Macellarius
My my my, the bell has rung. It’s time for the first course! Say that you will dine with me?
The Macellarius are as much gracious hosts as they are grotesque gluttons. Make no mistake — these Kindred are Ventrue down to the marrow in their dead bones. Spawned in the nights of mad, decadent Rome, the Macellarius come from the oldest of money, cherish their ancestral roots and are desperate to rise once again to the top of the ranks like so much clotted cream. They simply see themselves as Ventrue with — rarefi ed tastes. These vampires find nothing wrong with preserving their unique predilections. Providing the Kindred with an epicurean pedigree is the Macellarius’ natural duty, an essential obligation that few Kindred are willing to indulge. Oh, sure, the curse is a curse, it’s awful, bloody awful, but that doesn’t mean one cannot attempt to enjoy those staid moments caught in the throes of this ceaseless ennui. There’s nothing wrong with indulging in one’s own hungry proclivities from time to time, is there?
Unfortunately, few others see it that way. The Kindred whisper about those of the Macellarius lineage, muttering about their unspeakable appetites and ruthless initiative. Everyone knows that these obese, unsightly creatures do not merely drink blood. They swallow it by cheek-stuffed mouthfuls, consuming it in gulps and gobbles. They drain body after body, even going so far as to bottle the stuff, seeing themselves as gourmandizing vintners of exceptional draughts of Vitae. Worse, most “Gluttons” don’t stop there. Many of these vampires carry the already gruesome act of consumption one step further, eating the bodies of their victims. The Damned can’t eat food, not really, but some among the Macellarius can — provided that the food is the raw fl esh of a mortal body. The Gluttons who partake in this peculiar delight do so with great abandon, forcing countless gobbets of human meat into their withered guts. They swallow the bloody chunks whole, and bask in the resultant power.
Long have they dwelled on the fringes, waiting in the periphery of the Danse Macabre, content to host their parties and dine upon death. But, recently, their hungers have pushed many of them out of the darkness and again into the world of the other Kindred. The Macellarius are thirsty for more, salivating for another taste of temporal power and unworldly pleasure. Will the other Kindred stand in the Gluttons’ way? Or will Kindred society welcome these gluttonous powerbrokers back into the fold?
Unfortunately, few others see it that way. The Kindred whisper about those of the Macellarius lineage, muttering about their unspeakable appetites and ruthless initiative. Everyone knows that these obese, unsightly creatures do not merely drink blood. They swallow it by cheek-stuffed mouthfuls, consuming it in gulps and gobbles. They drain body after body, even going so far as to bottle the stuff, seeing themselves as gourmandizing vintners of exceptional draughts of Vitae. Worse, most “Gluttons” don’t stop there. Many of these vampires carry the already gruesome act of consumption one step further, eating the bodies of their victims. The Damned can’t eat food, not really, but some among the Macellarius can — provided that the food is the raw fl esh of a mortal body. The Gluttons who partake in this peculiar delight do so with great abandon, forcing countless gobbets of human meat into their withered guts. They swallow the bloody chunks whole, and bask in the resultant power.
Long have they dwelled on the fringes, waiting in the periphery of the Danse Macabre, content to host their parties and dine upon death. But, recently, their hungers have pushed many of them out of the darkness and again into the world of the other Kindred. The Macellarius are thirsty for more, salivating for another taste of temporal power and unworldly pleasure. Will the other Kindred stand in the Gluttons’ way? Or will Kindred society welcome these gluttonous powerbrokers back into the fold?
Culture
Culture and cultural heritage
Background: Most Macellarius vampires were once mortal hedonists, epicures, even artists. The bloodline seeks those of especial taste, curiosity and hunger. They might be chefs, restaurateurs, butchers, writers, painters, even event planners. All Macellarius must exhibit a deep and personal commitment to good taste, manners and breeding.
Meaning, of course, that most vampires of the bloodline begin wealthy. Only a rare few “lower-class” individuals were ever allowed into the bloodline, and those who were accepted were tolerated either because they showed some rare taste or because the Embracing vampire (or Avus) was feeling cruelly ironic that day. Luxury and prosperity are of deep significance to the Macellarius. These vampires are used to having nice things, and their tastes (palate and otherwise) grow only stranger and more specific as their Requiems deepen. Possession of wealth is admittedly only a stepping stone to a true gourmand’s existence — but it is a necessary step, nevertheless.
Also, while it seems petty, a vampire’s girth goes a long way toward illustrating his suitability within the Macellarius lineage. Frankly, the fatter the better. Obesity to these creatures is no grotesquerie, but is instead the watermark of sophistication and refi nement. Size is no detriment — the greater the body mass, the more affluent the vampire. Fat to them is merely a collection of sweet meat and suety tissue. Plumpness reveals a Kindred with prurient taste. Simply put, Rubenesque vampires are more likely to be chosen for this bloodline than any other; one’s own physical magnitude is equally an expression of one’s own personal power and style.
Ultimately, no matter the life once led, all Macellarius are invited into the blood because they demonstrate an unswerving commitment to fulfilling their abnormal hungers.
One man among these families was of particular eccentricity. The patriarch of the Labruscas, named Encolpius, perpetually sought out new tastes and sensations. He tasted minor poisons such as aconite and hemlock to experience their effects. He ate organs of animals that none would consider — and he did not always consume the animals cooked, either. Perhaps the most unusual habit Encolpius took to — and the one that would eventually ensure his immortality — was drinking blood. He had heard rumors that the barbarians of the north took part in such practice, and that it purportedly “gave them power.” Encolpius was a man seeking much power, and if drinking blood would grant him such puissance, then he saw no reason not to try it. And so he took to drinking blood — animal at fi rst, and later the blood of slaves — and he was certain that it granted him an unexpected vitality. Whether the blood did or didn’t is a matter of legend, but what drinking blood did do was attract the attention of a Ventrue vampire called Juvenal.
Unfortunately, he was also drastically overindulgent — he stuffed himself with too much blood, swallowing it with sodden hunks of mortal food (which he would, of course, regurgitate before too long). He was irrepressible, spoiling himself with every urge that assailed him. He was lusty, crass and prideful. Over the years, he began to Embrace others within his family, regardless of cost or consequence to himself and others. He was on a slippery slope, and his behavior eventually began to lead to his own lunacy.
Over time, his Blood changed. Not from conscious effort — Encolpius repeatedly punished his body with pleasure. His form had to adapt, to swell and grow past its already obese form. His stomach yearned to be able to digest the things he crammed inside it. Nobody really knows when it was that he began to eat human flesh (a habit he demanded of his childer, as well, or so the story goes), but he ate, regardless, and that grim penchant stays with the bloodline tonight.
Very recently, within the last 10 years or so, the bloodline has become almost surprisingly involved with Kindred politics. Many Macellarius have taken ancillary roles suitable to the blood — tenders of Elysium, Harpies, occasional Primogen. Few Kindred trust the Macellarius directly, for the legends about them persist even now. Most are affable, with warm smiles and hearty laughter. But that callous hunger for blood, meat and power is always concealed in the darkness of their eyes (and illustrated by their engorged bodies).
Out of all the fi ve senses, however, taste is the most important. That which graces the palate, over the tongue and down the throat, is paramount. Most Gluttons believe themselves to be gourmands of the highest order — no mortal could ever be the kind of meticulous connoisseur that they believe themselves to be. They do not accept that their taste buds have died with the rest of their bodies — no, the Macellarius simply understand that, as a vampire, it simply takes a little more to excite the mouth.
