((Hope noone minds, but I decided to at least keep Raveloe here as a sort of legacy after I'm gone.

Oscar did few things with any analogue of skill. He was handsome in an innocent fool sort of way, some would even say he looked angelic. But he was never, nor would he be, particularly quick-witted or smart. However, the thing he did best, the one thing he excelled at, was loving his brother Silas.

Both sons of the cloth merchant, August Raveloe. Oscar and his brother lived on opposite sides of the fence. Their father had raised them, with the belief that one day they would jointly replace him and continue the family business after he died.

The boys were twins, born to Rebecca Raveloe in 1807. She’d died during childbirth, leaving August to raise them both in the best way he could, while he ran the cotton mill that fed his weaving looms. The Raveloe Weaving Company, soon to add "and Sons", fast became one of the most lucrative suppliers of cotton within the City of London.

Silas, at his worst, could easily be described as a shark. He had the sharp lined features of his father, the strong jaw, the dark eyes, all framed by a head of gleaming black hair. Even when he smiled, only Oscar saw the warmth therein. He took after his father very much, rapidly learning to seize an opportunity when it arose, learning to take advantage of a situation should it’s ascent seem to his liking. Although the boys were twins, as said before, they were opposites sides of a fence. Where Oscar was foppish, even clumsy at times, Silas was to the point, mentally and socially agile. He had, in his 18 years, mastered the art of crippling a rival with a few softly spoken, but double-edged words. When incensed, he looked baleful in both his mannerism and the black, slick utterances he spat. However he never cursed. He was always polite... unnervingly so.

Yet in his blackened heart, the calculating, ambitious engine that steamed him on, he had a secret. The nature of the secret was only known to himself and to Oscar. Just as Oscar loved his brother. So too did Silas.

His father doted on them both. Oscar helping the workers in the mill, helping to load the carts to be driven to London. August was growing old. Now in his fifties, age did more than paint his once black hair grey. Now it stooped his back, making his chest wheeze when he walked and his limbs stiffen in the cold winter nights. He would watch on as the blonde haired workhorse form of Oscar would laugh and canter among the workers. They loved him, just as much as they feared Silas.

Silas however avoided the “common muck” as he described his father’s workforce. He smirked with apparent amusement at his brother’s folly. Blending in with the great unwashed..Indeed!

He would run the business’s financial aspects, his father being almost an amalgamation of both siblings, better made to deal with winning customers than taking money from them. Since Silas had grown old enough, the Raveloe’s customers never missed a payment. They daren’t.

Silas couldn’t have known that his coldness in business, his ferocity in dealing with his father’s debtors, had attracted the attention and intent of a Ventrue. The Blue-blood had paid those respects due his superiors. Requesting permission from Prince Hastings to embrace Silas Raveloe into the Ventrue folds. Recognising that Silas was ready, emotionally, to be embraced. The Ventrue, dubbing himself Mr. Marner, decided to approach the young gentleman-to-be. Little did Marner himself realise, that, with quiet amusement, he too was under scrutiny by darker, more honest eyes.
The second party skulked in shadow, as most of his kind did. He too had an interest in Silas, for similar reasons. But where Marner saw Silas’ brutal manners as appealing, the second saw them as requiring “adjustment”.

The second watcher stepped from under the eaves of one of the disused barns, clothed in rags that barely managed to conceal the albino, elongated head his disproportionate shoulders bore. He watched with interest as Marner met with young Silas, posing as an interested customer.

[i:9498cad7c1]“And you say you can meet my deadline?”[/i:9498cad7c1] Marner, himself clothed in the fineries typical of the age. A gold pocket-watch only visible by the loop of similarly impressive chain hanging from his waistcoat pocket. He spoke calmly, assessing the future Neonate’s reactions.

[i:9498cad7c1]“If you can meet our price, I can guarantee delivery. As and when you desire it Mr. Marner. But if our price is too rich for your means...”[/i:9498cad7c1]

Marner blinked imperceptibly. He found himself being tested by the glare of the boy and the tone of his questioning. He rather enjoyed the sensation, smiling in reply.

