetypes to define their
Masks and Dirges. Not all of these systems are exclusive to the
Nosferatu, but at minimum, they’re Haunt-focused.
Archetypes
The Nosferatu wear their Beasts on their sleeves, unashamed
of what other Kindred fear in themselves. That’s how they’d
like to be seen, at any rate. In reality, the frightful images
Haunts project are just as performative as any other vampire’s
façade. They don’t reject the Mask, but instead flip its usual
relationship with the Dirge, using monstrosity to disguise their
all-too-human vulnerabilities. While the following Mask and
Dirge Archetypes are available to characters of any clan, they
are particularly well-suited to Nosferatu.
Horror
A horror lives for the fear in her victims’ eyes. She isn’t
seeking to do harm — she isn’t a Monster — she just wants to
draw out the source of other people’s anxiety, to explore what
causes them such panic and stress.
Single Willpower: Expose someone’s secret fears.
All Willpower: Trigger deep emotional trauma in pursuit of
learning what frightens someone.
Pariah
A pariah draws strength from being the object of disgust.
He revels in being reviled, finding no greater satisfaction than
in the power he has to make people squirm.
Single Willpower: Make someone really uncomfortable.
All Willpower: Seriously damage your reputation, just for
the negative attention.
Subversive
A subversive strives to exceed others’ expectations of her. She
defines herself by the stereotypes she breaks, exulting in the
praise she receives for being “one of the good ones.”
Single Willpower: Surprise someone by showing them you’re
not like the others.
All Willpower: Burn bridges with your peers to prove you
stand apart from them.
Underling
An underling aspires to be beneath notice. He’s most at ease
being overlooked and underestimated — the better to escape the
scrutiny of those who think themselves his betters.
Single Willpower: Perform a thankless task with no expec-
tation of reward or recognition.
All Willpower: Forgo remuneration for a deed you performed
at significant personal risk.
Devotions
In addition to new powers, the following section updates
Devotions found on p. 111 of The Beast That Haunts the
Blood: Nosferatu. Other vampires can learn these Devotions,
but they’re most often found among Haunts, and the Storyteller
might require a Nosferatu teacher as a prerequisite.

Chapter Three: Dreams & Nightmares 95

 Brain Dead
(Nightmare •••, Vigor •)
Fear infects the lizard brain of the vampire’s victim, con-
vincing them to make stupid mistakes, like splitting up, going
outside alone, or not calling for help.
The vampire needs to be able to see her victim to inflict
this Devotion.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: None
Requirement: The victim must have the Delusional
Condition.
Dice Pool: Presence + Persuasion + Nightmare – Resolve
Action: Instant
Duration: Scene
Roll Results
Success: The victim is imbued with shortsighted invincibility
(or just brain damage). For the rest of the scene, he suffers a
penalty equal to successes on any Mental actions to evade, trick,
or outwit the vampire.
Exceptional Success: On normal failures, the victim dramat-
ically fails affected actions.
Failure: The victim is as smart as he ever was.
Dramatic Failure: The vampire instills a true sense of
invincibility in the victim: He gains the Steadfast Condition
and resolves Delusional.
Friend to Foe
(Nightmare •, Obfuscate ••••)
The vampire twists the perceptions of others and puts any
suspicions they may feel for her onto an innocent bystander
of her choosing.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire uses Touch of Shadow on the
victim then activates this Devotion.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Instant
Duration: Scene
For the rest of the scene, everyone in the immediate area redi-
rects all suspicions, fears, or hostilities they feel for the vampire
onto the victim. The Nosferatu gains no special advantage for
this effect beyond a distraction, but it’s a good one: She or one
of her allies could be carrying a chainsaw and a severed head
and people would think she’s the least of their worries. Note
also that this isn’t a mental compulsion, just a redirection of
the vampire’s natural creepiness. People will react however they
normally would to a threat.
This effect ends if the Nosferatu attacks anyone other than
the designated victim.
96 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Gaslight
(Nightmare ••••, Obfuscate •••••)
The worst kind of fear is the one that comes from doubting
reality — the perception of what’s true and what’s not. If the
rest of the world goes mad, doesn’t that make you the crazy one?
This Devotion costs 4 Experiences to learn
Cost: 1 Vitae and 1 Willpower
Requirement: The vampire spills the Vitae cost at a central
point in the room before she activates this Devotion.
Dice Pool: Manipulation + Subterfuge + Obfuscate vs. high-
est Resolve + Blood Potency
Action: Instant
Duration: Night
Roll Results
Success: Before the end of the scene she spilled her blood, the
vampire can spend a Willpower to visibly alter a detail within
the room, such as an occupant or an architectural detail. She
might change the wallpaper from a sedate stripe pattern to a
psychedelic paisley, or a singer’s hair from ash blonde to fiery
red. Witnesses ignore this change, accepting it as normal. If
questioned, they’ll justify it with obvious lies or absurd leaps
of logic. For the purposes of bookkeeping, major Storyteller
characters and player characters should take the equivalent of
False Memories (Vampire, p. 303), but side characters don’t
need to track a Condition.
Once the illusion forms, the vampire designates an individ-
ual who cannot ignore the change. For the rest of the night,
others affected by this power treat this victim with hostility
and scorn when he points out the alteration. People aren’t
supernaturally compelled to behave this way, but once per
scene, anyone who significantly chastises the victim refreshes
a Willpower.
At the end of the night, the others won’t recall the change at
all, and memories of their behavior will become hazy. However,
the victim will remember his suffering all too well.
Exceptional Success: The totality of the illusion is such that
the vampire can add her Nightmare dots to any role to incite
the crowd against her victim’s “ravings.”
Failure: Reality remains immutable.
Dramatic Failure: The vampire reflects her lies back on
herself. She gains the Delusional Condition for the rest of the
night, believing her Devotion worked.
Gaze of the Abyss
(Nightmare •••••)
Members of Clan Nosferatu have seen the true dark and been
changed by it forever. They know what horrors await in the
depths, and sometimes they share these “insights” with their prey.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 2 Vitae
 Requirement: The vampire must have inf licted the
Frightened Condition on her victim.
Dice Pool: Presence + Occult + Nightmare – Resolve
Action: Instant
Roll Results
Success: The vampire shows the victim horrors beyond com-
prehension, utterly demoralizing him and inflicting one point
of Willpower loss per success.
Exceptional Success: The vision of horror is so complete
that the victim also gains the Fugue Condition for the rest of
the night.
Failure: The victim’s mind is no worse for wear.
Dramatic Failure: The vampire has looked too closely into
the abyss, and it echoes in her mind. She gains the Frightened
Condition.
Hell Beast
(Animalism ••, Nightmare •, Vigor ••)
The Haunts spread their curse even to their lackeys, and in
a beast, this is especially advantageous. With this Devotion,
a Nosferatu can infuse a familiar with her own rot, gaining
a familiar much better suited to its mistress.
This Devotion costs 3 Experiences to learn
Cost: 1 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire spends an additional Vitae
(included in the cost) as she uses Raise the Familiar.
Dice Pool: None
Action: None
Duration: As with Raise the Familiar
The Nosferatu enhances her familiar. It gains a point of
Size, stretching its dead skin against protruding bone and
gnarled muscle, and distributes half the vampire’s Blood
Potency among Strength, Dexterity, and Stamina (rounding
up). Furthermore, it adds the Haunt’s Nightmare dots to its
Intimidation Skill, even if that would raise the trait above its
maximum. The creature also permanently benefits from the
effect of Dread Presence, though the illusions it conjures up
are cruder than those of a vampire. The Nosferatu herself is
immune to this effect.
The vampire must renew this Devotion along with Raise the
Familiar. If not, the corpse’s form collapses in on itself, and
cannot be resurrected.
If the vampire knows Undying Familiar (Vampire, p. 148),
she can spend an additional Vitae when using that Devotion
to assure her ghoul immediately rises as a hell beast if it dies
in a violent encounter.
If the vampire knows Face in the Crowd, she can spend an
additional Experience into this Devotion to imbue the crea-
ture with that effect, causing mortals to ignore its monstrous
appearance until it attacks.
Iron Façade
(Nightmare •, Obfuscate ••, Resilience •)
Appearances are everything, and even a meek Nosferatu
can leverage his inherent horror into a bit of breathing room.
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn
Cost: 1 Vitae
Dice Pool: None
Action: Instant
Duration: Scene
For the rest of the scene, any wounds the vampire takes do not
appear on his body, no matter how grievous; even severed limbs
seem to hold together. The vampire doesn’t gain any physical
advantage, but it’s an easy way to demoralize foes.
Furthermore, the first time the vampire uses Resilience in
the scene, witnesses must succeed on a reflexive Resolve +
Composure – Blood Potency roll before attacking him. On a
failure, they lose the 10-again quality on the attack.
Jump Scare
(Nightmare •, Obfuscate •, Vigor •)
You never see them coming till it’s too late, and this Devotion
makes that threat a promise.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: None
Requirement: The victim must know the vampire is nearby,
but not visible.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Reflexive
Duration: Turn
The vampire unleashes an aura of dread that distracts her
prey, then appears before him at the height of vulnerability. For
the rest of the turn, the vampire ignores the victim’s Defense,
and her first strike takes the 8-again quality. The vampire can
only use this Devotion on a victim once per scene.
Living Nightmare
(Auspex •, Nightmare •••••, Obfuscate ••••)
Most Nosferatu only inflict their nightmares into minds, but
some learn to give their visions (near) physical form.
This Devotion costs 5 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Vitae and 1 Willpower
Dice Pool: None
Action: Instant
Duration: Scene
The vampire projects an animate horror into the world.
This creature is as ephemeral as any other illusion created with
Nightmare or Obfuscate, but it can act independently of the
vampire and follow simple commands. As a rule of thumb, it
shouldn’t be bigger than a large human.
Chapter Three: Dreams & Nightmares 97
 As an extension of the Beast, the vampire maintains a men-
tal link with the creature, and can channel her non-physical
Disciplines and Devotions through it. She can’t perceive what
the creature does directly, but she has an impression of what it
sees and hears, like a memory rather than direct observation.
It can pass through walls and other barriers, and does not
appear on video, audio, or any other kind of recording. It
can also reflexively use the effect of Cloak of Night on itself.
Any mortal who sees the living nightmare suffers a breaking
point penalized by the vampire’s Blood Potency.
A vampire can only create one living nightmare at a time.
The Loathsome Foe
(Nightmare ••, Obfuscate ••••)
Haunts are fond of The Familiar Stranger, as it provides an
easy way to conceal their outward horror, or make it less obvi-
ous. However, some can twist their masks to embody a victim’s
personal nightmares.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire has The Familiar Stranger active
on herself when she uses this Devotion.
Dice Pool: Presence + Intimidation + Obfuscate vs.
Composure + Blood Potency
Action: Contested; resistance is reflexive
Duration: Scene
Roll Results
Success: The victim perceives the vampire as a person he
deeply fears. For as long as the Nosferatu remains in his pres-
ence, the victim can only apply half his relevant Attribute to
resisted and contested rolls with the vampire involving fear
(rounding up), and the vampire adds her Nightmare dots
to Defense against the victim’s attacks. This illusion only
applies to the victim. All others will perceive her as per The
Familiar Stranger.
This fear is supernatural, not an autonomic response; know-
ing it’s not real isn’t enough to dismiss it, and the illusion doesn’t
even need to make sense in context. The person being imitated
could even be deceased.
However, unless the vampire knows who her victim fears,
she has no control over her disguise, so it can help to do a
background check before using this Devotion, or a bit of delv-
ing with Auspex.
Exceptional Success: The victim is overcome with terror,
and loses a Willpower point.
Failure: The vampire’s disguise is scarier in theory than in
practice.
Dramatic Failure: Not only does the vampire fail to scare
her victim, the effect of the Familiar Stranger also shatters, and
can’t be used for the rest of the scene.
98 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Mania
(Celerity •, Nightmare •••)
Minds are delicate. Combining Celerity with the brain-crack-
ing effects of The Grand Delusion, a Nosferatu can send her
victim into an explosion of manic action.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Vitae
Dice Pool: Presence + Empathy + Nightmare vs. Resolve +
Blood Potency
Action: Contested; resistance is reflexive
Roll Results
Success: The vampire puts her victim’s brain into overdrive.
He’s unable to concentrate on the same thing for more than a
few minutes at a time, and finds himself picking up tasks just as
quickly as he abandons them. He gains the Frantic Condition.
Exceptional Success: The Frantic Condition lasts for nights
equal to Blood Potency
Failure: No spark sets off in the victim’s mind.
Dramatic Failure: The Nosferatu goes off the rails, taking
the Frantic Condition herself.
FRANTIC
(PERSISTENT)
Your mind is moving faster than it can actually think, and
it’s impossible to focus on any one thing at a time. Burning
out is a question of when, not if. You can’t initiate extended
actions without spending a Willpower point (this does not
add a +3), and using a Mental Skill more than once a scene
incurs a 2-die penalty on subsequent actions with the same
Skill. This Condition ends without resolving in hours equal
to the vampire’s Blood Potency.
Possible Sources: The Mania Devotion, amphetamines.
Resolution: Heavy downer drugs. A lot of alcohol. Frenzy.
Beat: Fail an important task due to your hyperdrive brain.
Mind Killer
(Nightmare •••, Vigor •)
In a battle of wits, disarming your opponent is always a valid
strategy. With this Devotion, the vampire strikes terror into
the victim’s reasoning center, seizing his mind up.
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn.
Cost: 2 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire must engage her victim in at
least a full minute of conversation.
Dice Pool: Intelligence + Intimidation + Nightmare vs.
Resolve + Blood Potency
Action: Contested; resistance is reflexive
Duration: Scene
Roll Results
Success: Any action the victim takes with the Wits Attribute
(including derived traits) is penalized by the vampire’s
Nightmare dots. If it’s penalized below zero, he gains the
Insensate Tilt on the first turn of any violent encounters.
Exceptional Success: The victim’s sense of cohesion is shat-
tered, and he suffers the Confused Condition for the rest of
the scene.
Failure: The victim is unfazed by the vampire’s intimidation
tactics.
Dramatic Failure: Turnabout is fair play. The vampire’s
attempt to shut her opponent’s mind down rebounds, and she
gains the Confused Condition instead.

No One Can Hear You Scream

(Obfuscate •)
The Nosferatu are anything but subtle, but this Devotion
allows them to hunt prey without worrying about bystanders
interfering.
The vampire must touch her victim to inflict this Devotion
(Vampire, p. 177).
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn.
Cost: None
Dice Pool: Wits + Stealth + Obfuscate – Stamina
Action: Instant
Duration: Turns equal to successes
Roll Results
Success: The vampire wraps his subject in a field of silence,
preventing her from calling out for help or calling attention to
herself. All sounds emanating from the victim, be they gunshots
or screams, come out as a whisper.
Exceptional Success: The zone of silence lasts a scene.
Failure: The victim is as noisy as humans tend to be.
Dramatic Failure: The victim is not only immune to the
vampire’s Devotion, she gains a +3 on any action to call atten-
tion to herself, such as calling for help.

Pied Piper
(Majesty •, Nightmare ••)
With a gentle hum, the Nosferatu can turn a childish
tune into an insidious lure. Developed by the Candymen
bloodline, this Devotion has passed into common usage
among certain Haunts.
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn, and is free if the
character is a Candyman.
Cost: 1 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire must be playing music.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Reflexive

Chapter Three: Dreams & Nightmares 99

 Duration: Scene
The vampire’s lure infects her victims with a gnawing need
to follow the music. Until the Nosferatu stops playing the
tune, anyone who follows the sound to its source refreshes a
Willpower point. However, if a victim accepts this “gift,” they
also gain the Spooked Condition.
The vampire can take no other instant actions while she plays
her song, but she can apply Defense as usual.
Rampage
(Nightmare •••••, Obfuscate ••••, Vigor •••••)
The vampire becomes an unstoppable monster, clearing
whole rooms of mortals.
This Devotion costs 7 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Vitae and 1 Willpower
Dice Pool: Strength + Brawl + Nightmare – number of
mortals in the fight
Action: Instant
Roll Results
Success: The vampire becomes a thing of shadow and ter-
ror, leaving her victims utterly defenseless. She kills a number
mortals equal to successes on the activation roll. “Mortal” is
anyone without a Supernatural Tolerance trait. For example,
a Nosferatu can’t kill ghouls with this Devotion, even though
their Blood Potency trait is zero. Furthermore, if any of her
victims are armed with fire, they are exempt from her wrath.
Exceptional Success: In addition to a tremendous body
count, any surviving mortal in the scene who is not allied with
the vampire is Beaten Down.
Failure: The vampire misjudges her human opponents and
is in for a violent reply.
Dramatic Failure: The vampire is overcome with a profound
remorse, suffering the Guilty Condition.
Using Rampage, even on a failure, is a breaking point at
Humanity 1 and higher.
Rising Tension
(Nightmare ••)
The vampire turns the pounding of her victim’s heartbeat
into an unnerving weapon of distraction.
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn.
Cost: 2 Vitae
Requirement: The victim must know he’s being watched
or followed.
Dice Pool: Manipulation + Intimidation + Nightmare vs.
Composure + Blood Potency
Action: Contested; resistance is reflexive
Duration: Scene
100 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Roll Results
Success: The vampire seeds a subtle dread into her victim’s
mind that makes him clumsy and easier to hunt. He gains the
Shaken Condition. As long as the Condition lasts, or until the
end of the scene (whichever comes first), he does not benefit from
10-again on Physical actions against the vampire, and suffers her
Nightmare dots as a penalty to Perception.
Exceptional Success: The victim is so dazed by his sense of
impending doom that the first action the vampire takes against
him gains the rote quality.
Failure: If the tension is rising, the victim doesn’t notice.
Dramatic Failure: The victim thinks the odds are with him.
The vampire, however, suffers the Stunned Tilt.
Sign of Terror
(Auspex •••, Nightmare ••••)
A common trick taught by the Keepers of the Dark, this
Devotion allows Haunts to imbue their horror into awful traps.
This Devotion costs 4 Experiences to learn, or 3 if the char-
acter is a Warden.
Cost: 1 Vitae, plus one per additional charge
Dice Pool: None
Action: Instant
Duration: Week
The vampire marks an object with an eldritch sign written in
Vitae and imbues it with the power of Nightmare. When placed,
the vampire chooses a Nightmare effect to attach to the object
(paying all costs), whether the object is a book, door, or corpse.
When viewed by anyone except the vampire herself, this power
invades the victim’s mind as if the Nosferatu were present. The
normal rules of that effect, including resistance, apply as normal.
If needed, the Storyteller rolls the vampire’s dice pool.
Each point of Vitae beyond the first causes the power to activate
an additional time before the duration ends. However, an object
cannot hold more charges than its Size (to a limit of five charges).
Terrible Will
(Nightmare •, Resilience ••)
Originally a creation of Carthian Haunts, this Devotion
keeps Firebrands from succumbing to the terrors of their elders.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn, or 1 if the char-
acter has a Carthian teacher.
Cost: 1 Willpower
Dice Pool: None
Action: None
Duration: Scene
The vampire is immune to the effect of Dread Presence,
or similar passive powers of fear. Any rolls to use Nightmare
against her are penalized by Resilience dots. Immunity to Dread
Presence extends to enhancing any higher tiers of Nightmare.