Blood, then, is of obvious interest to this Damned family. Clearly, Vitae is important to all vampires — it is life, and, without it, a Kindred is little more than a moldering corpse. But the Macellarius vampires take the importance of Vitae several steps further. Blood isn’t mere sustenance. Blood is a new realm of taste, an infi nity of endless flavors meant to be savored and appraised. Every living vessel is the chance to sample a new essence, no matter how mundane or bizarre. The blood of a white elk may not provide a great deal of sustenance (if any at all), but the taste is exquisite! The essence of a frightened child is sharply piquant, whereas the blood of a woman caught in the throes of pleasure is a hot wave of coppery sweetness, like honey poured over pennies. What of the taste of a treacherous priest? How bitter is the blood of a spurned husband? The Macellarius want to know them all.
Many collect these fl avors in some fashion or another. Some Gluttons are content to keep journals of their experiences — cataloguing the tastes the way wine tasters or scent detectives do. Does the blood have a hint of cranberry? The tang of gunmetal? Is there a smokiness behind the fl avor or an earthy aftertaste that lingers? Quite a few Gluttons don’t fi nd such cataloguing suitable, however, and endeavor to “save” the taste in some fashion or another. One Glutton might place a few drops of the lingering Vitae in a glass phial with a handwritten label. Others actually bottle the blood and keep it in a cellar, as one might keep vintages of exceptional wines. In this way, they are able to hoard these tastes and “remember” them once in a while.
Of course, few Gluttons speak of the fact that the Vitae of individual vampires tastes differently, too. Each Kindred carries a unique recipe hidden in the Blood — a pastiche of clan, history, personality and other inscrutable factors. The blood of the Damned is perhaps the sweetest of them all. Most Macellarius are wise enough to stay away from this forbidden delicacy; a rare few, on the other hand, fi nd themselves hopelessly addicted. Some go even further, and hunt the blood of other creatures. Occasionally, a Macellarius has lost a limb or an eye trying to retrieve the potent Vitae of a Lupine. Other Macellarius have faced threats against their sanity and souls attempting to taste the blood of powerful occultists.
It isn’t just blood, though. From time to time, the vampires of this bloodline still consume food (for, as inhuman as they are, they enjoy revisiting their lost Humanity often). Yes, they puke the food back up in a hot gush of blood and undigested matter, but even that, in its own way, is a perfectly palatable experience.
Of course, those Gluttons who are at all knowledgeable in the bloodline’s Discipline (Gustus) tend to enjoy eating another type of “food” altogether — human fl esh. The meat of mortals, like blood, is unique to each person and opens up a whole new doorway of appetizing pleasures. The fl esh must be raw, of course; cooked meat comes up the same as any other victuals. But the Gluttons see nothing wrong with that. Blood soaks into muscle, skin tastes of salty sweat, hair has the zest of many oils. Swallowing fl esh gives the vampires power. Their dead bodies break the fl esh down aggressively, and invigorate their own bodies with pleasure and power.
Some Gluttons grow addicted to this sensation, much as some become fettered by the taste of Kindred blood. Although the Macellarius take some comfort in the fact that eating human fl esh has fewer consequences. And its taste is truly exquisite.
The local Macellarius hold one of these banquets about once every month or so — they would have more, were it feasible, but these parties are not casual affairs. To the contrary, these festivities are elaborate events, neatly scripted and scrupulously organized. The Macellarius spare no expense in sending out invitations, preparing the “meals” and decorating their estates (or Elysium; it’s worth noting that many Gluttons are chosen as Masters of Elysium). Some banquets are small, quiet affairs — a thrall cellist in the background, soft candlelight, a comfortable close setting with a few upper-crust Kindred. Other banquets are the defi nition of intricate, featuring dancers and musicians, poetry readings and dozens of guests from all walks of life and unlife. All in all, the Macellarius host a number of feasting parties, each with different themes:
Guest of Honor: Some feasting parties are meant to fete one Kindred or another for some manner of notable service (let it be said that the vampire in question usually belongs to the Invictus). The guest (called the locus consularis) is seated at the head of the table and the event more or less revolves around him. He is given first taste of all the meals, adorned with roses or other flowers and toasted constantly throughout the night. (An extreme variation of this event is one in which the locus consularis is actually eaten at the end of the party, consumed by all vampires present. The guest of honor is still given a rather exciting “send-off,” however, and isn’t usually aware that the party will conclude with his demise.)
Masquerade: The Macellarius seem particularly fond of masquerade parties, with the attendants in masks or costume. These parties are rarely small affairs, and are often the most lavish parties the family will throw. They spend months in preparation — lining up the right vintages of Vitae, decorating, procuring “entertainment.” Perhaps the most arduous part is putting together the guest list, which is a task of such unfathomable precision that the people who are invited are often left to wonder why, and the people who aren’t are forced to ponder why in the world they’d been snubbed. Macellarius masquerade parties are events to make or break one’s reputation, and they often give a number of neonates (or ancilla with unfulfi lled potential) the chance to make a name for themselves.
Tasting Party: The masquerades may be the bloodline’s biggest draw, but their tasting parties are easily their own personal favorite. Few are invited to these elite affairs, which consist of a number of vampires sampling various draughts of blood. Usually 10 or 20 different “vintages” are on hand — everything from the mundane blood of an average mortal to the unconventional tastes of strange mortals (albinos, hemophiliacs, hermaphrodites) or stranger creatures (magicians, shapechangers, the demonically possessed). Some serve the strange bloody “milk” called lacrima pulled from Mandragora (plant ghouls), as well. Invitations to these gatherings are rare and normally highly prized. One popular variation has a number of victims who are forced to imbibe/inject/inhale any number of illegal substances; the Kindred then get together and taste the deliciously tainted blood, gladly suffering the effects of whatever hallucinogen, upper or downer is swimming in the blood.
Arbitration: As a sign of faith to the local Invictus, the Macellarius have recently begun offering their own estates as the sites for arbitration between two Kindred parties. When lines of territory need to be drawn or when a new Sheriff or Seneschal must be elected, the Macellarius usually offer to host such negotiations. Not all parties are comfortable with this (the Macellarius are clearly one-sided, belonging almost universally to the First Estate), but the members of the bloodline push as hard as they can to get their way. Those Kindred who don’t allow the Macellarius the privilege of hosting arbitrations will surely find themselves scratched off any guest lists for the foreseeable future.
Wakes: The Gluttons are well aware that the Requiem is not eternal. It pretends to be, of course; but even the dark and hardy fl ame of a vampire can be snuffed out under the right (or wrong) circumstances. Therefore, the vampires of this lineage hold funerals and wakes for those Allies and acquaintances who suffer Final Death. But such events aren’t meant to be somber. The vampires treat a wake like any other party — except the wake becomes an event of grotesque excess, featuring acts of indulgence so raw and gluttonous that they spit in the eye of eternity. The Gluttons use such shows of intemperance to demonstrate just how little they’re concerned with the final end and how much they’re concerned with enjoying every single night. Gallons of blood are consumed, poor mortals are cut to shreds (their skin and entrails hung from the rafters like so much ribbon) — the Macellarius are even known to ride their prize stallions through the party, the poor beasts bending under the weight of those corpulent bodies. All put together in an effort to cheat death and court what little “life” they have.
Regardless of the type of gathering, the Gluttons always treat the event with the utmost of respect. Moreover, every party is host to a full seven-course dinner (featuring various foods if mortals are present or a number of blood types if vampires are the guests). If the guest-of-honor is to be eaten, he is consumed as the fi nal course, the secundae mensae. The centerpiece of every Macellarius festivity is food, hence the name “feasting party.”
The vampires of the Macellarius may be overindulgent and, in many ways, out of control — but the majority are still shrewd businessmen, salesmen and money managers. They have a glut of “old money” to play with, but the Gluttons’ excessive Requiems begin to drain the well before too long. So, the majority of the bloodline attempt to stay sharp and dynamic in their worldly dealings. Many in The Invictus become staid and stagnant, comfortable in their timeless security without ever tasting the possible splendor afforded to such brilliant creatures. The Gluttons generally choose not to make this mistake. They grab hold of as much as they can — whether fl agons of blood, parcels of real estate or off-shore accounts — and do whatever they must to maintain them.
