Everything

“But for those like us, our fate is to face the world as orphans, chasing through long years the shadows of vanished parents.”

Foundlings in the Woods

I didn’t ask for this. Will that help my case in any way, Sheriff?

No. I didn’t think so. It never does with my kind.

Would it make you feel better if I told you I understand? No, really, I do. I’m not easily categorized, so you don’t know what to expect from me. I must look like a caged animal or a vagrant to you. The word Caitiff means “contemptible,” did you know that? Put yourself in my shoes, if you can. The whole world is stacked against you. The last thing you need to do is pick a fight. You just want to get from night to night like anyone else. Just pull through and make something of this... strangeness.

I’m sorry. I ramble. I was a college professor before this happened. History and ethnocryptology. Puzzling things out was always my hobby. Filing in the blanks. That’s probably why my sire chose me for the Embrace. She was Caitiff, too. Taught me a great deal about the Kindred. Quite a blessing for a Clanless. She’s been dead for... sixty years next Tuesday. Slaughtered by the Sabbat, of all things. The ones who claim their Panders are equals. She was smarter than that, stood with the Camarilla to repel the siege. The Prince took pity on me for her sake and only exiled me. I suppose I’m lucky. I might believe it more if this kind of interview didn’t keep happening, but you are listening, at least, and for that, I’m grateful.

This is strange for you, isn’t it? To speak with a Caitiff who knows about his place, his station, who is well spoken and not another seemingly homeless foundling? There’s quite a few of us, yet it seems the only ones who get noticed are those who stumble from place to place, standing at the edge of the Camarilla looking in. I once met a Caitiff fledgling who thought vitae was a brand of wine. Perhaps that’s just because they are the outlier balance, the ones who know how to stay alive, but not how to blend in and thrive. What few those are.

As to what I’m doing here, I have made it my mission to better understand my Clan… well, my lack of Clan. The society of those outside society. It’s one hell of a puzzle. Kind of a lost world. I like filling in those blanks. If you’re curious, I’d be happy to share what little I’ve learned, or at least the bullet points. You’re interested? Splendid.

The Uniformity of Individuals

It’s a mistake to think we have a much of a shared history beyond shared troubles. To most Kindred, Caitiff aren’t so much people as they are events, the way an accident doesn’t have a name, just a solution. Caitiff becomes a verb. A hated, hated verb. The closest any of us come to having an identity is when we make a real mess of things. Sort of like hurricanes, I suppose.

While Caitiff are uniform in their lack of Clan distinctions, they do fall into two basic categories: the Clanless, and those who failed to develop into their Clans. Clanless are often the result of impulse Embraces. A vampire feeds too deeply, falls in love, or frenzies, and has two realizations too late. The first is guilt, leading them to give some of their blood to the victim. The second comes a moment later, as they realize what they have done and all that comes with it. An unsanctioned Embrace is grounds for Final Death in many cities. Others are more scared of the responsibility they have taken upon themselves, unwilling or unable to support a thirsty young vampire.

Most of these Caitiff awaken with no sign of their sire, never to know who stole their life and gave them damnation. Some are lucky to have a sire remain just long enough to explain the barest basics of what they have become before warning them to run. These have the advantage of a little insight into their change, but pose a threat to their sire, whom they can identify; leaving them with a potential foe should the sire ever reconsider their earlier mercy. Perhaps more perilously, the sire’s foes may try to use the Caitiff in their power games, making them the target of more Kindred power plays that they do not understand.

The other kind of Caitiff is one whose blood fails to develop the nature of their sire’s Clan. For some Caitiff, this change can go unremarked, often for years, particularly if the Clan is one which has otherwise unremarkable qualities – a Toreador, Brujah, or Ventrue, for example. However, all Clans have ways of ferreting out the Clanless among them: a Toreador with potent supernatural insight, a Brujah who doesn’t see passion in their erstwhile Clanmate, a supposed Ventrue who cannot trace their genealogy. Malkavians can sense the madness in others, while Nosferatu know their progeny by mere sight. I have heard Gangrel can smell the difference, while the Tremere probably have some mystical means of discovering the full nature of any vampire. The Sabbat and the independents no doubt have their own methods as well.

