Post by Ben Vaughan on Nov 30, 2012 0:27:59 GMT -8
New to the Game
by Francis
I can honestly say that I have had the idea of going Anarch rattling around in my head for about fifteen years.
And I've only been a lick for a year.
I know! So young, so inexperienced, so shiny! You can bet those Cammie fucks were circling and waiting!
But they weren't. I was still Francis, the ghoul. I kept notes of their meetings, observed their inner workings, and kept my head down - Much like I had for 60 years.
What had changed? Pretty simple really. I got the bite and the Bond broke. Suddenly I could, well, see the lies. I didn't have that absolute love for the things my Sire had sacrificed his own honor to serve. I was, simply, free. King Madsen, yes, that King Madsen, had warned me of this; yet I hadn't understood. I couldn't understand; it was impossible to understand with that love and panic-ridden loyalty snaking through my every fiber.
Keep in mind guys, I'm still not your typical Anarch. I don't hate the Cam, far from it. I'm just a realist who could see that once the hood of the Bond was removed all the rot that had crept into the base of that Ivory Tower. I recognize what the Camarilla has done for Vampires, and, believe it or not, for everything it has done TO the Anarchs. It has done things for them too.
Yeah, I know, not a real popular opinion I'm guessing, but hey, fuck it. I'm new.
Back to my own thing: No one was interested in getting their hooks into me. The guys in Seattle don't think that way. Madsen does, fyi, and a few of the Cammies do, a couple of Elders I won't name, but they are for the most part bored socialites who like to make pretty or hardened warriors with the ability to navigate political waters the same way the Titanic could get by an iceberg. Get this: They don't even really hold to their Prestation on a formal level. My sire helped change some of that, but for the longest time it seriously was 'You are a buddy of mine, have stuff!' and 'Okey dokey!'. They don't even use the ledger! Favors, faugh! We are friends!
Serious guys. I've spent time in London. This is so far outside the Camarilla norm that they wouldn't even believe it and I can assure you no one from Seattle who happened to be there would push so 'ridiculous' a story. Should they do so it would be treated as a horror story told around a campfire.
But there I was, new, lost in the woods as it were. Helped along by my Sire's choice of Protector, Dr. Longfellow. He was charging my sire out the ass so I knew he was legit. But even as the Chamberlain, even having access to the Primogen Meetings on several occasions, even knowing the innermost workings of Clan Ventrue...
Nothing. Not a single poke, subtle blackmail, nothing. I was so disappointed... And then a Clanmate fucked me over! Aha! The game is afoot! Perchance... Nope. Just a flaming dick in my ass. No blackmail, no manipulation, just... Fucked. Then, then I knew what I had to do.
I had to come to you, the Anarchs. I had to bring you everything I am and could be. Because if the Camarilla, on such a basic level, can't massage a hand up your tail pipe, snap their fingers, and make you do the lambada, then my friends they slipped up. The Cam may slide a knife in your back, puppet strings in your head, or even love in your heart, but they don't just put a dick your ass; it gets them nothing. And that my friends told me that the Camarilla is stumbling.
Even so, a stumbling Camarilla can still crush Tacoma. So it behooves us to perchance prop them up a bit, to show them a slightly different path. As it is, as little they are beholden to the very concept of prestation, Domain, or Hospitality in Seattle I think it is safe to assume that they are more than halfway to our point of view. Come, my new family, my Brothers and Sisters, let us not bring the Sword to our unfortunate bretheren. Let us bring the Word.
by Francis
I can honestly say that I have had the idea of going Anarch rattling around in my head for about fifteen years.
And I've only been a lick for a year.
I know! So young, so inexperienced, so shiny! You can bet those Cammie fucks were circling and waiting!
But they weren't. I was still Francis, the ghoul. I kept notes of their meetings, observed their inner workings, and kept my head down - Much like I had for 60 years.
What had changed? Pretty simple really. I got the bite and the Bond broke. Suddenly I could, well, see the lies. I didn't have that absolute love for the things my Sire had sacrificed his own honor to serve. I was, simply, free. King Madsen, yes, that King Madsen, had warned me of this; yet I hadn't understood. I couldn't understand; it was impossible to understand with that love and panic-ridden loyalty snaking through my every fiber.
Keep in mind guys, I'm still not your typical Anarch. I don't hate the Cam, far from it. I'm just a realist who could see that once the hood of the Bond was removed all the rot that had crept into the base of that Ivory Tower. I recognize what the Camarilla has done for Vampires, and, believe it or not, for everything it has done TO the Anarchs. It has done things for them too.
Yeah, I know, not a real popular opinion I'm guessing, but hey, fuck it. I'm new.
Back to my own thing: No one was interested in getting their hooks into me. The guys in Seattle don't think that way. Madsen does, fyi, and a few of the Cammies do, a couple of Elders I won't name, but they are for the most part bored socialites who like to make pretty or hardened warriors with the ability to navigate political waters the same way the Titanic could get by an iceberg. Get this: They don't even really hold to their Prestation on a formal level. My sire helped change some of that, but for the longest time it seriously was 'You are a buddy of mine, have stuff!' and 'Okey dokey!'. They don't even use the ledger! Favors, faugh! We are friends!
Serious guys. I've spent time in London. This is so far outside the Camarilla norm that they wouldn't even believe it and I can assure you no one from Seattle who happened to be there would push so 'ridiculous' a story. Should they do so it would be treated as a horror story told around a campfire.
But there I was, new, lost in the woods as it were. Helped along by my Sire's choice of Protector, Dr. Longfellow. He was charging my sire out the ass so I knew he was legit. But even as the Chamberlain, even having access to the Primogen Meetings on several occasions, even knowing the innermost workings of Clan Ventrue...
Nothing. Not a single poke, subtle blackmail, nothing. I was so disappointed... And then a Clanmate fucked me over! Aha! The game is afoot! Perchance... Nope. Just a flaming dick in my ass. No blackmail, no manipulation, just... Fucked. Then, then I knew what I had to do.
I had to come to you, the Anarchs. I had to bring you everything I am and could be. Because if the Camarilla, on such a basic level, can't massage a hand up your tail pipe, snap their fingers, and make you do the lambada, then my friends they slipped up. The Cam may slide a knife in your back, puppet strings in your head, or even love in your heart, but they don't just put a dick your ass; it gets them nothing. And that my friends told me that the Camarilla is stumbling.
Even so, a stumbling Camarilla can still crush Tacoma. So it behooves us to perchance prop them up a bit, to show them a slightly different path. As it is, as little they are beholden to the very concept of prestation, Domain, or Hospitality in Seattle I think it is safe to assume that they are more than halfway to our point of view. Come, my new family, my Brothers and Sisters, let us not bring the Sword to our unfortunate bretheren. Let us bring the Word.