[i:9498cad7c1]“Not at all Mr. Raveloe. I would say your costs are quite reasonable. As I understand it, you stand to inherit this fine company in the event of your father’s death?”[/i:9498cad7c1]

[i:9498cad7c1]“A shared inheritance yes. My dear brother Oscar also has his fingers in these matters. You said you wanted the first cart to arrive on...Tuesday the 11th, correct? Very well, I trust you will see to your own financial fetters. And I will see to mine.”[/i:9498cad7c1] Silas grinned, he sensed this “Marner” was testing him, he was glad to repay in kind.

Marner nodded. [i:9498cad7c1]“Ahh so your brother co-runs things in your father’s absence?”[/i:9498cad7c1] He wanted to know more. He continued.

[i:9498cad7c1]“A pity. That a man of your obvious business instinct has to be tied down by responsibilities of kin.”[/i:9498cad7c1] He meant the compliment to sound false. The message within, only too clear to his future Childe.

[i:9498cad7c1]“A pity? I thank you for the compliment Mr. Marner. But my responsibilities are my own concern, they do not concern, nor do they affect my instincts as you put it. Now good day to you sir. I will be expecting a note of payment forthwith.”[/i:9498cad7c1]

Marner was shocked, though his Vampiric exterior showed nothing but a well practiced smile. He shook hands with his “supplier” and left, whistling as he climbed into his waiting cart. Winter had ensured that sunset dominated the skyline by late afternoon.

As he closed the door, extinguishing the candlelight that illuminated the small office, Silas pondered over the words Marner had spoken. Shaking such thoughts from his head he retired to the house.


The shadowy figure that witnessed the transaction of words and veiled malice smiled. His gnarled, hairless and bestial head wrinkling from chin to eye brow with the movement. Long tapering fangs adorned his lips like stalactites. He thought for a moment before deciding upon a suitably Victorian alias.

[i:9498cad7c1]“Tomorrow eve Mr. Raveloe. Then you will meet Mr. Book.”[/i:9498cad7c1]

He returned to the grime and murk, his plans intent on the following evening.

Silas shrugged off his dustcoat, Oscar stepping in behind him. Lightly avoiding the trailing cloth of the long overcoat as Silas draped it over the back of an old leather chair.

[i:8709b18b1f]“Silas? Is something troubling you?”[/i:8709b18b1f]

[i:8709b18b1f]“Troubling me? Not at all Oscar dear. I’m merely thinking about the Marner account. The first delivery is in two days, can you ensure that it arrives?”[/i:8709b18b1f] Silas smiled, the warmth he reserved for Oscar alone was obvious in it’s absence. Oscar felt himself shiver.

[i:8709b18b1f]“Of course Silas. I will travel with the cart if you prefer?”[/i:8709b18b1f]

[i:8709b18b1f]“No brother of mine will travel like some pauper labourer. No Oscar, your assurances will suffice.”[/i:8709b18b1f]

With that he turned to his books, his mind focused on matching figures and cash moneys.

The clock struck four. The sun had already retreated behind the overbearing line of the city. Silas rubbed his temples, thoughtlessly chewing on nigh-stale bread as the door bell swung.

[i:8709b18b1f]“Excuse me?”[/i:8709b18b1f] The figure stepped in silently. Had the bell not chimed, Silas didn’t think he would have noticed.

[i:8709b18b1f]“Can I help you?”[/i:8709b18b1f] He looked up as the figure, a man in his mid 40’s, cleared his throat. Tipping his hat apologetically before removing it.

[i:8709b18b1f]“Please forgive the intrusion. My name is Mr. Book. I was Rebecca Raveloe’s notary. She requested that upon your nineteenth year, that I track you down and offer my services. I come highly recommended.”[/i:8709b18b1f]

Silas frowned. He only had a small portrait of his mother. Yet this strange, yet charming fellow knew her.

[i:8709b18b1f]“My mother... ? Forgive me Mr. Book, but I have no need of a notary. At least, not at present.”[/i:8709b18b1f]

Book smiled.

[i:8709b18b1f]“You misunderstand me Mr. Raveloe. Your mother not only requested that I seek you out, but that I serve you in whichever way I could. I have other talents you might like to employ?”[/i:8709b18b1f] The smile that preceded his last statement made Silas’ skin crawl.

[i:8709b18b1f]“Errr yes. Well I will see.”[/i:8709b18b1f]

He offered Book a seat. The offer accepted they spoke at length. Book weaving elaborate tales of his travels, anything to keep Silas’ suspicions off guard.