This Awful Grip
(Nightmare •, Vigor •)
Kindred forget at their peril that Nosferatu aren’t just scary,
but possess the Devil’s own strength. Many Haunts learn to
combine both qualities into brutal feats of terror, and this
Devotion is but one expression of that synthesis.
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn.
Cost: 1 Vitae
Dice Pool: None
Action: Reflexive
The vampire’s muscles bloat as she brings her fists to bear
on a target. When taking a Brawl or Weaponry action against
an object, she ignores Durability equal to her Vigor dots. This
applies to general armor in a violent encounter.
This strength performance is always alarming. Anyone wit-
nessing a successful use of this Devotion must make a reflexive
Resolve + Composure: on a success, they swallow their fear; on
a failure, they suffer the Shaken Condition. Unless this is an
exceptional success, a victim must resist this fear each time the
vampire uses the Devotion in the scene. As this aura of fear is
a function of Dread Presence, the vampire can choose not to
inflict it on chosen bystanders.
Wicked Grasp
(Nightmare ••, Vigor •)
The vampire’s limbs distend and warp, allowing her to wrap
around her prey like a light-starved, deep-sea invertebrate. The
victim knows the Haunt for the Beast she is, and must struggle
against his own fear.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn.
Cost: 1 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire must activate this Devotion on
the same turn she initiates a grapple.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Reflexive
Duration: As long as the grapple lasts
The victim feels sheer terror as the vampire’s limbs wrap
around him. If he has not already acted, his effective Initiative
is treated as 1 for the rest of the turn. Once the grapple moves
into contested rounds, as long as the vampire holds on, the
victim suffers Nightmare dots as a penalty on all rolls to control
the grapple.
Wretched Bite
(Nightmare •••)
With this Devotion, the Nosferatu instills an overwhelming
depression in her victim, marking him with the reek of melan-
choly. Common among Haunts who occupy Warrens, it’s also
a good way to tag prey for other residents, especially neonates
still coming into their predatory nature.
This Devotion costs 2 Experiences to learn, or 1 if the char-
acter is a member of a Necropolis.
Cost: 2 Vitae
Requirement: The vampire inflicts damage with a bite in a
grapple, or while feeding.
Dice Pool: None
Action: Reflexive
With his bite, the vampire sends his victim into a spiral of
bleak sadness. Assuming she survives the wound, she gains the
Despondent Condition.
DESPONDENT
(PERSISTENT)
A vampire’s bite has infected you with a pitch-black mood.
As long as this Condition lasts, you suffer a –3 modifier on
all actions involving things you would normally do for plea-
sure and happiness, and all rolls to use negativity against you
exceptionally succeed with three successes instead of five. Your
wounds also give off a faint scent of suffering, only detectable
to vampires with the Nightmare Discipline. This Condition
ends when the damage inflicted by the bite heals.
Possible Sources: The Wretched Bite Devotion.
Resolution: Gain a dot of Integrity/Humanity. Consent to
a vampire feeding from your worthless blood.
Beat: Dramatically fail an action because of your despondence.
Merits
Alongside new Merits, the following section updates those
found on p. 109 of The Beast That Haunts the Blood:
Nosferatu. Note that Haunted Channel and Haunted Hand
have been folded into Unliving Anchor as a single Merit.
Bottom Feeder (••)
Prerequisites: Nosferatu, Blood Potency •• or less
Effect: Haunts have an affinity for the unclean and the
unwanted, and some can even draw more Vitae from those
sources. Your character takes double the Vitae when drinking
from animals, corpses, or stored blood. This does nothing
for the taste, however.
Drawback: When your character gains Blood Potency 3, this
Merit is lost, but Sanctity of Merits applies.
Dirty Fighting (• to •••••)
Prerequisites: Wits •••, Brawl ••, Subterfuge ••,
Obfuscate •, Vigor •
Effect: Your character is a back-stabbing, crotch-kicking,
hand-biting bastard who knows words like “honor” and
“fairness” don’t mean shit in a fight. She knows how to blend
street-fighting and Discipline tricks into highly effective — if
morally questionable — tactics.
Chapter Three: Dreams & Nightmares 101
 Sucker Punch (•): The best hits are the ones they don’t see
coming. Your character reduces the penalty to a called shot
(Vampire, p. 178) by two if she surprises her opponent. This
only applies before combat enters the Initiative phase.
Low Blow (••): Hit them where it really hurts. When your
character adds Vigor as weapon damage on a Brawl attack, she
inflicts an extra point if the attack was a called shot.
It Wasn’t Me! (•••): Sometimes, the best defense is con-
vincing the other guy it wasn’t you who hit him. When your
character makes a Brawl attack while under the effects of
Obfuscate, she can make a reflexive Wits + Subterfuge roll
versus the victim’s Perception. Success means your character
appears blameless for her attack, prompting her victim to look
elsewhere for their assailant. This tactic automatically fails if
no one else could have conceivably done the deed. Drawback:
Your character cannot use this tactic against the same opponent
more than once a scene.
Vicious Bite (••••): Remind anyone fool enough to get close
that fangs aren’t just for feeding. If your character is part of a
grapple, and her opponent successfully uses the Drop Prone,
Hold, or Take Cover moves on her, she can spend a Willpower
to make a reflexive Dexterity + Brawl roll, penalized by her
opponent’s Strength. Success inflicts a single point of lethal
damage on the opponent, who must change their move to
Break Free, as your character bites them somewhere so painful
they reflexively let go.
Bloodcurdling Strike (•••••): Attack with such disregard for
decency that no one wants to be your next victim. When your
character inflicts damage as part of a successful All Out Attack,
roll a die pool equal to Presence + (damage inflicted). Anyone
with Composure less than the successes balks at attacking her in
melee combat, and cannot do so on their next turn. Drawbacks:
This technique is not an impediment to ranged attacks or mental
and social Disciplines. It also has diminishing returns, and only
works once per violent encounter.
Ease the Curse (••••)
Prerequisites: Nosferatu, Blood Potency 5 or less, does not
have the Potent Curse Condition
Effect: The Nosferatu curse is the only one you can see —
that you can touch. More than a few Haunts have dedicated
their Requiems to overcoming the outward appearance of their
bane, and while none have succeeded, a few have edged toward
a half-measure, softening the grip of the Beast on their skin.
Some rare Haunts come out of the Embrace a little less mon-
strous than others, while the desperate experiment with sur-
gery, obscure Coils of the Dragon, or blood magic. A few even
bargain with the Owls to restore mortal beauty, or mundanity.
Your character has suppressed her Beast enough to seem
more human. She treats Humanity as one dot higher for the
purposes of her clan bane, to an effective maximum of 10.
Aesthetically, she seems just a little more… alive. Even the most
horrible Haunt can pass for mortal: Her skin condition is less
like an alligator hide; his pall of doom lightens up a smidge.
102 Better Feared: Nosferatu
If she ever gains the Potent Curse Condition, or raises her
Blood Potency above five, your character loses access to the
effect of this Merit. She can keep it until she can access it once
more or liquidate it as per Sanctity of Merits.
Drawback: The Beast gets its way in the end. Your character
must keep her animal side well fed, distracting it from its faded
influence. If she ever becomes starving for the purposes of
frenzy penalties (typically two or fewer Vitae, but the Storyteller
should adjust this number for higher Blood Potency characters),
her bane intensifies. Not only does she not benefit from this
Merit, but her Humanity is also considered three dots lower for
the purposes of Social penalties until she feeds to full capacity.
Hidden Rest (••)
Prerequisites: Stealth ••, Obfuscate •
Effect: Your character can extend the effects of Obfuscate
over himself in daysleep. Before he rests, select which power
of Obfuscate he wishes to extend into the day and activate it,
paying all costs and making any necessary rolls. This Merit will
affect his corpse until the sun next sets, assuming the Discipline
isn’t broken before then. At lower levels of Obfuscate, this just
means no one pays attention to the cadaver in the corner, but
at higher levels, your character could make their resting form
look like an old steamer trunk, or a pile of discarded rags.
Igor (•)
Prerequisites: Ghoul with Nosferatu regnant, Integrity 6
or lower
Effect: Your character’s regular doses of Haunt Vitae have
twisted his body or spirit. He takes the Potent Curse Condition
(p. 107), substituting Integrity for Humanity to determine
modifiers. This curse can mirror the bane of your character’s
regnant, or be a unique manifestation, but it’s always awful.
Drawback: Your character’s Integrity is capped at 6, and he
can only resolve Potent Curse by breaking the blood bond.
Living Down to Expectations (••)
Prerequisite: Nosferatu
Effect: Your character knows how to leverage her clan’s repu-
tation to get away with social gaffs that would cost others dearly.
Once a night, when your character would fail a mundane Social
roll, she can instead treat it as having achieved a single success,
so long as she plays into one of her clan’s various stereotypes.
She’s only a Haunt, after all. How could she be expected to
know any better?
Drawback: This Merit doesn’t work on other Nosferatu, or
with people unaware of the clan’s reputation.
Master of Fright (•••)
Prerequisites: Empathy ••, Intimidation •••
Effect: Your character is a protégé of horror. Her mundane
Intimidation or Empathy rolls with regard to fear (whether caus-
ing it or understanding it) gain the Advanced Action quality.
This applies once per victim in a night.
Shield of Self-Loathing (•••)
Prerequisites: Nosferatu, Resolve ••••
Effect: Your character knows she’s an unwanted monster, fit
only for the company of rats and ghosts. She’s so sure of it, she
gets suspicious when someone doesn’t treat her like a reject —
anybody being too nice to her must be up to something.
Whenever your character takes the Charmed or Swooning
Condition, she can spend a Willpower to suppress it for a scene,
reminding herself of what an unlovable wretch she really is.
Drawback: Self-hatred makes it difficult to form genuine
connections with others. Your character does not benefit from
the 10-again quality on mundane Socialize rolls.
True Worm (••)
Prerequisites: Nosferatu, Survival •
Effect: The Nosferatu dig where other Kindred dare not go,
and as they tunnel deeper, the sun loses its grip on their corpses.
If your character is more than nine meters below ground, he
does not need to resist daysleep. He still gains the Lethargic
Condition, but he can roll Resolve + Stamina as a reflexive
action once per scene to stave it off. However, this action suffers
a cumulative –1 modifier for each scene after the first. On an
exceptional success, he does not gain Lethargic for the rest of
the day. Rising above nine meters means your character must
resist daysleep as usual, penalized by the number of hours he’s
spent awake. When night falls, “waking” still costs a Vitae, or
else he suffers the usual consequences of trying to rise without
enough blood.
Characters with the first dot in Coil of the Ascendant never
suffer the Lethargic Condition when benefiting from the effect
of this Merit, and do not need to use the Blush of Life to remain
awake while underground. In the world above, Surmounting
the Daysleep works as usual.
Unliving Anchor (• to •••)
Prerequisites: Nosferatu, Occult ••
Effect: Some say the Nosferatu are deader than other
Kindred. Their bodies rest on the knife edge of the uncanny
valley, and mortals keep their distance because an inner voice
screams dead thing! as they pass. Maybe this is why many Haunts
have a rapport with ghosts, though it might just be due to their
lifestyle choices. The clan earned its nickname for lairing in
the far reaches of society, the cemeteries and rain tunnels and
haunted mansions. The ghosts might just feel sorry for them.
Your character has an affinity for the true dead, whether
from time spent in places wraiths frequent, or just from being
a little too ghostly. This Merit doesn’t extend to the level of
real death magic, but if you have access to Bloodlines: The
Resurrected, a dot of Unliving Anchor is enough justification
to buy Kindred Necromancy (p. 21).
Each dot of this Merit is a discrete effect:
Haunted Hand (•): Your character adds her dots in this Merit
to rolls dealing directly with ghosts (exorcism, summoning,
communication, abjuration, etc.), excluding tangential actions
like research or investigation. Furthermore, she exceptionally
succeeds on three successes instead of five on Occult rolls to
identify a ghost’s ban or bane.
Haunted Channel (••): By spending a Vitae, ghosts in your
character’s presence add dots in this Merit to all rolls to use
Manifestations and Numina. This lasts a scene. In addition,
she gains the equivalent of Unnatural Affinity: Ghosts for the
same duration.
Friends in Low Places (•••): Your character’s link to ghosts
has attracted attention, and she’s become an Anchor for one
or more wraiths. Once per month/story, she can call on these
beings for the equivalent of four dots in Allies, Retainer, or
Staff. This can provide the effect of a Numina or Manifestation,
if needed. Drawback: Having ghost pals isn’t functionally
different from being haunted. If your character calls on them,
they’ll call on her.
Unyielding Mask (•• or •••)
Prerequisites: Nosferatu, Nightmare •
Effect: Masks are important to the Nosferatu, and not
just for the obvious reasons. Covering up a gnarly face is all
well and good, but a mask can make implicit fear explicit: A
Haunt might possess a certain predatory grace, but a wolf
mask stitched to her skin leaves no questions about what
she really is.
Your character has permanently affixed a mask to her flesh.
At two dots, the mask causes a single Social Skill to always
exceptionally succeed with three successes instead of five. A
luchador mask might apply to Intimidation, while a hand-
crafted Venetian mask would augment Socialize. If the vampire
is wearing the mask in the perfect context (at a wrestling match,
during Carnevale, etc.), she treats the mask and her self-desig-
nated role as an additional Touchstone.
At three dots, the mask is not just a social shield, but a
supernatural one. Your character gains the equivalent of the
Indomitable Merit when it comes to Kindred powers of social
and mental coercion, but only if she spends a Vitae to infuse
the mask at the beginning of a scene. If your character already
has Indomitable, or gains that Merit later, stacking it with
Unyielding Mask applies a 3-die modifier to relevant actions.
Any Nosferatu can create an Unyielding Mask, just so long
as they’re willing to suffer for it. They must deal a point of
lethal damage to the face, usually by cutting away sections of
skin and then pressing a mask to the wound. Some Nosferatu
staple the mask, stitch it in place, or even solder it; the
method is unimportant, just as long as it involves mutilation.
The vampire must then spend a Vitae, healing the damage
and bonding the mask to her skin. Finally, she must spend
a Willpower in daysleep to make the change permanent, as
with other alterations of form.
Chapter Three: Dreams & Nightmares 103
 Drawbacks: Having a mask stitched to one’s face has obvious
downsides for maintaining a personal Masquerade. Touch of
Shadow can conceal the Unyielding Mask, but this negates all
of its effects. Furthermore, the mask is part of your character’s
body, and is just as vulnerable as her flesh. If she suffers lethal
damage to her face, the mask loses its effects until it can be
repaired, whether with the Crafts Skill or by spending an
additional Vitae to heal it in daysleep. If the mask suffers direct
aggravated damage, it’s beyond repair, and this may provoke a
breaking point, as if losing a Touchstone.
Urban Legend (• to •••)
Prerequisite: Nosferatu
Effect: Your character’s appearance or hunting style mirrors
that of a local ghost story or cryptid, and she can take advantage
of her borrowed mythos to manipulate people who are aware
of it. She gains a 2-die bonus to all appropriate Social actions
when dealing with humans who believe in the urban legend
she’s imitating. Dots in this Merit represent how well this
story is known: A single dot represents a neighborhood, two
represent the whole town or city, and three represent a myth
that’s spread over a significant geographical region, such as a
state or province.
Drawback: With fame comes notoriety. Anyone seeking
out your character in a region where her urban legend is
widely known takes a +2 modifier on Investigation rolls to
track her activities.
104 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Verminous Fellowship (•)
Prerequisite: Nosferatu or Animalism •
Effect: Vampires who make their homes in the unclean
places of the world often strike up a peculiar kinship with the
crawling, slithering, and skittering things that also reside in
those dark corners. Vermin feel a bond with your character;
such animals will seek her out and react positively toward her.
She gains a bonus equal to Blood Potency divided by two,
rounding up, on any Animal Ken rolls made to influence or
understand such creatures (including to Feral Whispers), and
she can almost always find some close at hand.
Drawback: Being seen as a friend to spiders, roaches,
snakes, and rats comes with its own complications, as many
people don’t appreciate having such creatures in their com-
pany. This Merit may cause situational Social penalties, at the
Storyteller’s discretion.
War Dog (•)
Prerequisite: Nosferatu or Resilience •
Effect: Your character has seen some shit. Moreover, so
has their body. Their skin is a battlefield of old wounds, like
a carapace of scar tissue, and if they take bashing damage in
either of their last two Health boxes, they ignore the usual –2
and –3 modifiers. This effect does not apply if they have or
take any lethal damage. In addition, their rough looks provide
a 1-die bonus on all acts of physical Intimidation.
 Malice and Mutation: The Lonely Curse
I hate slick and pretty things. I prefer mistakes and accidents.
David Lynch
The Nosferatu decay in many ways. Their flesh twists into
sallow rubber, their eyes discolor to impossible shades, their
voices crack glass, and their auras sour like milk. Suffice it to
say, Haunts have difficult Requiems. Perhaps no more than
the other clans, but their difficulties manifest in much more
overt ways. Few among the Damned know pity, but when they
do, they reserve it for the Nosferatu.
This section peels back the layers of the Lonely Curse, offer-
ing new flaws to spark the ugly corners of your imagination,
and a special system for Nosferatu to take advantage of their
inherent horror.
Sample Flaws
The following are only a small collection of Nosferatu
flaws. Mix, match, and mutate as you see fit. If you’re using
the Potent Curse system (p. 107), these examples also include
possible bonuses and penalties.
Alien Grace
She has a way of moving that’s both beautiful and wrong.
It’s like blinking too fast, as if nothing exists between points A
and B. It’s mesmerizing, the way she springs from the stage and
onto you — even the way her fangs glide through her gums as
she rakes them across your throat. You’ve never seen something
so lovely, and you never will again.
Bonus: Athletics (perfect poise)
Penalty: Crafts (can’t go slow)
Bizarro Emotions
His face has a mind of its own. No matter how grave the
situation, he always has a smirk, yet when anyone cracks a
joke, he looks like he’s going through a depressive episode. His
voice goes through all the right tones and intonations, but his
fucked-up face makes it look like he’s being sarcastic. You’ll
never know how he really feels. Not until it’s too late.
Bonus: Subterfuge (impossible to take seriously)
Penalty: Empathy (impossible to take seriously)
Contagious Nerves
She’s always going a mile a minute. Each thought flows over
the next like a riptide, and her rambling is enough to make
a sloth anxious. Even when she manages to tamp it down, it
exudes from her pores and right into you. Just looking at her
makes you feel like a prey animal, as if you’re caught in a trap.
Maybe you are.
Bonus: Survival (ready for anything)
Penalty: Animal Ken (behaves like prey)
High Humidity
He exudes a muggy heat. Maybe he spends a lot of time run-
ning around, or just has bad genes, but he’s unbearable to be
near for long. Even things he touches heat up: Once you saw
a pen melt in his hand. You never got over the way it dripped
down his pale fist, and you smell burnt plastic whenever you
think of him.
Bonus: Persuasion (make ’em sweat)
Penalty: Politics (no chill)
Fearful Symmetry
Her look is unmatched, like she was formed in two custom
molds and pressed together by God Herself. It’s breathtaking;
it’s perfection; it’s… impossible. Somehow, she has the same
birthmark on both hands. The same pattern of veins in both
eyes. Up close she’s just half a person standing beside a mirror,
and you fear to think what hides on the other side.
Bonus: Socialize (supermodel)
Penalty: Expression (uncanny valley)
Flies in Your Eyes
It’s not that he has bugs on him; it’s that he has bugs in
him. Hornets infest his lungs, buzzing a low hum when he
speaks; silverfish squirm up and down the veins in his arms;
and maggots peer from behind his pupils. You think. Maybe
it’s just spasms or blemishes or you’ve been staying up too late
drinking, but you’ll be goddamned if you’re going to get close
enough to find out.
Bonus: Animal Ken (one of us)
Penalty: Socialize (literal vermin)
Gargoyle’s Visage
It’s hard to imagine she was ever human. Her skin is so
gray it looks hewn from stone, and the vestigial growths that
line her head are like a row of horns. Even her step seems
heavier than it should, like someone poured concrete into her
shoes. You feel as though you ought to say a Hail Mary when
she enters a room, lest she be offended — and you definitely
don’t want that.
Bonus: Brawl (hammer fists)
Penalty: Athletics (feet of clay)
Chapter Three: Dreams & Nightmares 105
 Leakage
He’s always moist. He’s covered in a disgusting patina of
sweat, and dribbles of dark liquid sometimes squeeze out from
the corners of his mouth. You try to be polite, but it’s all but
impossible to keep eye contact without looking disgusted.
Clothes and objects stick to him in an unnatural way, and you
feel the damp of grave dirt in his voice.
Bonus: Larceny (slippery customer)
Penalty: Intimidation (too gross to be scary)
Popped Bubble
They’re always there. You step left, they step left. You step
back one, they step up two. They insist they’re not aware of
it, and they’re unfailingly apologetic… even if the accusation
seems to irk them. But the more it happens, the more you
notice the way they size you up, and how they always seem to
block exits and escape routes.
Bonus: Empathy (up close and personal)
Penalty: Subterfuge (open book)
Ruined Mouth
It’s like he decided to eat glass one day and developed a taste
for it. Him and his whole nasty little brood — like misbegotten
snowflakes, none of them displaying the same fuckeduppedness
twice. Some have teeth that twist like vines, or tongues made
of what looks like raw meat. One barely has a mouth at all, just
a hole where sound comes out and blood goes in. But it’s when
they all smile that you worry.
Bonus: Intimidation (monstrous)
Penalty: Persuasion (struggles to speak)
Sickly Perfume
The scent isn’t unpleasant. Sometimes it’s kind of nice, espe-
cially among monsters who smell like stale blood on the best
of the nights. Still, it’s rather cloying. Even standing across a
room, it seems to get in your hair and clothes, and being within
sniffing distance means it’ll follow you around for weeks. It’s
almost sinister, the way it lasts — you’re sure it can’t be healthy.
What if it’s poisoning you?
Bonus: Persuasion (intoxicating)
Penalty: Stealth (leaves a trail)
Stain of Darkness
Whatever dark gods spawned Clan Nosferatu had a destiny in
mind with his Embrace. Even the Shadows say he sees the world
as it truly is, and when his black eyes run through you like a knife,
you know that’s not just talk. Being around him carries a heaviness,
a sense of doom and dread that only recedes when you can get
away from him. No insight is worth that.
Bonus: Occult (seer of truths)
Penalty: Science (not of this world)
106 Better Feared: Nosferatu
The Stare
He’s watching. He’s always watching… until you look, and
then he’s just having a friendly little chat with his buddies. No
matter where he’s actually casting his gaze, you’ll feel him in
your periphery, giving you a long, hard stare.
Bonus: Investigation (eye for detail)
Penalty: Drive (easily distracted)
Unnerving Normalcy
She’s fine. Fine. Nothing screams bloodsucking beast or
uncanny nightstalker. The averageness is total. No bulging
eyes, seeping pustules, or even bad breath. You keep looking
for a flaw, going over every inch of her in search of a mark or
sign or proof she’s off. Everyone does. Sometimes they follow
her, obsessed with finding out what’s really broken.
Bonus: Politics (anything to anyone)
Penalty: Occult (boring)
Flaws and Banes
The Nosferatu suffer the same common banes as other
Kindred, but the Lonely Curse is as varied as a fungal infec-
tion, and sometimes it sends out fruiting bodies. Any of the
above flaws could be adjusted into supernatural banes (for
Haunts or all vampires). If you want to use them for that
purpose, work with the Storyteller to scale mechanical effects
with Humanity.
It may also be that banes influence Nosferatu flaws, or that
flaws can mutate into true banes. A character with “The Stare”
might develop Face of Hunger (Vampire, p. 108), or a unique
curse that only afflicts himself and his childer. This might be
another way Haunt bloodlines get started.
The Potent Curse
Naïve Kindred think the Nosferatu have it hardest, but the
Lonely Curse is no worse than any other bane of the Damned:
it’s the context that matters. Ask any Savage who’s lost friends
to her own frenzied claws, and she’ll tell you she’d be happy
to take a bit of social isolation in exchange for cooling her
temper (but perhaps this is just a case of the grass always
being greener).
Still, the Nosferatu clan bane might be the only one with
benefits. For most Haunts, this just means keeping riff raff at
a distance; even bruisers like the Daeva and Gangrel think
twice before messing with a Nosferatu with the right look.
However, a few Haunts learn to leverage their clan curse into
a more concrete benefit. Nosferatu debate whether this is a real
phenomenon at all, or just delusional self-confidence. Some
believe all Haunts can use their curse as a tool, but in a prac-
tical rather than supernatural way. Others say nothing special
is at play, and that certain Nosferatu mistake their talents and
deficits with the supernatural.

