Other vampires consider the Gangrel to be primitive creatures. They do not understand the difference between primitive and predator. Yes, Gangrel can be vicious, cruel beasts, subject to animalistic drives — but they are also cunning and civilized hunters. As a clan, the Gangrel are wary and aloof. They disdain organized society and prefer to operate outside of structures and hierarchies. This individualism has caused them to develop in different ways, spawning many different lineages, whose powers differ from the parent clan. The clan considers them all Gangrel.
As they ever have been, the Gangrel are largely a feral clan, typically having more in common with animals (or other, less natural denizens of the wilds) than they do with mortals. Something about the Gangrel Embrace brings members of the clan close to the Beast that lurks in all vampires.
Most Gangrel appear scruffy-looking, rough, and ragged, as befits a clan of wanderers. Further, when they frenzy, they take on aspects of natural creatures, lending them an animalistic mien. They shelter where they please, in the soil of the earth, and do not care what others think of their appearance. Gangrel sire sporadically, often after hunting a prospective childe. They frequently abandon the fledgling vampire after her creation, forcing her to learn the basic lessons of survival on her own. Only after the childe has proven herself will the sire return to induct her into vampire society and introduce her to the clan.
An old but wonderfully relevant video on the clan by Matthew Dawkins, author of a fair bit of some great official Vampire the Masquerade material! (Just be aware it is not for the Renaissance time period, bur rather our modern day. And don’t worry about any unknown terminology.)
Foolish Cainites dismiss the Gangrel, taking them at face value either as loyal lapdogs of the ruling Prince in any given region or as raging barbarians too wild to be constrained by any society of the undead. The truth, of course, lies somewhere in the middle. The Gangrel are wise enough to realise that vampiric society has its place but are not so devoted as to allow its scheming Cainite members to take advantage of them (usually...).
Whatever their allegiance, all vampires know that a city's outlying barrens and the environs just beyond belong to the Gangrel. Let the Ventrue scheme in their petty "courts" and the Toreador hide their the mannered fops of the age - the Gangrel understand that to be a vampire is to be Damned forever, and the trappings of one age or another are just so many sands passing through the hourglass. Whether possessed of a bestial air of majesty or the mien of a skulking monster, the Gangrel rarely bother to delude themselves with the rigid behavioural baggage so prevalent in this distinguished age.
In some sense, the Gangrel are the defenders of the vampire world, as their domains on the outlying boundaries of a city are the first would-be invaders breach. Additionally, the Wolves possess tremendous fighting edges, should contact with an outsider turn violent. For this reason, wise Princes treat the Gangrel well, knowing that their own domains might well face more threats were the Gangrel not there to put them down.
The Renaissance
Gangrel thrive in the wild places of Europe, and beyond it, but it is rare to encounter these wise Wolves amid the high clan’s social politicking in cultural epicentres such as Paris or Rome. For this reason, they have been hit extremely hard by the rapid expansion of the Christain church - particularly as many held positions as guides, lords or simply bogeymen amongst pagan communities of humans. As the Northern reaches of Scandinavia convert to Christianity, other Cainites now stake their claim on newly ‘civilised’ communities. Certain Gangrel bloodlines that existed alongside communities such as the ancient celts and Sámi tribes have become extremely rare.
The Renaissance offers a wealth of opportunities to vampires willing to change with the times and embrace the exposure of culture now seen all over the continent. Many Gangrel pride themselves on their ability to survive, and it is time to make good on that claim. Some warily accept the inevitability that is the need to engage with extra-clan politics, particularly in the aftermath of the Omen war. Amongst their Tzimisce and Nosferatu cousins, the Gangrel found themselves particularly persecuted by the Tremere, and will no doubt feel a strong revulsion towards the clan of Usurpers. Often making strong martial allies, Gangrel find themselves welcomed warily in most courts despite their status as a low clan.
Italy is a highly deforested land with a large population. Italian Gangrel are fewer here than in wilder lands, and those who exist are more cautious, having to share the remaining untamed tract with werewolves and even fae. In the height of the Alps, however, rumours persist of ancient Gangrel with mysterious powers - the remnants of the undead who accompanied Hannibal's invasion. (A well-travelled Ravnos swears she saw a great, grey "monster" once by moonlight, and she speculates that this might be a Carthaginian Gangrel.)