An Army of Nobodies

From what I can tell, there are no definitive records of notable Caitiff until the end of World War II, though there are some mentions of Clanless like the Stoneman here and there across the centuries. Only rumors, of course. By all accounts, the Stoneman was a Caitiff of great power, possessing many forbidden — even novel — supernatural abilities. They say he, if it is a he, defends and educates Caitiff, but his goals are the stuff of pure conjecture. I’ve interviewed a few Caitiff who claim to have learned from him, or even that he sired them. It’s difficult to know the truth of it. The legends about him are on par with urban myth, stories of unique abilities, a trail of bloodlines, the ability to take new forms on a whim. For all I know, he is simply part of a Malkavian prank, a Ravnos con, or even some Autarkis Tzimisce with a plan of its own. In the absence of history and culture, rumor and myth take on new significance. Any stone to cling to in a storm, yes?

I’m sorry, where was I? Ah, yes, the Second World War. Around that time there was a bit of a population boom for the Kindred, most notably among the Caitiff. Quite a few Clanless are victims of the war whose sires gave them a second chance, such as it is. Others, I suspect, were Embraced, but lost their sires in the violence before learning about their Clan and heritage. Some ascribe this sudden rise in number to vampires making use of the confusion or getting caught up in the celebration.

There are particular themes I see repeatedly during this period. Several Caitiff I have interviewed spoke of the same sire, an Italian, who took great pains to fortify her position against what she saw as a second coming of the Inquisition. Her fear inspired her to rapidly Embrace quite a few expendable conscripts. Some she sent away, telling them only enough to help them survive for a time, as they would drag would-be vampire hunters after them and away from her. Others she kept like hunting hounds, starved of blood but for the barest animal sustenance, or staked in a crypt, paralyzed until she might need to unleash them against her enemies in a frenzy of hunger and pain.

Ominous Whispers

Of greater concern, I’ve seen evidence of cults that take action to hasten Gehenna. None of the Caitiff involved learned any details sufficient to unmask them beyond the snatches of glyphs or phrases in passing. From their testimony, I can hypothesize a few things. They have a vested interest in awakening the eldest of our kind, which these deluded Caitiff hope will please them. In this way, they might serve them instead of becoming victims of their thirst. Worse, it seems there are multiple organizations pursing this end. I have found mention of an “Imperial Order,” “Bahari,” “Edenic Groundskeepers,” and other such strangeness that fails to yield any tangible results, but I am hopeful.

Of all the aspects of prejudice I have seen towards the Clanless, this bears the most weight. None point to a single Clan as harbingers of Antediluvians and their apocalyptic hungers. Which is not a little ironic, considering the Camarilla’s patent denial of the existence of Antediluvians. I have always hoped to study Noddist texts to gain a better understanding, but no one affords Caitiff such honors. I stand before you today because I asked a Malkavian scholar of this city for just such an opportunity, which she took quite... poorly.

May I see my journal? The one you confiscated along with my other things. I was writing down what she was ranting at me when you came to collect me. Thank you. My memory is not what it once was.

“Clanless, all, they will know secret ways! Clanless, all, they are Lilith’s foul get. Clanless, all, they are newly awake. Clanless, all! No family, no sign, no loyalty, no elder!”

Is that from the Book of Nod? No? Ah, you are above such superstition. Yes, of course. Still, it does have that poetic rhythm of the theological and prophetic, doesn’t it? Very much like an omen. I wonder what they mean by “secret ways?” This mention of Lilith is obviously in relation to Old Testament creation myths or even Mesopotamic lore. But then, who can tell with Malkavians? Honestly, I have no idea how they manage to gain more respect than we do. I’m sorry; I hope you are not Malkavian. I mean no offense.