He didn’t know why. He couldn’t place a finger on it. But against his better judgement. Against all of his mental faculties screams of disbelief, Silas felt himself trusting this stranger, Book.

[i:8709b18b1f]“Actually I may have a task for you. Our newest customer, Marner, has ordered a curiously low yield of cotton. Too little to be of much practical use. If you are talented as you claim. I would like you to investigate a little. He’s paying the standard fare, but I would like to know why.”[/i:8709b18b1f]

[i:8709b18b1f]“Of course Mr. Raveloe. I will have news for you on this matter this time tomorrow.”[/i:8709b18b1f] He nodded slightly, replacing his hat before stepping briskly out the door. The tail of his coat flailing behind him like a dog walking “at heel”.

Book walked along the darkening, gas lit streets. As he entered the growing fog his masque crumbled. Revealing first bone white flesh, then twin coal eyes, smouldering from under his hat. As the streets enveloped the pale stranger he welcomed them, fading into the miasma.

[i:79add406c6]“He means to absorb your father’s company Mr. Raveloe. I spoke at length with his driver last night, over a few bottles of gin...”[/i:79add406c6] Book smiled darkly.

[i:79add406c6]“It seems our Mr. Marner has been watching you with some interest for some time. He has quite a substantial wealth behind him too. From what I can gather he has the backing, both financially and legally, of some of London’s finest...

...they see you as a threat Mr Raveloe. One they intend to remove.”[/i:79add406c6]

To anyone else this would have seemed laughable. But Silas had noticed orders slowly falling since Marner’s first appearance. Could it be true?

[i:79add406c6]“And you are sure? I mean, you do realise how insane this sounds?”[/i:79add406c6] Silas’ face darkened. Book nodded at the change in tone. His news obviously arousing Silas’ “killer” instincts.

[i:79add406c6]“As sure as my friendly drunk was, yes.”[/i:79add406c6]

Silas growled, his dark eyes flashing with restrained aggression as he thought of his next move.

Book noted the restraint, the sound of anger made him smile inwardly. Yes this boy has promise he mused.

[i:79add406c6]“I will take my leave Mr. Raveloe. However should you seek my services again I will be staying in the Barkers and Billy Inn. I can be found there, most anytime.”[/i:79add406c6] He smiled, though the prolonged facade was making him hungry, nodding he lifted his hat.

[i:79add406c6]“Aye... And thank you Mr. Book. I am sure I will be in touch.”[/i:79add406c6] Silas grumbled the farewells, walking Book to the door before watching him leave.


Over the coming weeks, Silas sent Book on numerous tasks. Designed to undermine and monitor Marner’s own movements. It was one month since the contract had been sealed that things turned darker still.

Silas had retired to his room. Oscar lay dozing in his study, their father slept restlessly in the drawing room downstairs.

Marner had been made aware of Silas’ retaliation. He had even sent a few of his “bruisers” to deal with this “Mr. Book”. However it seemed that Mr. Book was a little more dangerous than a mere mutcher. He’d dismissed his henchmen after that failure, and decided to move his timing forward.

Book however, as always, was watching from the shadows.

Marner made his way into the old house. The betty in his hand made short work of the old lock in the heavy door. Pulling it open with consummate ease, he stepped into the hall. He scanned the darkness that filled the short corridor, stepping silently into the drawing room.

August stirred only briefly before Marner silenced him. The wet, soft crack didn’t alert Oscar as his father slumped broken-necked in the room below. Marner started the ascent, the stairs softly straining with each step. Book slipped unseen and unheard into Silas’ room.

His hissed whispers woke Silas with a start. “Mr. Raveloe. Marner is here. He has already killed your father and he means to kill you too. Quickly and quietly Silassssss.”

Silas looked up, the visage of Book slightly distorted. “Wha...?”

[i:79add406c6]“No time to explain Silas. You are in danger here. Now come... follow.”[/i:79add406c6] Book slid onto the window-frame, easily stepping onto the roof. Silas followed closely behind.

[i:79add406c6]“But Oscar?”[/i:79add406c6]

[i:79add406c6]“We don’t have time Silas, now come!”[/i:79add406c6] Reluctantly Silas crept into safety. Climbing down before Book led him into the shadows of the barn.