Clan Opinions on…
The Embrace
Becoming Gangrel
Libellus Sanguinis 3: Wolves at the Door
We rarely give the Embrace, because it is both a curse and a blessing. When we do Embrace, we choose those of hardy stock, inclined to fight fate. The qualities we seek in those we bless are courage, strong will and survival skills. The Embrace is also a curse, and one given to those mortals who wrong us. The pattern of the Embrace is similar, whether for a curse or blessing.
A Gangrel sire often chooses a prospective candidate for the Embrace during feeding. If the mortal prey resists, fighting against what is happening, then his reward after death may be a taste of Gangrel blood. Our clan makes many Gangrel this way, dating back to the first warriors selected by Ennoia to fight her war. This method produces a Gangrel with a fierce desire to survive, even if he does not have all the tools.
We also find prospective Gangrel through observation. While most mortals remain safely hidden during the night, a few risk the darkness. When one of our clan encounters a mortal like this, she will watch instead of attacking. It takes courage to wander these nights, after all. The Gangrel observes the mortal, watching for any signs of bravery or a knack for survival. Sometimes, a mortal out at night is simply lost - if this proves to be the case, he becomes prey. However, if the mortal shows skill moving about at night, is no coward, and maintains the interest of the observer, he is a good candidate for the Embrace.
When we punish, however, there is little effort wasted. A mortal who insults or threatens one of our clan receives a night-time visit. The Gangrel Embraces the mortal, making the process as painful and terror-filled as possible, and leaves her. Usually the Embrace happens indoors, in the rooms of the person punished, assuring their discovery and destruction. In recent nights, this punishment has fallen into disuse, though there are still some who actively enact it.
If the pattern of our Embrace is not clear, let me make it so. We almost never offer a choice. This has become a tradition with our clan, since so few of us had a choice. I say almost never, because there are a few Gangrel who do break with tradition. The offspring of these Gangrel are considered by some to be inferior stock, even if they do survive. While not considered outcasts, a Gangrel given a choice rarely receives the same respect of those Embraced traditionally, even after the rites of status. I urge you to think of this, before you offer a choice.
THE IMMORTAL ENEMY
Embracing foes has the potential to backfire on the Gangrel. Should the enemy survive the first nights and develop his power, he could tum his new abilities to hunting the one who cursed him. This is a rare occurrence - part of the punishment is to stack the odds so that survival is nearly impossible. A new Gangrel who manages to survive has an enviable combination of cunning, raw ability and luck - clearly a dangerous foe to have in pursuit, but possibly one with a bright future in the clan.
THE FIRST NIGHTS
After the Embrace, the sire disappears into the night, leaving the new Gangrel on her own. I have heard Cainites speak of taking years to groom their childer, training them before the Embrace and even immediately afterward. This is a waste of time. It is better to save the effort of training a childe until after she has proven that she can survive. Thus, the sire completely abandons his new creation in the early nights, leaving her alone to face the struggle of survival.
Many do not last beyond even the first night. That first hunger is the strongest, and it brings the Beast quickly to the surface. In the haze of that first wild rage, a childe makes any number of mistakes. If Werewolves and mortals don't destroy her, the first sunrise may. If the sire has chosen well, however, the childe quickly grasps her situation and adjusts. The reward for that first night is one of our clan's beastial marks.
Any Gangrel resilient and capable enough to survive the first few nights soon develops the tools we use to survive those that follow. Over time, the childe must learn to grow claws, speak with the animals, and come to terms with our strengths and weaknesses. She must also learn to make decisions on her own, rapidly. Our condition does not permit long reflection on the proper course to take. Such indecision leads to the Final Death. This is a dangerous time for the childe, lost and without guidance.
