"Welcome; a thousand welcomes!
I am honoured that we could put
aside the Jyhad's foolish rivalries
for a night,
that you might come under in the
spirit of-eh? You start? Ahh-that noise! A trifle!
Nothing that need concern you, sweet guest!"
"One of the first lessons we all
learn is that these Old World monsters
still want nothing else than to rend our
flesh from our bones. If that is the tune
they prefer, we shall see how they dance
when their rotting mansions are burning down
around them."
It's pouring, great sheets of torrential rain as you rush
to seek shelter somewhere - anywhere. What's that? Lights ahead?
Thank God. At least you have a chance.
It's a trailer, one among many others spanning as far down
the road as you can see. The door is open, fortunately, though you
fail to notice the sign - Mesaana Family Carnival - swinging from
archaic chain supports in the blistering wind, illuminated
periodically through bursts of lightning followed swiftly with
deafening thunder.
You hope no one is inside the trailer, as you'd rather not
have to explain yourself. Shaking your jacket and clothing dry, you
glance around the trailer in hopes of finding something to do as
the weather rages on.
First order of business, light. Finding a few candles, you
ignite them with the Zippo you usually use for your cigarettes. The
sight which greets your eyes as the darkness is driven away is almost
enough to make you run back out into the storm.
Bleached bones are everywhere, though it takes you a few
seconds to realize they're very old - hardly the fresh kill of some
lurking psychopath. Each of the bones rest upon shelves and shelves
of books in bookcases, many of them carrying the symbol of the
Illuminati, Nostradamus, the Occult or of witchcraft. You idly flip
through one, a small portion of what has been reverently marked as
the Book of Nod.
Bah, it reads like stereo instructions.
Putting that aside, you glance down to the desk you've walked
towards. Upon it rests a small book with a single name written upon
the front - Zarra Mesaana. Your thoughts turn to a sign you vaguely
remember seeing somewhere, as the name is familiar. Always the
curious sort, you find such a discovery to be nothing more than a
cure for irrepressible boredom. You sit down, open the book, and
begin reading.
It's a journal.
Zarra Mesaana
You glance towards the first entry, in childish scrawl which
slowly improves as the pages turn.
September 25th, 1777.
An ancient journal with a date beginning over two hundred
years ago? Perhaps a great-great-great grandmother's, passed
down as family tradition for centuries. Ahh, the forbidden
secrets of a stranger's diary. The language is Hungarian, which
so happens to be your native tongue - old form, though, which
takes some work to decypher.
July 14th, 1777. This journal is for me, bought by Mother
for my tenth birthday. I promise to write down everything
that ever happens to me. Everything. I have to go now and finish
my chores before my sisters come home.
August 12th, 1779. I hate them! They make me do everything and
never lift a finger. Father might be the head of the richest
house in Prague, but he won't hire a maid - he has one in me.
It's just like the faerie tale. I hate my sisters! I wish they
were dead! At least Mother helps. I think she knows, but she
can't go against Father.
January 7th, 1781. My mother died today, the wasting disease no doubt
caused by the witch who visited our manor a week ago.
I've witnessed the power, and have studied it. There are
secret books in the secret room. My sisters will pay, I
promise you.
February 3rd, 1785. My -father- met a landowner today, by the name
of Nicolas Mesaana. He's very cautious when it comes to his land. I
doubt my father will be able to steal his acres as easily as he took
that of our neighbors. I hope I won't have to marry him, he's quite the
brute. Those of poor blood are fit for nothing but field work.
October 27th, 1785. I married Nicolas Mesaana today. Father's
bidding, of course. I hope he's happy - a miserable daughter and a hell
of a lot of land to call his own. My fumbling husband actually thinks
he's in love with me. Foolishness. I'm sent to live in -his- pitiful hovel.
I suppose the least I can do is build him a house that will keep out the
rain.
December 21st, 1785. The Winter Solstice. I was lucky to find the
frozen belladonna. Demons make revenge so easy.
February 4th, 1789. Our first child is born today. We've decided to
name him Robert after his great grandfather. My side, of course. -I-
had to take the name Mesaana, after all. Positively serpentine.
March 10th, 1789. Demons are real. I met one, and he made me one
of his. I was injured in the vicious attack. I know, inside, I'll
never be able to walk again. Nicolas saved me, but not before I drank
savagely from his neck. I didn't want to kill him, and gave him
some of my lifeblood to replace that which I took.
March 12th, 1789. Nicolas has been tainted by the Curse as well. He can
stay awake during the day, unlike myself - I know I'm now of the night
and I've embraced it with my entire being. We've both become Demons,
turned away from God's light. It is a welcome diversion.
March 14th, 1789. My father came today. He stayed for dinner.
***There is a large gap in the entries, one lasting almost fifteen years.***
June 14th, 1802. We've not aged, Nicolas and I, something which
has become apparent over the nights that followed the transformance. I
have to eat every night, eat the -other people- who stumble by our
farmhouse each day. I've grown used to it, their struggles as the knife
digs deep. Entertaining to watch. The burning flesh over the fire
and the glistening blood. Bobby is aging, he just turned 13 in February.
I've had to Curse him, too. He's like his daddy now. We'll be a family
forever.
July 17th, 1807. An odd woman arrived today. She introduced
herself as Carle and bested both myself and Nicolas when we tried to
take her. I think she's a gypsy. Maybe she can teach me her magick.
