Dorján has acted as Avus to his brood of Mekhet and their own fledglings, who now act as Regents over their own personal fiefs within Budapest, slowly becoming one with their territories. Curiously, the bloodline is so tied to Blood sympathy that it can be taught only to Kindred within two “relation” steps of the Avus: Dorján was able to teach his childer, whom he sired before creating the bloodline, to change their blood in the proper way, but he cannot teach it to an unrelated Mekhet. As such, the Család are confined to Hungary with the few who have left Budapest making their Fiefs in other cities of the region.

History and Culture:
Limited to the members of one family of Mekhet, the Család organize their overlapping domains as a microcosm of Kindred society with individuals deferring to older members of the bloodline. As an example, the vampire known as Janos holds the territory Dorján once held as Primogen in the “Bloody Meadow” district of Buda, despite that being within both his own sire’s territory and Dorján’s. Feeling crowded, some of the members of the family have made the journey out into Hungary and neighboring countries, where they have come into contact with other bloodlines of the region. Budapest is the largest city in the region, which suits these emigrants fine: in the smaller cities and towns they have only one or two other vampires with whom to contend, and many have entered into mutually-beneficial alliances with the native kindred.

Reputation:
Among the Ordo Dracul, the Család are an afterthought, though a deadly one on their home turf. None have made as much of an impression upon the Covenant as their Avus, so Lithopedia is noted as being “his” Discipline, not “theirs.” The rival Architects of the Monolith bloodline does not have the limitation on creating new members that the Család have, so has taken what it sees as its rightful niche except in Hungary. The bloodline has especially good relations with the Morotrophians, whom it regards as cousins in method.

Hecate’s daughters, chosen from the children raised in her cult, are, almost to a one, the most zealous believers in their “mother.”

History and Culture: Empusae make up the entire vampiric population of Hecate’s territory. They all live in the underground warrens and abandoned homes that have been claimed by the Queen of Ghosts. The covens that have spread to nearby cities tend to stick together in communal havens, for protective as well as religious reasons.

All Hecate’s daughters share a common animal feature— the legs of a goat—when they are in their true form. Beyond that, Hecate and her childer prefer young women who have experienced the oppression of men and are stronger for it. There is a certain tension in the set of their jaws, a hardness in their eyes, that melts when they go in for the kill.

Almost every Empusa belongs to Prytania’s flavor of the Circle of the Crone. Whether this is due to loyalty to their progenitor or simple sheltering is up for debate. Certainly the covens that have spread out to more urban environs will become more cosmopolitan, with unaligned members and even those who join the Ordo Dracul. Even still, the Circle will remain the most prominent Covenant among the bloodline, and those who turn their back on Prytania’s faith are often persuaded to return, or ostracized by their siblings.

Those of Hecate’s childer who have remained near her act as high priestesses of her cult. They oversee the education and rearing of Hecate’s favored stolen children and answer to Mother. The prodigal covens each have a high priestess in charge, and a number of initiates. A region’s Empusae gather once a month on the full moon for religious observance and feast. If a coven has grown too large—above thirteen members—then the high priestess will choose a second high priestess from her followers and split the coven in two. The new coven must then move to the next city, spreading the faith and the bloodline outward.

The ways in which Empusae doctrine mirrors Kindred society, from their odd little denomination of the Circle of the Crone to their observance of the Masquerade, are coincidental. Prytania Hecate and her children have never encountered another vampire. They do not understand vampiric slang or the feudal class system of mainstream Kindred society. They are ignorant of the etiquette required when a vampire enters another’s domain, or of the power of the Prince or Primogen. The do not even know they are descended from the Gangrel.

Altogether, there are only seven official Eupraxus vampires. Of the seven, three of them are in torpor, and have been for centuries. The remaining four are split between Europe and North America, one being the Prince of Nice, France, his childe being the leader of the Amsterdam Harpy’s Guild, with Herbert and Emily Washington being the American installment. The Old World Eupraxus are deeply traditional, to say the least, while the two New World Eupraxus are rapidly becoming the new, fresh face of an old and tired Covenant.

The truth is the regional Invictus need the Eupraxus. Like any nobility, it looks as if they don’t do much at all, and leech off the work of those around them. Certainly, that’s the Carthian impression of them. The reality is that the Eupraxus lend respectability and tradition to the admittedly underhanded, if not evil, activities of the First Estate. Sure you kill babies and grind their bones up into ink for your twisted magical documents, but you’ve got vampires like these who give your activities a glamorous gloss. Even better, when you’re not trying to act exactly like them, you can look and sound cool by saying you’re not like them. It’s a win-win situation for the Invictus: the Eupraxus lead easy lives and the Invictus get to use them as trophies. Much like the Crown Jewels of England or the Imperial Regalia of Japan, the Eupraxus are the core around which the rest of the treasury is piled.

