TEXT: 1
  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
  Vampire the Masquerade: Pietroschek's Poison what you can't conquer!
  Vault version © Andrè M. Pietroschek, all rights reserved
  This is revised prosaic & foreign roleplayer sermon, not one more copy-catted plagiarism!
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  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
  Disclaimer:
  No  warranties.  My  prose,  rants,  texts,  and  ebooks,  are  offered  solely  for  personal
  contemplation purposes. The author and publisher are not offering it as legal, accounting,
  or other professional services advice. While best efforts have been invested in preparing
  this version and its sub-context, the author and publisher make no representations or
  warranties of any kind, and assume no liabilities of any kind with respect to the accuracy or
  completeness of the contents and specifically disclaim any implied warranties of safety,
  functionality, reliability or fitness of use for any specific purpose. Neither the author nor the
  publisher shall be held liable or responsible to any person or entity with respect to any loss
  or incidental or consequential damages caused, or alleged to have been caused, directly or
  indirectly, by the information, prose, ideas, and opinion contained herein. No warranty may
  be  created  or  extended  by  sales  representatives  or  written  sales  materials.  Every
  personality is different and the worldview, moods, prose, and conclusions contained herein
  may not be suitable for your situation or anyone's well-being. 
  Helpful LINK:
  http://whitewolf.wikia.com/wiki/Vampire:_The_Masquerade_20th_Anniversary_Edition
  Author's mindset: I write Pietroschek-Prose, and stemming from one more dysfunctional
  family background, being one more problem child, pariah, ex-criminal, university dropout,
  and ex-bum: I really think that expecting elite university standards from me is alike a
  Malkavian prank on my critic's expense. 
  The first edition of 'Vampire the Masquerade' was still recent, and I was still the martial art
  trained student, and not the overweight wreck I am by now, when I already noticed:
  “Goddamn, none of the cool clans belongs to the pasta faction aka Camarilla!”
  After I returned from the urban homeless, where I ended after being stalked, late-night
  targeted for armed assault (actually junkies trying to rob a supposed drug-cache), and
  having been on TV, for one of the chosen few who survived a winter sleeping on asphalt
  and other concrete PLUS making it back into society the legal way; I had the pleasure of
  serious health issues, impairing monetary troubles, and the joy of me at age 44 and 45 still
  being forced to accept minimum-salary aka minimum-wage jobs to pay my debts and
  make a living in lowest proletarian worker ranks.  
  To cut it short: A lot changed, but one truism remains: No matter what life dishes us, we
  have to learn handling it, or die trying. Looking back on that loudmouth attitude, partially
  inspired by my own temper in young adult years, I can gladly say I am toughened &
  wizened, though my estimated life expectancy is below 5 years now, too.
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  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
  As a non-native speaker my English is not without problems. I really regret that it spoils
  the readability for some people. Still Pietroschek-Prose is all I offer, and I am not at
  school here anyway. All may read it, nobody is forced to do so. 
  Poison what you can't conquer & that's what I do
  An IC (semi-omniscient 1st person) short-story, STvault edition, by
   A. M. Pietroschek © All rights reserved
  “Their chanting about Set is dementation to Kindred ears,
   Their worship a dumb mimicry of thaumaturgy, 
  But long ago they looked so cool doing it!”
  I might give you my name, yet it wouldn't be for real. Sincerely, I change them at my whim.
  Fifteen years ago I was initiated into the existence of House and Clan Tremere. A fascist,
  hermetical lodge of wizards [Erich Fromm, the anatomy of human destructiveness]. That is, of
  course, for the unknowing. I was ghouled by an undead vampire sorcerer, for my unique skills
  should have served this bloodline of vampires until I either qualified for the Embrace, or got
  killed. How did it come to be? I hardly know. Something I did, or perhaps something I am,
  attracted its attention. Please don't get me wrong, it was a step forward. 