As a result, the Gluttons have a reputation for being somewhat — ruthless. Within the vampire world and outside, the Macellarius maintain utter courtesy when called for, but they will tear their opponents to pieces (whether, figuratively, in the stock market or, literally, on the dinner table) if they feel that their holdings are threatened. The Macellarius understand keeping strong relationships, of course, and attempt to hold onto their alliances for as long as possible. But if an opportunity is simply too sweet to ignore, or if they fi nd that their “friends” aren’t upholding their end of the bargain, the Gluttons will descend upon the weak like a sea of ticks, bleeding the bastards dry.
Amongst the Kindred, the Gluttons never used to have any great aspirations. By and large, they’ve stayed away from the mainstay of vampire politics for centuries. Recently, though, that has changed. Many Macellarius Damned have once again sought to worm their way into the local power structure, helping The Invictus gain a respectable (and hopefully indomitable) “market share” among the vampires. For the most part, the Gluttons are content with acting as Harpies or Masters of Elysium, as such positions are ostensibly right up their alley. Though rumor tells of a Glutton Prince in power who rules his city like a vomitous parade of blood and circuses, distracting the fools with so much repugnant “playtime” that they can’t see just how fat the spider in the center of the web has truly grown.
That’s not to say that the bloodline doesn’t have its number of outsiders. Most Gluttons are more than willing to hear a Ventrue’s plea to join their estimable “family.” Those Ventrue who wish to be considered must prove their devotion to the bloodline’s gastronomic desires, usually through some kind of test. Such a trial might require the vampire to eat human fl esh (regardless of the resultant regurgitation), drink the blood of a dope fi end or help the Macellarius plan their next feasting party. If the entreating vampire is found fitting, the family will provide her with a suitable Avus to shepherd her into the blood. If she is found wanting but with potential, they will let her go and help to groom her from afar. If the Ventrue, however, is beyond hope and has wasted their time — well, let’s just say she may end up “part of the family” after all, just not how she expected.
Characters investigating the Gluttons (with an appropriate Intelligence + Academics or Intelligence + Occult roll; see “Research,” p. 55 of the World of Darkness Rulebook) might find that this fairy tale has a few “alternate” versions. Take the three bears and replace them with three Gluttons of varying generation (summus, medius and imus) who have set a trap for the young girl by leaving out porridge or soup befouled with bad blood. In some tales, she barely escapes the clutches of these three plump and ghastly men. In other, harder to fi nd tales, she is captured and cannibalized — an object lesson that teaches one to keep to the road.
All of these entities are essentially divine versions of the Macellarius vampires. While some might deny the existence of such beings, it’s hard to deny that vampires put a lot of stock in the mystical and legendary. (They are, after all, supernatural creatures themselves.) The Circle of the Crone, in particular, may believe that the Gluttons are driven or even possessed by such divine figures, and the legends could support this. (This mythical connection may even lead the local Acolytes to try to recruit one or more Gluttons to the Circle.)
Historical Accounts
History, while arguably more “accurate” than myth and legend, can still deliver awe and fear. In fact, history being “true” lends such fear more credence — it’s harder to brush off the facts than it is to dismiss a fable.
The Gluttons never show up in any offi cial history as vampires. By and large, they don’t show up in any major account at all. They’re there, however, for diligent characters to find. It’s recommended that a character accumulate 10 successes on a Research roll (see p. 55 of World of Darkness Rulebook). If the character devotes enough time to this exercise, he may discover a few fi rsthand sources buried deep enough in old, out-of-print history books that hint of the Macellarius.
Consider, for example, a brief tale of a knight and his squire traveling home (possibly Germany) from the Crusades. The knight and his squire unexpectedly fi nd a small castle along the way. Tired, starving, half-crazed from exposure, they stop at the castle to see if it’s occupied — and it is. Three women, unusually fat for this era, invite them in and immediately begin to pamper these wayward souls. The women bathe them, tell them stories and, most importantly, feed them a dinner fi t for three kings. At the end of the dinner, the knight and his squire feel woozy, and pass out. They awaken as the fat women, fangs from ear to ear, descend upon them. The knight manages to escape — probably grabbing a torch off the wall and waving it over them — but, as he fl ees, he hears the hungry sounds and watches as they tear the squire’s midsection apart. As if they were nonchalantly bobbing for apples.
Consider that some of this information (or other news regarding the Gluttons) might also be gleaned from other vampires, especially Invictus Kindred. Characters may learn information about the Macellarius through the appropriate Socialize, Persuasion or even Intimidation rolls. (Bonuses should be granted for strong roleplaying.)
Variables You may want to use this bloodline, but feel that these Kindred might need some adjustment to fi t into your story. What follows are a few ideas on how to tweak these Gluttons:
Alternate Origin: The Macellarius may think their origin is buried in the heart of degenerate Rome, but what if they’re wrong? Perhaps their origins are surprisingly local, or not that old. Or maybe they were not vampires among the Camarilla, but were instead servants of the Crone for centuries. Maybe the Macellarius were once poor. (Different origins could be uncovered by characters and used against the local Gluttons in an effort to gain power — but that would be a dangerous gambit, indeed.)
Different Weakness: The Macellarius might just be fat because they Embrace plump mortals or invite obese Kindred into their ranks. The Marcellarius might have other weaknesses applicable to them, instead. Their hungers may drive them to have a weakened resolve against Wassail. Or perhaps their rarified tastes cause them to only be able to feed off of one “type” of person (decided at the time of character creation) such as priests, the wealthy, the poor, little children.
Variable Discipline: Gustus may only be a legend. Vampires consuming raw meat? Impossible. (If the Discipline is just a legend in your game, it’s probably one that the Gluttons promote themselves to maintain that aura of horror about them.) Instead, they might have Majesty or Nightmare to complement their desires for fear and awe. (It’s not impossible that they might have one of the more aberrant Disciplines, like Protean — after all, the Gluttons consider themselves consummate predators, and those lovely claws might do them well when hunting for food.)
Meaning, of course, that most vampires of the bloodline begin wealthy. Only a rare few “lower-class” individuals were ever allowed into the bloodline, and those who were accepted were tolerated either because they showed some rare taste or because the Embracing vampire (or Avus) was feeling cruelly ironic that day. Luxury and prosperity are of deep significance to the Macellarius. These vampires are used to having nice things, and their tastes (palate and otherwise) grow only stranger and more specific as their Requiems deepen. Possession of wealth is admittedly only a stepping stone to a true gourmand’s existence — but it is a necessary step, nevertheless.
Also, while it seems petty, a vampire’s girth goes a long way toward illustrating his suitability within the Macellarius lineage. Frankly, the fatter the better. Obesity to these creatures is no grotesquerie, but is instead the watermark of sophistication and refi nement. Size is no detriment — the greater the body mass, the more affluent the vampire. Fat to them is merely a collection of sweet meat and suety tissue. Plumpness reveals a Kindred with prurient taste. Simply put, Rubenesque vampires are more likely to be chosen for this bloodline than any other; one’s own physical magnitude is equally an expression of one’s own personal power and style.
Ultimately, no matter the life once led, all Macellarius are invited into the blood because they demonstrate an unswerving commitment to fulfilling their abnormal hungers.