History and Culture:
Different Eupraxus make wildly divergent claims about the line’s founder. Who he was isn’t all that important… the real secret to the success of the Eupraxus family name is that it exploits the Invictus’s pyramidal hierarchy. Every Invictus is sworn to another Invictus in what appears from the outside to be a ludicrous Ponzi scheme wherein the unholy walking corpses of pretty people in suits participate. And, like any Ponzi scheme, the process has to continue endlessly, both at the top and at the bottom. Since the Invictus elders and elites don’t really like being sworn to somebody anymore more than the Invictus at the bottom, a Eupraxus offers a convenient solution. Being sworn to the Eupraxus is being sworn to a family that won’t ever ask anything of you other than what you can already easily provide. Since there are so few Eupraxus, their cultural cache is undiluted, and it is by swearing to the Eupraxus that an Invictus mucky-muck can still claim to be sworn to somebody without having to swear to somebody who will actually ask something of them.

For the Invictus of the New World who still have connections to the Old, the Eupraxus are like a visit from missed relatives. Their impeccable manners and taste are the ideal of what the First Estate should be about, even if Emily looks a little, well, “different.” Being able to admit that the Invictus can be of any race or gender is terribly important in North America, especially if they are competing for turf with the far more inclusive Carthian Movement.

As for the Invictus on the bottom, the Eupraxus gives a special incentive to work hard. The name “Eupraxus” means “Doer of Good Deeds,” and neither Herbert nor Emily Eupraxus forget any favor. While they themselves are rarely in the position to repay a favor directly, all they need to do is point the correct elder in the correct direction and the reward is swiftly produced. And that’s assuming anything more than a bag of cash is required.

Since Herbert and Emily make “Progresses” around their region several times a year, word gets around. The Eupraxus never try to rally troops or make threats, but are generous with money and gossip. Combined with good manners, this buys them the rare privilege of travel throughout a half dozen cities.

As for joining the bloodline, one doesn’t “join.” Each Eupraxus is allowed one heir, and bastards are frowned upon, although common. Since bastards rarely know who they are, they rarely recognize the bloodline, even if they do manifest it. Allegedly, this has occurred only a handful of times in the two-millennia history of the family. Because of the system of direct lineage, the entire bloodline could be wiped out fairly easily, or, even worse, supposing one of those bastards did realize what he was, the lineage could be debased with undeserving nobodies. It’s not worth anybody’s time to make that happen right now, but the gossip would be fantastic.

Reputation:
Reputation is all the Eupraxus need. It’s also most of what they have. They have money, sure, they have connections and servants and several houses throughout upper New England. But it’s their reputation, the stories of vast rewards for aiding them, that keeps them in demand.

The Lancea Sanctum, which fancies itself the Second Estate, reacts to “Kindred nobility” the same way medieval clergy reacted to the aristocracy. They’re eager to be on hand to “bless” the proceedings when Emily and Herbert are around. The Circle of the Crone and the Ordo Dracul generally show up out of curiosity more than anything. As for the Carthian Movement, opinion is torn. Emily, as an Asian-American born of the twentieth century, has the same appeal as did Princess Diana to Americans of the 1980s. While they disagree (in theory) with the pomp and circumstance of the bent-over-backwards Invictus socialites, they can see she represents change in even a small way.

Cade, quite unknown even to himself, has changed his Blood to better suit his mission in unlife. The reality of Cade’s transformation will likely remain unknown until such time as his Kindred descendents display a similar aptitude for Vigor and tendency toward outbursts of violence.

Members of Cade’s bloodline will be warrior-lords, knights errant in the World of Darkness, living and dying by the sword. These Ventrue will live by a personal (and often twisted) personal code of honor that puts conviction before all else. For the Cadians, might makes right, and no greater might exists than one’s own blood-fueled arms.

History and Culture:
Cade’s bloodline has only recently manifested in the soldier’s war-inundated Vitae. As such, the history of the line is the history of Cade, and if the bloodline has any culture it is the whole of Cade’s behavior. Cade may have sired childer in the last few decades (perhaps one or more of the players’ characters); if so, they will forge the culture of the line with their own actions. Will they become petty tyrants of the Damned, or can they maintain a sense of their own dignity and nobility?

Reputation:
Obviously Cade’s bloodline, being utterly unknown, has yet to garner a reputation in Kindred society. Cade, on the other hand, has, and his repute will likely trickle down his lineage. What precisely Cade’s final legacy will be, however, remains to be seen.

Will he slip into torpor or meet Final Death before his growing madness and bloodline-born rage drive him to a tragic downfall in the esteem of the Damned, or will he collapse under the weight of his own delusions and rage? Whatever happens, the results will reflect upon the lineage for good or ill.