Oscar stirred. Had he heard something? Smacking his lips he poured a glass of brandy. Wiping sleep from his eyes as he sat up in his chair.

Outside Book closed his eyes, concentrating. Blood burning in his undead heart.

Inside Oscar began to change. Not that he would have noticed without the use of a mirror. But to all and sundry he began to resemble, then mimic his brother’s appearance perfectly.

Marner reached the stair landing, he began a methodical search of the floor before an ill-judged door slam brought Oscar/Silas running from his study.

Marner smiled once.

[i:79add406c6]“Ah Mr. Raveloe. Good to see you again. I’m glad we could meet face to face.”[/i:79add406c6]

Baring his fangs and his intentions he froze his Childe-to-be in place. His mind dominating Oscar/Silas’ into submission.

He embraced the disguised fop as Book maintained the illusion. Draining his Childe till almost dead before feeding him a little of his own precious vitae, Marner let the youth crumble to the floor. Dabbing the spilled blood from his lips with his handkerchief.

[i:79add406c6]“And now my boy. Now you have my blood. The blood of Kings flows through you. Sleep boy. Sleep.”[/i:79add406c6] At that the illusion ceased. Suddenly unmasked, Oscar’s fledgling body lay dormant. The revelation brought howls of rage from Marner.

[i:79add406c6]“It cannot be! I have been deceived!”[/i:79add406c6]

From their vantage point Book heard the shrieking rage and nodded grimly.

[i:79add406c6]“Silas.

... Your brother is dead. Listen now. Marner bellows his rage because his quarry escaped him.”[/i:79add406c6]

Silas, usually so reserved, felt his cheeks wet. He looked up at the house, his dark eyes rimmed with crimson. His whispered curse no less deafening by it’s reduced volume.

[i:79add406c6]“A curse on you Marner! I will have my revenge on you and your cohorts!”[/i:79add406c6]

Book hid the smile that crept across his face.

[i:79add406c6]“I can give you that vengeance boy. But it comes at a price.”[/i:79add406c6] His voice became silky, smooth as he seduced his young protege with power.

[i:79add406c6]“Anything. I have lost the one thing I held dear.”[/i:79add406c6] Silas gave up his soul before he’d even realised it. Turning he gasped as he stared into the white face of oblivion.

He awoke in the city sewers.

The first thing he felt being the hunger. The first thing he smelled being the stench of an entire city’s effluence. He opened blood crusted eyes and saw the face of his saviour and killer.

[i:6cee5b9d98]“Book!”[/i:6cee5b9d98]

[i:6cee5b9d98]“Ah you are awake my son.”[/i:6cee5b9d98] Book had dropped his mask since his embracing Silas. His head was elongated, lizard-like with a shark-like maw. He grinned horribly before speaking again, his misshapen spine contorting his posture as his leathery white face shivered.

[i:6cee5b9d98]“Look upon me childe. For this is the price you’ve paid for vengeance. Look at yourself boy, see? The changes begin... now!”[/i:6cee5b9d98] He pointed at Silas. As his action ceased, Silas felt a tingling.

[i:6cee5b9d98]“It begins as an itch, yes? Soon the itch will become a burning. That will become an agonising fire that will burn out what remains of your mortal coil. Embrace it boy, for it will be your damnation and your redemption in one horrific bundle.”[/i:6cee5b9d98]

Silas felt the tingling spread from finger to finger, his toes curling in his boots. He groaned as pain flooded into his marrow, then mercifully he lost consciousness.

He awoke once, catching his reflection in the reflective surface of a scum coated pool. The fleeting image of a dead man staring back at him, skin pale as bone, his hands lengthening before the image returned to blackness.

When his eyes next opened Book stood over him, reaching for his hand.

[i:6cee5b9d98]“Come my son. You need to feed.”[/i:6cee5b9d98] He lifted Silas like he was an infant, helping him through the sewers as he began his first night as the true undead.

They emerged from a drainage ditch, cobbled streets rolling ahead of them. Book masked himself, adopting the charming grey haired form he’d seduced Silas in. Stepping from the shadows he approached a young woman who staggered drunkenly into his “parlour”.