History
It is said that the Macellarius origins go far back indeed, all the way to the decadent nights of ancient Rome during the Age of Augustus. As fi res burned in braziers and opium smoke fi lled the air, three families were considered the crème de la crème of the Roman outpost of Rimini. These three families (Labrusca, Mellitus and Pulmento) did not belong to any political world — instead, they raised horses. Some of the fi nest steeds found in Rome came from the breeding stock of these three families, and raising horses allowed them all to live extravagant lives of wine, food and wealth. They were a competitive lot, holding several events and parties a month in an effort to “one-up” the other families. They would produce the strangest, most egregious of meals (baked flamingo tongue, geese stuffed with roasted hummingbirds, sow udders peppered with dates and nuts) and provide endless streams of alcohol (wine and beer of limitless flavors). When they were done gorging, the families would take some time at the local vomitorium, making room for more. Gluttony was no sin; gluttony was tradition.One man among these families was of particular eccentricity. The patriarch of the Labruscas, named Encolpius, perpetually sought out new tastes and sensations. He tasted minor poisons such as aconite and hemlock to experience their effects. He ate organs of animals that none would consider — and he did not always consume the animals cooked, either. Perhaps the most unusual habit Encolpius took to — and the one that would eventually ensure his immortality — was drinking blood. He had heard rumors that the barbarians of the north took part in such practice, and that it purportedly “gave them power.” Encolpius was a man seeking much power, and if drinking blood would grant him such puissance, then he saw no reason not to try it. And so he took to drinking blood — animal at fi rst, and later the blood of slaves — and he was certain that it granted him an unexpected vitality. Whether the blood did or didn’t is a matter of legend, but what drinking blood did do was attract the attention of a Ventrue vampire called Juvenal.
Eternal Gluttons
Juvenal cursed Encolpius with the Embrace, seeing unusual potential in this strange man. He was connected, well-mannered, well-bred and ostensibly hosted the fi nest parties and orgies out of the three equite families. And he had good taste, above all. Over the subsequent decades, Encolpius would prove his mettle amongst the Kindred of the Camarilla. He hosted lavish Elysian affairs, managed to attain a number of strange Vitae vintages and was instrumental in helping Juvenal arrange various alliances with foreign vampires. Encolpius was the ideal host.Unfortunately, he was also drastically overindulgent — he stuffed himself with too much blood, swallowing it with sodden hunks of mortal food (which he would, of course, regurgitate before too long). He was irrepressible, spoiling himself with every urge that assailed him. He was lusty, crass and prideful. Over the years, he began to Embrace others within his family, regardless of cost or consequence to himself and others. He was on a slippery slope, and his behavior eventually began to lead to his own lunacy.
Over time, his Blood changed. Not from conscious effort — Encolpius repeatedly punished his body with pleasure. His form had to adapt, to swell and grow past its already obese form. His stomach yearned to be able to digest the things he crammed inside it. Nobody really knows when it was that he began to eat human flesh (a habit he demanded of his childer, as well, or so the story goes), but he ate, regardless, and that grim penchant stays with the bloodline tonight.
Bloated With Sin
The fall of Rome was not good for the Gluttons. Rome provided them with both comfort and opportunity. The Dark Ages — and the resultant Catholic madness — was unkind to the Gluttons. Such deadly dogma forced them to the edges of civilization. They became the swollen kings of distant outposts and podgy monsters living in collapsing manors away from town. They fed, of course — those wandering nearby were food, for sure — but they were forced into the same darkness that the rest of Europe shared. For nearly a millennia, these hungry vampires dwelled this way, like leeches in murky ponds, waiting for victims to come along with that sweet blood and marbled meat.Modern Nights
Only in the last couple centuries have the Macellarius encroached again upon Kindred civilization. For so many years, the Macellarius were little more than legend — the fat aristocrats from fallen Rome, the greedy cannibals from the road less traveled. Over time, they emerged and brought more to their line — young, dynamic blood — and have once again taken small roles in Kindred society. The Macellarius enjoy the sinful comforts of the modern Requiem, and are glad to have The Invictus as their lord and partner.Very recently, within the last 10 years or so, the bloodline has become almost surprisingly involved with Kindred politics. Many Macellarius have taken ancillary roles suitable to the blood — tenders of Elysium, Harpies, occasional Primogen. Few Kindred trust the Macellarius directly, for the legends about them persist even now. Most are affable, with warm smiles and hearty laughter. But that callous hunger for blood, meat and power is always concealed in the darkness of their eyes (and illustrated by their engorged bodies).
Society and Culture
The vampires of the Macellarius blood are ostensibly unifi ed in their plans and desires — most of them are cut from the same cloth. Those who don’t show the proper reverence for the family’s practices are simply disallowed access to the bloodline. Those who are allowed to commit themselves to this powerful and indulgent family enter into a world of pomp, circumstance — and devilish excess.Rarified Tastes
The senses are everything, to the Macellarius vampires. That which piques their senses is worth pursuing, no matter the cost. One Macellarius may swoon at the smell of butter cream, where another may bask in the sight and sound of a pack of dogs tearing fl esh from the bones of a still-living mortal. The family encourages pursuit of these sensations, regardless of what they may be, because, without these experiences, what is the Requiem but a ceaseless parade of unpleasant nights?Out of all the fi ve senses, however, taste is the most important. That which graces the palate, over the tongue and down the throat, is paramount. Most Gluttons believe themselves to be gourmands of the highest order — no mortal could ever be the kind of meticulous connoisseur that they believe themselves to be. They do not accept that their taste buds have died with the rest of their bodies — no, the Macellarius simply understand that, as a vampire, it simply takes a little more to excite the mouth.
Blood, then, is of obvious interest to this Damned family. Clearly, Vitae is important to all vampires — it is life, and, without it, a Kindred is little more than a moldering corpse. But the Macellarius vampires take the importance of Vitae several steps further. Blood isn’t mere sustenance. Blood is a new realm of taste, an infi nity of endless flavors meant to be savored and appraised. Every living vessel is the chance to sample a new essence, no matter how mundane or bizarre. The blood of a white elk may not provide a great deal of sustenance (if any at all), but the taste is exquisite! The essence of a frightened child is sharply piquant, whereas the blood of a woman caught in the throes of pleasure is a hot wave of coppery sweetness, like honey poured over pennies. What of the taste of a treacherous priest? How bitter is the blood of a spurned husband? The Macellarius want to know them all.
Many collect these fl avors in some fashion or another. Some Gluttons are content to keep journals of their experiences — cataloguing the tastes the way wine tasters or scent detectives do. Does the blood have a hint of cranberry? The tang of gunmetal? Is there a smokiness behind the fl avor or an earthy aftertaste that lingers? Quite a few Gluttons don’t fi nd such cataloguing suitable, however, and endeavor to “save” the taste in some fashion or another. One Glutton might place a few drops of the lingering Vitae in a glass phial with a handwritten label. Others actually bottle the blood and keep it in a cellar, as one might keep vintages of exceptional wines. In this way, they are able to hoard these tastes and “remember” them once in a while.
Of course, few Gluttons speak of the fact that the Vitae of individual vampires tastes differently, too. Each Kindred carries a unique recipe hidden in the Blood — a pastiche of clan, history, personality and other inscrutable factors. The blood of the Damned is perhaps the sweetest of them all. Most Macellarius are wise enough to stay away from this forbidden delicacy; a rare few, on the other hand, fi nd themselves hopelessly addicted. Some go even further, and hunt the blood of other creatures. Occasionally, a Macellarius has lost a limb or an eye trying to retrieve the potent Vitae of a Lupine. Other Macellarius have faced threats against their sanity and souls attempting to taste the blood of powerful occultists.
It isn’t just blood, though. From time to time, the vampires of this bloodline still consume food (for, as inhuman as they are, they enjoy revisiting their lost Humanity often). Yes, they puke the food back up in a hot gush of blood and undigested matter, but even that, in its own way, is a perfectly palatable experience.