  I went thru life pretty aimless, taking whatever job I could get to make my living, a notch too
  fascinated by cocaine, and struggling with a certain habit of getting drawn into the occult crap.
  In a way it paid. Maybe it really was due one of my works showing a potential, or maybe I was
  so overwhelmed with new experiences, back then, that I couldn't grasp what made me become
  his ghoul. I remember how it started though. I came back from a shift as a security guard,
  pure cannon fodder. As I checked my post box I had a strange invitation among bills to pay, and
  loads of advertising. I trusted my intuition and changed working shift so I could go there.
  After I masturbated, and took a shower, of course. 
  I heard some hours of dabbling about occult topics, yet a bit too close to Hollywood’s brain-
  dead misconceptions. Every time I sensed it reaching a useful insight the speaker switched, as
  if shunning away from a truth he, or she, could not accept to be. The moment I wanted to stand
  up and speak myself, a strange thought reached my mind. Pearls before swine, isn't it? Of
  course today I know that several kindred can speak to the mind, yet back then I could have
  sworn it was my own idea. My feelings guided me to look around. In the back row one of the
  listeners seemed to agree with my unspoken thought. 
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  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
  That could save my evening. I waited a while, till a new speaker of some very important, very
  hermetical, and, of course, purely white magical order of cognitive-stillborn moved up to the
  stage. This break I used to switch places, nodding a greeting to the stranger while struggling
  with insights about his financial superiority. 
  While I had to be happy wearing some polyester shirt along with my baggy pant, he was clad
  like a pretty rich sucker. Today I recognize this as a subconscious hint, too late. His suit
  looked more expensive than my entire lifestyle, more important it matched his personality, or
  what I perceived as such. He felt smooth, yet a look into his eyes spoke of more than that. I
  felt some fear, mixing with joy. Without much speaking we listened for further thirty minutes.
  It was already clear that the evening was a failure. I used the time to wonder about my
  reaction, and compared sympathy to homosexual urges. I don't think that gay sex was my goal.
  Strange, I cannot remember what we spoke about, and how we left the hall. 
  I remember walking along an alley with my new-found companion, and indulging my mood of lucid
  fascination. His thoughts tried to push me and many of his questions were aiming to get
  answers, which I simply hadn’t. Today it would be a warning sign, yet I wasn't experienced, nor
  strong enough, to deal better with it back then. He analysed my way of thinking, checked
  knowledge, and interests. Even psychological stuff. For the first time in my life I even enjoyed
  talking about my job. Disturbingly he listened intently. Nobody ever wants to hear about this
  kind of job. He did. A moment later he asked me, if I would give my opinion concerning a
  building he inherited from his family. When I agreed, I didn't know that it turned into my
  chance to drive in a car, which I could never afford. Limousine XL is my description for it. 
  Nightly drives set my mood to contemplation, and I honoured that my companion disturbed me
  only once. The questions were about my private situation, yet I thought he just wanted an
  excuse to peer at me. I was a loner back then and had no problems telling it. Still I could not
  ignore that his entire friendliness had something lurking about it. I disliked the thought of
  brawling with a pervert rich boy, and nearly ignored the realization that I did not even know his
  name after hours of chatting. As the car came to a stop, I was already impressed enough to
  make my senses fail. 
  The area was clean, no street trash, living or material, atmosphere here was calm and cool. I
  saw a building, which looked like one from the B-movies. No, it didn’t, my mind gets clouded
  when I try to remember details about the time. I argued that Satanism, to me, reflects the
  same principles that humanity puts into effort versus reality. As humans developed out of the
  caves, so did heretics, and occultists, attempt to break the dogmatic thinking of the church.
  And in praxis, to gain power over their worldly limitations set upon them by god? God hereby as
  entity, or symbol for reality. Headaches accompanied my few good ideas. When we entered a
  room in the basement, I had to struggle for self-control. 
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  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
  How could someone so smart, and definitely better educated than me, make such a mistake?