Other Curses
Why do the Nosferatu have access to this
system and not other clans? From an in-character
perspective, that’s up to you. It could be their curse
has a crude intelligence, or a mutagenic quality most
other clan banes can’t muster. Maybe the Haunts
are just a little less Kindred than they seem.
Out-of-character, it makes more sense from
a narrative standpoint. The Nosferatu are more
outwardly monstrous than the other clans, and in a
way that lends itself to variation. Flaws are also story
devices rather than distinct mechanical downsides,
unlike, for example, the standard Mekhet bane.
This system could work for other clans, but not
as-written. The Shadow curse is probably the easiest
to plug it into, but the other three clan banes require
some finessing, as do those of the minor and lost clans
from Night Horrors: Spilled Blood or Thousand Years
of Night. For example, Ventrue might always penalize
Empathy, and Gangrel could be limited to Physical
Skills for bonuses, with the penalty manifesting as an
animalistic feature. Maybe Daeva only gain the Potent
Curse when they fall in love with a mortal, whose
personality then defines the Condition’s modifiers.
The Beat and resolution criteria would also need to
change, as social acceptance is less of a problem for
the other clans.
The truth is somewhere in the middle. A few Haunts really
do have a supernatural edge when it comes to their bane, while
others leverage their flaws into an advantage through sheer
determination. In either case, as these Haunts fall closer to
the Beast, these effects intensify, though how this happens is
as varied as the Haunts themselves:
• Lineage: Unique among the Kindred, Nosferatu broods often
bear a family resemblance, even outside of true bloodlines:
Childer of an elder called The Blowfish all have spines along
their backs, while the progeny of Smilin’ Jim share the same
predatory grin. Sometimes these inherited flaws compound,
becoming more defined as centuries pass, making the family
something less than a bloodline, but more than your average
gang of Haunts.
• Magic: Mystically minded Nosferatu among the Ordo
Dracul and Circle of the Crone often seek out ways to
enhance their curse. Scales can produce partially beneficial
effects (especially within the Ascendant Mystery), and some
Acolyte Haunts believe the corrosive nature of Crúac can
alter their bane with frequent use. Theban Sorcery might be
capable of transmogrifying the Lonely Curse, but working
toward such a thing with God’s miracles would be tanta-
mount to sacrilege.
• Practice: Like a good gardener, a Nosferatu can cultivate
the qualities that make him terrifying. This might require a
kind of cosmetic surgery (and an unethical Night Doctor), or
a great deal of meditation and personal discipline. Some fake
it till they make it, playing the part of the hungry revenant
or the off-putting creep until they become what they pretend
to be. Others do awful things in the belief that feeding the
Beast is the only way to earn strength from it.
• Diablerie: You are what you eat. Devouring a powerful
Nosferatu, or one with a poor grip on Humanity, can have
interesting consequences. Foolhardy and malevolent Haunts
commit Amaranth just for the purpose of redefining their
curses, hoping to shift their flaws with more powerful blood
to avoid putting any real work into being scary.
Systems
As an optional rule, a Nosferatu can take the Potent Curse
Condition (below) at character creation, but only if the player
sacrifices a dot of her character’s Humanity from the start,
lowering it to 6.
Alternatively, a Haunt who’s yet to take her clan bane can
gain this Condition if her player chooses to turn a failed
breaking point into a dramatic failure. This grants Potent
Curse instead of a Beat.
Otherwise, a character might gain this Condition via any of
the story seeds described above, or in a unique way her player
and the Storyteller cook up together.
POTENT CURSE
(PERSISTENT)
You are among the most haunted of Haunts. The outward
manifestation of your clan bane provides you with an edge in
the Danse Macabre, as well as a harsher burden.
Choose two Skills. One gains a persistent bonus, while the
other takes a penalty. You don’t need dots in these traits, but
unskilled penalties still apply. Skills should map to your par-
ticular expression of the Lonely Curse: A strong musk might
add to Animal Ken and detract from Socialize, while a swelled
skull could make Academics trivial, but throw off your center
of gravity for Athletics. These effects can follow symbolic logic
as well as literal. For example, a third eye might make you an
Occult savant, but stunt your Empathy with real people.
Modifiers are determined by however many tiers you fall
beneath Humanity 7. At Humanity 6 they would be +/–1, at 5
they would be +/–2, and so forth. At Humanity 1, modifiers do
not increase, but the bonus Skill now adds the 9-again quality,
and the penalized Skill loses 10-again.
Bonuses and penalties do not affect derived Advantages like
Defense, and only apply to mundane actions.
Possible Sources: Blood magic, diablerie, heritage, dramat-
ically failing a detachment roll.
Resolution: True love or acceptance from a mortal who isn’t
your Touchstone. Rise to Humanity 7.
Beat: Suffer humiliation or a major setback due to the
intensity of your curse.
Chapter Three: Dreams & Nightmares 107
 Part 5: Hungry
From the moment the creature force-fed him, Littlejohn’s hunger had been growing. The ghoul’s
blood had turned to water in his gut, and as he lay curled up in the steam tunnels, he ran through
his options to try to distract himself from the gnawing thirst.
Odds were Ladue and his goons were dead. He thought he’d heard screams and gunshots, but
the tunnels were well insulated and noisy. He had no idea how the pipes still functioned after all
this time, or what they ran on, but they still belched up steam and hot air at random intervals.
It felt like he’d been hiding for at least an hour, but he had no way to be sure. Someone had taken
his phone, and the impact from the car had shattered his wristwatch. Motherfuckers owed him
twenty grand for that; it was a classic Cartier Tank Anglaise. He tried to hold onto his annoyance
— anything to dull the ache of hunger. The sun had to rise soon, didn’t it?
He wiped steam from his brow and forced his mouth into a wide yawn to stretch the muscles.
His fangs refused to retract, and his jawbone throbbed. He must have taken a hit while he was
escaping, but he couldn’t spare the blood to heal.
It was getting early. A monster like that had to sleep, and deeply, so Littlejohn figured his best
bet was to stay hidden in the pipes until it came down to sleep. Unless it could still hide the doors
while it rested… If so, he could try to slip out before the sun rose, or, barring that, hope he woke
before it did the next night. And even if he couldn’t find a door, with an hour or two head start
he was sure he could burrow or smash his way out.
Damn his mouth hurt, though. Littlejohn wiped the steam from his face again and froze. The
skin on his wrist was slick with grime and moisture, but beneath that layer, it was waxy and pale.
More than normal. Dark black veins stood out against his flesh, and with shaking hands, he ran
his fingers across his lips and chin. Thin gullies of flesh crisscrossed his face from the corners of
his mouth to his cheekbones, and from his chin to the center of his throat.
It said something to him when it fed him the blood. Familiar, too. What was it? Littlejohn closed
his eyes tight and tried to think back to the moment. It was so accented, but it sounded like…
Noctuku.
Littlejohn felt his lifeless heart beat once in his chest. He knew that word. He’d read it among the
files in Old John’s fireproof box, more than thirty years ago. There’d been an old journal in the
cache and, while Littlejohn wasn’t much for books, he never forgot anything he read. Old John had
an interest in the occult, or at least Kindred urban legends. A big chunk of the book catalogued
all sorts of strange stories elders might tell to scare their childer: bloodsucking parasites that live
inside mouths, Native American age-vampires, demon owls — and unstoppable cannibals called
Noctuku. Unstoppable… and contagious.
No.
Everything was going to be fine. He just had to wait.
A scream echoed down through the hatch, shrill and desperate. Ladue was still out there.
He deserved what he got. This was all his fault. It didn’t matter that he tried to be half decent at
the end. It was still his fault. All Littlejohn had to do was wait.
Ladue screamed again. A pathetic, mewling sound.
A minute later, Littlejohn crawled out of the hatch and onto the floor of the packing plant. The
lights flickered above him. “You’re an idiot...” he said to the dark.

108 Better Feared: Nosferatu

 Littlejohn kept to the shadows and crept along the wall, careful to only touch what he had to.
Surprise was the only advantage he had left.
The building was silent, save for Ladue’s whimpers, the tinny flickering of the lights, and the grinder’s
whirring. The smell of fresh blood was everywhere, along with a second, alkaline scent. It was coming
from the same direction as Ladue’s voice, and Littlejohn braced himself for the worst.
He got it. Rafael Ladue was stuck to the wall of the chimney where the ghoul had died, whose
corpse still lay nearby, crumpled up like a crushed beer can. Ladue’s body was held in a phlegmy
mucous, a cancerous honey coating every part of him, save for his face, throat, and the tips of his
shoulders. As Littlejohn stepped closer, he realized why: His arms and legs were gone. Not torn, but
plucked, like the petals of a flower. The stumps were visible through the cancer honey, bloodless and
raw. Nearby lay a neat pile of bones, picked clean of meat and deteriorating with an unnatural speed.
Littlejohn whispered through the darkness. “I’m here.”
“John? Oh God, help me!”
“I… I don’t know how.”
“I can’t see you. I can’t move.”
“You don’t want to.”
“Please.”
Littlejohn let the other vampire pierce his shadows, and winced at his reaction. Ladue averted
his gaze. “You’re right. You look like shit.”
The Noctuku’s voice echoed out through the room. “I… hear… you.”
“He’s coming! Don’t let him eat me. Please .”
Please.”
Littlejohn considered his options. This thing was stronger than him, deadlier than him, and probably
much, much older than him. Without Ladue bringing him here, it probably would have stayed asleep
a thousand years.
“Ladue... Rafael. I’m sorry”
“What?”
“The box. I had it. But it’s gone.” Ladue struggled to respond, so Littlejohn continued. “I took
it. Traded it for the Embrace.”
“Who—”
“Scratch. I gave it to Scratch.”
Ladue went quiet for a long moment, and then began to laugh, like a car struggling to roll over.
“Christ, we really are that old fuckup’s sons.” He looked Littlejohn in the eyes. “I just wanted to
get something worth what he did to me. I was always…”
“Scared,” Littlejohn said. “Me too. All the time.”
“You were his ghoul for twenty years. How—”
“The girls. I couldn’t get them out, but I could make them safe. All I had to do was be scarier
than the johns. Be the scariest John. Like the old man said, better feared than loved.”
“I didn’t love him.”
“Me neither.”
Behind them came the sound of tapping claws on metal. It was getting closer. Littlejohn touched
the side of the smaller man’s face. He saw the thin flesh of his own hand squirm and grow trans-
lucent. “I have an idea, but I need your help. I need your blood. All of it.”

