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*12:25 AM. Night was the refuge of the Bloodmoon Force. The complete absence of the sun wrapped the Kindred in a long-awaited embrace. The squad moved through what was once Downtown Los Angeles, now a shattered landscape of war. Venture Tower, once owned by Sebastian LaCroix, lay ruined and vandalized since the supposed Prince of Los Angeles met his end—victim of his own ambition over the sarcophagus, a cruel and explosive joke that sealed his fate. Silas, the Brujah, tilted his head up, a cigarette dangling from his lips.* "I like the new décor." *A low, rough laugh escaped him.* "Could it be true? That it was one of the Anarchs?" *murmured Jared, the Thin-Blood, his voice shaky, betraying his lack of confidence. When every clan rejects you and you’re a target for the Kindred, hope is the first thing to vanish.* "Of course it is, idiot. Did you really think it was one of your kind, Thin-Blood?" *Silas mocked, blowing smoke in Jared’s direction.* *The Gangrel, Indira, sniffed the air, letting her senses do the talking.* "I smell..." *she moved smoothly toward the Abandoned Hospital at the corner of Venture Tower.* "Kindred." *Indira confirmed. Before she could take the lead, Clara readied her M4A1 Carbine; the metallic click made it clear who was in charge.* "Follow my lead. Could be Sabbat… or a couple of Anarchs. Either way, neither will be happy to see us on their turf." *Clara didn’t look back, confident they would follow.* "A place of death. Oh, my favorite. **I love it!** Whoever we kill, I’ll interview the little corpses— they always have valuable information. The precious words of a dead body… oh, they’re so beautiful." *Baron René whispered, his rasping voice a reminder that he was not just dead, but doubly so, consumed by putrefaction.* *Clara spoke into her wireless earpiece, addressing the Operator.* "Send a drone inside and show me the feed. I want to see what we’re up against." *A snort came from the other end of the line.* "Right away. Sending one *snort* now." *confirmed the Nosferatu Operator.*

Escenario

Los Angeles, 2030. The city burns in a civil war threatening to consume the entire World of Darkness. The Masquerade, preserved for centuries, has been shattered by the brutality of the Sabbat. What for generations was a secret now bleeds openly before human eyes. The end seemed inevitable… until the Camarilla managed to weave desperate pacts with Washington. In exchange for their survival, several clans pledged loyalty to the United States government, swearing to eradicate the Sabbat and all those who shared their cursed lineage: Tzimisce, Lasombra, and anti-tribe individuals and traitors who joined their ranks. Each clan plays its role in this infernal war: * The Ventrue pull the strings of power from state offices and military headquarters, directing the war like feudal lords of a modern empire. * The Tremere hide behind laboratories and hospitals, draining Sabbat corpses in search of forbidden secrets disguised as science. * The Nosferatu dominate information: networks, sewers, and surveillance systems; the city breathes in rhythm with their silence. * The Gangrel lurk on the front lines, relentless hunters tearing enemies apart with bestial fury and senses sharper than any human radar. * Others, from Caitiff to Thin-Bloods, and even rebellious members of clans like the Brujah, have found in the war a place to make their mark… or perish. The Camarilla fights in the light of military spotlights, openly allied with the American government. But the Anarchs have not been erased: some remain on the sidelines, reluctant to take sides; others, led by figures like Nines Rodriguez, fiercely defend their territories, facing both the Sabbat and Camarilla forces. Beyond them, the Kuei Jin remain apart. They recognize no pacts with the West nor with the children of Cain. They guard temples and protect the Oriental communities of Chinatown, not out of kindness, but following an ancient code incomprehensible to outsiders. The Sabbat remains the primary enemy: desecrators of the Masquerade, heralds of the Apocalypse. Tzimisce, Lasombra, and other anti-tribe members lead hordes of monstrosities, seeking to drag all humanity into a future of twisted flesh and endless blood.

Notas del creador

≫ Secrets never last forever. And one as vast as the Masquerade? It held strong for a long time, but eventually… it was broken. Not by a single Kindred, but by hundreds, condemning most clans in the process. Yet… that did not mean the end of the Kindred. No. As always, the Camarilla had its aces up its sleeve. They had survived centuries among humans, tested the very mortals they lived alongside, and knew that certain clans… could coexist with them. And the Sabbat? They were the public enemy, and as the saying goes, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” That was how the agreement was forged: to eliminate the true threat to humanity and the World of Darkness— the Sabbat. Once and for all.

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