  Was it a mistake, or some test about my reactions? These little followers of Crowley, and
  similar freaks, would have called it a ritual chamber. Piss into their skulls. 
  Yes, some symbols. And the very well known chalice, rod, blade, and pentacle. My words
  splashed out of my mouth.  What a stupid little misconception. This room is a waste, the
  elements hiding behind the archaic symbols are for regressive psychological components, it
  would mean that a magus would enforce change of reality, display of power, or what, by
  focussing his mind, perhaps his, or her, will. But only narcissist-fools believe that spooking
  through such a room would give them magic power, except for a straight-jacket maybe. 
  While I realized that I just insulted my companion, he just looked me in the eyes, and said
  “precisely”. A relieved smile tried to spread across my face, but never got the chance. A wave
  of dizziness reached my mind, and I felt intense pressure building in my guts, then pain shook
  me. My body overheated with rapid speed, and I stumbled, already busy falling to the ground. 
  I awoke a while later, pain crushing my thoughts, and the taste of blood in my filled mouth. [I
  don't mean blood cauldron here] Filled with my severed tongue, as I soon would find out. My
  eyes were damaged, my sight reduced to shades, and blurring forms. I could die of this, but
  what was it? His hands were empty, and he merely touched me. Insane humour came to my
  mind, hinting that this may have been the lurking part of him. He asked me something and I
  finally could understand what he said. My ears operated somehow. How long does this need to
  heal? I replied that, if I survive, it would be at least three weeks, perhaps with several
  mutilations remaining. If I could give you the power to heal it within just three nights, would
  you accept? Lord in Hell, I laid defenceless on the ground, bleeding, and crippled. What did he
  expect, me enjoying an extensive debate? I admit that my first thought was about even serials
  making more money than me though. I drank, what he gave to me, the first night it was Vanilla
  Coke! 
  No, it was his vitae, yet the taste of my blood, and the amok in my mind, made me swear it is
  Vanilla Coke. Today I can give even more sincere oaths which I not even consider keeping. I
  experienced a harrowing of hurt flesh, and mind-malfunctions for three nights, but it worked.
  While I felt emotional pain without comparison, in the middle of the third night, I recovered.
  My flesh operated, my eyes just needed to be cleaned from remnants of my blood, and my ears
  were nearly ok. Yes, my little trouser snake turned from a badly scorched sausage into the
  original again, too. I became ghoul to him without further troubles. After I masturbated, and
  took a shower, of course. I learned about powers, which I never knew. Luckily Rosicrucian
  pseudo-spirituality was not part of the crap. 
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  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
  As a ghoul my primary gifts of Caine were physical. Simplified, I could heal my body at
  enhanced  speed,  my  muscles  worked  extremely  well,  martial  arts,  which  I  only  clumsily
  executed until then, became easy, and I rarely tired. To my masters’ astonishment I could
  boost my senses, as we found out, when I had to gasp that night I perceived a Nosferatu
  neonate, breaching his minor skill with obfuscate. I guarded my master, and with some months
  of successful duty, even the outer ring of a chantry. 
  Due to my way of thinking I grew into my new-found role, yet the fact that I failed some tests,
  and that I easily frenzy when mind-control is at task, reduced my future considerations. I had
  my flaws, too. I began eating more than I needed, and my sexuality turned from long periods of
  torpor to a feverish greed to practice Erich von Gothas collected works. But let’s not spoil my
  works with glorification of the competition. Indeed I enjoyed my time with House and Clan
  Tremere, one of the most powerful bloodlines among the children of the night. 
  What did make me turn traitor? Some quite realistic insights, and necessities. My ego! As my
  reader already notes, I react more on intuition and feelings, which explains my talent with
  Auspex, but gives me a disadvantage with Dominate and Thaumaturgy [remember flaws like
  Thaumaturgical Inept].  Simplified, I could learn only petty rituals (i.e. Blood Mastery, check
  the rulebook, ghouls can learn it), but no real powers. It is good luck to me, if my potential
  hadn't been discovered to be castrated here early on, the Tremere would have hunted me with
  much greater dedication. 