If You Can’t Be Both 109

 Ladue opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He knew he was at Littlejohn’s mercy.
But one slip, one swallow too deep, and it wasn’t just torpor that would take him.
“It’s me or that thing. I promise, it might not be tonight, but we can both walk out of here.”
Ladue looked over his shoulder and Littlejohn followed his gaze. The monster had climbed up onto
the table that was wrapped around Billy’s corpse. It balanced like a crow and watched his captive.
Littlejohn’s own Beast was so close to the surface it curled his toes and constricted his pupils. He
tried not to let the Serpent see.
Ladue swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bulging in his thin neck. He closed his eyes.
“Make it count.”
Littlejohn fed. He bit into Ladue’s throat and gnawed at the flesh, his new, split fangs rending
mouthfuls of meat in with the blood. Shivers of pleasure shook his frame as Ladue screamed. He
drank deep and full, mouthful after mouthful of rich, sweet Vitae down his gullet. He drank until
he hit the bottom and there was no more to drink
Something else was squirming beneath the Vitae. His Beast, energized with this new, deeper
hunger, cried out for him to devour the Serpent down to his shallow, meager soul. Ladue went
rigid as he slipped into torpor, Littlejohn’s fangs still buried in his throat.
Behind him, the Noctuku stirred. Littlejohn dropped the shadows.
“Yes... eat.”
He pulled himself off Ladue’s torpid form and turned to face the monster. It tilted its head and
made a sound that could have been a sigh.
“Fuck you.”
“No, no stop. Eat. Grow.”
Littlejohn began to circle the Noctuku, keeping his eyes locked on its black marble eyes. Ladue
had been nearly full up; he felt better than he had in hours, but he couldn’t get reckless. He had
one shot, and he had to play it right. Littlejohn ducked behind a conveyor belt and willed himself
into the dark again.
He let his voice echo out of the shadows as he circled the monster. “Not much of a talker, are
you? No doubt. Probably that wack-ass mouth.” The Noctuku leapt off the broken metal table and
stalked over to where Littlejohn had spoken. As it moved, it faded in and out of sight as it stepped
from shadow to shadow.
Littlejohn moved around the grinder in a wide circle, searching. It had to be here somewhere.
“See, that’s the problem with monsters. Y’all never communicate. You hear, but you never listen.”
A blur of motion — John ducked as claws slashed two feet to his left. It was tracking his voice too
well. He needed more time. He backed away slowly, making certain to avoid disturbing anything
around him, even the dust on the ground. Patience. He was almost there.
“Thing is… you made a big mistake, you bug-mouth piece of shit.”
Littlejohn rolled to the right as claws ripped into the rotten crates behind him, rending them
into sawdust. He dropped to the floor and scanned the area, looking for any sign the creature had
moved, but nothing came. Then, he saw what he was looking for: Ladue’s stake, lying at the base
of the still whirling meat grinder. He crawled over and picked it up, praying the action wouldn’t
reveal him.
“You know what you did?” he called out as he climbed up onto the brim of the meat grinder, let-
ting the shadows fade and exposing everything except the hunk of wood in his hand. “You leveled
up the scariest motherfucker in Chicago!”

110 Better Feared: Nosferatu

 The Noctuku appeared like a mirage at the base of the machine. It looked up with unfeeling,
unflinching eyes, but Littlejohn didn’t need it to respond. He just needed it to hear. Bit by bit, he
had poured his voice into the Noctuku’s ears, filling its mind with creeping dread. Littlejohn knew
the thing thought it was invincible right now. But it had been sleeping, and he was willing to bet
his Requiem that had thinned its blood enough for this next part to work.
“No more talk, childe. Only teach… respect.”
Littlejohn spread his arms wide. “Then come get me, you ugly fuck!”
The Noctuku spread its jaws and laughed, a deep, awful wet sound. Like a missing frame on a
film reel, it sprang at him, its arms wide, claws dripping with ichor. Slavering mouths opened in
its palms, splitting and peeling open like its jaws.
Littlejohn pulled back his lips and roared, unleashing every ounce of his own fear, feeding it into the
seeded terror he’d been laying through the Noctuku’s mind. It was already airborne when the sudden
horror took hold.
It faltered. Littlejohn Roach did not.
His muscles were already swollen with half Ladue’s blood, and he drove the stake forward. He
snarled as he felt the point punch through the monster’s chest and pierce its heart. The Noctuku
slammed against him as it went stiff, its weight almost toppling Littlejohn from his perch.
As he regained his balance, he heard the wood of the stake begin to splinter and break. The
goddamn thing’s blood was eating through the wood. It was only a matter of time.
Beneath him, the meat grinder still whirled.
Littlejohn looked down into the machine and froze. How many times had he done this when he
was Old John’s blood slave? How many people had he fed to a machine like this one? He couldn’t
stop himself when the old monster told him to do things. Not even when he was asked to get rid
of the undesired results of the brothel’s business.
It’s why he stole the box and leaked it to Maxwell and Birch. Why the brothel burned.
Never again, he’d promised. Nothing like this.
The stake snapped in half. So much for trying to escape the past.
The rest of the hunk of wood dissolved in the Noctuku’s chest, but it was too late. Littlejohn
fed it into the machine face first. It screamed as the jaws rendered its flesh and reduced its ancient
corpse to a gray sludge.
The illusion slid away from the building’s doors as the creature died, and Littlejohn felt the weight
of the oncoming sun crashing down on him. He teetered, almost falling into the grinder himself,
but managed to brace himself. He jumped to the floor and stumbled to Rafael’s torpid form. With
the last of his strength, he grabbed the cancer honey cocoon and ripped it open, dropping Ladue
to the ground. He broke the crystalized muck from the little vampire’s jacket and searched his
pockets. He had Littlejohn’s phone in his breast pocket, and there was even a bit of battery left.
He checked his missed calls and pressed redial. When Charity answered the phone, her voice was
the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
He rambled, tried to explain, but his jaw felt more and more like lead the longer he talked.
“I need you,” he finally said, and lost himself to the morning.

If You Can’t Be Both 111

 chapter four
Terrors
The Boogeyman is the result of your own bad behavior.
Sergio Aragonés

What scares you? What crawls under your skin, wakes you up in the middle of the night, and leaves you too petrified to open
your eyes? If not night terrors, what’s really holding you back from taking that new job, asking for that phone number, or walking
out that door? How we handle fear defines us, and the Haunts know every awful inch of that truth.
Nosferatu hold a special place in the All Night Society: No clan wields the power of fear as they do, and they wear the title
“monster” with a cruel pride. However, this raises an important question: What scares the monsters?
Look no further.
This chapter is a collection of creatures to plug into your chronicle, beginning with three ghoul families and followed by
three altogether stranger creatures. All share a sliver of Clan Nosferatu’s dreadful bearing, but they can horrify any vampire,
or anyone else unlucky enough to meet them in the night.

Ghoul Families Horrors

• The descendants of unwanted and discarded children, the
Chaménos lurk on the edges of civilization, dedicating their
lives to the Haunts who raised them.
• The Gravenors see it all so clearly, and none of it’s good.
Thralls of a broken prophet, the Watchers assist the All Night
Society with dire portents and occult problem-solving.
• Masters of disguise, the Kobayashi are public faces for
Nosferatu who can no longer interact with mortals, using
mimicry and surgery to become perfect surrogates.
• The Fear Eaters have solved the problem of modern life,
stripping the anxiety from their souls in order to live their
very best lives. It’s becoming a problem.
• Carriers of the Noctuku Strain have terrorized the Nosferatu
since before recorded history — not just because of their hunger
for Kindred flesh, but because any Haunt could be one.
• The Nowhere Men are just a fairy tale. They don’t see you
when you hide in the shadows. They can’t hurt you. They
won’t take your limbs. They’re not real.

Ghoul Family Systems

If you don’t have access to Half-Damned, ghoul families come in two types: biological and social. Biological ghouls
breed true, have natural lifespans of about 150 years, don’t age rapidly when lacking Vitae, and can learn common
Disciplines without Kindred. Social families are looser associations of humans and ghouls who band together to achieve
a particular goal or live under the thrall of a single regnant. They have no special inherent qualities. Both family types
have an Integrity 6 Touchstone, a Benefit, and a Drawback.
Families in this chapter fall under the following categories: The Chaménos can be either, depending on the branch;
the Gravenors are biological; and the Kobayashi are social.

Chapter Four: Terrors 113

 Chaménos
THE ONES WHO WERE THROWN AWAY
Save your pity. I have purpose; you have nothing.
You can hear your charred flesh crackle with every move you
make, but you can’t spare the blood to heal it. You’ve already
expended too much.
How did it come to this?
It cost you a decade of collected favors and blackmail, but you
finally found where that old, sadistic bastard was napping off a few
decades, and you were going to end his ugly mug before he ever got a
chance to wake up.
That you didn’t hear any heartbeats should have been your first
clue something was wrong — surely there should have been guards.
Your actual first clue was when the Molotov hit you in the side of
the head as you crossed the threshold into the derelict factory.
You don’t know how long you’ve spent running through these
rusted corridors, mad with the Beast’s fear, and herded by
torch-wielding figures. Now you’re at a dead end, your Beast is out
of steam, and you’re out of blood.
You turn to get your first good look at your pursuers, a small
group of hard-looking men and women. You can hear their heart-
beats now, rapid but strong from the exertion of running you down,
and from the whispered growls of your exhausted Beast, you know
what they are.
“Ghouls?” you spit, incredulous, furious… but also hopeful.
“You’re all just… ghouls?”
You push out with your will, seeking to awe these upstart leeches
into submission. “You will take me to your master! Now!”
The closest one shakes his head, the ghost of a smile on his
cracked lips as he flicks a lighter to life, holding it against an alco-
hol-soaked rag.
“No.”
Where we came from
In every culture across the globe, children are precious gifts,
shining lights representing the future of their communities…
except the ones who aren’t. Sparta cast out “imperfect” infants
to die, and the Incans sacrificed their most beautiful children
to ensure the favor of the gods. In the filthy streets of Industrial
London, the desperate tossed wailing babes into the Thames
rather than suffer more mouths to feed. Even today, unwanted
newborns can be found on church steps, at hospital backdoors,
or cast aside in dumpsters.
114 Better Feared: Nosferatu
However, what’s thrown away can be found again. It’s unclear
when Nosferatu began collecting discarded children, or even
where the practice first originated. Was it in the holy caves of
the Andes Mountains, waiting for the sun-priests to leave so
they could steal away their tributes? Or perhaps it started with
watching churchyards in medieval France, snatching bassinets
before the priests knew they had a new arrival.
Regardless of methods, the why of it remains constant. What
better way to secure retainers than from those humans other
mortals cast out? No one goes looking for a divine sacrifice;
no one files a missing person report for a baby in a trash can.
The Nosferatu rear these Unwanted as blood-slaves to
their rescuers, indoctrinated into rejecting human society in
favor of the All Night Society. At certain times and places in
history, discarded children have been so common that the
Haunts have created whole secret Foundling communities,
living out of sight of the rest of civilization and with one gen-
eration training the next. As the world grew smaller, however,
Haunts realized what they thought of as a local practice is in
fact mirrored all around the globe. Now they’ve started to
talk to each other.
Who we are tonight
While dozens of regional terms for the Unwanted exist,
“Chaménos” has the widest recognition, and some even adopt
it as a surname. This name was coined by a family of ghouls in
Greece who claim descent from Sparta’s rejected infants, and
they’ve made the greatest strides in connecting the various tribes
of Foundlings in the modern world. Not so much a single family
as an eclectic network of communities, Chaménos around the
world are remarkably similar, no matter their cultural origin.
Rather than everyday people forced into bondage, as many
ghouls are, the Unwanted are raised with the idea that serving a
Nosferatu master is the highest possible calling, and look forward
to the day they become half-damned. The rest of the All Night
Society might view that as brainwashing, but the Chaménos see
it as duty. After all, without the Haunts, their ancestors would
have died fresh from the womb — something their masters are
quick to remind them of.
This abnormal dedication is what the Foundlings are best
known for, and they serve their patrons with a remarkable zeal,
even for ghouls. Their extreme devotion can be a mixed bless-
ing, however. All ghouls become obsessed with their domitors
eventually, but a Chaménos’ life revolves around his master in a
way even the rankest Vitae addict would find a tad overwrought.
Rarely able to hold down normal jobs, groups of Foundlings
often turn to crime to meet their masters’ needs, as well as
their own. Drug cartels and black markets are common, with
the Unwanted using the profits on behalf of their family, and
a few of their would-be clients as dinner for their patrons.
Three Unwanted
Nik Vassou does not exist. While lacking official
status has advantages, it’s hard to get by in today’s
hyper-connected world without records — some-
thing neither Nik’s similarly undocumented
parents, nor their terrifying master, seem to
understand. Luckily, Nik’s discovered the same
technology that makes having an official identity
so necessary also makes it easy to steal one.
Merging an aptitude for computers with
grifting skills handed down from his
parents, Nik is a master identity thief,
and he’s garnered the direct notice
of his family’s patron. Having the
favor of the elongated woman who
lives in their basement is a thrill-
ing experience for the young man,
almost exciting enough to cover up
the deep fear he feels for something
so obviously inhuman. Unbeknownst
to Nik, it’s also made him a target of his
master’s many enemies.
Some Chaménos come about not because
they were lost or abandoned, but because
no one bothered to look for them. When
she lost track of how many times her
father had passed out in a drug-fueled
haze, Katherine Vickers walked out
the door and into the night. Thirteen
and all alone, she was lucky the first
predator she met only wanted her
blood. The man with a voice like
buzzing f lies was amused by the
slip of a girl who stumbled after
him once he’d fed, and what remained of his
conscience was pricked when she told him her
story. Katherine was adopted into his retinue of
Unwanted, where she learned to fight, survive,
and serve. Katherine’s father never really tried to
find her (he even collected life insurance), but
she still keeps tabs on him, a task made easy
because of his job. Katherine’s working up
the courage to kill him, something she
hasn’t even told her regnant. He probably wouldn’t like one of
his ghouls involved in the murder of the new district attorney.
Even very young, Silvestre de Avila knew he was different from
other children at the orphanage. They couldn’t see the things
he did, and they yelled at him when he answered the whispers
coming from the trees. The staff told him if he didn’t act more
“normal” he would never get adopted — but they were wrong. The
small, pale woman with the big black hat picked him specifically,
and made the staff’s questions go away with ever-increas-
ing stacks of cash. Life with Mrs. Delgado wasn’t easy,
but she always listened when he told her about
the whispers. Silvestre is older now, and he’s
begun to hear howling outside the bars of his
windows at night. Mrs. Delgado tells him
the howls want to take him away, but she
knows that he’s a good, loyal boy, and
would never leave her. Silvestre is good
and loyal, but the more he listens to those
howls, the more he aches, like something
inside is trying to claw its way out.
Nicknames: Unwanted, Foundlings
Touchstone: Each community of
Chaménos treats their Nosferatu
patron as their Touchstone.
Benefit: A lifetime of indoctri-
nation gives Chaménos ghouls
remarkable resistance against any-
thing that would turn them against
their masters. All Unwanted ben-
efit from the Indomitable Merit,
ignoring prerequisites. In addition,
they can learn Nightmare as if it were an
in-clan Discipline.
Drawback: A Chaménos becomes
uneasy when not in her master’s pres-
ence. All Unwanted gain the Deprived
Condition if they haven’t seen or heard
from their regnant in more than a
day. This can be prevented with live
contact (such as a phone call), or if
the Unwanted believe they know
exactly where their patron is. Once the
Condition is active, however, it can
only be resolved if the Foundling
spends a full night with them.
Stereotypes:
• Daeva: Their “devotion” is a fleeting imitation
of the real thing.
• Gangrel: They act like being alone is good.
• Mekhet: Always sneaking in where they
aren’t wanted.
• Nosferatu: Our saviors and our
charges.
Chapter Four: Terrors 115

