Sta-Au
The Cruel and Wicked Ones
They are twice-dead. They died once and became vampire, and died twice and became Sta-Au. They are as much ghost as they are Kindred, as much monster as they are human. When one is made Sta-Au, his soul is cut like cloth into ribbons. His teeth are made into a mouthful of needles, his skin bears the stains of death and the marks of his wickedness. To enter the lands of the Sta-Au, The Land of the Worms, is to leave tranquility and to enter tribulation. They measure their wealth in the skulls they have taken from their victims.
At least, that’s what the Sta-Au would have others believe. Not all of it is off the mark, but it’s certainly an embellishment. The vampires of the Sta-Au are not truly twice-dead — no, this is a symbol, a warning that to meet the Wicked Ones is to die one way or another, and those who are allowed to continue existing within the bloodline are not considered spared, but reborn. They are not ghosts, not at all, but they can sense ghosts, as if they have been urged closer to the cusp of this mortal coil (close enough to see over the edge and to perceive the limitless dead that waits below). Their teeth do not transform into terrible, needled fangs upon becoming Sta-Au. They file them down to those wretched points, expending the blood and the will to keep them at their sharpest.
It’s true about their territory, though. The Sta-Au claim the places of North America that are dead zones, places that are forever marked as badlands by both truth and legend. Certainly this continent has become profoundly developed. Highways criss-cross the nations, cities spring up and cast a sprawling net of suburban wasteland, tiny towns dot the map. But it’s still home to distant places, places where mankind hasn’t gone, and perhaps won’t ever go. Places that man thinks he cannot survive: blasted canyons, bleak tundra, wide-open spaces said to be marked by terrible winters or awful pollution or searing heat. That being said, some Sta-Au carve out small territories in the midst of the cities, too. Even a large metropolis can be home to places Humanity avoids. Places like a trash-heap, or a small island in the river (a “potter’s field”) where The Nameless are buried, or an industrial park long left to rust and ruin.
Just what are the Sta-Au, then? What is it they want with these desolate places? The Sta-Au seek to become more than what they are. They seek to alter the limitations placed on them as humans and vampires. They think themselves both punished for their wickedness and rewarded for being allowed a way to move past this corporeal state. They are, in essence, a misguided Golconda cult, believing that the path to becoming truly one of the gracious and wicked dead (as opposed to the “half-dead” that they are, now) is by exiling themselves in haunted dead-lands, letting their Humanity die off like fruit on a diseased vine.
At least, that’s what the Sta-Au would have others believe. Not all of it is off the mark, but it’s certainly an embellishment. The vampires of the Sta-Au are not truly twice-dead — no, this is a symbol, a warning that to meet the Wicked Ones is to die one way or another, and those who are allowed to continue existing within the bloodline are not considered spared, but reborn. They are not ghosts, not at all, but they can sense ghosts, as if they have been urged closer to the cusp of this mortal coil (close enough to see over the edge and to perceive the limitless dead that waits below). Their teeth do not transform into terrible, needled fangs upon becoming Sta-Au. They file them down to those wretched points, expending the blood and the will to keep them at their sharpest.
It’s true about their territory, though. The Sta-Au claim the places of North America that are dead zones, places that are forever marked as badlands by both truth and legend. Certainly this continent has become profoundly developed. Highways criss-cross the nations, cities spring up and cast a sprawling net of suburban wasteland, tiny towns dot the map. But it’s still home to distant places, places where mankind hasn’t gone, and perhaps won’t ever go. Places that man thinks he cannot survive: blasted canyons, bleak tundra, wide-open spaces said to be marked by terrible winters or awful pollution or searing heat. That being said, some Sta-Au carve out small territories in the midst of the cities, too. Even a large metropolis can be home to places Humanity avoids. Places like a trash-heap, or a small island in the river (a “potter’s field”) where The Nameless are buried, or an industrial park long left to rust and ruin.
Just what are the Sta-Au, then? What is it they want with these desolate places? The Sta-Au seek to become more than what they are. They seek to alter the limitations placed on them as humans and vampires. They think themselves both punished for their wickedness and rewarded for being allowed a way to move past this corporeal state. They are, in essence, a misguided Golconda cult, believing that the path to becoming truly one of the gracious and wicked dead (as opposed to the “half-dead” that they are, now) is by exiling themselves in haunted dead-lands, letting their Humanity die off like fruit on a diseased vine.
Culture
Culture and cultural heritage
History and Culture: The story the Wicked Ones tell to their own is this: the origin of the Twice-Dead began with two men who were exiled by their societies. They came from different peoples (some within the bloodline suggest that one man came from the Tunaxa or K’Tunaxa, while the other came from the Tunaha/Tunahe) but were both criminals cast out for their wickedness. The story is quite clear on the point that neither of these men was dead at the time, and both were human and unfazed by the rising of the morning sun.
Some stories have these men forging a deep friendship in the blasted hills and badlands where they met in exile, while other branches of the tale have them falling in love. Either way, their relationship was not long for this world as they were both dying: they had no food and little water, and the days were hot and the nights cold. And so, the legend says, they lay there, poised on the edge of this world and nearly ready to tumble into the next. All the while it was clear to them that they would not receive a reward in the afterlife. They would not be allowed to hunt the Sand Hills, for they were wicked.