  Please be reminded my advantage in Auspex has gained new side effects due to my sacred
  bloodline. As a disciple of Seth I am a bit easier blinded by light. I disliked the sun even as a
  mortal, developing an allergy against its rays, and avoiding swimming, and stuff. This means
  without sunglasses a car, or a flashlight, make me blinded for a while, even at night. A while
  long enough to stake me, or sink your fangs into my flesh. I explain my failure as Tremere with
  being still too mortal as a ghoul. Maybe I only learned psychological rituals, because I was
  limited in my existence, not just in thoughts. 
  Well, I stumbled across ghouls from different masters with the time, and indulged spare time
  visiting a sub house of my former line. I would say that I just had more of a Setite about me
  than about a Tremere in my life. This is from a subjective point though. I may have become a
  Brujah,  yet  I  at  least  knew  that  bad  temper,  and  lack  of  self-control,  beg  for  certain
  unpleasant repercussions. The Setites made me accept the embrace by the truth they told me.
  Yes, I fell prey to some lies, I was defenceless against their power to manipulate emotions, and
  I was easily tempted, too. To me, the Tremere hit my way of understanding and thinking, but
  the Setites suited my way of unlife. Well, my stigma of being the little unimportant security
  guard is still with me. I am what others call a Warrior-Setite. 
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  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
  This means that, to suit our one-dimensional stereotype, I do ten minutes of sit-ups, and
  shadow-boxing, for every night spend on drugs, vice, and tempting the cute Camarilla ghouls
  and neonates. 
  I just have found my place here, it’s that simple. The Setites subconsciously admire the
  Tremere power, and while they are not half as good with magic, their power increases social
  success, and nightly survival. What few seem to realize is that tempting is hardly our mission.
  We are seen as hedonistic and corrupt, yet we survived throughout the centuries with much
  more success than many of the unenlightened. The celestial guidance of Set gifts us not only
  with unique, innate abilities, but also with a growing confidence in our power, and dominion. I
  never saw Egypt, and I don't care. Seth is entity and symbol in one, the simple fact that we go
  the path of success. Do we tempt? You think and claim so; maybe we just show people that they
  belong to us by their very own ambitions. Corrupting others without being corrupted oneself.
  What does it mean? To me it meant indulging cocaine, having sex with the best women I could
  get laid with, and gaining money without hard work, nasty consequences, or repercussions. I
  learned  the  truth  soon  enough.  What  is  this  conscience  of  the  Camarilla  anyway,  but  a
  theoretical  construct that frequently fails, even in our absence. I  was never  willing, nor
  ordered, to invade your haven, diablerizing whomever I could mug or attack while off-guard. 
  I  am  not  guilty  of  proving  to  your  ghouls  that  our  lifestyle  grants  them  much  better
  gratification for their duties. Is it my fault that Toreador lack the discipline to satisfy their
  ghouls sexual urges? Our bodies are dead, we won't die of aids, nor do we need much to heal
  injuries that a prick headed ghoul causes while doing the wild thing. We ask for religious
  dedication to Set which you think is evil, but both sects ask of joining a holy war against each
  other even from the freshly embraced. 
  We do not follow a theory of such kind; we live as we are to the limits of our unlife. Yes, we are
  weak vampires. As weak as the Brujah, and Toreador, which found that hanging up with mortals
  is not only more fun, but indeed a power base we exploited, logically. Perhaps they are tools,
  but why then do we treat them as equals, mostly? Because they may grasp the wisdom of Seth,
  they can be of use, and what is wrong about it? We are not the ones running around breaking a
  masquerade  here,  selling  out  Sabbat  bishops  there.  We  are  despised,  and  accused,
  paradoxically, for the agents of hedonism and corruption kept more of their integrity from the
  clutches of the beast than any other line. If our ways are dangerous, what about better
  solutions? And who brings the peril? Is it the Setite drug priest who causes havoc, or is it
  people incapable, and unwilling, to handle it? If I deal you the vitae of a garou, is it my fault
  that you frenzy by devouring what you asked, and paid, me to deliver? How is it that we
  interact with your needs without prejudice? 