[i:6cee5b9d98]“Pardon me Miss...”[/i:6cee5b9d98] Book feigned his confusion, asking her for directions. [i:6cee5b9d98]“I am new to London, is this the way through “The Chapel”?”[/i:6cee5b9d98] She looked up bleary eyed and smiled. [i:6cee5b9d98]“Sure lovey, but you don’t need to walk that far for a little late night’s fun eh?”[/i:6cee5b9d98]

Silas groaned his disgust, her lewdness turning what remained of decency in his stomach.

[i:6cee5b9d98]“Oh and I would find that here?”[/i:6cee5b9d98] Book dealt with the city’s midinette’s many times. Enough to recognise she was acting as a decoy for a hidden “Bearer up”. Excellent, we will feed twice as richly this evening he thought.

The hunger in Silas grew as Book lured the woman nearer. Nearer, until the shadows seemed to open for her, like some obscene black cored whore. The simile amused Silas as he pulled himself to his weakened legs.

[i:6cee5b9d98]“Now dearie, I ain’t into none of that “funny” stuff.”[/i:6cee5b9d98] She giggled, liquor and false lust made the sound repellent. As she stepped closer, Silas saw his chance.

He fell on her more than grabbing her. His sudden weight pulling her to the ground. Book silenced her with a sharp blow with his fist before turning his attention to the street. Her accomplice must be nearby he smiled. Stalking off, his form becoming hazy, indistinct with each step.

Silas fed hungrily, his beast dictating his actions outwith his conscious control. His fangs sliced easily into her age hardened neck. Even the bitterness of her cheaply scented skin didn’t dissuade his feeding. As her pulse weakened he felt a tug at his shoulder pulling him from her in a mess of crimson gore.

[i:6cee5b9d98]“Enough! You must not kill unless your life depends on it! And lick your wounds, otherwise all of Christendom will be upon us!”[/i:6cee5b9d98]

He growled in childish rage at being scorned. The blow that stung his now metamorphosed face stopped his tantrum just as soon as it had started.

[i:6cee5b9d98]“Don’t test my resolve boy. I find you interesting but if pushed I will destroy what I have created without hesitation!”[/i:6cee5b9d98]

Silas grumbled, the power of the blood giving him newfound strength as his sire led him into shadows.

Thus Silas learned of his new nature. The hunts continued for weeks, becoming months and then years. As each hunt passed his sire taught him something new. How with concentration he could summon the rats, speak their tongue. How by watching his prey he could learn to cloak himself in plain sight or becoming indistinct among shadows. He even learned of the strength his change gave him. And in time he grew to at least tolerate the new form his Sire’s gift made him.


It was 1888. Great Queen Victoria’s reign was in it’s final days. Summer had begun it’s escape from the smoke and fog shadowed streets. It was on the 31st of August that terror struck the whores and Judies. And bringing confusion upon the city’s bobbies. In particular upon Scotland Yard. That terror was soon to have a name only the truly dead forgot.

Jack the Ripper.

The first victim was found in the early hours, disembowelled with almost surgical precision. Mary Ann Nichols was found by a passing carter, mistaking her dress for a tarpaulin until he discovered the true nature of the bundle of cloth. Her head almost severed, her stomach slashed open.

The confusion and terror struck three more times.

Inspector Abberline never found his man. His hunts were fruitless, even to this day. But among the Kindred, another tale is spun.

The Ripper was no Vampire. No, none among the Kindred will lay claim to the threat he posed. But his name was known.

James Maybrick was a family man. Though driven to excesses by an overbearing wife, he was, and died, a man.

His fervent ramblings brought the attentions of an unknown Vampire, presumed by “Society” to be a Malkavian who, intrigued by the growing madness in the man, ghoulised him.

That was the Vampire’s first and last mistake.

The insanity filled vitae now in his veins threw Maybrick into the Abyss.

Destiny, fate, bad luck, drew him into the waiting arms of London’s Nosferatu.

His cries echoed throughout the subterranean kingdom, heard only by the streams of blood hungry rats and their dozing masters.

Raveloe, now weaned from his sire’s side, revelled in the shrieks. Moving like a forgotten stain on a wall. His cloak gathered around him. Clutching his “badges of office”, he placed his hat on his monstrous head and stepped through history.