The Telamones bloodline is large and, in many places, respected, believed to be descended from the original slave vampires of the Camarilla during the Roman Republic. The stories vary, but one of the Dalmatian Nosferatu imported to the Necropolis beneath Rome is rumored to have been named Telamon the Rat, and in life had been a student of the Pythagoreans, thus leading to his mastery of the mathematics necessary for the enormous engineering tasks necessary to build the catacombs. It was he who brokered the deal for freedom in exchange for service, it was he who trained the Nosferatu of Rome to dig, and it was he who made them strong enough to survive after the fall of the decadent Camarilla.

Tonight’s Telamones are free to leave the family business, but most choose to remain working as their forebears did, as their hideous mien makes it difficult to leave the warrens and tunnels they themselves are best at building. Certain names, “Miletus,” “LeFleur,” “Furniss,” seem to cycle, as small lineages crop up among the bloodline, tracing a commonly respected ancestor. When they choose to leave, they are most commonly known for havening in sewers and the dark places of the city, far from mortal eyes.

Appearance:
All Telamones descendants are similarly cursed with a familial blight, even before they accept the privilege of becoming a true member of the bloodline. Their skin turns a stony green-grey at Embrace, rough and ragged to the touch, and their eyes become red and unnaturally beady, glowing even in pitch blackness. Some manifest further physical deformities, such as lameness or withered limbs, while others develop the appearance of rodents with elongated noses and vicious buckteeth. They tend to favor simple garments of sturdy cloth that can withstand the moisture and grime of the underground life.

History and Culture:
Vampire architecture is the trade and practice of the Telamones bloodline. As the legend goes, the Telamones are not descended from a single Nosferatu, but rather a clutch of disfigured, loathsome creatures brought from the province of Dalmatia to serve the Camarilla of Rome. Little more than slaves, the leaders of the Camarilla demanded that the Telamones dig enormous winding catacombs and unearthly great halls for their depraved tastes. Most importantly, the vampires of the Camarilla demanded that the Telamones not be seen.

In exchange, the Camarilla gave them a small herd, safety from the sunlight and a voice in their ruling council. The Telamones nodded in assent, and went about their burrowing, more worms and vermin than vampires.

To serve in silence and humility, that was the Telamones way.

Such affairs have a tendency to end suddenly. This was no different. The Camarilla fell, and vampires of modern nights have few theories why. The Telamones, hidden far beneath the surface of burning Rome, were safe. They knew the secret ways out. As the patricians of Rome’s vampires were being exposed to the barbarians and the fire they brought, the Telamones were able to escape. For the first time, the Telamones were free.

The Dark Ages brought the rise of the guilds. As the Ventrue waxed fat, they demanded secret keeps for their kind. The Daeva came to seek pleasure palaces to their own vanity. The Mekhet planned beautiful temples and secret churches. All but the Gangrel came to seek the skills of the Telamones. These last stood aloof, staring from the forests with their black, hateful eyes.

The Telamones scuttled and scurried beneath the great cities of Europe. The tradition of the Overseers grew. Each century, two of the Telamones were chosen to diablerize the previous Overseers and take their place. To the Telamones, this was not a crime. The Fog of Eternity was far worse than losing the truth of the Overseers. The previous Overseers would choose their successors personally. Woe to the Overseer who neglected to select a successor, for he would be encased in the next project they finished, to await Doomsday, trapped in rock forever. Of the several hundred extant Telamones, all hope to one night be chosen as an Overseer, for it is the Overseer who is granted the privilege of being called the “Master.” It is the Master who stamps the Telamones seal, a skull writhing in rats, upon the last stone of any great Telamones project.

Tonight’s Telamones Overseers behave as an Invictus “House,” To outsiders, all Telamones look nearly identical, frighteningly so. As they have allied themselves with the First Estate, House Telamones enjoys certain rights and privileges within their Covenant, including the freedom to use an enormous number of Kindred and ghoul retainers, all Blood bound to the Overseers. It is the sheer number of the Engineers that has cowed the Invictus into ignoring the Overseers’ predilection toward Amaranth, as it reminds the Lords and Succubi who serve the First Estate of the days when they, too, could wield a huge workforce that offered absolute loyalty.

Reputation:
The average Telamones is more often an object of pity to other Kindred than actively feared. The Telamones workers know they’re expendable, and seek to keep a simple trade that will lead other Kindred to leave them be. The Overseers, however, are seen as tyrannical, vindictive and mad, even by the Invictus, who are themselves usually tyrannical, vindictive and mad.

Most Kindred who encounter a clutch of Telamones consider them to be hardworking, if slightly dim, creatures, best left not discussed, let alone invited to events. When the rare invitation to visit the vampires of the surface arrives, it is often politely rejected, since the Telamones are uncomfortable with leaving their protective darkness. The tradition of Obfuscating when in the presence of a non-Nosferatu still applies and, in fact, most Kindred might not even be aware of just exactly how many of them there are, since they all look more or less alike. A Prince might believe there to be only one or two when dozens may be scurrying below his feet. This, naturally, leads to urban legends about the legendary productivity of the Engineers, building enormous tunnels in far too short a time for their numbers.