By Chuck Wendig
Horror lurks within the darkest areas of the area of Darkness. they're the Nosferatu, outcast and kept away from. they're the nightmares the lurk simply past the protection of the firelight, ready with depraved fangs and unclean hungers should you stray too some distance into the evening. yet even the evening terrors have issues to worry. Come, and examine of them.
A extended family publication for Vampire: The Requiem™
• discover the filth-ridden origins of the Nosferatu in historical Greece, the place they haunted the Mediterranean nights because the god-plagued nosophoros.
• discover the Necropoli of the Nosferatu, the warrens the place the horrors dwell.
• detect the various faces of the extended family: the weird, the vile, the battle-hardened and the hidden.
• New advantages, bloodlines, self-discipline powers and extended family secrets and techniques that each Vampire: the Requiem participant may want to have.
Read Online or Download Vampire: The Reqiuem - Nosferatu: The Beast That Hunts the Blood PDF
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Extra resources for Vampire: The Reqiuem - Nosferatu: The Beast That Hunts the Blood
When Arnheim had his — LT: Accident. Except it wasn’t. INT: Did you… ? LT: No. He still had me fucked. I couldn’t help it. Turned up at his door like a fucking puppy, and he thought it was fucking hilarious. And I did what I was told. Only at night. INT: So how did he… ? LT: Not sure. But I think that whoever it was gave me that piece of paper that got me fucked in the first place didn’t go away. They were watching me. And when they’d seen enough, they stepped in, three motherfuckers with riot gear and fucking enormous rifles and took him out.
He has always been a brute, a thug, a berserker hurricane whose flesh is a force of broken nature that once was directed only by the hands of the elite. Where the vampire aristocrats pointed, Trepan went, his bare hands ready to make bonemeal from whoever stood in his way. Things changed, though. Something earned the ire of those aristocrats, or perhaps it was simply the way their loyalties shift like a wind coming off an uncertain sea. They turned on him. They sought to have him destroyed. They did not know what they were dealing with, it seems.
Meet Walter Danville. Self-proclaimed “hunter” of “things” like myself and the War Pig. He is a haunted man, evidenced by the shuddering breaths or his nervous tics (listening to his fingernails pick at other fingernails or the sound of his teeth biting and pulling chapped skin from his lips was quite distracting). He knows of us. He knows of what our kind is capable. And still, he counts himself among the War Pig’s allies. Well. I’ll let him tell that tale. Danv ille’s Words I hate you fucking things.