The Rise of the Clanless

The next major event in recent Caitiff history is in the late ‘50s, when Joseph Pander managed to gain legitimacy for the Clanless in the Sabbat. Hmm? No, absolutely not. I loved my sire very much, and I have no sympathy whatsoever for those deluded fools. Pander is less a Clan and more of a rank: that of cannon fodder. Pure folly, but it proved that at least one political entity might be convinced to take us seriously. All the worse for all involved that it is the Sabbat and not the Camarilla.

There have been several attempts made in the Ivory Tower, of course, most notably the one led by Alexi Darba in 1973. Of course, you know how that ended, likely better than I do. I only know that no one ever heard from them again. Rumor says Justicars became involved, a rather telling response if the Clanless are so beneath notice. But then, rumor is only rumor, and it would not be the first time Caitiff claimed greater legitimacy by exaggerating. Legends are the lifeblood of hope for the hopeless, and there are few so bereft of hope as a Caitiff.

There are, of course, other legends. As I understand, the supposed first vampire Caine sired at least the progenitors of the thirteen Clans, but there is some speculation as to whether there were others. Some Caitiff like to think they are the descendants of these “lost Clans,” or even that they are closer to Caine than any vampire with a Clan is. After all, we seem to be equally inclined towards all the preternatural gifts Kindred exhibit, and display no trademark weaknesses that are the most telling marks of Clan lineage. Perhaps that is another reason to fear us.

Now here we are, present day, with the Clanless population on the rise and the Sheriffs and Scourges working overtime to control them. However, exile only works so many times, with so many knocking on the door. Must seem like more every time. A slowly growing legion of Masquerade violations waiting to happen, or fresh recruits for the Sabbat, since the Camarilla doesn’t want us.

A Confederacy of Bastards

Organization? Surely you are joking. As I said, congregations of Caitiff tend to be dispersed, whether a coterie for protection or a political movement. We are alone in this world, removed even from the isolated society of Kindred. Unless, of course, we want to join the Sabbat, but I have explained my thoughts on this. So no, we aren’t organized, but we can be categorized.

City Trash

Vampires are suited to the city. We are no exception. Plentiful prey, numerous havens, anonymity, and the company of others who share our nature, even if they reject us. If I may be so bold, my position as an outsider might give me some perspective you lack, and it tells me that after the grand aims of the Camarilla or the Sabbat have been achieved for the night, all their parties and politics are nothing more than hollow excuses to spend time with other people who might understand them. Kindred crave understanding, and mortals cannot, indeed must not, understand us.

So what happens to the outcasts from the outsiders? I’ve seen many a Sheriff who fills a quiet night by keeping tabs on Caitiff like me, or pushing them around. Indeed, we make for an excellent resource. I daresay we fulfill a critical niche in our social ecology. We serve as scapegoats for the machinations and mistakes of legitimate Kindred, or examples to prove the strength and dominance of more powerful vampires. A Caitiff is not the omega in the pecking order, but the varlet, the whipping boy in the social stratification of unspoken Kindred castes.

For those who just want to get along, banding together is a natural move. A coterie of Caitiff can keep watch for each other, stand up for one another, offer companionship and someone to care when every other shoulder turns cold. Some even manage to carve out a little piece of the city for themselves, usually the places no other Kindred would bother with. Places like the city barrens, the worst slums, the kind that have no profit and poor hunting. The Prince generally only allows this if she doesn’t want to disperse the rabble, but still wants to keep them out of the way. Of course, when that little reservation of Caitiff domain comes to the interest of any legitimate Kindred with a Clan, they have to make way. Not that this is very a difficult task for any accomplished Caitiff; making the best of things is a way of unlife for the Clanless. Unfortunately for them, those bands who associate with each other are usually broken up before they can become a potential threat to the peace. A Sheriff can claim they are anything from diablerists to being Sabbat spies, and no one will speak for them.