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  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
  Set taught us wisdom and self-mastery in ways, which the Camarilla is too stupid for, and the
  Sabbat is twisting into monstrosity. There is no place on earth, no kindred society, and no
  Elysium, which we cannot find our way into. Why not, we adapt with more respect to your rules
  than you to ours. Are you aware that we were not fighting you? Conflict arose because your
  intolerance made you judge our way of unlife, and turn hostile. 
  Yes, we are a notch more humane than a vampire should be, but that is the way of Seth. Our
  lord could rule over kindred, and kine alike, this is just one more sign that there is wisdom in
  our very words and deeds. But this dabbling leads nowhere. Let’s check for my evil and
  degeneration, don't forget heresy. I live with a feeling of guilt and fear of repercussions from
  the warlocks. I wished I would have had a better option, but I was tempted, yet responsible
  for it. With the Tremere only my thoughts were compatible and yes, I owe them manifold for
  the  gift  of  their  blood  gives  me  powers  which  ensure  my  survival  even  as  part  of  the
  competition now. As a ghoul I once played this video game where mage, and priest, fight side by
  side, it should work for us, I hoped. Yes, this is weakness, we must fight a jihad, and kill
  vampires of other blood. No, it could be one great Malkavian prank!
  I protect our temples and places, I fight to protect my allies, and I guide my servants and
  disciples to the very best of my abilities. Of course for a price, they take my time, dedication,
  and contemplation away from my goals. I turn my ideas into weapons, establishing the cult of
  plague monks as easily, as exchanging ideas on how to deal with our existence. Plague spreaders,
  what should this be? My answer to an idea that mortals grasped even in the dark ages, and
  practice happily and much better than this Morbus sect of our own blood. One could not only
  weaken a foe by this, but also make him, or her, outright perish. Against mortals, and Camarilla
  alike, this proves extremely useful, infesting their territory with disease spreading beings. The
  Sabbat is a bit harder to get, yet we are part of it, like the Nosferatu. We grew from our
  centre into the Camarilla, as into the Sabbat. Like it, or not, we grant this freedom, as long, as
  the service to Seth is not betrayed. I feel accused by kindred who commit all the crimes they
  try to blame me for. We did not forget who we are. We are not children of Caine. We are
  children of Seth, thereby the synthesis from mortals, and followers of Caine. 
  We can be the poison that destroys them, but we are willing to be the guide that grants them a
  better way into a future that is worthwhile. What you declare venom may just be the only
  antitoxin you might ever find. I think we are already an overseen pillar of the Camarilla, too.
  We are subtle enough to keep to the masquerade, further we even like this. We enjoy humans,
  not slaughtering them before TV cameras to prove our powers. Yes, maybe I am too fresh to
  understand, or perhaps I bath in my foolish dreams to ignore that I am an elders pawn myself.
  Who of us isn’t?
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  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
   
  I enjoyed being close to my paramour, was it so selfish to get her away from artwork and
  scheming?  Maybe, yet in case of success it would have been prove that she didn't really care
  for what her elders pushed her into. Was it my strategy? My feelings hurt, where I should be
  cold and predatory. I miss her; yet accept her decision at least for this century. In our
  kingdom there is no need for manipulation, but for the glory of my sake, I will endure even this.
  Running with the Brujah is a refreshing, though simple-minded experience. Yes, it asks for
  trouble. Yet they can be quite close to us, and no I didn’t supply their parties. 
  We share some similarities, not by talking about them, but living them for real. Lepers, the ugly
  little rat-kissers. Among the most familiar experiences is their way. They spread nearly like us,
  just hiding for other reasons, and in other places. I could teach them some joy, and even a
  notch confidence. They taught me rat-catching and we had a good time, no matter the bad
  sides. I still meet them on friendly terms, mostly. 
