The Plague

You've stared out on a land ravaged by drought, its dry ground cracked crying out for nourishment; you have seen harvests devastated, the skies blackened by locusts and cattle punctured with bites, blisters and boils; your life is an omen of death and hardship to come. You carry the curse of your blood in your own face and body, warped and horrific as it is, a thing you cannot ever hide. Your very presence destroys the natural order and ravishes a land with change. At this point, you've never known a home that you haven't bled dry, and destroyed.

Long Description: You have washed your hands in a river a thousand times, with self-disgust so giant and so breath-taking that there is little else to do but try and scrub it off. Chase away the feeling of being so wrong-dirty-disgusting, but of course it never goes. Whatever it is remains a stain you can’t get off, you can’t get it out. For, of course, what is the plague if not you?

Had you been born a normal baby, a wholly different future might have flowed. You ask yourself whether there wasn’t a time when a choice of yours could have changed everything. Even now, outcast, grim, omen, devil-spawn, your head throbbing, your guts squirming but all the same you take a step towards the church. Just to - just to -

I have to see.

But there’s no flames. No pain. Just a gentle silence and the old murmur of an organ and beeswax and pews. Dust motes float in through gloom, through a magnificent stained window.

There has never been desolation like this. Somehow you thought - maybe that - if you were evil, then at least there would be a reason. You might not know it, but if holy ground rejected you at least you’d know - then you’d... 

At least I’d deserve all of this.

You watch people distantly, their lives passing you by like scraps of dandelion seeds borne on the breeze. You don’t watch them for long, never for long. Had there been a journey or a plan, it’s gone now. Yours is a life where the dock and bay have vanished and you’re floating, treading water with no land in sight. No desire to move further out to sea, no ability to go back home. You’re alone.

Ironically, you are an innocent shepherd to animals: they trust you, they let you walk among them. At times, you can almost feel their minds and touch their thoughts. Though it might be horrifying to do it - or cathartic, or even satisfying, given how much the people of this world have plagued you - you are capable of throwing your mind out to a swarm of insects or a mass of animals at once, and drive them like the head of a hivemind. Wasps, locusts, even a pack of rats - they all move as one under your mind.

You can tap into one mind at a time, but it's harder; you've thus far learned how to move the general direction and will of a swarm, usually to destructive effect. Unfortunately whether you're actively doing this or not natural disaster seems to follow you. You have no control over drought and famine, and yet - you can't help but notice - it surrounds you, anywhere you live for an extended period of time is sundered. Months go by and crops begin to wilt. Streams reroute or dry up. Your very existence seems to preclude the existence of others. When you're at your most miserable, or most desolate, is when the largest devastations occur to a region.

You've taken to moving often, even if just to stay under the notice of furious mobs and medicine women or shamans who have become wise to your presence. You're an omen of ill-times. You're everything people don't want.

After the Embrace: You have become a true master of the powers of wasting and withering the natural world. By touching a mortal, you can infect them with a wasting disease that dissolves their internal organs. Vampires subject to this attack will suffer intense agony as the limb or region of their body feels as though it were being eaten into by a thousand insects, and they will rapidly need to use blood to heal themselves and clear the strange infection. To use this - once a night as a vampire - place your hand on your victim and say, “You will know wasting like none other.” The limb or area you touch is the target of the damage. Please have off-game permission, it is better to negotiate this occurring with a participant who would enjoy the roleplay.

(Note: You might find a lot of emotional common ground with The Leech.)