Of course, those Gluttons who are at all knowledgeable in the bloodline’s Discipline (Gustus) tend to enjoy eating another type of “food” altogether — human fl esh. The meat of mortals, like blood, is unique to each person and opens up a whole new doorway of appetizing pleasures. The fl esh must be raw, of course; cooked meat comes up the same as any other victuals. But the Gluttons see nothing wrong with that. Blood soaks into muscle, skin tastes of salty sweat, hair has the zest of many oils. Swallowing fl esh gives the vampires power. Their dead bodies break the fl esh down aggressively, and invigorate their own bodies with pleasure and power.
Some Gluttons grow addicted to this sensation, much as some become fettered by the taste of Kindred blood. Although the Macellarius take some comfort in the fact that eating human fl esh has fewer consequences. And its taste is truly exquisite.
Feasting Parties
Most Macellarius are not content to keep their rarefied tastes to themselves. Many, in fact, see one of their jobs as educating the unwashed masses. And, so, you have the “feasting party,” a banquet-style event that is generally unique to the Macellarius bloodline.The local Macellarius hold one of these banquets about once every month or so — they would have more, were it feasible, but these parties are not casual affairs. To the contrary, these festivities are elaborate events, neatly scripted and scrupulously organized. The Macellarius spare no expense in sending out invitations, preparing the “meals” and decorating their estates (or Elysium; it’s worth noting that many Gluttons are chosen as Masters of Elysium). Some banquets are small, quiet affairs — a thrall cellist in the background, soft candlelight, a comfortable close setting with a few upper-crust Kindred. Other banquets are the defi nition of intricate, featuring dancers and musicians, poetry readings and dozens of guests from all walks of life and unlife. All in all, the Macellarius host a number of feasting parties, each with different themes:
Guest of Honor: Some feasting parties are meant to fete one Kindred or another for some manner of notable service (let it be said that the vampire in question usually belongs to the Invictus). The guest (called the locus consularis) is seated at the head of the table and the event more or less revolves around him. He is given first taste of all the meals, adorned with roses or other flowers and toasted constantly throughout the night. (An extreme variation of this event is one in which the locus consularis is actually eaten at the end of the party, consumed by all vampires present. The guest of honor is still given a rather exciting “send-off,” however, and isn’t usually aware that the party will conclude with his demise.)
Masquerade: The Macellarius seem particularly fond of masquerade parties, with the attendants in masks or costume. These parties are rarely small affairs, and are often the most lavish parties the family will throw. They spend months in preparation — lining up the right vintages of Vitae, decorating, procuring “entertainment.” Perhaps the most arduous part is putting together the guest list, which is a task of such unfathomable precision that the people who are invited are often left to wonder why, and the people who aren’t are forced to ponder why in the world they’d been snubbed. Macellarius masquerade parties are events to make or break one’s reputation, and they often give a number of neonates (or ancilla with unfulfi lled potential) the chance to make a name for themselves.
Tasting Party: The masquerades may be the bloodline’s biggest draw, but their tasting parties are easily their own personal favorite. Few are invited to these elite affairs, which consist of a number of vampires sampling various draughts of blood. Usually 10 or 20 different “vintages” are on hand — everything from the mundane blood of an average mortal to the unconventional tastes of strange mortals (albinos, hemophiliacs, hermaphrodites) or stranger creatures (magicians, shapechangers, the demonically possessed). Some serve the strange bloody “milk” called lacrima pulled from Mandragora (plant ghouls), as well. Invitations to these gatherings are rare and normally highly prized. One popular variation has a number of victims who are forced to imbibe/inject/inhale any number of illegal substances; the Kindred then get together and taste the deliciously tainted blood, gladly suffering the effects of whatever hallucinogen, upper or downer is swimming in the blood.
Arbitration: As a sign of faith to the local Invictus, the Macellarius have recently begun offering their own estates as the sites for arbitration between two Kindred parties. When lines of territory need to be drawn or when a new Sheriff or Seneschal must be elected, the Macellarius usually offer to host such negotiations. Not all parties are comfortable with this (the Macellarius are clearly one-sided, belonging almost universally to the First Estate), but the members of the bloodline push as hard as they can to get their way. Those Kindred who don’t allow the Macellarius the privilege of hosting arbitrations will surely find themselves scratched off any guest lists for the foreseeable future.
Wakes: The Gluttons are well aware that the Requiem is not eternal. It pretends to be, of course; but even the dark and hardy fl ame of a vampire can be snuffed out under the right (or wrong) circumstances. Therefore, the vampires of this lineage hold funerals and wakes for those Allies and acquaintances who suffer Final Death. But such events aren’t meant to be somber. The vampires treat a wake like any other party — except the wake becomes an event of grotesque excess, featuring acts of indulgence so raw and gluttonous that they spit in the eye of eternity. The Gluttons use such shows of intemperance to demonstrate just how little they’re concerned with the final end and how much they’re concerned with enjoying every single night. Gallons of blood are consumed, poor mortals are cut to shreds (their skin and entrails hung from the rafters like so much ribbon) — the Macellarius are even known to ride their prize stallions through the party, the poor beasts bending under the weight of those corpulent bodies. All put together in an effort to cheat death and court what little “life” they have.
Regardless of the type of gathering, the Gluttons always treat the event with the utmost of respect. Moreover, every party is host to a full seven-course dinner (featuring various foods if mortals are present or a number of blood types if vampires are the guests). If the guest-of-honor is to be eaten, he is consumed as the fi nal course, the secundae mensae. The centerpiece of every Macellarius festivity is food, hence the name “feasting party.”
Ambitions
The Gluttons aren’t merely hungry for food — they’re hungry for power, as well. Temporal power is a true delight to these fi endish socialites — spiritual wealth and supernatural strength are all well and good, but the reality of 2,000 years ago is still the reality of today: money makes the world go round. Money is how the vampires afford their lavish (and gruesome) habits. Food, drink, blood and song are the end results for the Macellarius, and the means to that end is wealth.The vampires of the Macellarius may be overindulgent and, in many ways, out of control — but the majority are still shrewd businessmen, salesmen and money managers. They have a glut of “old money” to play with, but the Gluttons’ excessive Requiems begin to drain the well before too long. So, the majority of the bloodline attempt to stay sharp and dynamic in their worldly dealings. Many in The Invictus become staid and stagnant, comfortable in their timeless security without ever tasting the possible splendor afforded to such brilliant creatures. The Gluttons generally choose not to make this mistake. They grab hold of as much as they can — whether fl agons of blood, parcels of real estate or off-shore accounts — and do whatever they must to maintain them.
As a result, the Gluttons have a reputation for being somewhat — ruthless. Within the vampire world and outside, the Macellarius maintain utter courtesy when called for, but they will tear their opponents to pieces (whether, figuratively, in the stock market or, literally, on the dinner table) if they feel that their holdings are threatened. The Macellarius understand keeping strong relationships, of course, and attempt to hold onto their alliances for as long as possible. But if an opportunity is simply too sweet to ignore, or if they fi nd that their “friends” aren’t upholding their end of the bargain, the Gluttons will descend upon the weak like a sea of ticks, bleeding the bastards dry.
Amongst the Kindred, the Gluttons never used to have any great aspirations. By and large, they’ve stayed away from the mainstay of vampire politics for centuries. Recently, though, that has changed. Many Macellarius Damned have once again sought to worm their way into the local power structure, helping The Invictus gain a respectable (and hopefully indomitable) “market share” among the vampires. For the most part, the Gluttons are content with acting as Harpies or Masters of Elysium, as such positions are ostensibly right up their alley. Though rumor tells of a Glutton Prince in power who rules his city like a vomitous parade of blood and circuses, distracting the fools with so much repugnant “playtime” that they can’t see just how fat the spider in the center of the web has truly grown.