Story Seed: By Right or by Blood
Half-Damned defines ghoul families as either
biological or social — that is, those that breed true,
and those that form out of political alliances — but
the Chaménos blur that distinction. Some Unwanted
are tangled family lines, while others are cobbled
together gangs led by Fagin-like Haunts. Despite this,
Foundling families always carry the same affinity and
weakness, even continents apart.
Finding the reason behind this phenomenon
might be a story in itself. Does Nosferatu blood lend
itself to convergent evolution, or is a guiding hand at
work? Maybe it has nothing to do with Nosferatu,
and other Kindred could create the same kind of
ghoul families in the right conditions.
• Ventrue: They make the best faces when you tell them to
fuck themselves.
New Merit
Many Chaménos practice a form of body control to slow
their metabolism down to a fraction of its normal pace, while
still retaining some sensory awareness. This allows them to
undertake long vigils on behalf of their masters with less worry
116 Better Feared: Nosferatu
for basic needs. It can also fool attackers into thinking no
guardians are present at all.
Any ghoul can purchase the following Merit, but they require
an Unwanted teacher to learn it — if they can find one.
Master’s Rest (••)
Prerequisites: Ghoul, Stamina •••
Effect: Your character spends a Vitae and falls into a tor-
por-like state which slows his biological functions to a crawl.
While he remains in this state, he does not suffer hunger or
thirst for a number of weeks equal to Stamina, and his vital
signs are barely detectable. Only an exceptional success using
Kindred Senses will detect his presence. Furthermore, he does
not need to spend Vitae to maintain his nature as a ghoul for
this time period.
While your character cannot move in this state, he retains
some awareness of his surroundings, and can make Perception
rolls at a 2-die penalty if anything disturbs him. Coming out
of this state before the usual time limit expires requires an
instant Resolve + Stamina roll, which can be attempted once
per turn. Any lethal damage incurred while in this state is also
enough to wake him up.
Drawbacks: On waking, all that deferred hunger and thirst
hits at once. If he spends more than a week in this hibernation
state, your character suffers a –2 modifier on all actions when he
wakes, which subsides when he feeds himself. He must spend at
least a week awake before he can use the effect of this Merit again.
 Gravenor
THE ONES WHO WATCH AND WAIT
Shh! They’re listening.
“Werewolf.”
The certainty in her voice sends the memory of shivers down your
spine.
“What do you mean—”
“Were. Wolf. See the way the claws dig down to the stonework,
like somebody poked too hard at the butter? Big bastard.”
A spatter of dry blood paints an unpleasant picture across claw
marks, ash, and bone. Chunks of furniture and drywall fan out
from a hole where the door once stood, leading up to a pile of dead
vampire. Only your sire’s skull remains intact, and you clutch it like
a comfort blanket.
The woman snickers at some private realization.
The First Estate wanted answers, and they sent this… person… to
find them. You’ve heard Haunt ghouls take on a heavy dose of their
curse, but this one seems to know less about humanity than you do.
“What do I do about it?”
“It’s coming back.” She doesn’t look at you.
“What—”
“Full moon’s not over. Your idiot sire was hiding something, and it
looks to me like the wolf didn’t find it. Probably in a safe some-
where, so I suggest you find a key or a combination.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Sufficiently terrified.” She looks up with eyes that might as well have
been pulled from a corpse. “Gather any silverware you’ve got, and see if
that Crone punk who goes down on you carries any wolfsbane—”
A howl cascades through the halls of your dearly departed sire’s
haven.
“Hmph. Brought friends. Well, find that safe.”
And then, she’s gone.
Where we came from
The night the vampire crawled up the steps of the Gravenor
Estate was the last its halls knew happiness. This is almost a
family motto, but it’s never a lament. It’s a reminder that a veil
has lifted, and it can never fall again.
Late in the 19th century, the Gravenors were hog farmers.
Still are, in fact, and wherever the family digs in, its slaugh-
terhouses are sure to leave a few stains. Meat on the table was
of great concern to Roderick Gravenor, the family’s patriarch
and self-made moral guide. It was on his mind when he crossed
the Atlantic from Wales, searching for a buck in the cash-rich
USA, and it remained so as he built a small empire in flesh.
That’s what made his family rich, but tonight it’s all that keeps
them out of poverty. Now they have more important beasts to
worry about than pigs.
The creature at the door was half-starving. He’d smelled blood
off the farm’s abattoir from miles away, and followed the scent
to the family’s manor. Unconcerned with the Masquerade, he
begged to feed on the hogs, and in exchange, promised to reward
the kindness. In taking up his offer, the Gravenors likely didn’t
know the devil’s bargain they’d made, though some wonder if
their knack for reading occult tea leaves proceeded this meeting,
and inadvertently guided the decision.
Grigor Swancott was an outcast, even for a Haunt. A tal-
ented occultist, he was once a respected member of the All
Night Society, known for his deep breadth of arcane knowl-
edge. Even the Shadows envied his visions, but Grigor fled
his Requiem when he uncovered a secret. Over the course of
many nights, he told the Gravenors of the things coming for
his clan. Some say he carried on into daylight hours, forcing
the family to board up the windows of their estate (boards
that have never come down). In his studies and dreams alike,
he’d discovered creatures from the depths of a forgotten
realm, who would soon rise to reclaim the Nosferatu to the
soil and worms — and then all Kindred. The Gravenors call
them coblynau, a name taken from Roderick’s memories of
the mines in Wales.
When he was finished, the Gravenors were transformed,
their nightmares now in sync with their accidental master.
Some say they became ghouls without ever tasting his blood,
tainted by the force of his horror.
Was it really his fear that changed them? Perhaps, but truth
is often better served with terror, and this was no simple
application of Nightmare. No one knows if Swancott chose
the family for a reason, or if he really did just stumble upon
them. Some say he recognized the Gravenor name from the old
country, but if so, he’s never admitted it. The better question
is, was he right?
The jury’s still out.
Chapter Four: Terrors 117
 Who we are tonight
Soon after he bore his soul (and blood bonded the entire family), Swancott fell into torpor, and apart from
flashes of lucidity and garbled prophecy, he hasn’t returned. Kept in a secure tomb/shrine on
the estate, countless mundane and occult protections keep all but the family’s elders and
most trusted servants out of his resting place. The Gravenors dedicate their lives to
protecting their torpid master, and preparing for whatever’s coming for him. They even
still feed his corpse, taking what they need of his Vitae to retain their own immortality.
Globalization and industrialization have sent the family business into a slow decline,
but they still grasp at a shadow of their old empire. The little capital they make from hogs
goes into building their properties up into fortresses, assuring that, when the coblynau
do rise, the family isn’t caught unawares. Part
of each day is dedicated to watching for signs,
prognosticating their own awful fate and
that of their master.
This obsession has left the family eccen-
tric and insular, even for Nosferatu ghouls,
but it’s also provided them a niche in the
All Night Society. The Watchers are occult
consultants, supplementing the meat business
by hiring themselves out to the covenants as
supernatural detectives and problem solvers.
Their inherent talent for spotting the strange
rivals even that of the Shadows’, and they’ll serve
any master with need of such lore. Most Gravenor
ghouls are bound to Swancott, but a few branches of the
family have arrangements with other Nosferatu. While
they don’t enjoy as much autonomy, they’re also less
wrapped up in their family’s apocalyptic beliefs.

Three Watchers
Roderick Gravenor is still master of his house. A Welshman
who claimed noble heritage to build clout among American
nouveau riche, Roderick possesses the wealth and immortality of
an elder vampire without the inconvenience of being one. Best of
all, unlike most ghouls, he doesn’t have to answer to some dead
autocrat, though he reveres his erstwhile master in a self-serving
way. Much ink has been spilled detailing the crimes of the Gravenor
paterfamilias, from bestiality and incest to serial murder and canni-
balism — few true, and most disseminated through his own agents.
Better his enemies think him capable of anything, rather than a
paranoid wreck who fears stepping a single foot outside his house.
Alicia Davies is beautiful, optimistic, and unafraid — everything her
extended family isn’t. She looks into the dark and sees opportunity,
not bogeymen conjured up by a Haunt who wasted his Requiem on
nightmares. Thanks for the blood; no thanks for the doomsday cult.
Alicia’s private detective firm caters exclusively to the All Night Society,
and makes a profit (and Vitae) out of exploring mysteries that vampires
refuse or fear to solve. Dragons hire her to doublecheck their work, and
she’s even smoothed over a few misunderstandings between Uratha and
Acolytes. The trouble is, the Gravenors think Alicia owes them a piece of
the action, and they’re none too happy with the way she dismisses their
traditions. If she doesn’t make restitution soon, they know debt collectors
even she’ll find disturbing.

118 Better Feared: Nosferatu


Story Seed: Fear Takes Form
The coblynau could be any number of monsters
that stalk the night. The Strix are obvious candidates,
though Swancott’s is a more apocalyptic fear than
the Owls tend to engender. If you’re interested in
crossover, the True Fae make a fun link to Changeling:
The Lost, and may imply their Welsh fairy tale name
is more significant than it seems. The Nowhere Men
(p. 133) might also be good candidates, or even
the indefinable things the Keepers of the Dark and
Lygos war over.
That said, if Swancott isn’t just delusional (which is
a big if), the best use of the coblynau might lie in a
unique antagonist. Players familiar with the Chronicles
of Darkness won’t be as surprised if these horrors are
“just” from a book, so consider custom designing
your coblynau. Hunter: The Vigil and the Chronicles
of Darkness Rulebook both include monster-building
resources if you don’t want to use Kindred systems.
Among the family’s many obscure relations, Hugo Gravenor
is best respected and not discussed. Taking a small loan from
Roderick (now paid off with interest), he moved out of the hog
business and into construction. Hugo digs dungeons for the
Sanctified, hides panic rooms for the Invictus, and generally
fortifies Havens for anyone with a paranoid need to keep some
out, and others in. He inscribes his designs with wards against
things even other Watchers would find arcane, and his own
fortress is (theoretically) impregnable. Even if it weren’t, the
deadly traps he’s set would stop the most determined thief.
So much the better, because what he imprisons in his vault is
always looking for new opportunities to make a deal.
Nicknames: Watchers, Manor-Born
Touchstone: Depends. For those who still live on the farm,
torpid Grigor Swancott is the family’s lodestar. However, those
who’ve moved out into the world follow the shining example
of Roderick Gravenor.
Benefit: The Gravenors watch for signs of their ruin, and
they pass this gift down a warped family tree. All Gravenors
gain the effect of Eye for the Strange (Chronicles of Darkness,
p. 44). This is an inherent ability rather than a learned skill;
Watchers can pull obscure occult lore out of thin air, often
knowing things no mortal could — or should.
Drawback: The Gravenors give off an uncanny aura. This
isn’t the creeping terror of their Nosferatu regnants, but a cold-
ness born of hunting phantoms. Watchers lose the 10-again
quality on all mundane Empathy and Socialize actions, and
any failures are treated as dramatic failures.
Stereotypes:
• Daeva: At least they admit to the gaps in their knowledge.
• Gangrel: Anything that claims it can’t be killed is, without
exception, eminently killable.
• Mekhet: What do they know?
• Nosferatu: Canaries.
• Ventrue: If only they could see what was coming for them.
Chapter Four: Terrors 119
 Kobayashi
THE ONES WHO TAKE YOUR PLACE
I can be whoever you need me to be.
It’s like looking in a mirror… or maybe a photo would be more
accurate. You haven’t had skin that smooth, or hair that thick in a
long time.
Kind of ticks you off, honestly.
“Is everything to your satisfaction?” asks the “you” in the chair,
smiling in the same polite way you used to smile, before jagged fangs
ripped apart your mouth.
“Yeah…” you say, still put off by the living, breathing reflection of
your former life sitting across from you.
“Excellent. We strive for customer satisfaction.” Even the voice is
just like yours. Did you really sound this patronizing?
You feel a surge of hate. How dare this person, this… this… fake,
steal your face? Your unbroken smile? You’re gripped with an urge to
lash out, to rend this perfect fraud into bloody shreds for daring to
remind you of all you’ve lost…
But you clamp down on the rage, choking back the Beast. No,
that would defeat the whole purpose of this exercise. Besides, creat-
ing the lie sitting before you was expensive.
“Are you quite all right?” The fake smiles back at you with your
old face, unaware of how close you came to ripping it off.
“Fine. Now, let me tell you about everyone you’re going to meet at
the funeral…”
Where we came from
“Kobayashi” is one of the most common surnames in Japan,
so tracing a history of this ghoul family is difficult. Their crest
appears in historical documents concerning the hiring of ninja,
but not the black-clad acrobats of Hollywood movies. Real ninja
(more often called shinobi) were masters of disguise, taking on
the appearance of servants, laborers, and peasants in order to
get close to their targets. The family that became the Kobayashi
were adept at this sort of infiltration, and would replace even
members of a victim’s inner circle to fulfill their contracts. It’s
said the look of horror that befell a victim’s face — as a stranger
they thought a trusted friend plunged a knife into their hearts
— was an unspeakable horror.
The first recorded instances of the name Kobayashi being
associated with Kindred come during the Meiji period. Family
legend has it that an assassin infiltrated the household of a noble
by the name of Fujita, who was suspected of foul deeds following
120 Better Feared: Nosferatu
a withdrawal from the public eye. The agent impersonated one
of the lord’s retainers, but when he pushed a blade between the
nobleman’s ribs, Fujita merely looked on in confusion, before
beating the would-be killer nearly to death. Fujita, a Nosferatu,
spared the assassin’s life because of how impressed he was that
a mere human could fool him so utterly, and for the potential
he saw in such a skillset. He bound the Kobayashi agent with
his blood, and bid him to return with the rest of his family.
After this meeting, human records note Fujita’s numerous
public daylight appearances. Keeping both his human influences
from waning, as well as infuriating his Kindred rivals, Fujita
became an influential figure in his clan, one of the few Japanese
Haunts to still enjoy his prestige after the Embrace. Thanks, in
no small part, to the Kobayashi. In later years, he began to allow
other Nosferatu to make use of his family for a price, but jealously
guarded them from the influence of other Kindred.
Fujita eventually fell to torpor, and thereafter falls out of the
historical record. The Kobayashi’s assets were acquired by the
Hototogisu Group (Vampire, p. 266) before any Kindred-led
zaibatsu could take control them. At first, the Nosferatu were
angered by this new development, but, to their surprise, the
Hototogisu allowed the Kobayashi to continue offering their
services, more-or-less as they always had, the only difference
being where the Haunts pay their fees and favors.
Who we are tonight
In modern nights, business is booming. Throughout Japan,
and Tokyo especially, “rental culture” is rampant, and compa-
nies will rent out dates, siblings, friends, or even parents. If
these services exist, then it’s just a small hop to hiring a better
version of yourself. Is it immoral to hire a professional liar to
manipulate the emotions of your former loved ones? No more
than hiring someone to pretend to find you hot. Incorporated
under the Hototogisu in the mid-90s in order to formalize their
business model, the Kobayashi are now as much a company as
they are a family. The advent of cellphones and the Internet
has lessened the need for face-to-face interaction, but Japan
has a strong cultural drive to take care of important matters
in person. This can make things awkward if you have a face
full of eel teeth, or your stare makes people feel like boils are
bursting across their skin.
 The Kobayashi serve Japan’s Nosferatu by becoming them, or at least becoming how they used to be. Need
to negotiate an important financial deal, but the other party won’t meet outside banking hours?
Can’t bear the thought of your family thinking you’ve died, but somehow still need
to join them at the shrine on New Year’s Day? Did you get a little sloppy feeding
one night, and now need to put on some public daytime appearances so that
reporter will get off your back? These are all problems the Kobayashi can solve.
The family trains its members in the arts of disguise and mimicry, using spe-
cial plastic surgery for exacting or long-term clients. Prospective doubles work
directly with the Nosferatu they’re impersonating in order to ensure the disguise
is as perfect as can be. They also spend a significant amount of time stalking
anyone they’re expecting to interact with, frequently in order to learn habits and
routines, and to avoid any game-breaking slip-ups. In exchange
for these exclusive services, Mimics take Nosferatu Vitae
as part of their payment, and the family enjoys the
favor of the clan in general. Sometimes they work
for other clans, but the Nosferatu are the most in
need of their skills. The Kobayashi work hard to
make their clients feel as though they’re doing their
friends and family a great service, and not at all
like they’re paying a stranger to live among
them like a human cuckoo bird.
For now, the Mimics are restricted
to Japan and Southeast Asia, but the
family heads are beginning to consider
untapped markets in both Europe and
the Americas.

Three Mimics
Kobayashi Haruhi is looking to the future.
After years spent serving her family as a double,
the newly minted Director of Foreign Affairs
has been put in charge of expanding the fam-
ily business outside of Japan, beginning with
China and Korea. Unfortunately, it’s been
slow-going. While other Asian Nosferatu
have heard of her family and their services, the
trust necessary for such an exchange doesn’t exist
yet. It’s not helped by the racial tensions that many
older Kindred still cling to, and Haruhi is getting
nowhere fast. That’s why she was so surprised when a
representative of the Morotrophians reached out to her
with an offer to help establish a family branch in North
America. Haruhi is smart enough to suspect a catch, but
she’s ambitious enough that she might take the deal anyway.
Tanaka Ami is in love. She has a kind and handsome fiancé,
a loving family, and she’s about to earn her masters in Japanese
History from Tokyo University. She almost never thinks about
how her real name is Kobayashi Kiyoko, or how the
life she’s living doesn’t belong to her. She knows
she shouldn’t be so attached, but the life the real
Ami lost was a beautiful one, so much more full
of love than Kiyoko’s own. Unfortunately, the real
Ami is running out of money, and she won’t be able to
afford the Kobayashi’s services much longer — which means

Chapter Four: Terrors 121

 Kiyoko’s fake Ami is going to die soon, in order to give her
family some closure. Kiyoko isn’t in any real danger, of course,
but she’s desperate to keep being Ami. Desperate enough to
break the rules…
Kobayashi Tobio knows something is wrong. He’s a veteran
body double, having served his family for decades in that
capacity, impersonating dozens of Kindred clients, but he’s
never had a client like this before. It’s not the assignment
that’s strange, though — it’s the requests: putting iron filings
above the doors to “his” children’s rooms, attaching paper
seals to the frame of “his” wife’s bed. Then there’s the odd,
haunting, music that’s been playing at midnight over the last
few days. He contacted his client about it and was told to try
not to listen, and to stop anyone from going into the woods
while it’s playing. Tobio is starting to suspect his client may
not be a vampire at all.
Nicknames: Mimics, Fakes (disrespectful)
Touchstone: Kobayashi on assignment use whoever they’re
impersonating as a Touchstone. The rest of the time, they
venerate their family estate/corporate headquarters on the
outskirts of Tokyo.
Benefit: Mimics train all their lives to be other people, and
they’re adept at picking up and shedding identities like clothing.
All Kobayashi have an Impersonation Specialty in Subterfuge.
Furthermore, whenever they’re hired, Mimics temporarily gain
Alternate Identity (Client) 3 until the job is complete.
Drawback: A life spent pretending to be other people makes
it difficult for Kobayashi to just be themselves. Mimics cannot
spend Willpower to augment Empathy or Expression rolls
unless they’re pretending to be someone else.
Stereotypes:
• Daeva: They would never want our services, even if they
needed them.
• Gangrel: How does one wear sheep’s clothing?
122 Better Feared: Nosferatu
• Mekhet: Not even they remember who they used to be.
• Nosferatu: Our most generous patrons, and our most
demanding clients.
• Ventrue: Acting like you’re in charge isn’t the same as actually
being in charge. Trust me.
New Devotion
Nearly all Kobayashi learn the foundations of Obfuscate, and
the following Devotion shifts how that Discipline affects minds.
Cuckoo’s Song
(Obfuscate •)
Rather than removing the ghoul from the perceptions of
others, Cuckoo’s Song helps the Mimic seem like they belong,
even under direct observation.
This Devotion costs 1 Experience to learn.
Cost: None
Dice Pool: None
Action: Instant
Duration: Scene
While this Devotion is active, the ghoul never seems out
of place to casual observation. Furthermore, if her presence
is questioned, her Obfuscate dots offset any penalties on
Expression, Socialize, or Subterfuge rolls to convince others
she belongs in the current setting, no matter how implausible.
If the bonus exceeds the penalty, she takes no additional dice.
One cannot benefit from both Face in the Crowd and
Cuckoo’s Song at the same time, and the effect of Awe over-
whelms its subtle application. This Devotion only applies to the
same setting once per night, but if the ghoul does her job well,
no one will question her presence once it wears off.
 Fear Eaters
TAKING YOUR LIFE BACK
Breathe in. Deep. Let the fear gather up inside you and then… swallow it. All of it.
See? Better already.
AKA: Ardenites, Interrita and over. Then, one day he asked a shocked orderly if he could
call his parents. He checked out of the psychiatric hospital that
Fear. Humans are made of it. We’re all afraid of something:
week and used his family’s guilt to support him as he dedicated
death, rejection, love, hate. We fear everything, and in some
the next fifteen years to the study of religion, psychology, and
of us, the sensation is so acute it snuffs out the vital spark that
esoterica, all in service to his goal of rebirthing the text of the
sustains us. People have tried to overcome fear since long before
book. When Fear Eating: How to Take Your Life Back was finally
brains achieved sapience, but it remains a driving force in each
released in 2010, it was an underground hit on the self-help
of our lives. No matter how brave we pretend to be, fear always
circuit, but the book was only the beginning.
finds new ways to worm its way into our hearts.
It’s been thirty-one years since the haunted house, and
But there’s hope. If only for a while, fear can be conquered. If
Kenneth has never moved past his terror and grief. It’s helped
only for a moment, it can even be mastered. With training, one
him realize the book was incomplete for a reason. It needed his
can learn methods of internal inversion capable of producing
fear. It needed his memories of the long-tooth man with the
an alchemy of the spirit that transmutes fear into a weapon.
bloodless skin whose smile was torture and whose shrieking
What would a person without fear be like? Would they be laugh had cracked his life open.
reckless? Foolish? Dangerous to themselves and others? Or
Arden knows others like him are out there, those who’ve
would they be a force to be reckoned with, turning fear on
also experienced these creatures firsthand. Now he travels the
the fearsome in ways the rest of us poor, terrified souls could
globe searching for them under the guise of an endless book
never imagine?
tour. He makes a point to offer one free seminar per city, with a
reasonable entry fee for all non-private events. If he takes notice
of someone “special” at one of these events, they’ll receive an
Background invitation to an exclusive weekend workshop. That’s where the
The Fear Eaters began, as many things do, with trauma. In chosen learn the true power of Fear Eating.
1989, brothers Ken and Jason Arden were dared by a group
of older boys to break into a neighborhood haunted house in
Overland Park, Kansas. It was a sweltering, sticky summer night
The Art of Eating Fear
when the boys went in, and a soupy Midwestern morning when You can’t learn to eat fear if you haven’t experienced it.
Ken alone escaped, sheet white and nonverbal. He would spend Arden and his acolytes can sense those who are open to their
most of his teens in psychiatric wards, suffering the indignities teachings, people with the potential to consume fear through
of shock therapy and quack hypnotherapy. Nothing worked. exposure. Like, for instance, victims of the Nosferatu. Not all
Not until the book arrived. mortals who’ve encountered the Haunts are capable of Fear
Eating — even those who’ve lost blood to them. To become
If asked, Kenneth — as he prefers to be called now — says a
a Fear Eater, one must have lost something in the exchange,
distant relative sent him a simple, brown paper–wrapped pack-
more fundamental than just a few pints. Still, the Fear Eaters
age on his 16th birthday. In truth, it had no return address.
haven’t been successful just because of vampires. Their sem-
Reading had become Kenneth’s only outlet, so it wasn’t
inars can be… intense.
unusual for him to receive books from family and friends. But
this one was special. The book was old and charred, with a Once you’re chosen, the real work begins. Initiates are first
smiling lithograph on its blackened cover. Neatly printed in taught simple techniques, like meditation, breathing exercises,
gilded letters was the title: On the Consumption of Terror. No and mantras to ground them. Then, they’re given an unsafe
author was listed. dose of LSD and walked back through their buried pain, over
and over and over until these memories can be summoned
Although half the book was either damaged or missing, he
as a reflex.
devoted himself to the text. He read it hundreds of times, over