  Sadly, this fails with the Giovanni. This necrotic bunch of workaholics, followers of Apophis for
  sure, makes me vomit. Not enough that they raid the mortals for money, they even raid their
  coffins. Sacrileges against the soul. The dead have to be honoured, and prepared for the
  afterlife, where Setite sorcerers steal their power, it is not just their very soul, but part of
  ours at stake. Dangerous they are in their mastery of necromancy, and everything they say
  attempts to crush my mind to suit their will. But is this the blood, or just those few I stumbled
  across? Prejudices can poison my awareness, a risk we are taught to avoid. 
  We won't end up like this bloke Horus. I do spend my unlife, as I like it. I enjoy all I can get,
  practice my skills, and contemplate as much, as I can. I sincerely wished that I had gained the
  sorcery of my former master, yet I got this one trick at least. I was wise enough to cover my
  greatest weakness early on. As children of a peaceful god, we were not really made for war.
  That may explain why we just can't face every threat up front. I grew tougher through
  training, and practice. Devotedly even keep an inner distance from certain habits of kindred
  society. Yet I feel weak. My problem about it is we are mistaken to parrot faith. This is not the
  case. 
  We do not half as much worship Set, as we preach to make the ignorant realize that his
  teachings supply us with useful insights, and realistically solutions to archetypical problems of
  vampire existence. Of course there are other ways to gain such, yet our way works fine. I
  admit that I couldn’t be a priest. Their caste has duties, and rights, which I just cannot
  personify. 
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  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
  I am busy building my little place in the world, recruiting and teaching servants, securing my
  place, and dealing with my job. Yes, the blood bond felt like abuse for me, too. We all dislike
  being enslaved; yet have few problems doing it to mortals, and other kindred. I went through
  ten years with my sire, and then she fell in the line of duty. His tutelage, and resources, gave
  me compensation for this early. 
  Now I have more freedom, but less support. The first year alone in the dark had plenty of
  setbacks, shortcomings, and failures prepared for me. It slowly goes better now, and luckily, I
  can easily be bound again. No real threat is easily dissolved. I still plan to bargain a degree of
  neutrality, or minor cooperation, with my former master. I could fight the warlocks, yet I am
  aware that they can much easier take me out. Maybe this urge is even his mind-control calling
  me towards a trap, I really don't know. I seem to be too mortal still, patience I measure in
  month, where kindred plot for centuries. This could be my damnation, as followers of Caine see
  it. 
  Perhaps I can’t find peace, even if my lusts and pleasures were not provocation to some. No
  regrets for this, I don't have a choice and my mortal life is gone forever. Making base at the
  edge to Assamite territory is nearly as risky, as a vacation in Vienna though. Switching place
  was no good, my problems accompany me anywhere. Great Lord, my strengths, and virtues do
  so, too. I was very unimportant to the warlocks, and I can neutralize those few witnesses. 
  I have found hideouts, when other kindred made me their target, and I may be low on allies,
  but servants, and disciples, stand by my side. Already paying the price for treachery, I can now
  swap my petty rituals to gain access to the rituals of my own bloods sorcery. I may be cursed
  to be the eternal little security guard, but a handful of our sacred rituals could spice up my
  existence. 
  And I can accuse/abuse/seduce you in ways that you never knew. My servants will support me in
  freeing ghouls of the warlocks from their dumb-hearted masters. Money will flow, as long, as
  we supply weapons to the unarmed, and drugs to all those who just do not want to bear this
  rotten existence they face. Founding the Erich von Gotha society for gentleman, paid off too.