Epicurean Dynasty
When the time comes to expand their happy family, the Macellarius prefer to do so by Embracing suitable candidates. It’s easiest in this way to truly fi nd individuals compatible with the Gluttons’ grotesque carpe diem attitude. Such candidates for the Blood are often wealthy and socially well-connected and exhibit an unhealthy love of temporal sensations (food, drink, sex, pain). Bodily girth is certainly considered — contenders needn’t be morbidly obese, but should at least look at home in a Botticelli painting. Curiously, few Gluttons bother putting such individuals through any kind of testing phase. Some Gluttons go so far as to make Ghouls of such candidates, but most Gluttons harness a grim spontaneity and Embrace, whether prudent or not. They generally hold to the theory that the Requiem is best served by a sick kind of joie de vivre, and they see the Embrace in the same light. (However, note that the Macellarius Embrace only rarely, and, when they do, they prefer to go through all the proper channels and have the act blessed by the Prince — hopefully an Invictus Prince.) It’s worth noting that there are descendents of the original three families (Labrusca, Mellitus, Pulmento) around, and, occasionally, the Gluttons will bring these mortals into the fold under the single Macellarius banner.That’s not to say that the bloodline doesn’t have its number of outsiders. Most Gluttons are more than willing to hear a Ventrue’s plea to join their estimable “family.” Those Ventrue who wish to be considered must prove their devotion to the bloodline’s gastronomic desires, usually through some kind of test. Such a trial might require the vampire to eat human fl esh (regardless of the resultant regurgitation), drink the blood of a dope fi end or help the Macellarius plan their next feasting party. If the entreating vampire is found fitting, the family will provide her with a suitable Avus to shepherd her into the blood. If she is found wanting but with potential, they will let her go and help to groom her from afar. If the Ventrue, however, is beyond hope and has wasted their time — well, let’s just say she may end up “part of the family” after all, just not how she expected.
Legends
The Macellarius are the patron saints of vampiric excess. They aren’t just voracious bloodsuckers — they’re goddamn cannibals. The legends about these bloated Kindred paint them as cancerous tumors, vicious Machiavellians and loathsome hedonists. Not many of the Damned have met a Glutton — but most Kindred have certainly heard the tales. Should you choose to include this bloodline in your story, you can hint at their legends in a number of ways.Fairy Tales
The Gluttons are straight out of some of the darkest fairy tales. Once upon a time, the Macellarius lived on the fringes of civilization, waiting for foolish mortals to take the wrong road and seek succor and shelter from the patient vampires. This is the meat of some of the most frightening children’s stories. Take Goldilocks and the Three Bears, for instance. Young hungry girl wanders into an unknown part of the woods and finds a house — there she finds three porridge bowls and tastesall of the food. We know the end of the story — the porridge belongs to three bears who come home. She runs from them before she is eaten alive.Characters investigating the Gluttons (with an appropriate Intelligence + Academics or Intelligence + Occult roll; see “Research,” p. 55 of the World of Darkness Rulebook) might find that this fairy tale has a few “alternate” versions. Take the three bears and replace them with three Gluttons of varying generation (summus, medius and imus) who have set a trap for the young girl by leaving out porridge or soup befouled with bad blood. In some tales, she barely escapes the clutches of these three plump and ghastly men. In other, harder to fi nd tales, she is captured and cannibalized — an object lesson that teaches one to keep to the road.
Mythology
Legends about cannibal spirits and hungry gods aren’t hard to fi nd. Local Native Americans might speak of regional human-eaters (the heart-eating Wendigo, the shadowy Tamanous, the toothless “Raw Gums” creature). In Asia, they tell of “hungry ghosts” or the “starving dead.” All around the world, you have fl esh-eating witches (Baba Yaga, Cailleach, Guaxa) and consumptive monsters (Jack-in-Irons, Rakshasa, the anthropophagi). Greek and Roman mythology certainly had their gluttons — Bacchus, for one, was a consummate eater and drinker, a debauched divinity. (Many Macellarius have artwork depicting Bacchus in a number of situations, actually.)All of these entities are essentially divine versions of the Macellarius vampires. While some might deny the existence of such beings, it’s hard to deny that vampires put a lot of stock in the mystical and legendary. (They are, after all, supernatural creatures themselves.) The Circle of the Crone, in particular, may believe that the Gluttons are driven or even possessed by such divine figures, and the legends could support this. (This mythical connection may even lead the local Acolytes to try to recruit one or more Gluttons to the Circle.)
Historical Accounts
History, while arguably more “accurate” than myth and legend, can still deliver awe and fear. In fact, history being “true” lends such fear more credence — it’s harder to brush off the facts than it is to dismiss a fable.
The Gluttons never show up in any offi cial history as vampires. By and large, they don’t show up in any major account at all. They’re there, however, for diligent characters to find. It’s recommended that a character accumulate 10 successes on a Research roll (see p. 55 of World of Darkness Rulebook). If the character devotes enough time to this exercise, he may discover a few fi rsthand sources buried deep enough in old, out-of-print history books that hint of the Macellarius.
Consider, for example, a brief tale of a knight and his squire traveling home (possibly Germany) from the Crusades. The knight and his squire unexpectedly fi nd a small castle along the way. Tired, starving, half-crazed from exposure, they stop at the castle to see if it’s occupied — and it is. Three women, unusually fat for this era, invite them in and immediately begin to pamper these wayward souls. The women bathe them, tell them stories and, most importantly, feed them a dinner fi t for three kings. At the end of the dinner, the knight and his squire feel woozy, and pass out. They awaken as the fat women, fangs from ear to ear, descend upon them. The knight manages to escape — probably grabbing a torch off the wall and waving it over them — but, as he fl ees, he hears the hungry sounds and watches as they tear the squire’s midsection apart. As if they were nonchalantly bobbing for apples.
Consider that some of this information (or other news regarding the Gluttons) might also be gleaned from other vampires, especially Invictus Kindred. Characters may learn information about the Macellarius through the appropriate Socialize, Persuasion or even Intimidation rolls. (Bonuses should be granted for strong roleplaying.)
Variables You may want to use this bloodline, but feel that these Kindred might need some adjustment to fi t into your story. What follows are a few ideas on how to tweak these Gluttons:
Alternate Origin: The Macellarius may think their origin is buried in the heart of degenerate Rome, but what if they’re wrong? Perhaps their origins are surprisingly local, or not that old. Or maybe they were not vampires among the Camarilla, but were instead servants of the Crone for centuries. Maybe the Macellarius were once poor. (Different origins could be uncovered by characters and used against the local Gluttons in an effort to gain power — but that would be a dangerous gambit, indeed.)
Different Weakness: The Macellarius might just be fat because they Embrace plump mortals or invite obese Kindred into their ranks. The Marcellarius might have other weaknesses applicable to them, instead. Their hungers may drive them to have a weakened resolve against Wassail. Or perhaps their rarified tastes cause them to only be able to feed off of one “type” of person (decided at the time of character creation) such as priests, the wealthy, the poor, little children.
Variable Discipline: Gustus may only be a legend. Vampires consuming raw meat? Impossible. (If the Discipline is just a legend in your game, it’s probably one that the Gluttons promote themselves to maintain that aura of horror about them.) Instead, they might have Majesty or Nightmare to complement their desires for fear and awe. (It’s not impossible that they might have one of the more aberrant Disciplines, like Protean — after all, the Gluttons consider themselves consummate predators, and those lovely claws might do them well when hunting for food.)
Common Dress code
Appearance: The most obvious characteristic that the vampires of this bloodline share is obesity. The Kindred of the Macellarius are unavoidably obese (see “Weakness,” below) — 200 pounds is essentially the bare minimum for the Gluttons. Many tend to Embrace larger childer, as well, meaning that several of the lineage are abhorrently fat, bloated to sizes of 400 pounds or larger. Beyond the size of these vampires, most Macellarius dress well and are groomed impeccably. They have tailor-made suits of the fi nest Thai silks and Egyptian cottons, and most are accustomed to wearing makeup (blush, lipstick) to appear more “human.”