ACCEPTANCE
A new Gangrel must survive at least one winter before he is worthy of teaching. "How many winters?" is often the first question a Gangrel asks upon first meeting another in the wilderness. A new Gangrel rarely has the correct answer, and thus reveals himself. Tradition has it that any pup so encountered becomes a responsibility. The older Gangrel must aid him in his survival and teach him the ways of the clan, at least until his nature is revealed. If the pup ends up being from the Cainite broods, the Gangrel leaves him to his fate.
Once accepted, the new Gangrel learns the stories and traditions of the clan, particularly the greeting ritual and the rites of status. Instruction in the use of our gifts follows. The lessons include descriptions of our relationship with the Werewolves and other Cainites. After months of this teaching, a close bond forms between the student and teacher, similar to the relationship between a sire and childe among the Cainites. After this training, a Gangrel is officially a member of the clan.
The Auction
The unprecedented occurrence of The Black Dawn has had a profound and disturbing impact on this clan of nomadic and wild vampires. Most Gangrel are deeply in tune with the patterns and rhythms of nature and as such, this supernatural disturbance of the lunar cycle quickened the attention of the entire clan.
Many theories circulate about the Clan of Beast regarding the meaning of this event, but all agree that it marks a great change in history. Gangrel prefer the wilds and Embrace their vampire children into the blood serendipitously before releasing them into the world to prove their strength. If a new childe survives the immediate nights after their Embrace, they are worth their blood; if not, they perish, or are even slain by their sire. The Gangrel can be seem as irresponsible by some clans, or even cruel for this practice. It is not unusual for childer to be completely abandoned or Embraced on an impulsive bloodlust - though views on this practise are split even within the clan. An event orchestrating the pre-selection of potential childer would raise the hackles of even the most liberal members of the clan - but the connection to The Black Dawn is enough to coax even the most superstitious and traditional Gangrel elders out of the forests.
Profane Rebirth
You step lightly through moonlit woods, attempting to copy the confident, measured movements of the lean woman ahead of you. Your senses tingle with the night-time chatter of innumerable insects, as an owl drifts silently overhead toward the fields at your back. Still easily startled, your muscles tense and your lips part to reveal newly formed fangs as a fox breaks from the undergrowth to your left.
The woman leading you turns sharply, her eyes blazing as her own fangs are bared in your direction. You see her fingertips are extended to form vicious, hooked claws - just as they were several nights ago when she pinned you down and forced her blood between your lips. You brush your hand against your chest instinctively, despite the fact that the deep gouges of those claws have now faded.
“A lamed mule could tread with more grace than you. This land is not ours; if you wish to leave this place intact I suggest you learn faster.”
Her tone is scathing, but you see a glint of concern in those cat-like, almond eyes. Your sire told you that most other ‘Gangrel’ tend to abandon their progeny to the wilderness; alone to prove themselves on instinct alone. She scoffed at the notion; any newborn predator must be taught in order to be an effective hunter. Irresponsible sires create stunted offspring. All this was shared with you only after your lucidity returned; the past two nights had been spent in a haze of fury and hunger; your sire beating you down in your frenzy whenever you strayed too close to civilization.
Tonight, you awoke amid the congealed viscera of a slaughtered stag, your body smeared in blood and offal. Your skin was torn, lacerated and oozing from those same claws she now bears in your defence. All to force this new terrifying thing inside you to submit to her. You scratch at the still healing wounds with a sort of morbid compulsion - repulsed by the fact that they do not bleed. Dead, purplish flesh simply parts under your fingers like moist leather.
Raiders put your home to the torch, slaughtered your kin and left you half-alive amongst the corpses. God had truly abandoned you to an agonising fate, but this woman, this creature came to your salvation. She had watched you fight; your futile attempts to defend your home from overwhelmingly superior odds.
Now you follow her like a jittery foal, suddenly all too aware of how very vulnerable you are, as the edges of the world you thought you knew expanding into darkness. Just as you attempt to focus on the present rather than the violent miasma that is your memory of the last few nights, a piercing howl cuts through the still night air with all the softness of a hatchet. That thing in your breast roils now with a lurch of sudden, horrid panic. Your sire’s entire form stiffens like a coiled spring.
“They have found us. Run.”
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