Chapter Four: Terrors 123

 And it works. Somehow. Calling forth the echo of
a past trauma suppresses the fear reflex in the
here and now. Fear Eating changes you.
It doesn’t make you invincible, but it does
make you confident, bold, and decisive. You
won’t sweat the small things, like hesitating
to ask for a phone number, or failing to
speak your mind. The sudden injection of
confidence into a life of anxious trepidation
leads to sudden and profound changes that, if
nothing else, feel like a good thing.
Once the program takes hold, the book becomes
your holy text. You can see the truth Arden hid
behind the prose to keep out the unworthy.
It’s a simple one: Fear is a lie, and the only
way to kill a lie is to make sure everyone
knows the truth. You realize the
more Fear Eaters you can bring to
the cause, the weaker the lie will
become, so you start to guide others
to seminars, workshops, and events.
You give out the book as a birthday
present, or the office Secret Santa, or
leave strategically tabbed and dogeared
copies on public transit.
It’s Not a Cult
Of course not. It’s a mindset — a way of
life. There’s no grand network of Fear Eaters
holding each other accountable, or love
bombing each other into complacency. Perish
the thought. Sure, you meet a few times a year
and chat on forums, but who doesn’t want to be
near likeminded people? And yes, maybe they do
spend a lot of time talking about the book, re-read-
ing ragged copies, or practicing breathing exercises
until they choke. It’s not their fault they’re passionate
about something. Isn’t it the same with CrossFit and
veganism? You can stop at any time… but with results
like these, why would anyone want to?
Rumors
“I did my history PhD on the self-help phenomenon. I
focused my thesis on the modern era, but for context, I did a
chapter covering the subject throughout history. Most of it’s
just recycled platitudes from Marcus Aurelius or Buddha, or
just Confucius. Collective common wisdom repackaged. But,
there was this one book called Timorem Comedere that was
different. Or rather, the same. I couldn’t find a complete
copy, just an index and some excerpts. It’s not quite the
same book as Arden’s, but the structure and basic advice
are identical. Then I found fragments of another book from
the 30s on the same subject, this one in Chinese. 2010. 1931. 1852.
Every 79 years, the same book.”
124 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Fear Eating is by no means a new concept. The idea is
hundreds, if not thousands of years old. However, it is
strange that the exact methodology returns in such
precise intervals — every 79 years, just as the last
complete copies of the previous edition vanish from
the world. It’s as if something is trying to keep this
knowledge in circulation, or that the techniques
themselves refuse to be lost to time. No complete
copies of the 1931 or 1852 editions are known to still
exist, though at least one Nosferatu has managed to
scrounge together a few excerpts, as well as reports of
the cults that sprang up around them. It seems
history repeats itself.
“Fear Eating? Ah, yes. I read about it that
time we traded access to the Wyrm’s
Nest for the use of those Willworkers’
library. Fascinating stuff. Apparently,
the practice evolved from “warlocks”
who brought it back from the depths of
Pandemonium, and it evokes a man’s
daemon to empower their goodness.
Nonsense, but it makes a good story.”
Kenneth Arden is not Awakened,
but he may have a connection to realms
where mages draw their power. After his
encounter in the haunted house, he drew his
nightmares, pages upon pages of fanged mon-
sters, twisting staircases, leering demons,
and embarrassing secrets. Perhaps it was
just a coincidence, but these nightmares
ceased plaguing him the very day he finished
his final draft of Fear Eating. Maybe his act
of creation bound his nightmares within the
book, but then, even Arden doesn’t know what
became of his manuscript after he sent it to the
publisher…
“It’s the government, man. They’re using those psyop,
voodoo fucks against us. First, they’re immune to fear…
then what? Mind control? Bullets? Fuck, it’s just like what
they’re doing to the tap water that makes all the O negative
in the city taste like shit. We need to stop this before it gets
any bigger.”
Nothing’s wrong with O negative blood in the city, or
any city for that matter. However, Arden’s seminars are
making their way into the organs of government, albeit
slowly. One small town in Indiana now mandates civil
servants attend a workshop based on the book, and
this has resulted in the city’s Haunt prince becoming
less able to meddle in local politics. Land claims
aren’t being flipped over to his imaginary heirs,
slush funds aren’t trickling down through the
ranks, and bodies meant to be buried by the
sanitation department are being left to rot. If
this breakdown of power continues, the prince
is going to have to get his hands dirty.

Suzie Hanson
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help but notice that you have
the most beautiful eyes. I hope it’s not too forward to say so, but I didn’t
want to let the opportunity pass us by. I’m Suzie. Buy me a drink and
I’ll let you tell me your name.”
Suzie Hanson was too afraid to live her life. Growing up in
a small town near Winnipeg, she always let anxiety make the
important decisions for her. She was naturally athletic, but she
hesitated whenever something had the potential to hurt. She
earned a full ride to McGill’s writing program, but was too
anxious to leave home, and instead went to community college.
She was pretty, but too afraid to speak up, meet new people, or
even try online dating. She tried once in college, but she ended
up waking up at home as if she never left, full of nightmares and
bereft of a few pints of blood. She doesn’t like to think about it.
And so she waited out the end of her twenties single, lonely,
and working a dead-end job she was too anxious to leave. She’d
still be there if she hadn’t found a copy of Fear Eating on a bus
seat one day. She read it three times over the week, and on a
lark looked up Arden’s speaking schedule. The next weekend,
she borrowed her mother’s car and drove to Minneapolis — her
first ever road trip — and attended the seminar, where she was
selected for Arden’s special workshop.
Two years later, Suzie’s a different woman. She’s cheerful,
confident, and more alive than ever. She’s now a travel blogger
who roams North America in a converted van, spreading the
good news of Fear Eating with a whole trunkful of books.
Suzie is fearless, sure, but her new confidence has given her a
bad habit of falling in love (hard), usually with the most unap-
proachable person in the room — a holdover from her mystery
date in college. She wants the high of loving someone who scares
her, and she’ll do whatever she can to get it. Suzie knows she has
a type, but she doesn’t realize how specific it really is: a romantic
intuition for Nosferatu. Recently, she’s fallen for a Haunt power
player in LA, and she won’t take no for an answer, even if her
persistence puts her life in danger. Her social media presence and
public lifestyle make her a hard target to remove from a vampire’s
existence, and a liability if she gets too close.
Virtue: Fearless, Generous
Vice: Needy
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 4, Wits 2, Resolve 2
Physical Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 2, Stamina 3
Social Attributes: Presence 3, Manipulation 4,
Composure 3
Mental Skills: Academics (English Literature) 3,
Computer 1, Crafts 1, Investigation (Social Media) 2,
Medicine 1
Physical Skills: Athletics 2, Drive (Van) 1, Larceny 1,
Survival 2
Social Skills: Empathy 3, Expression (Personal
Testimony, Photography) 4, Persuasion 4, Socialize 2,
Subterfuge 1
Merits: Barfly, Fame 1, Fear Eating (Resist Fear, Sense
Fear, Overcome Fear, Consume Fear, Reflect Fear),
Language (French), Resources 3, Sympathetic
Health: 7
Willpower: 5
Integrity: 6
Size: 5
Speed: 10
Initiative: 5
Defense: 4
New Merits
Through careful training, mind-bending drugs, and regres-
sion therapy, adherents of Fear Eating can call on memories
of past terror to bolster their spirit. This sudden flash of fear
suppresses natural responses to anxiety, be it a stressful situ-
ation or the use of a supernatural power. With careful study
and cultivation, an individual can radiate fear back at those
who would wield it against her.
To learn these Merits, a character needs to fulfill one of two
prerequisites. Either she must have failed a breaking point due
to a supernatural power of fear (e.g., Nightmare), or during one
of the Fear Eaters’ “seminars”, where they break down their
recruits so the healing might begin in earnest.
Resist Fear (•)
Prerequisites: Mortal, Empathy ••
Effect: Fear is fleeting. Your character has learned to wrestle
her emotions for control of her mind. She adds her Empathy dots
as a bonus to any action to contest or resist social coercion using
negative emotion, from mundane intimidation to Nightmare.
In Social maneuvering, the Fear Eater can spend a Willpower
to ignore hard leverage involving intimidation or threats.
Sense Fear (•)
Prerequisite: Resist Fear
Effect: Fear is tangible. Your character can sense fear and
anxiety in her presence, and whether anyone in her proximity
has a supernatural capacity to provoke fear. Furthermore, she
can sense if a human has ever taken a breaking point due to
fear-based powers, or suffered a Condition for the same.
Overcome Fear (••)
Prerequisite: Resist Fear
Effect: Fear is false. Whenever your character is affected by a
supernatural power of fear, she can spend a Willpower to ignore
the effect. Treat the aggressor’s action as a failure. In addition,
she gains immunity to that specific source of fear for the next
scene, such as a particular vampire’s use of Dread Presence.
Chapter Four: Terrors 125
 Story Seeds
• Part of the city frequented by the Nosferatu has gained a reputation for the bad vibes it gives off. While this keeps
most Kindred and kine away, a group of Fear Eaters has decided it’s the perfect place to hold trial-by-fire initiations for
prospective members. How will the clan deal with this sudden intrusion on their hangout? Will a direct confrontation
lead to even more initiates joining the Fear Eaters’ ranks?
• A city councilor receives a copy of Fear Eating in a holiday gift exchange. He not only reads it, but takes its message
to heart, so much so that he invites one of Arden’s disciples for private seminars. All too soon, a growing number of
the city’s elite are not only resistant to Nightmare, but are also walking fear frenzy triggers. How can the Kindred
stop this problem before it overwhelms them? And why hasn’t anyone been able to figure out why there was an
odd number of presents in that original Secret Santa?
• Jason Arden isn’t dead. The vampire who took him all those years ago held him close, and kept him as a play-
thing for many long decades. Maybe he’s a Nosferatu now, trapped in early adolescence for all time, or maybe
he’s one of the adult Kindred of Kenneth’s hometown. Or maybe he’s something else now: a wild, broken shell
of a human being who hunts vampires with an unprecedented ability to use Nightmare.
• One of the characters’ Touchstones finds a copy of Fear Eating at a yard sale, and they can’t put it down. Now they
want to attend seminars and workshops, but they don’t want to go alone — they want to bring their Kindred friend
for support. What happens if the vampire says no? How dangerous is it for them to say yes?

Drawback: Such mental exertion is exhausting. If your char-
acter doesn’t spend 12 hours resting the night after using this
ability, she suffers a –1 to all actions the following day. If she
uses this ability again before resting, she takes the Lethargic
Condition instead, and can no longer access it.
Consume Fear (•••)
Prerequisite: Overcome Fear
Effect: Fear is fuel. At this level of study, your character
can feed on her own fears. She gains an additional Virtue:
Fearless. In addition, whenever she’s the subject of a super-
natural power that relies on fear or negativity, she regains a
Willpower point.
Reflect Fear (••••)
Prerequisite: Consume Fear
Effect: Fear is violence. Whenever your character is in the
presence of a supernatural effect that provokes fear, she can
spend a point of Willpower to reflect the power back on its
wielder. The power affects its source with however many suc-
cesses were initially rolled, if applicable, although any resistance
still applies.
Drawback: Acting as a conduit for supernatural fear is phys-
ically traumatic. Each time your character uses this ability, she
suffers one point of lethal damage.
Bleed Fear (•••••)
Prerequisite: Reflect Fear
Effect: Fear is anathema. Your character has conquered her
fear and become a beacon against it. Her presence is a fear
frenzy trigger in vampires, and if they know Nightmare, the
roll is penalized by their Discipline dots. A vampire only needs
to resist this fear once a scene, and your character can choose
not to affect others.
Drawback: Reflecting fear is hard on the body. Each time
she triggers this effect, your character suffers the Sick Tilt for
the rest of the scene.

126 Better Feared: Nosferatu

 The Noctuku Strain
THE RAVENOUS DEAD
Go? I’ll let you go. But run hard. I want to work up an appetite.
AKA: Cannibals, Infected, the Strain
The Nosferatu are stronger, sneakier, and more terrifying
than other vampires. They are nightmares of the dead, and
each Haunt draws strength from her own horror. Yet predators
rarely exist in a vacuum. There’s always a bigger fish, and even
monsters have boogeymen.
The Noctuku are what keep the Nosferatu awake in the day.
The only thing more terrifying than their grotesque powers is
their hunger for the flesh of other Kindred. That, and that any
Nosferatu could be one — or become one.
Background
The Noctuku Strain has plagued the Kindred for thousands
of years. Defiant and Sanctified researchers have found the
earliest records of the contagion in records dating back to
pre-contact North America, ancient Greece, and even the
steppes of Mongolia. These geographically distinct locations
offer eerily similar accounts: A vampire, easily identified as
a Nosferatu, arrives in the community, and soon after all the
other Nosferatu start to behave strangely.
Where the accounts differ is the cause. Ojibwe Kindred
believed Noctuku had been punished for devouring their own
kin, while the Mongolians thought the Nosferatu’s innate
filth made them hosts for unclean spirits. The Greeks saw the
Noctuku as a cult of the Titan Cronus, who devoured his own
children to maintain his throne. Whatever the fine details, one
thing is consistent — when Noctuku arrive, Kindred vanish.
The Strain is particularly virulent in periods of famine and
war among mortals. Time and time again, such events have
primed Kindred for small explosions of new Noctuku. When
food becomes scarce and violence reigns, vampires have little
choice but to turn on each other for sustenance, but by then
it’s too late to ever go back. One bite is all it takes.
A Plague of Hunger
The Strain is a malignant virus transmitted through the
blood and flesh of infected Nosferatu. Presently, only the
Haunts are vulnerable to this virus, but some Kindred scien-
tists fear the day the Strain mutates. Once it fully gestates, the
infection is incurable. All it takes is a drop of Vitae or a tainted
bite to become infected, and then it’s only a matter of time.
The strong-willed can stave it off, but those who give in to the
virus’s new desires change rapidly. The Haunt’s body begins
an agonizing metamorphosis that makes them stronger, faster,
and deadlier. The virus twists and reshapes their mouths to be
better at ripping and tearing, and instills a deep and consuming
hunger for dripping raw meat, still warm off the bone.
Even more horrific are the changes to the Noctuku’s mind.
The Beast never rests for most vampires, but a Noctuku’s
Beast becomes an equal partner, constantly urging wanton
violence and bloodlust. The Noctuku are always hungry,
always hunting, and the only way to truly satisfy their need
is the flesh of their former Kindred.
The Cannibal Kings
Despite their ravenous appetites, the Noctuku aren’t feral.
Indeed, once the infection completes its transformation, they
appear no stranger than most other Nosferatu, and that’s how
they hide. The Noctuku blend in like any vampire among the
kine, albeit with a more restrictive diet. To keep up the charade,
Cannibals must remain ever mindful of the local Kindred
ecology, and rely on separation and discretion when hunting.
Their specialized feeding requirements mean the most suc-
cessful Noctuku tend to fall into two categories: nomads, or
apex predators in metropolises where Kindred often come and
go. The Cannibals are highly territorial for this reason — which
is one of their few positive traits, as it means they almost never
come in groups. Almost.
Viruses in 2021
Disease and plague can be difficult subjects even
in the best of times, let alone (as of this writing)
periods of global pandemic. Use discretion when
you include the Noctuku Strain or similar plot devices
in your chronicles. The line between fun horror and
real horror can be narrow, so make sure everyone
at your table is on the right side of it.
Chapter Four: Terrors 127
 However, one is often more than enough. The Noctuku are stronger, faster, and deadlier than
other Kindred. Their ferocity and scarcity are such that they’re relegated to myth outside
the Necropoli, who pass whispered stories of solitary Cannibals devouring entire broods.
If the Nosferatu are talking about the Noctuku, it’s already too late.