However, not all Macellarius are so well-kept; many who begin to grow mad begin losing touch with the bloodline’s signature style, and grow disheveled and unkempt.
However, not all Macellarius are so well-kept; many who begin to grow mad begin losing touch with the bloodline’s signature style, and grow disheveled and unkempt.
Art & Architecture
Haven: The “families” of the Macellarius tend to own large swathes of land outside the cities, and most make their homes in these places. Many own vineyards, manor houses, luxuriant farms or other sumptuous estates. From here, the vampires exist like tumors — establishing their own blood supply and swelling in number. Not all of the bloodline stay away from the city lights, however. Many younger Macellarius seek out the sprawling urban blight and its many hidden delicacies. Such Kindred tend to make their havens in upscale suites and townhomes, often near places that offer the vampires their most favorite sensory stimulations — the smells of a fish market or a steakhouse, the sight of little children playing on a playground, the sounds of cattle and hogs being butchered and rendered.
Major organizations
Covenant: The Invictus is a natural home for the Macellarius. These vampires associate themselves with that most distant of vampiric covenants, the Camarilla, and, therefore, The Invictus is of particular attraction to this bloodline. (The Sanctified are too concerned with spiritual nonsense to be of use to most Macellarius. They are far too interested in worldly pleasures to fi nd any comfort within The Lancea Sanctum.) The Acolytes of the Circle make too much trouble forthemselves, while the Carthians don’t know the taste of true power. A rare few Gluttons have gone to The Ordo Dracul (some have a deeply experimental nature and may believe themselves to be more “evolved” than other vampires due to their sometime ability to consume human fl esh), but most Gluttons stick with the First Estate. The Invictus does not punish the cutthroat spirit of hungry vampires, and, in fact, encourages such behavior. The vampires of the Macellarius believe themselves to be ideal covenant members — better than most, if not the finest of all.
Organization: Every Macellarius household has three significant positions of power: the summus, medius and imus. The imus is generally a neonate, responsible for setting tables, bringing plates, arranging décor and other more menial tasks. The medius, normally an ancilla within the bloodline, is responsible for the food. If mortals will be sitting at the table, the medius prepares (or has someone prepare) mortal victuals. If vampires will be dining, he procures the blood most appropriatefor the situation. He even goes so far as to feed the animals of the estate (usually horses, hounds, raptors). The summus, always an ancilla or elder, is the host. While all Macellarius are committed to social duties during every dinner event, the summus is the one most responsible for comfort, conversation and administrating business. Even if the guest-of-honor (called the locus consularis) is actually going to be the final course of dinner, the summus still does his best to make the victim feel at home and at ease. These three roles generally only come into play during those times when the family is entertaining; otherwise, the eldest of the house makes all the rules,whether he is the summus or not.
Ultimately, this means that most Macellarius havens are home to three or more of the blood. They stick together; family is important, after all. Where there is one Glutton, there are at least two more, equally friendly — and ravenous.
Organization: Every Macellarius household has three significant positions of power: the summus, medius and imus. The imus is generally a neonate, responsible for setting tables, bringing plates, arranging décor and other more menial tasks. The medius, normally an ancilla within the bloodline, is responsible for the food. If mortals will be sitting at the table, the medius prepares (or has someone prepare) mortal victuals. If vampires will be dining, he procures the blood most appropriatefor the situation. He even goes so far as to feed the animals of the estate (usually horses, hounds, raptors). The summus, always an ancilla or elder, is the host. While all Macellarius are committed to social duties during every dinner event, the summus is the one most responsible for comfort, conversation and administrating business. Even if the guest-of-honor (called the locus consularis) is actually going to be the final course of dinner, the summus still does his best to make the victim feel at home and at ease. These three roles generally only come into play during those times when the family is entertaining; otherwise, the eldest of the house makes all the rules,whether he is the summus or not.
Ultimately, this means that most Macellarius havens are home to three or more of the blood. They stick together; family is important, after all. Where there is one Glutton, there are at least two more, equally friendly — and ravenous.
Nickname: Gourmands / Gluttons
Character Creation: Macellarius are likely to sport high Social Attributes and Skills — these are their tools and weapons. Similarly, Social Merits are common, as well. A Glutton may have high Stamina but low Dexterity (a direct refl ection of her obese body), and may also have lower Resolve and Composure scores to show how poorly a Macellarius gives in to her baser urges.
Bloodline Disciplines: Animalism, Dominate, Gustus, Resilience
Weakness: The Damned of the Macellarius suffer from the Ventrue weakness, suffering a –2 penalty to all Humanity rolls meant to avoid acquiring Derangements after failing the initial degeneration roll.
However, the Macellarius suffer from another malady, this one physical. The vampires of this lineage grow larger upon inclusion into the bloodline. Their fl esh swells and distends as the dead fat within the body multiplies painfully. The vampire, over the course of three nights, gains an additional 100 to 150 pounds upon her frame. This weight is uneven and (to others) unpleasant. The fatty fl esh is lumpy, greasy and sits poorly balanced upon the Kindred’s bones. The fat shows everywhere, as well — neck, midsection, limbs. The vampire’s bloated, newly corpulent body is hard to manage.
Thus, in all dice pools involving Dexterity, the 10 again rule does not apply. Additionally, any 1’s that come up on the roll subtract from successes gained. Finally, the vampire’s Speed is forever at a –1 penalty. (Note that this weakness does not increase the vampire’s Size for mechanical purposes; no Health levels are gained from the weight.)
Additionally, for every year spent as a vampire, the Kindred grows even fatter. Macellarius vampires gain a pound per year to their already considerable bulk, whether active or in Torpor.
Concepts: Cultured drug addict, deranged socialite, event planner, exquisite gourmand, Master of Elysium, repulsive Harpy, serial cannibal, sous chef, venture capitalist, wealthy hedonist
Aside from being the “gourmand” that he was, Encolpius was also a fervid writer, detailing every taste and experience he encountered. Vampire legend suggests that his books — of which there are reportedly hundreds, spanning nearly a millennium in time — are full of historical detail about the Kindred who might otherwise be lacking from “common knowledge.” Many have tried to hunt down these books, suspecting that they lie locked away somewhere in the hands of the Macellarius family.
Were anyone to find these books, they’d likely be disappointed. Encolpius did write at length over a period of countless centuries, but these accounts were marred with inaccuracies and contradictions as he fl oated in and out of Torpor. Moreover, his books were glaringly self-centered, speaking only of his own exaggerated exploits. It’s said that many of his books can be found in his Tomb, where the monstrously large Encolpius sleeps in undisturbed Torpor.
Grape juice for wine is squeezed from the fruit by a wine press. (Few bother stepping on the grapes, anymore; it’s simply not effi cient.) One “enterprising” Macellarius vampire invented a similar device — except this one crushes the blood out of an animal, mortal or vampire. Hiram Macellarius formulated what he calls “the Press.” It’s a stainless steel device, alarmingly minimal in its construction. Two metal spiked plates are driven together by a turn-key handle. The Press is not automated — it requires that Hiram or one of his childer actually grab the turn-key and exert pressure upon turning it. Whatever body inside the press is crushed, like the aforementioned grapes. The blood and fl uids run off the lower plate and into a small trap. The trap is then emptied into a bottle below using a basic spigot. So far, only one of these devices actually exists — though Hiram has offered to make more, for the “right price.”
