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From: The Bane of Yorkshire
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If my feelings were mixed as to the absence of Cainites in our fair Dallas, they are even moreso by the apparent vaccuum created. Our kind has rushed in so quickly to take the places of the missing that such precedence can only beggar the imagination. On the one hand, there is a resurgence within the city's Camarilla contingent that is a pleasant, if not wary, distraction. On the other hand, there are simply more undead about, an aspect which can only harm our mortal population. One cannot rule without charges, however, and the unfortunate increase in our kind locally does indeed precipitate such a rule.
As for the each contingent...
The Brujah are noisome as ever, but something differs about these: their most public members seem lacking in the ideals I've found particularly inspiring, even respectable, about them in the past. As bullies, they can only become that which they claim to despise the most: the oppressors. I wonder, sometimes, if it is not they who will be rebelled against...they who will one day be overthrown by the more idealistic. Or, perhaps, that is their goal. Inspiring rebellion can certainly be achieved by example, after all.
My dear friends in the Gangrel clan have kept their counsels since Sally, Johnny, and Lyness seemed to all but withdraw from Dallas. I cannot believe, however, that all is well within the clan. What little I have seen indicates that a feud is waging between at least Johnny and Kalista, if not others. Jared has vanished, Johnny has returned, and a stranger named Matthew has ventured to our venue seeking others. He was rather witty and verbose for his ilk, though still suffering from wholly the same suspicion of all Kindred. In his defense, however, he bore the glimmer of cautious intellect, much like a Methuselah who has witnessed far too much. It would be advantageous, in the future, to share further words with him.
The Malkavians have seen passersby of their lineage, and the most recent being an old friend of theirs named Twinkerbell. She was most bizarre, as are all their kind, having pranced up to my already-wary ghoul Mason and hugged her; an amusing and flightily human response, but one that retains my interest in her. Millie has returned to the world of the Damned fully, and Vasilli has, unless my imagination has gone awry, exhibited the knightly confidence that we favor for all primogen, if his clan can claim such a position. I oft wonder, at times, if we will one day find a stuffed animal in the Malkavian chair labelled Primogen...one can never tell.
The Nosferatu continually amuse me in their subtle ways, particularly with their persistence in discovering what they label so eloquently, "The Antechamber". The room truly is, well...something I can only tease the reader with, particularly if Rachel is truly attempting to invade my computer system again. If you ever read this, Rachel, know that it will never be written in these pages. Touche. Nevertheless, they remain quiet as a brood, though Victoria has become a pleasant sight on the balcony with increasing frequency.
The Toreador local guild is enjoying a resurgence within their saucy numbers. A charming conversationalist named Aela has recently arrived, and two others that I have not yet born the pleasure of making acquaintance with have arrived at the Elysium. And yet, their hierarchy remains disturbingly silent. No parties. No fanfare. No Claudius or Ian. It makes the mind wonder if their seeming stability of recent is a theatrical pause for the topple of their local guild. Spencer has been my infrequent companion, but seems intent upon revealing nothing, no matter how far he is prodded. It will be a curious matter to witness the turn of the millenium from the Artistes' perspectives.
The Tremere have re-emerged in full force and numbers, with only Katarina being absent from their numbers. Joseph Tudor has both vexed and charmed me alternately with his presence, Sean has passed by on his errands, and Riskard has even joined us for conversation. As if that were not enough, a neonate named Anastasia (indeed, one of the three so-called Anastasias embraced during her time that might be the get of Rasputin), has arrived to join her fellow Warlocks. To everyone's surprise, her appearance bears remarkable resemblance to Sally's... a coincidence I can not so easily dismiss. As usual, the chantry is considered to be scheming some devilish plot. But they always are...
Our Ventrue board, lastly, is experiencing the unusual dilemna of neonate conduct. Lilly, childe of the Keeper of Elysium and grandchilde of the Prince, seems intent on behaving closer to an anarch. She claims no mentor, and so I have offered her my services, to which I can only guess her reply. The other members remain steadfast as always, likely watching my dear Mason for signs of embracing potential. She will do well, should she cleave to my teachings. After all, it seems, in these nights, that we are the only clan bearing both stability and consistency both.
> End Journal: Observations
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