Others opt to climb the totem pole the hard way. There is always use for a Kindred who is willing to do the dirty jobs no one else wants, and no one sees the need to recognize a Caitiff’s deeds past throwing them negligible scraps of power, scant instruction, meager resources, or fulfilling some minor boon any other vampire would laugh at. A canny Prince can make use of these desperate Caitiff, and as years pass, those who manage to succeed time and again may gain some modicum of reputation, if not respect, for getting the job done. I recall a Sheriff who kept the city’s Caitiff as Hounds. She collected the credit for all their work, but she took good care of them with hunting rights and havens. A short leash in a gilded cage. Their lot is never equal to that of so-called real Kindred, but constant striving builds skill and will, and these Caitiff can prove canny agents and opponents. They’ll fight for what little they have with all they’ve got.

The alternative is the Anarchs, who still may look down on Caitiff, but it’s less of a handicap. As self-declared outcasts, Anarchs sometimes appreciate the inherent freedom of a Caitiff’s nature. They’re still a step down until they prove what they are capable of, but I’ve always found the Anarch States far more hospitable than the Camarilla, and infinitely more so than the Sabbat. Why don’t I stay there? Frankly, the Anarchs tend to make poor historians. There’s less of the culture I prize. In addition, if I were offered the opportunity to enjoy equal rights under the Camarilla, I would enjoy its citizenship. For now, the best I can do is to make a good impression.

What legitimate Kindred least expect is the power in perceived weakness. A Caitiff can use the underestimation of others to take them by surprise. Our ability to learn a variety of abilities without the limits of a Clan can make us versatile, particularly in combat. Similarly, no one expects us to be clever, and those who play the games of power well enough can reap unexpectedly rich rewards with no one the wiser. Of course, this is a rarity, and against the Machiavellian acumen of elders, most Caitiff who play this most dangerous game are punished for their audacity, or co-opted into becoming effective pawns.

Small Town Prince

Some Caitiff opt out of the city scene. It’s no small wonder. Others hunt us just for existing, and without claim to domain and no Clan to back us up, there are slim pickings for feeding, havens, and opportunity. But the wilderness is werewolf country, and a vampire is going to need humans. So, they pull up stakes and make for the suburbs or small towns, places outside the domain of a Prince or Bishop and, being the only vampire around, declare themselves Prince of whatever backwater they choose.

It doesn’t sound very glamorous, does it? Perhaps not, compared to the ritzy parties and late-night thrills of the metropolis, but for the Caitiff who is tired of others pushing him around, tired of being left out and spit upon, it can be a real relief to be the one calling the shots. It doesn’t take too long to get the feel of a small burg, and blood bonds can quickly take over the key members of society, ensuring control over the police, politics, businesses, doctors, and even local gossips. The Caitiff Prince gets first pick of the feeding with no competition. They can build a nice little unlife of comfort and ease if they play their cards right, living better than they ever have before.

So why aren’t more Caitiff doing this? Because there is a reason vampires stick to cities. Little towns rest in the midst of werewolf wilderness, and the wolves will happily hunt down a lone undead with no protection. Sabbat nomad packs on their way to cities may stop for rest and recruitment, and decide the Caitiff would make a good conscript, sport, or food. Perhaps least expected, though, are the mortal hunters. Small towns have very close-knit communities, and the wandering watcher from the church or even a paranoid mortal can spot the signs of vampiric manipulation and predation.

The most common, and indeed predictable, end of a Caitiff’s reign is their own carelessness. Most Caitiff are not given proper instruction in the use of their powers, restraint of the Beast, or the practice of the Masquerade, to say nothing of managing ghouls or mortal politics. Some grow drunk on their power, while others let hunger take hold. Some Caitiff develop strange habits and needs, and in a small town, it’s easy for word to get around fast. There are no shadows to hide in, no crowds to vanish into, and no Camarilla to clean up the mess. The human mass is not isolated in herds as it is in the city. It is a living community, and the vampire is a parasite. Once they reveal their nature, simple human action can be the end of the lone Kindred.

However, for some few who manage to learn the ropes and keep their heads down, rulership of a little fief is a peaceful existence. With time, they can build resources, educate themselves in the use of their abilities, and gain an understanding of how to manipulate mortals for their own security and comfort. These ones can pose a threat to an itinerant coterie or pack that strays into their territory, or may prove to be an ally who can offer shelter far from the intrigues of the city.