The Macellarius think themselves supremely well-mannered. And, in a way, they are. They adhere to very strident codes of conduct — the meal begins when the host unfolds his napkin, the right hand must always place the goblet back in the exact spot, the knife and fork should be placed on an empty plate at 10 and four o’clock, respectively. And yet, others find the Macellarius' manners most appalling. When eating, the Macellarius tend to earn their sobriquet, the “Gluttons.” They gorge, gobble and swallow. They stain their shirts with blood and bits of fat. They force air up through their throats and conjure belches that smell of rotten blood and corpse breath. But all of this, to the Gluttons, is natural — the expression of a good meal, an exclamation of delight and adulation. Where others find the Macellarius disgusting, the Macellarius believe themselves to be the pinnacle of good manners.
During the dawn of the bloodline — when it was in fact three mortal families instead of a single vampiric one — the Macellarius were renowned Roman horse breeders. Their horses were used in races (both with chariot and without), ridden in war and sold to important senators and merchants as symbols of pride. At the time, the families specialized in a number of fi nely bred Arabian horses, including the rare Iberian breed.
Curiously, horse breeding is one of the elements of the original mortal families that has carried over to the modern bloodline. The Gluttons recognize that horses are not only graceful, unique creatures but also symbols of pride. Many Macellarius see fi t to still raise horses on their vast estates. Some Macellarius breed horses for selling, others for show and a rare few for the flavor of the animals’ blood. Of course, the Gluttons have specialized tastes in all things, and aren’t satisfied with breeding normal horses. No, far better to cultivate a number of rare breeds (the Mulassier, Lipizzaner and the legendary Akhal-Teke) instead. Even Marcellarius who don’t raise horses often have a number of equestrian-related artwork around their manor houses.
The Macellarius family is a very old bloodline — and while it doesn’t Embrace all too often, it still has nearly two millennia’s worth of vampires to consider. Of course, the majority of these creatures met their Final Deaths long ago in their reckless pursuit of culinary hedonism; still, many Marcellarius linger on, most doing so in the disturbed “comfort” of Torpor. The family keeps these torpid elders, waiting for the day where they awaken. Whenever possible, the slumbering Gluttons’ own descendents keep these elders nearby — usually building elaborate tombs, sarcophagi or funeral parlors in which to reverently shelter these comatose beings. In the event that one of these ancient creatures awakens, the local Macellarius throw a feasting party unlike any other — putting on the most perverse Grand Guignol possible.
Parent ethnicities
Bloodline Disciplines: Animalism, Dominate, Gustus, Resilience
Weakness: The Damned of the Macellarius suffer from the Ventrue weakness, suffering a –2 penalty to all Humanity rolls meant to avoid acquiring Derangements after failing the initial degeneration roll.
However, the Macellarius suffer from another malady, this one physical. The vampires of this lineage grow larger upon inclusion into the bloodline. Their fl esh swells and distends as the dead fat within the body multiplies painfully. The vampire, over the course of three nights, gains an additional 100 to 150 pounds upon her frame. This weight is uneven and (to others) unpleasant. The fatty fl esh is lumpy, greasy and sits poorly balanced upon the Kindred’s bones. The fat shows everywhere, as well — neck, midsection, limbs. The vampire’s bloated, newly corpulent body is hard to manage.
Thus, in all dice pools involving Dexterity, the 10 again rule does not apply. Additionally, any 1’s that come up on the roll subtract from successes gained. Finally, the vampire’s Speed is forever at a –1 penalty. (Note that this weakness does not increase the vampire’s Size for mechanical purposes; no Health levels are gained from the weight.)
Additionally, for every year spent as a vampire, the Kindred grows even fatter. Macellarius vampires gain a pound per year to their already considerable bulk, whether active or in Torpor.
Concepts: Cultured drug addict, deranged socialite, event planner, exquisite gourmand, Master of Elysium, repulsive Harpy, serial cannibal, sous chef, venture capitalist, wealthy hedonist
The Books of Encolpius
Aside from being the “gourmand” that he was, Encolpius was also a fervid writer, detailing every taste and experience he encountered. Vampire legend suggests that his books — of which there are reportedly hundreds, spanning nearly a millennium in time — are full of historical detail about the Kindred who might otherwise be lacking from “common knowledge.” Many have tried to hunt down these books, suspecting that they lie locked away somewhere in the hands of the Macellarius family.Were anyone to find these books, they’d likely be disappointed. Encolpius did write at length over a period of countless centuries, but these accounts were marred with inaccuracies and contradictions as he fl oated in and out of Torpor. Moreover, his books were glaringly self-centered, speaking only of his own exaggerated exploits. It’s said that many of his books can be found in his Tomb, where the monstrously large Encolpius sleeps in undisturbed Torpor.
The Press
Grape juice for wine is squeezed from the fruit by a wine press. (Few bother stepping on the grapes, anymore; it’s simply not effi cient.) One “enterprising” Macellarius vampire invented a similar device — except this one crushes the blood out of an animal, mortal or vampire. Hiram Macellarius formulated what he calls “the Press.” It’s a stainless steel device, alarmingly minimal in its construction. Two metal spiked plates are driven together by a turn-key handle. The Press is not automated — it requires that Hiram or one of his childer actually grab the turn-key and exert pressure upon turning it. Whatever body inside the press is crushed, like the aforementioned grapes. The blood and fl uids run off the lower plate and into a small trap. The trap is then emptied into a bottle below using a basic spigot. So far, only one of these devices actually exists — though Hiram has offered to make more, for the “right price.”
Manners
The Macellarius think themselves supremely well-mannered. And, in a way, they are. They adhere to very strident codes of conduct — the meal begins when the host unfolds his napkin, the right hand must always place the goblet back in the exact spot, the knife and fork should be placed on an empty plate at 10 and four o’clock, respectively. And yet, others find the Macellarius' manners most appalling. When eating, the Macellarius tend to earn their sobriquet, the “Gluttons.” They gorge, gobble and swallow. They stain their shirts with blood and bits of fat. They force air up through their throats and conjure belches that smell of rotten blood and corpse breath. But all of this, to the Gluttons, is natural — the expression of a good meal, an exclamation of delight and adulation. Where others find the Macellarius disgusting, the Macellarius believe themselves to be the pinnacle of good manners.
Equites
During the dawn of the bloodline — when it was in fact three mortal families instead of a single vampiric one — the Macellarius were renowned Roman horse breeders. Their horses were used in races (both with chariot and without), ridden in war and sold to important senators and merchants as symbols of pride. At the time, the families specialized in a number of fi nely bred Arabian horses, including the rare Iberian breed.Curiously, horse breeding is one of the elements of the original mortal families that has carried over to the modern bloodline. The Gluttons recognize that horses are not only graceful, unique creatures but also symbols of pride. Many Macellarius see fi t to still raise horses on their vast estates. Some Macellarius breed horses for selling, others for show and a rare few for the flavor of the animals’ blood. Of course, the Gluttons have specialized tastes in all things, and aren’t satisfied with breeding normal horses. No, far better to cultivate a number of rare breeds (the Mulassier, Lipizzaner and the legendary Akhal-Teke) instead. Even Marcellarius who don’t raise horses often have a number of equestrian-related artwork around their manor houses.
Home of the Dead
The Macellarius family is a very old bloodline — and while it doesn’t Embrace all too often, it still has nearly two millennia’s worth of vampires to consider. Of course, the majority of these creatures met their Final Deaths long ago in their reckless pursuit of culinary hedonism; still, many Marcellarius linger on, most doing so in the disturbed “comfort” of Torpor. The family keeps these torpid elders, waiting for the day where they awaken. Whenever possible, the slumbering Gluttons’ own descendents keep these elders nearby — usually building elaborate tombs, sarcophagi or funeral parlors in which to reverently shelter these comatose beings. In the event that one of these ancient creatures awakens, the local Macellarius throw a feasting party unlike any other — putting on the most perverse Grand Guignol possible.
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