Rumors
“The Noctuku? Yeah, I’ve heard of them. Maybe there used to be something like them around
in the old mythic days, but the current crop was created in Poland by the USSR. That’s right:
Soviet vampire experimentation. I mean, the name says it all. Google it: ‘Noctuku’ is Polish
for ‘the night is underway.’ Those things were bred to hunt us.”
The etymology is dodgy, but the basic story has a basis in truth. Soviet
Dragons near Kraków did manage to capture a Noctuku in the late 1970s.
The subject, labeled Patient N, endured a decade of experiments that
included vivisection, exposure to all manner of chemicals and compounds,
alchemy, and even controlled immolation. During one experiment,
Patient N wasn’t properly muzzled, and chewed off part of her own
cheek. When her captors returned, she vomited a mixture of infected
flesh and Vitae into their eyes and mouths, including a Nosferatu who
soon found himself overtaken by the contagion. The two Noctuku
escaped the base, and have stalked the shadows of Eastern Europe
together for the past 40 years.
“There’s no such thing as a Noctuku. It’s an urban legend attached to a real
threat, usually organized and comprised of Kindred who hunt each other. So, in a sense,
VII, Belial’s Brood, the Strix… they’re all the Noctuku.”
The Noctuku are real, but it’s not as if they advertise that fact. Many
Cannibals imitate groups that hunt vampires, like VII, or even mortal
hunters, and they’ll go to great pains to tailor their kills to deceive the prey.
If no obvious external threat exists, the Noctuku play on tension between the
covenants, hiding themselves behind mutual enemies and hunting in peace.
All that said, a few Cannibals fit right in with groups like the Brood, or play
both sides of the fence as double or triple agents. They raise tensions in a
city to a boiling point, then infect as many other Nosferatu as possible — on
all sides — just to see it all burn down.
“My Avus, Dr. Chen, studied the Noctuku Strain for decades, and his findings
would have rocked the world if he hadn’t been executed for… some light treason. He
figured out the Strain itself is hungry — for what makes us Kindred! He theorized
that it could be concentrated in such a way as to devour those specific traits.
Do you understand what I mean? A cure! Not for the Noctuku, but for
all vampires!”
Most Kindred who’ve studied the Noctuku Strain believe
it’s incurable, but the above theory is compelling considering
the way the disease devours its host when starved. Some
Defiant research suggests when the Strain is applied to
Vitae samples from other clans, it devours all Kindred
traits and leaves normal, human blood behind — living
blood, not just the dead mélange of stale Vitae. If
Noctuku blood could be harvested for further
experimentation, a potential cure for vampirism
(or a tactical weapon against one’s enemies) might
be possible for the other four clans. However, this
raises another question: why not the Nosferatu?
What makes them extra Damned among the dead,
and why does the disease transform them into
flesh-eating monsters?

128 Better Feared: Nosferatu

Dr. Esteban Reyes
“Comfortable? I made sure to slice through your ankle very neatly.
Since you won’t be needing the foot, would you mind if I… ah, yes, thank
you. Bon appétit.”
Esteban Reyes was a brilliant doctor and medical researcher,
with numerous contributions to the study of pathology and
virology. A near-death experience during the 1985 Mexico City
earthquake gave him a lifelong obsession with death, injury,
and disease, and he decided to follow his mother’s advice to
“be part of the solution.” His knowledge of the human body
and form, and its ability to withstand trauma, made him an
ideal candidate for the Ordo Dracul. To his credit, he took
the change in stride — a single human lifetime of research can
only do so much, after all.
In 2007, his branch of the Dragons unearthed an ancient
burial chamber in San Isidro, and brought Reyes to examine
the mummified remains of an ancient Nosferatu. Something
about the slumbering monster awakened an uncontrollable
bloodlust within the good doctor, and he couldn’t help but
consume her hibernating soul. Though he was successful in
his diablerie, Reyes contracted the Noctuku Strain dormant
in her blood, becoming one of the Cannibals. With the help
of his new powers, he escaped the Sworn of the Axe strike
team sent to destroy him for his crimes, fleeing north across
the border.
Since then, Reyes has forgotten much of what he once knew.
The hunger guides his actions now, and his studies have grown
sinister and vicious. He still enjoys testing the limits of the
mortal form, but takes a hands-on approach with test subjects.
Reyes travels across the Southwestern United States, using his
medical credentials to pose as a member of various borderless
medical organizations. Sometimes he even heals people, if only
to test his theories afterward.
Clan: Nosferatu (Noctuku)
Covenant: Ordo Dracul (formerly)
Mask: Authoritarian
Dirge: Scholar
Touchstone: His dog, Bruno, a stray he rescued from a
cruel victim.
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 3, Wits 3, Resolve 2
Physical Attributes: Strength 4, Dexterity 3, Stamina 4
Social Attributes: Presence 2, Manipulation 2,
Composure 3
Mental Skills: Academics 2, Computer 1, Investigation
2, Medicine (Virology) 4, Occult 1, Science 2
Physical Skills: Athletics (Climbing) 4, Brawl (Bite)
4, Larceny 1, Stealth (Ambushes) 3, Survival (Traps) 2,
Weaponry 2
Social Skills: Animal Ken 1, Empathy 2, Intimidation 2,
Subterfuge 2
Story Seeds
• A biological research firm called Keystone
Pharmaceuticals has isolated a strange RNA
sequence from a John Doe, who was found
burned to death on a rooftop. The corpse was
a young Noctuku, one the local Kindred put
to the sun to end the spread of the virus. The
researchers haven’t found anything useful, but
they also don’t realize they’ve become carriers.
The Strain normally can’t survive in humans, but
Keystone’s tampering has created a form that
can spread to mortals asymptomatically, setting
off a ticking time bomb disease vector for the
local Nosferatu.
• The Strain mutates. Kindred top scientists
believe the disease has become asymptom-
atic, as it no longer seems to outwardly affect
Nosferatu. The truth is, it no longer affects
vampires at all. Mortals and ghouls around the
city suddenly gain immense power, and an
insatiable lust for Kindred flesh, with the latter
possessing intimate knowledge of where their
prey sleeps.
• The Prince announces someone in the city has
been infected with the Noctuku Strain. In order
to ensure everyone’s safety, she orders the
entire domain to spend a week in quarantine
in a condemned and sun-proofed military com-
plex. Only guards who’ve passed an immunity
test will carry weapons, and blood will be
supplied on a need-to-feed basis. Is the Prince
right? Is there a monster in the city? Or has
she set up a hunting ground for her and her
infected kin?
Merits: Danger Sense, Fast Reflexes 3, Language
(English, French, Nahuatl), Parkour 5, Resources 3,
Retainer 3
Disciplines: Animalism 1, Nightmare 3, Obfuscate 4,
Protean 2, Vigor 3
Devotions: Foul Grave
Phagia: Limb Plucker, Mortal Balm, Rasping Flesh
Blood Potency: 4
Health: 9
Willpower: 5
Humanity: 2
Size: 5
Speed: 15
Initiative: 9
Defense: 7
Notes: Reyes suffers the Face of Hunger bane (Vampire,
p. 108), but does not risk detachment for mass murder.
Chapter Four: Terrors 129

Systems
If a Haunt consumes the Vitae of a vampire infected with the
Noctuku Strain, or suffers a Cannibal’s bite, he risks infection.
Once exposed, the Nosferatu must succeed on a Stamina +
Blood Potency roll. Each point of infected Vitae/damage from
the bite penalizes this roll by one die. If the vampire succeeds,
they are immune to any further infections for the rest of the
night. However, each exposure penalizes future resistance rolls
by one, as the dead Strain builds up in the Nosferatu’s corpse.
If the vampire exceptionally succeeds, he is totally immune to
the Strain, and can never become a Noctuku.
If the vampire fails, he gains the Noctuku Strain Condition,
below. As with any failure, the player can choose to turn this
into a dramatic failure and gain a Beat, in which case her
character becomes a Noctuku immediately.
NOCTUKU STRAIN
(PERSISTENT)
You are infected with the Noctuku Strain but are not yet one
of the Cannibals. As the disease takes hold, you lose the 10-again
quality on all actions any night you resist the urge to consume
Kindred Vitae or flesh. This hunger is so great that the mere
presence of other, uninfected Kindred provokes hunger frenzy,
though it only applies once a scene. If presented with Kindred
Vitae, you suffer a –4 modifier to resist frenzy as if you were
starving. However, you can spend a point of Willpower to ignore
this hunger for one scene. Ending this Condition requires you
not to feed on anything stronger than human blood for one
night per dot of the infecting Noctuku’s Blood Potency.
Should you consume Vitae, you regain a spent Willpower in
addition to the usual effects of drinking vampire blood. If you
indulge in flesh, you regain all spent Willpower. Each time you
give in, the time it takes for this Condition to run its course
resets. If you indulge in Kindred Vitae or flesh a number of
times equal to (11 – the infecting Noctuku’s Blood Potency),
the infection enters its active stage: Resolve this Condition and
gain the traits of a Noctuku.
Possible Sources: A Noctuku’s blood or bite, rampant
diablerie.
Resolution: Accept your place among the Cannibals.
Beat: Infect another vampire.
Noctuku Template
Noctuku operate like Nosferatu Kindred unless otherwise
noted. They have the following unique abilities and weaknesses:
• A Noctuku must consume live flesh once a week. Kindred meat
is best, but they can survive on mortals as well. However, if they
don’t feed from a vampire at least once a month, they gain the
Deprived Condition. Flesh cannot come from another Noctuku.
Note that a Cannibal can stomach meat without the Blush of
Life, as her disease reincorporates the material into her body,
130 Better Feared: Nosferatu
causing beneficial mutations as she ages (see below).
• If a Cannibal fails to feed, she takes a lethal damage each day
that passes as her body attempts to consume itself. This damage
cannot be healed until she feeds on flesh, and it cannot be
negated with Resilience. However, voluntarily entering torpor
prevents further damage until the vampire next wakes.
• A Noctuku is always considered “hungry” for the purposes of
frenzy penalties. This becomes “starving” if she takes damage
for neglecting her meals.
• When she bares her fangs, a Noctuku’s teeth are like those of
a shark, serrated and multi-layered. She can unhinge her jaw
or split the sides of her mouth into an enormous, inhuman
maw, like a lamprey or a snake. As such, a Noctuku does
not need to grapple a victim to inflict a bite. A Noctuku’s
feeding deals aggravated damage if she chooses to consume
flesh instead of blood. This does lethal damage to Kindred.
• By spending a Willpower, any flesh a Noctuku consumes in
a turn dissolves in her gullet as Vitae. Each point of damage
dealt equals one Vitae. Noctuku do not gain blood bonds
for consuming Kindred flesh this way.
• Any revenants a Cannibal spawns are asymptomatic carriers
of the Noctuku Strain, and can infect other Haunts through
their Vitae. Should they become Nosferatu, the dormant virus
awakens, and normal infection rules apply. Embraced into
other clans, they remain asymptomatic carriers.
• Noctuku can recognize each other and carriers on sight.
Phagia
As a Cannibal grows more potent, and her body becomes less
Kindred and more disease, she gains bizarre, fleshly powers.
Named for the way the Strain devours its host body when it
goes unfed, the powers (or symptoms) of Phagia provide the
Noctuku a terrible edge in their hunts.
Upon becoming one of the Infected, a Nosferatu gains a
number of Phagia powers equal to Blood Potency divided by
two, rounding up. She can also diablerize another Cannibal to
gain one of her Phagia powers, in addition to the usual benefits
of Amaranth. A Noctuku gains an additional Phagia effect each
time Blood Potency increases.
APPALLING LURE
The Noctuku excretes a thin cloud of bloody haze around her
body that drives other vampires to frenzy. This cloud is always
present, even while the Noctuku is in torpor, but it can be
suppressed at will. Kindred within (Blood Potency × 3) meters
of the Noctuku must resist frenzy, penalized by the Cannibal’s
Presence dots. Should a vampire fall to frenzy under the effect
of Blood Haze, she instinctively seeks out Vitae infected with
the Noctuku Strain. However, once infected, this hunger drives
them to hunt untainted Vitae until the frenzy ends.
 BLOOD COMPULSION
The Noctuku gives off an unpleasant odor similar to a phero-
mone. By spending two Willpower, the Cannibal can intensify
this scent into a sanguine magnet, drawing any blood in the
immediate area to her for turns equal to Strength, moving at
Speed 10. The force of this compulsion can break glass, tear
plastic plasma bags, and rend flesh. If a vampire or a mortal is
unfortunate enough to be caught in this field, they lose Vitae
equal to half the Noctuku’s Blood Potency a turn (rounding up).
Vampires can roll Stamina + Blood Potency once a turn to resist
losing their precious Vitae, but mortals have no such recourse.
BLOODY CACHE
The Noctuku can save a victim for later. As a treat. Her neck
has a slight bulge where the throat meets the collarbones, which
bloats as she feeds. By spending a Willpower, she can vomit up
a sticky mucus from this sac to bind a victim’s limbs and affix
him to a surface. This “honey” is voluminous enough to hold
a single, average-sized person, and has a durability equal to the
Noctuku’s Stamina plus one, adding five to determine Structure.
Victims suffer the Immobilized Tilt with a –4 modifier, as their
limbs are completely useless (if they still have them).
BODY OF VITAE
The Noctuku’s muscles are bloated, as if her physical form
can’t contain the monster within. By spending two Willpower,
she can shed her skin, becoming a fleshless creature of ani-
mate Vitae. While in this form, she can slough off pieces of
herself, whether to feed victims her infectious blood, or to
use as her eyes and ears. Sloughing costs a Vitae; offshoots
have no traits and are Size 1 at most, but the Noctuku can
extend her Kindred Senses through them and control their
movements. While in this form, the vampire is immune to
blunt force damage. However, blades are fine-edged enough
to pierce the fluid’s skin, and fire and sunlight do damage
as normal. This transformation lasts a scene, and any Vitae
expended crumbles to dust.
CORPSE WORM
The Cannibal’s skin is sallow and slimy, and she can spend a
Willpower to slough off a portion of it into a slimy, squirming
larva. After feeding this creature to a mortal, the mass wriggles
into the hollow places in the victim’s body and begins to grow. If
a Noctuku is killed while a Corpse Worm is within a victim, she
transfers her consciousness to the creature, causing it to devour its
unwilling host in a bloody resurrection. The host’s body collapses
in on itself as a second body, identical to the Noctuku’s, emerges.
A Cannibal can only create one backup at a time.
HAND TO MOUTH
The Noctuku has an additional mouth in the palm of
each hand. She can drink from all three mouths simultane-
ously, tripling the damage she does to victims, though she
must establish a grapple to use the mouths in her hands.
Furthermore, she can hide items up to Size 1 in this cav-
ernous appendage, which when shut appears like nothing
more than a thick scar across the palms. These items can
be disgorged as a reflexive action and removed or used as
projectiles or, in the case of hidden blades, wielded.
LIMB PLUCKER
The Noctuku’s fingers and arms are lined with growths
that resemble cephalopod suckers. If she successfully strikes a
victim and spends a Willpower, she can use these grip on with
these suckers and remove a limb from his body. Attacking a
specified limb is penalized like any called shot. This attack does
not inflict damage, but permanently removes the limb. If the
victim is a vampire, he can heal this damage by holding the limb
against his stump and spending one Vitae; otherwise, he must
heal as if this were a point of aggravated damage. This removal
also inflicts an appropriate Tilt. The limb remains preserved
for nights equal to the Noctuku’s Blood Potency.
MORTAL BALM
The Noctuku’s body is pale and translucent, with an
unpleasant amount of give, and this provides his form with
a malleability he can use to his advantage. By skinning a
mortal and spending a Willpower, he can use their hide as a
skinsuit. It fits like a glove, as his body grows or shrinks to
fit the victim’s proportions. While in the suit, the vampire
is identical to the skin’s former owner in all ways, adding
Blood Potency to all rolls to impersonate the victim. This
also conceals his Predatory Aura, making him appear human
to cursory mundane and supernatural inspection. The skin
lasts a week before rotting.
RASPING FLESH
The Noctuku’s skin is a strange carapace, covered in tiny,
sharp protrusions. The basic effect of this strange skin is two
points of general armor, but their true nature is obvious when
the vampire touches a victim’s skin. When she comes into con-
tact with flesh, the protrusions bloat, becoming hooks, barbs,
and even small, gnarled hands. Whenever the vampire grapples
a victim skin to skin, she automatically steals a point of Vitae
a turn, whether she controls the grapple or not. Anyone who
successfully uses the Break Free move suffers a point of lethal
damage, even vampires.
Chapter Four: Terrors 131
 STRIP THE BONE
The Noctuku’s Vitae is acidic, leaving the blood vessels
closest to his skin a charred black. This acid can dissolve bone
and other organic materials: By inflicting the Feed move, the
vampire can spend two points of Willpower to inject this acid
into his victim, liquefying the bones around the relevant body
part, and drinking them from her flesh. The Noctuku gains
Vitae from the marrow, doubling the usual amount of Vitae
she would gain from feeding. This inflicts aggravated wounds
in mortals instead of lethal. Furthermore, if he is staked in the
same scene he uses this effect, the wood will dissolve due to
the higher concentration of acids around his heart. This takes
two turns per point of Structure.

WARDING FLESH
Prerequisite: Mortal Balm
The Noctuku’s very aura is a monster. Using the skin she
gained with Mortal Balm, her mutant Beast can infuse her
trophy with a powerful ward against intruders and rivals. By
spending another Willpower after skinning her victim, she forms
a totemic warning rather than a disguise. Its form takes whatever
shape the vampire stitched together, from crude signpost to
elaborate blood painting. Anyone who views this ward gains the
Shaken Condition; there is no resistance. Characters who still
dare to enter the territory suffer the Noctuku’s Manipulation
dots as a penalty to hunting rolls and have no access to Kindred
Senses. This ward lasts for weeks equal to Blood Potency.

