[Sabbat] [No AI] The March that shook the world [Berlin, 1926]

About the adventure

Berlin, 1926. The balance of power is broken. The Belle Époque is over. The Great War has ended, but you cannot close the floodgates it opened. Now is the time of monsters. The machines of industry never brought the better world we were promised; they were turned to killing on an industrial scale instead. And in 1914 the socialists, who had sworn not to fight their brothers, did what Caine had done to Abel. What Internationale can there be after that? There is hope for the common man in the East, they say. There was hope here too, once. The German Revolution failed — the social democrats and the reactionaries shot it, then drowned it in the Landwehrkanal. What survives is a narrower kind of liberty. Stadtluft macht frei: in Berlin you are free to look away. Alcohol, cinema, theatre, cigarettes, clubs, burlesque, a sweaty body pushing against yours in the dark. Humanity. They call it living. You have watched them do it ever since you died, and you have never once envied them. You are Sabbat. For you there is only your sire’s blood and the dirt you clawed out of. In the world of the kine, the aristocracy of the sword gave way to the bourgeoisie of the coin, and the city hustles and bargains its way through the day. The Kindred have not kept pace. Six years ago, your predecessors set out to crush the Camarilla hydra. Six years ago, they lost. The centuries-old monsters still hold Berlin, weaving influence, spreading their rot through their childer — and with the Bishop dead, the Sword of Caine has gone blunt. The packs squabble over scraps on the outskirts. But the Bishop is not dead. She is sleeping beneath the city, and in her daysleep she is calling you — will she rise, or will the children of Caine fall?