  Then I somehow feel willing to support this bunch of Salubrious. Selling tomes and artefacts,
  trading my powers for those I desire, and keeping long-term agreements might even secure my
  position entirely. Many people who dislike the embrace still like being ghouled, boosting them
  without denying them to partake in their chosen society. Self-mastery will not be forgotten,
  my habit of contemplation, and meditation, accompanies me from the first night. The same on
  the women of our kind, they can be deadly venom to me, but also a refreshing alternative to
  the Holy Grail. Maybe this is an addiction, one I would not get rid of until I manage to hide my
  heart in heaven…
  Trust and you’ll be trusted !“ - whispered Set to Ventrue.
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  „Serpentology“
  This page is the comments & notes from the author for now.
  One of the female readers told me she liked the way of writing, as if speaking (exclusively) of
  my real past experiences. I chose the idea of “writing to my therapist/mom/girlfriend” here,
  because doing the same approach, as any WoD author wouldn't make a unique reading. I guess I
  would be a bit better, if I had more resources on, and experience playing, Setites (complete
  group), which I lack. We had emphasis on Sabbat, and another group on Camarilla. Indeed when
  I received the last invitations to role-playing group the feeling that made me once enjoy it was
  gone. I liked Vampire TM Bloodlines though. Be reminded I am German, I cannot always
  translate  my  ideas  perfectly.  This  file  is  for  use  with  the  fictional  game  Vampire-The
  Masquerade produced by White Wolf Inc. http://www.white-wolf.com      
  •
  Most Germans speaking “Seth” auto-include the hiss-sound people associate with Setites,
  this wicked “Tea Age thing”. Seth & Set are different stories, remain vigilant.
  •
  “The Kiss”, or “The Embrace” means making someone a vampire of a certain bloodline.
  •
  The bloodline called Setites, or Followers of Set, has seemingly been crippled-down into a
  Mekhet  Subline  with  White  Wolfs  newer  Vampire  –  The  Requiem!  You  can  check  it  at
  http://www.worldofdarkness.com 
  •
  *Egypt, even fictional, had prostitution, slavery, and Aida. It perished!
  •
  *Some  mistakes  are  misconceptions/lies  of  the  character,  others  of  the  author.  Or
  psychological tricks by an ill-educated part time moron? ;-)
  •
  *An overdose of pseudo history spoils fantasy role-playing for sure. History had no WoD,
  fantasy does.
  •
  *This file has nothing to do with the real world Temple of Set, which was founded by Mr.
  Aquino. Further I did never and do not have any allegiance to this, or any other real world cult. 
  •
  *My what valiant poultry! Animal Farm reloaded? From the jade dragon empire comes the
  avenging crusader – gung ho chicken! Swiftly followed by swine flu the pathogen empire presses the
  attack???
  •
  Special Thanks to the “Danse macabre – London by Night Forum's Other Works of Fiction ”.
  Storing a copy there made the auto-correction help me more than all my teachers in school or at
  university ever did!!!  http://w11.zetaboards.com/DanseMacabre/index/ 
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  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
  Why did we pay for this?
  •
  Encouragement: I am among the chosen few who survived a winter sleeping on
  the asphalt of our city AND made it back the legal way aka rent a new room due social-
  networking supporters, plus accepting minimum wage physical labor to get back into
  the workforce. 
  •
  Trauma-Bane: I was the ONLY bum who held up his empty coffee cup and NEVER
  got a coin. Plus: It is because I am a skinhead, they insisted I look like the type of guy
  lurking in ambush  with  a baseball bat. Well, I did not, I went the  legal way AND
  purchased a baseball bat by now.
  •
  To oppose rapists and forced prostitution. My own first offer was 15€. One other
  fellow bum of my own group was only offered 10€, but another started with 20€.
  •
  Respect: Because reading the licenses, working the formats and adding the logos
  and graphics properly is additional work. And the same is true on inviting higher skilled
  artists who's fiction I really read, and who can qualify for good contributions to the
  storytellers vault.
  •
  Honesty among adults: Mugging and robbery do become  necessities among
  survivors, when you are bureaucracy forced to stay urban, but run out of money while
  criminals, disease, weather, and accidents can nail you 24/7. Simple logic, if I run out of
  money, then I must get it the less pleasant ways. And this is a truism for all who went
  through the first 48 hours of being outcast. 