Twists of the Blood: Family Dinner

In the First Edition of Vampire: The Requiem, the Noctuku
were a bloodline, albeit a reviled one. While the Noctuku Strain
takes some inspiration from that lineage, the Infected aren’t
meant to be player characters, at least not in most chronicles
(you do you). If you prefer more player-friendly Cannibals, or
miss the old version, use the system below. Phagia powers would
make good Protean Devotions, though some need adjustment
to be suitable for player characters. A brief conversion of
the Noctuku can also be found on p. 26 of Bloodlines: The
Resurrected.
Bloodline Bane (The Devouring Curse): The Noctuku are
driven to consume flesh, and they must eat a pound of it from
a live vessel every (Humanity) weeks. Victims must be commen-
surate with the vampire’s Blood Potency feeding restrictions,
though she can spend Willpower to stomach flesh that fails
to meet that restriction, as she can with blood. If she fails to
consume flesh, the vampire gains the Tempted Condition,
which compounds each night she fasts, and cannot be resolved
without consuming live meat. Noctuku gain no true sustenance
from flesh, but do not need to vomit it up like other Kindred.
Disciplines: Nightmare, Obfuscate, Protean, Vigor

132 Better Feared: Nosferatu

 Nowhere Men
STALKERS OF SHADES
How can you not see them?! They’re right there! They’re right there! They’re right—
AKA: Night Thieves, Kamaitachi
Every culture has urban legends. These stories reinforce
morality through fear, instilling cultural taboos and promoting
group conformity. The hook-handed killer on Lover’s Lane
may or may not have existed, but his legacy puts a damper on
teenage sexcapades. Bloody Mary won’t really get you if you
say her name three times in a mirror, but it’s a bonding ritual.
None of these things are real. They can’t hurt you.
Until they do.
Even the All Night Society has urban legends, and the
Nowhere Men are a favorite of the Nosferatu and Mekhet. These
men — or what are assumed to be men — are invisible stalkers,
wraiths who hunt vampires that spend too much time hiding
away from mortals. Use your Obfuscate too often, they say, and
the Nowhere Men will take you, piece by piece. It’s a warning
against becoming too reliant on one’s Disciplines. They’re just
a fairy tale. They can’t hurt you.
Until they do.
The Nowhere Men aren’t just a story. They exist in a place
beyond human perception, or even supernatural perception.
Impossibly, they can only be seen by vampires using the
powers of Obfuscate, who are also the only ones who can be
their victims.
Background
Nowhere Men appear as humanoid voids in the fabric of
reality. Their features force the eye to slide to the margins of
their forms, and it’s difficult to focus on them for long. Any
vampire who uses Obfuscate gains their notice.
If a Nowhere Man can reach a victim and touch — just touch —
a piece of her, he’ll take it. A hand vanishes. An eye disappears.
A leg slips off into nothingness. In each case, nothing remains
except a raw, red wound, one that looks as if it’s pressed against
clear glass. The Nowhere Men are never sated for long, however,
and they’ll keep hounding their prey until, piece by piece, they
take every part. Pity the powerful, for if the Nowhere Men catch
one of them demonstrating full mastery of the shadows, they
may not bother taking parts.
Kindred snatched up by the Nowhere Men cease to be. They
cannot be traced with any known technology, Discipline, or
blood magic. They vanish from the world, leaving behind little
more than a memory as they’re stolen away to somewhere —
nowhere — else.
Close Encounters
Modern vampires teach their childer that Obfuscate tricks
the mind, but maybe the truth is more subtle. Some ancients
believed this power drew upon a darkness at the edge of
awareness, or even on the veil between worlds. Whether or
not they were right, one thing is certain: Obfuscate attracts
the Nowhere Men, and it’s the only way the creatures can
interact with physical beings. They may be denizens of some
world in-between, or perhaps they just hunt it and live in
another shadow reality.
Why they hunt is a mystery, and those who’ve survived
encounters offer a myriad of theories: They are broken ghosts or
spirits, prohibited from interacting with the rest of their kind;
they are the souls of the damned, trapped between worlds; they
are elder vampires, so heavy with blood their very existence
clouds the minds of their prey.
While any vampire can be a victim of the Nowhere Men,
it’s the Haunts and Shadows who’ve encountered them most.
However, adding yet more grist to the rumor mill, it seems
they have a preference for Nosferatu victims, when given
a choice. One Dragon scholar speculates they were once a
Haunt bloodline, one that drifted too far into the dark, and
now seeks to return to the flesh world by juryrigging new
physical forms. An Acolyte mythologist says he has evidence
the Brothers Worm sealed these creatures in an annex in the
depths of the Underworld, and the Nowhere Men avenge
themselves on their childer.
Or maybe they just like the taste of Haunt.
Rumors
“When I was a fledgling, my sire used to tell me, ‘If you ever kill a
mortal, be careful how long you stay in the shadows, because that’s
where the Nowhere Men like to wait.’ I always thought he was full of
it, but after I killed that trucker last month… there’s a guy following
me. Blank stare and shadowy like one of those nowhere-guys. But I
think it’s him. He’s one of them now.”
Chapter Four: Terrors 133
 Ghosts do not become Nowhere Men. This rumor has more to do with the law of averages, as Nowhere
Men are more likely to notice a vampire using Obfuscate to cover up a murder than they are some Haunt
who’s just sneaking around. This angry spirit rumor has the side effect of slowing down the spread of
knowledge about the Nowhere Men and confusing accounts — after all, what sounds more likely: a
shadowy alien stalker only visible to the supernaturally hidden, or a vengeful ghost out for blood?
“The urban legend about the Nowhere Men is exactly that. Want to know what’s powerful enough to see
through invisibility and overpower vampires? What else? Vampires. Duh.”
Just before World War I, Kindred archeologists recovered a centuries-old scroll from a crypt
beneath Kyoto. Among other things, it contained a short poem called “The Man Shaped
Like Nothing,” which described a creature who transformed first into a bloodthirsty
oni, and then into a being of pure nothingness. Recently, scholars from the
Lancea et Sanctum have begun to re-examine poems like this, as well as similar
stories in ghost and demon mythology. They’ve found a disturbing prevalence
of words like “void” or “absence,” frequently mistranslated as synonyms for
shadow, darkness, and night. If this correlates to a real phenomenon, not
only is it possible the Nowhere Men were once Kindred, but it may be there
are many more of them, and yet more to come.
“I’m telling you, it’s aliens. They’re using advanced tech to see through our
powers — that’s how they keep taking us. That’s why they pick the ones we
can’t see them take!”
The Nowhere Men aren’t physical, at least not as most people
would understand physicality. Whether or not their powers are
supernatural or technological doesn’t matter to Kindred on the
run. These creatures may as well be aliens for their powers of
stealth and abduction. What if they’re mutated spirits, or
fallen angels bereft of physical form, or invaders from another
dimension? What if vampires taken by the Nowhere Men
don’t vanish, but just come back… different? If this is the
case, perhaps the Nowhere Men have a plan, or even a
greater goal than sating a hunger.

Calvin Harris
“Oh Jesus, you have to help me. Please. They
already took my hand. Please, for God’s sake open
the door! I can feel them coming!”
Calvin James Harris was born into American
royalty and destined for great things. The eldest son of a
line of Southern Democrats stretching back to the Civil War,
Calvin should have ended up in office himself — but God had
other plans. While setting up a foundation to combat homelessness,
Calvin found himself at the wrong end of a transient vampire’s fangs
and woke up dead. Since then, he’s avoided other Kindred and their
politics whenever possible, all while his sire’s Vinculum kept him (and all
his money) under her thumb.
Or, it did. One night as he met with her under a cloak of shadows, Calvin
watched a man-shaped hole in reality peel her into a void and then set
its eyes on him. Despite his faith, Calvin isn’t a martyr. He ran like the
Devil was on his heels and hasn’t stopped since. But the Nowhere Men
keep coming, and they won’t stop until they take him like they took
his sire. Worst of all, some trick of his sire’s bond means he can still
feel her — and sometimes hear her — when the things get too
close. The Nowhere Men used this connection to
take his hand, and now they’re after the
rest of him

134 Better Feared: Nosferatu

 Calvin has fled his home city and is looking for allies. In
spite of the Embrace, he’s got a good heart (or close enough),
but he’s so desperate for help that he’s willing to do anything
to recruit Kindred he can trust. He’s even willing to sell out
his own covenant and their miracles if that might help him
survive. Of course, once the Lancea et Sanctum realizes this,
the Nowhere Men won’t be the only ones hunting him down.
For now, though, Calvin is running as fast as his legs can carry
him, at least as long as he can keep them.
Tall, strong, blond, and handsome, Calvin radiates a genu-
ine wholesomeness, one that inflicts a gnawing sense that his
perfect demeanor makes your own flaws all the more obvious.
Clan: Nosferatu
Covenant: Lancea et Sanctum
Mask: Idealist
Dirge: Child
Touchstone: The Right Reverend Vincent Houlihan, the
head pastor of Calvin’s childhood church
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 3, Wits 2, Resolve 3
Physical Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 2, Stamina 3
Social Attributes: Presence 4, Manipulation 4,
Composure 2
Mental Skills: Academics 2, Computer 1, Investigation
1, Politics (Nonprofits, Vampires) 4
Physical Skills: Athletics 2, Brawl 1, Drive 2, Stealth
(Crowds) 3
Social Skills: Animal Ken 1, Empathy 2, Expression 2,
Persuasion (Playing on Sympathy) 3, Socialize (Galas)
4, Subterfuge 2
Merits: Allies (Church) 3, Ambidextrous, Herd 2,
Fleet of Foot 2, Inspiring, Lancea et Sanctum Status
1, Resources 4, Striking Looks 1, Sympathetic, Table
Turner
Disciplines: Nightmare 1, Obfuscate 3, Theban
Sorcery 2
Rituals: Blandishment of Sin, Curse of Babel, Liar’s
Plague, Vitae Reliquary
Devotions: Wraith’s Presence
Blood Potency: 2
Health: 7
Willpower: 5
Humanity: 6
Size: 5
Speed: 11
Initiative: 4
Defense: 4
Notes: Calvin is missing his right hand. Table Turner can
be found on p. 55 of Chronicles of Darkness.
Story Seeds
• A new Haunt arrives in the city, and Kindred he
spends time with start to go missing. It seems
obvious he’s responsible, but he always has an
ironclad alibi. Now he’s buddying up to the
coterie, and the prince has tasked them with
investigating him without his knowledge.
• A young boy recently entered the foster system
after witnessing a draugr murder his mother.
The Kindred want to deal with all witnesses, but
there’s a hitch. See, the boy has an imaginary
friend called Mr. Nobody. Mr. Nobody is much
more than a figment, and he’s protective of his
young friend. No one knows how the boy can
see Mr. Nobody, but it may have something
to do with his father being far older than his
mother thought.
• Every fifty years, the Nosferatu primogen of the
city holds a clan meeting, rife with delicacies
and rare delights. Rumor has it she intends
to step down this time, after a special game
of hide-and-seek to determine her successor.
The partygoers don’t know she’s made a deal
with a group of Nowhere Men, who hibernate
in decades-long cycles between feedings. She
intends to be the last one standing by game’s
end, just like she was two cycles ago, much to
her predecessor’s chagrin. As for the rest of the
Nosferatu… well, it’s a low-mess way to dispose
of rivals.
Storytelling the Nowhere Men
The Nowhere Men are arcane, elemental entities. They aren’t
really quantifiable, and as such, they function on a narrative
dimension, not a mechanical one. They don’t have traits or
defined powers, and can inflict their associated Condition
when the story demands it. They also can’t be defeated with
dice rolls — not directly.
As a story element, Nowhere Men can help raise tension in a
way more traditional antagonists can’t, forcing characters to think
long and hard about how they should use their powers. They also
bring a touch of survival horror to the world of Vampire, in a
way that’s just a little off kilter. They’re a thematic way of showing
Kindred aren’t the only ones who hunt the night, turning the
tables on creatures too often viewed as the top of the food chain.
Storytellers should be transparent with players about how
the Nowhere Men can affect their characters, and be careful
not to use them unfairly; no one likes an arbitrary antagonist,
especially one you can’t deal with your own two fangs. Should
a player choose to let a Nowhere Man touch her character, a
Beat or a Willpower refresh is a good reward for adding to
the drama.
Chapter Four: Terrors 135
 Creative Problem Solving
Surviving the Nowhere Men isn’t (usually) about defeating
them. Rather, it’s about what you’re willing to sacrifice to
survive. Specifically, survival can be defined as removing the
Touch of Nowhere Condition, below.
Due to the freeform nature of the Nowhere Men, players
have many ways to accomplish this task, some of which may
require a fair bit of lateral thinking. As a starting point,
here are a few examples of how characters might ditch the
Nowhere Men.
Bait and Switch
A coldhearted vampire can use the Nowhere Men to her
advantage, entering into a dangerous, symbiotic relationship
with them. Through clever use of Obfuscate, she can feed
mortals and other vampires to them, and if she does it enough,
they might just remove the Touch of Nowhere and move on.
Maybe they’ll be grateful enough to leave behind a few spare
limbs. Then again, who’s to say their need isn’t limitless, and
that feeding them only makes them stronger?
Baptism by Sunlight
Nowhere Men are driven by a hunger that overrides anything
resembling rational thought. If they could be tricked into taking
a victim in direct sunlight, their shadowy nature might make
them vulnerable. The victim will gain some pretty gnarly scars
for her effort, but sunlight is often the best disinfectant.
The Greater Evil
Some creatures hate vampires so much they want a monopoly
on Kindred suffering, and making a Faustian pact with one
of these beings may provide a Nowhere Man’s victim with the
raw firepower he needs. The Strix are a prime candidate for
this tactic due to their ties to shadow, and their capacity to act
both inside and outside of a vampire’s body. That said, the
Kindred have no shortage of enemies. An agent of VII might
be persuaded, and the Worthless of Belial’s Brood are always
looking for more challenging prey.
136 Better Feared: Nosferatu
Obfuscate Abstinence
Don’t use Obfuscate and they can’t get you. Sometimes the
obvious answer is the right one, but that doesn’t make it the
easiest. This strategy is the most passive on the surface, but
it doesn’t have to be. Consider a vampire who relies on her
command of the shadows for all the little things. Monstrous
Nosferatu rely on Obfuscate just to get by, and many a Haunt
(or Shadow) makes a modest income on the ability to sneak
around. This option is more about when the character will use
her powers rather than just waiting out a timer. Storytellers
should reward creative loopholes and problem-solving.
Vary the Vitae
Changing one’s Vitae, such as joining a bloodline or com-
mitting diablerie, may be enough to throw off the hunt. If a
character manages to perform one of those acts, or some other
twist of the blood, the Nowhere Men will lose the trail if the
act was dramatic enough. However, should they encounter their
prey later, and establish a new scent, the hunt will begin anew.
TOUCH OF NOWHERE
(PERSISTENT)
The Nowhere Men have deprived you of a limb. It simply
vanished, leaving behind a clean red stump. But wait, it gets
worse! From this point onward, Nowhere Men can instinctively
track you whenever you don the shadows in Obfuscate.
Due to this unceremonious amputation, in combat, you suffer
a personal Tilt, such as Arm Wrack, Leg Wrack, or Blinded.
This Tilt is permanent until you spend a dot of Willpower in
daysleep to regenerate the limb. This has nothing to do with
Vitae, but rather is an overt act of will to reassert your physical
form on reality. Whenever you resolve this Condition, you
regain any and all spent Willpower dots, although you can
choose to buy them back in the meantime.
Resolution: Any of the options outlined above.
Beat: Lose another limb to a Nowhere Man. Experience
hardship due to a lost body part.
 Epilogue: Better Feared
Littlejohn woke in the back of his Escalade. Charity was behind the wheel, one hand scanning
through his police band radio like he’d taught her. He sat up and she shrieked, almost swerving
into oncoming traffic.
“Holy shit, don’t do that!”
“You came.” All the power in his voice was drained.
“I wasn’t sure you’d wake up. You were… dead.”
“That’s how we sleep.”
“It was scary,” she said. “What happened to you in there? I… barely recognized you.”
Littlejohn looked out the window. They were taking the long way back to the Castle, using as
many side streets as Chicago would allow. He checked his face in the rearview mirror. His skin
had returned to its usual shade, but the thin scars by his lips remained. His eyes were different
now too: The irises were pure black, their color bleeding into the sclera. He wondered if he would
return to normal, or if this was normal now.
He was still hungry, and not just for blood.
With effort, he pushed the hunger down and watched Charity drive. After a few minutes, he
spoke, almost without intending to.
“Do you want to do this?”
“Do what? Drive you? Of course.”
“The work. You don’t have to. I… I’d still cover you. You matter to me.”
She looked back at him in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were wet. “I know. I’m not an idiot. But.
I like to help people.” She paused. “Everyone needs love, even if it’s rented. Besides, where am I
going to find another boss who lets me be as selective as Mr. Littlejohn Roach?”
“John,” he said. “Let’s just do John.”
“Okay, John. Johnny. J-Money.”
“Don’t push it.”
In spite of everything, he smiled. Maybe the old man was right. Maybe it was better to be feared
than loved, if you can’t be both. But, truth be told, John Roach would much rather be both.
In the trunk, the torpid, limbless body of Rafael Ladue rocked back and forth, nightmares claw-
ing at his mind.

138 Better Feared: Nosferatu

 WE’VE MET BEFORE, YOU AND ME.
SURE WE HAVE!
I WAS THE PANIC
WHEN THEY LEFT YOU ALL ALONE.
I WAS THE SHAME
WHEN THEY SAID THEY DIDN’T LOVE YOU.
I WAS THE HATE
WHEN YOU BROUGHT DOWN THE KNIFE.
I’M EVERY UGLY THING YOU’VE EVER DONE OR BEEN,
AND I HAVE SO MUCH MORE TO TEACH YOU.
— DOTTIE TONNER, NECROPOLIS UNDERQUEEN
The Haunts terrify and fascinate the All Night Society in equal measure, yet for all
the nightmares they visit upon their Kindred, none compare to the horrors they
save for themselves. Now, for the first time in over a decade, return to the rotting
underworld of Clan Nosferatu.
Better Feared is a complete guide to the Nosferatu, with updates and expansions
to their First Edition clan book, The Beast That Haunts the Blood.
Blood. It includes:
• Eight Haunt bloodlines: The Cockscomb Society, Gethsemani, Lygos, and
Yagnatia, resurrected for a bloody reunion, along with newcomers to the family
crypt like the Acteius, Candymen, Keepers of the Dark, and Von Schrecks.
• A tour of the Necropoli, Nosferatu-exclusive domains where Haunts can fester
in peace, including rules to build your own, five examples from around the
world, and featuring the return of Cymothoa sanguinaria,
sanguinaria, the vampiric parasite.
• Three ghoul families and three Night Horrors to serve or torment your Haunt
characters: Listen in on the Gravenors’ dire prophecies, and try to keep down-
wind of the Noctuku, apex predators of the Damned.
• Brand new fiction from the Chronicles of Darkness: Chicago setting.
• Devotions, Merits, and other tools for players and Storytellers alike!