The Danse Macabre

The Danse Macabre is hated by a majority of Kindred, yet it is central to their requiems. They cannot escape it. Only final death or the life of a nomad can untie the knots that the Danse ties around one's neck, and the life of a nomad is as good as final death anyway.

The Kindred exist in an eternal state of distrust of one another. They constantly manipulate people and events around them in an effort to elevate themselves above their peers socially, politically, or even physically. The covenants wage their shadow wars against one another, striking at each other with a display of political or social cunning as often, if not more so, than they do with gunfire. The clans try to outdo one another whilst attempting to keep cohesion and unity amongst their number, carefully balancing personal beliefs and affiliations with the ties that run in the blood. And then there's the matter of age; The Neonates are the pawns of the Ancillae, and the Ancillae are the pawns of the Elders. Ambitious Neonates aim to break the mold, and the Elders fear that they too, are the pawns of some greater, older terror.

This, is the Danse Macabre. A game of power, and of status. A game few can escape.

Vampires live eternal, if they're lucky that is, and the schemes that they employ in the Danse need not pay off quickly; they have decades, centuries, or even millenia to see their intricate plans come to fruition. And each tiny little gesture in the nightly requiem, each seemingly insignificant action, could well be the key component of another's masterplan.

Still not paranoid, Fledgeling? You will be…or you will be ash.