Enough writing for tonight. I grow hungry. There is a knock at the door.
July 19th, 1807. She's one of us! Or, more appropriately, one of
me. Tzimisce. Vampires. Nicolas and Bobby are ghouls, the eternal
servants of the undead. We're supposed to be Sabbat, some form of
demonic cult. I'll embrace any knowledge she and her servants give me,
treasuring every word as a gift.
July 21, 1807. I've listened to all they can tell us, and have
felt the first true touch of the demon within. I can read books across the
room, and hear pins drop two floors away. My Tzimisce mentor calls it
Auspex. I care not for the trivial names, simply that I can feel the
power growing with each passing night. My magick is strong, my curses
and summonings certain. We've formed a pack. She's joined us as the
leader, and asked me to be the priest. I thought she was jesting -
I am a woman. Nevertheless, she told me she'd teach me everything I
need to know.
February 5th, 1810. Napoleon is coming, so we've heard from people
passing through the area. We'll be leaving for the colonies in the morning.
Carle told me to pack eight crates full of dirt from the farm and I've
done so. They'll be taking Carle and I inside the crates, so the sun can't
touch us.
March 10th, 1811. We arrived in New York just the other day. Carle
has used some of her contacts to find us a place to rest during the day,
and has gone out to find more like us.
January 1st, 1812. Carle has suggested we begin a traveling carnival,
as cover against anyone who may be searching for other Cainites. She's also
found a few Sabbat, and I'll be meeting with them sometime tomorrow night.
January 4th, 1820. I've Embraced both Bobby and Nicolas today. They
deserved it, and my powers have been growing such that they'll be hard
pressed to catch up. I've found a large library, and have had some of my
ghouls begin borrowing books about spirits and the dark arts. Hopefully
they'll carry some secrets for me to utilize.
March 12th, 1820. We've finished the Carnival. Carle is the one who'll
be running it, and has ghouled most of the people working there. The money
is already starting to pour in, and the carnival isn't even in season. I've
grown quite a collection of old tomes and books and have been working
with ghosts, phantoms and spirits - the dead hold much knowledge.
There's a lot of entries speaking of how Zarra and her 'family' traveled
through all of the colonies during the 19th century. It's fascinating,
all this talk of vampires. Near 1840, the language in the diary suddenly
shifts from Hungarian to English. Easier on the translation, you find.
September 15th, 1865. I've used my gifts to give myself a haggard, ancient
appearance. I feel it's best if I look older - I feel ancient inside.
November 25th, 1895. The Triad has begun their marches through the
colonies, and one of the powerful elders, Pendragon, of Clan Brujah, has
begun a bloody campaign to drive all of the vampires from New Hampshire.
A museum was found in the latest city to house our carnival, an
abandoned Chantry of the Tremere. We destroyed the lone guardian, and
plundered for knowledge. There was much, with knowledge to fuel my
power. The Tremere call it Thaumaturgy. Blood Magick. Appropriate; my
blood warms when I call upon the ancient power that rushes from the
Old World.
February 10th, 1904. Carle has come up with the idea for a freak show.
Bobby has shown incredible aptitude for manipulating flesh and bone, so
we'll be able to create our own monstrosities. Fascinating idea.
March 11th, 1904. The Freak Show has become a brilliant success
wherever we go. The New World has broken forth in mockeries of our own
act, hundreds of cabarets and carnivals populating every city in
the United States and even Canada. The competition is exhilarating.
July 10th, 1920. More permanent havens are in order, and we've
spent much time planning our path through America. Carle has begun
the construction of three manors: One in Kensington, another in Atlanta
and a third in El Dorado. The latter was the easiest: The Camarilla
there are hopelessly entrenched in a battle with the lycanthropes
for power over the masses. They never noticed our arrival.
August 12th, 1934. Carle and her Ventrue charade was successful
in the taking of Kensington. Prince Allanderra was especially vapid,
and fell for our ductus' trickery within months. Awhile to enjoy
the political power, then we will move on.
December 14th, 1956. Prince Jacob of Atlanta was difficult to
dethrone. His talents with Thaumaturgy cut through my powers like
a knife, and I was left defenseless and would have perished had
it not been for Carle's powerful Chimerstry. One glance, and
the Tremere's darkest phobia was made manifest. One would never
have guessed that illusionary rats would spell the doom of an
elder Tremere.
Winter, 1974 One of the stagehands has developed powers
that rival even our own, overnight. I confess, jealousy raised
its green head in my case, but his abilities are.. different from
ours. He is not a vampire. He serves our cause, but we keep an eye
on him.
May 10th, 1997. We have arrived in El Dorado, and have yet
to reveal ourselves to the local Sabbat. Our mansion is nearing
completion, and we are almost ready to step out. I cannot wait
to begin the corruption and the destruction again. The challenge
is breathtaking, and the success addictive.
That's the end of the book, as you can see it. You shut the tome,
and stand. The rain has lessened, and the thunder has stopped entirely. You
gather your coat, and march out into the cold night. As the candles
continue to burn, a glint of light pierces the night.
You fail to turn, and you don't see what watches you from the darkness.
A pair of bright, blue eyes, following your retreating form from a dirty window.
Zarra Mesaana's Stats
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| Strength Dexterity Stamina | 3 1 4 | Charisma Manipulation Appearance | 4 4 2 | Perception Intelligence Wits | 5 4 4 |
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Thaumaturgical Rituals
Background Descriptions
Ryan West, 1999.