Exile

Back in the larger cities, not every Prince is so accommodating as to allow Caitiff in their city. While some might execute the Kindred outright, most will simply tell the misbegotten undead that their kind are not welcome, and tell them to leave immediately. City after city, these Caitiff meet closed doors guarded by Sheriffs more than willing to pound the message into them. The path of exile is as good as a death sentence. Most meet their ends at the claws and teeth of werewolves, while others starve, frenzy, or get absorbed into the Sabbat.

Those who do manage to survive usually go about it in one of two ways. The first is to become a nomad. While vampires are generally creatures of territory and security, a nomad takes their life in their hands wherever they go. Some ride the rails, while others hitchhike, gaining transport and a meal for their troubles. Others opt for a secure means of travel, like a camper or a car with a generous trunk. These Caitiff often recruit a ghoul to drive them by day. Some adopt a shipping route, making a little money as they journey in the cab of a freight truck. Strangely enough, these are the ones a Prince is most likely to accept for a brief time, as they do not ask for residency and can offer their services as messengers, couriers, or agents provocateur. A vampire on the go is harder to track, and can get up to all kinds of mischief before authorities, human or Kindred, can catch up to them. This is, of course, dependent on the Caitiff proving they are not a Sabbat agent. Not an easy task, but one some Clanless consider worthwhile for the chance to earn feeding rights and training in their abilities.

The other option is solitude in the wilds. These vampires rarely survive in any sense of the word. With little in the way of shelter, a diet primarily consisting of animal blood, and no company, their already tenuous grip on their morality wavers and decays. Instinct and the Beast claim more of the conscious mind in the Caitiff’s struggle just to survive. What seems to come naturally to the Gangrel is a hard-won skill for us. Only the most exceptional of Clanless adapt to this existence. For the rest, there is only the descent into madness and feral hunger until death from a mistake or a foe beyond their power to defeat and consume. Imagine that. The only place you can be safe is near those who despise you.

That’s why I’m not afraid of you, Sheriff. Maybe it would have been better if my sire had just killed me that night, because I have stared death and rejection in the eye more times than you will ever have to imagine. I know I’m dead. Maybe it’ll be you that kills me, or maybe another Sheriff, another Prince, another city. All I can do is promise my loyalty to the Camarilla, try to make it through another night, and find some kind of answers until then, so this will all have meant something.

That is what it is to be Caitiff.

So, what will it be, Sheriff? The stake and the sun, or exile?

Character and Traits

Concepts

The Disappointment

The process of choosing a potential neonate is not undertaken lightly, as the right to sire progeny is a great boon. Vampires who wish to sire progeny watch and even groom prospective childer for the Embrace. When such an exceptional specimen fails to mature into their Clan, it reflects poorly on both the Caitiff and the sire. So your creator has forsaken you, but you have some insight into Kindred politics and your own exceptional skills to call upon. Will you try to regain their love and trust, strike out on your own, or take vengeance on them for abandoning you?

Small Town Punk

You didn’t plan on becoming some kind of freaky goth in the middle of Bumblefuck, Nowhere, but the vampire who decided you’d make a nice midnight snack while passing through didn’t leave you much choice. It was sheer luck you bit into him as he drained you. That taste of blood carried you back to life when he exsanguinated you, and your hunger frenzy stole back every drop and more. You’ve got an idea of what you are, based on Netflix and young adult novels, so now you’re wondering if his friends are going to come looking for him. Maybe it’s time to run. Or maybe you should take over the town and set a trap...

Mongrel Hound

Sometimes you get dealt a shit hand in life, and the only thing to do is see it through. No job without experience, no experience without a job. Why should it be different for vampires? Well, you’ve got all the time in the world, now, so you look at this as an internship. Do a good job under the Sheriff maintaining the Masquerade and being her brute squad, and maybe you’ll get to move up in the world.