  •
  Because  capitalism  is  a  bitch  which  runs  like  that,  morons?  Alone  the
  legitimization to write their most negative review ever should mouth-water the troll
  hordes.  ;->  Damn,  it  did  not.  Just  learned  I  must  hire  some  reviewers  or  tempt
  customers. Honest ones do a factual review, while cheats and frauds are paid to give
  you better credit than deserved (the cheats vote 5 stars on 1 star crap, to make their
  money)...
  13
  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
  Bonus content – Because I am needy, not greedy!
  Vampire pride, variant 3
  © Andrè M. Pietroschek, all rights reserved
  The graveyard is our tomb hotel, with coffins for the poor.
  Bloodthirst, our primal urge, the one and only nightly cure!
  A predatory kinda revenant, as we arise from certain death.
  Defying God's dictum through our darker passions & wrath! 
  Our egos faced the scythe-bearer, and spit it into the face.
  Nocturn, smart, and elegant we scourges of their disgrace
  The graceful, stylish killers prowl, for we all yearned to be:
  Children of the bloodshed, each night we are breaking free.
  Prolonged life and feats of power, we pale the mortal fools.
  At day they are salary slaves, at night they bow to our rules.
  Mortality, once overcome, feels like a granny's horrid dream.
  See our undead existence cherished & indulged to an extreme.
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  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
  "Dysphoria"
  © Andrè M. Pietroschek, my rights reserved
  Dysphoria
  Why, why won't drug-highs last forevermore?
  Tonight, again, psychiatry has an open door…
  No, don’t ever stop doing that detox you do.
  Indeed, I am once more a crazed bitch to you
  Dysphoria
  Forever, ’till consequence demands its toll
  For now, I hide my wrecked state with a LOL
  We can't shut up-up-up-up-up-up-up
  Dysphoria
  A synapse carnival big bad mess
  Once more abuse of Crystal Meth
  We can't shut up-up-up-up-up-up-up
  Dysphoria
  We all are here, a new generation sacrificed for politics
  We are free, to celebrate our suicide with the sexy chics
  Lifelong together, we form the unwashed mob of scum
  We’re high, but know junkies've no true kingdom come
  Dysphoria
  Lifelong, I blame you for the strength to live in solitude
  For I ain't abusive, I am just another far-gone prostitute
  We can't shut up-up-up-up-up-up-up
  15
  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
  Dysphoria
  A dark twin, wickedly twisted from glamorous euphoria
  A stalker from Bedlam, not the holy 'deus ex machina'
  We messed it up-up-up-so-up-up-up
  Dysphoria
  Lifelong, we prowl the night as drug-crazed fiends
  Deluded, desperately pretending we're still friends
  Dysphoria, oh, dysphoria
  We fucked it up-up-up-so-up-up-up
  •
  Inspired by: http://allpoetry.com/poem/11664864-dysphoria-by-catbean-noguest
  •
  Form inspired by: Euphoria song lyrics as performed by Loreen. Each stanza gets
  "Dysphoria" as headline, below that it has the following number of contextual lines 4-3-
  3-4-3-3-2 plus a final two line resume. Calling Dysphoria like a dark goddess was my
  personal whim.
  •
  Context  inspired  by:  Mourning  the  lost  friends,  schoolmates,  girlfriends  and
  neighbors, onwards from my childhood in the 70's of last century (heroine & trips), from
  disco-fever to the cocaine craze of the early 90's and that Crystal Meth wrecking up so
  much faster...   
  •
  "But what does 'dysphoria' mean? http://www.thefreedictionary.com/dysphoria 
  16
  True Brujah (Order #12592520)
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Storyteller [multi]/EXTRA/Fiction/Storyteller Vault Fictiion/Poison_what_you_cant_conquer_-_Vault_edition (2).pdf