This revelation spared them, the Sta-Au claim. Ghosts — wicked shades, dark shadows — emerged, claiming the two men as their own. The spirits consumed what was left of the two men’s human souls, leaving them as almost ghosts themselves. The ghosts said that others would join them one day, and that they would not be alone as Wicked Ones. Someday, they might be able to complete the transformation into something greater than what they already are, and then they will be allowed to hunt the Sand Hills. In the meantime, they are meant to stay in the dark places, the distant reaches, forever exiled from the world of man. These places — The Land of the Worms — are themselves “exiles” of a sort, pushed to the margins of this physical world, touching the very edge of the realm of the dead. (More information on The Land of the Worms can be found on p. 40.)
And so it goes that the Wicked Ones are a curious (and to some, contemptible) breed of vampires that recognizes its own iniquity as a failing, yet also exalts such wickedness as being a path to not just enlightenment, but to a full-scale transformation of their condition. They are not a part of the world. The world is home to temptation in the form of life and Humanity, and they seek to secede from such temptations.
Joining them is not a passive affair. One is not slowly drawn into the web of the Wicked One, seduced for so long that one evening a character wakes up and finds that his blood is that of those around him. Joining is far more active. A vampire either seeks out the Sta-Au, or they “claim” a potential member by abducting certain Kindred who brazenly wander into their territory. Even then, they ensure that the abducted has a choice to join. Those who refuse are considered sad, and deserving of pity for being unprepared to transform (note: not transcend) one’s nature. A swift death is the mercy that is given to them.
So why seek them out? A vampire might track down the Sta-Au for a number of reasons, some true, some based on deception. If the character thinks them a group truly closing in on Golconda, and Golconda is his greatest desire, it makes sense to walk among them. Another vampire may have grown weary of hiding among humans. In recognizing one’s own base desires and sins, it isn’t unusual to want to leave the world of temptation and find a place and a people who are willing to help you realize your full, awful potential. (For some, that’s even a noble quest — “I don’t want to hurt these people anymore, but I cannot make myself better.” For others, it’s selfish — “I am a monster, and I want a place where I am allowed and encouraged to be that very thing.”)
Those who join them are considered truly dead, so much so that they are given a version of a Blackfoot funeral where the prospective member is “left for dead” in a tree, covered from the sun only by a heavy swaddling of dark blankets, and put to the mercy of hungry carrion birds. Those who survive the process are allowed to become full-fledged “shades” within the bloodline, considered twice-dead and as much ghost as vampire or human.
Times have changed the Sta-Au, somewhat. Once, they were monsters kept to the furthest-flung fringes, and all they needed to do was hunt. More fiend than common beast, they stalked the lands they called their own, The Land of the Worms — and any animal, human or vampire that would dare to wander into their domain was quick to become prey. They’d consume the blood and use the rest for leather, or build weapons from the bones, drums from the skulls, or blankets from the hair. Should other Kindred enter The Land of the Worms, they’d first measure them at a distance. They’d warn them away, making it very clear that to continue on was to take a step into a very bad land. Believing that they were not monsters for the sake of monstrousness, they’d even attempt to give potential prey three chances to turn away, to save themselves from a vile fate. Those who dared to ignore the warnings (frankly, most everyone) were treated to the greatest of cruelties. Why shouldn’t they be? They were forewarned.
Now, these incursions by outsiders happen all too often. The continent may still be home to some truly out-of-theway places (think Saskatchewan forests, tracts of land high up in the Rockies, or long stretches of dead Mexican desert), but it’s not like it was 200 years ago. People stumble into The Land of the Worms with far greater frequency: lost vacationers, explorers, scientists, drug-runners, isolationists and so forth. This isn’t a bad thing, necessarily. It allows the Sta-Au to hunt within their territories far more frequently without sending out hunting parties (which they’re known to do — they aren’t bound to their territories), but it does ensure that they cannot be as exiled and isolated as they once were.
Physically, those of the bloodline have eschewed any native garb, though some elders still walk the world naked or dressed in very minimal deer leathers. Most mark themselves as monstrous in some way: filing teeth to points, scarification, branding,dizzying tattoos and so forth. Skulls are a common motif. Animal skulls are used as masks, or painted skulls like those found during the Mexican Day of the Dead are worn. (Skulls are also used as warnings, marking the edges of Wicked One territory.)
Some stories have these men forging a deep friendship in the blasted hills and badlands where they met in exile, while other branches of the tale have them falling in love. Either way, their relationship was not long for this world as they were both dying: they had no food and little water, and the days were hot and the nights cold. And so, the legend says, they lay there, poised on the edge of this world and nearly ready to tumble into the next. All the while it was clear to them that they would not receive a reward in the afterlife. They would not be allowed to hunt the Sand Hills, for they were wicked.
This revelation spared them, the Sta-Au claim. Ghosts — wicked shades, dark shadows — emerged, claiming the two men as their own. The spirits consumed what was left of the two men’s human souls, leaving them as almost ghosts themselves. The ghosts said that others would join them one day, and that they would not be alone as Wicked Ones. Someday, they might be able to complete the transformation into something greater than what they already are, and then they will be allowed to hunt the Sand Hills. In the meantime, they are meant to stay in the dark places, the distant reaches, forever exiled from the world of man. These places — The Land of the Worms — are themselves “exiles” of a sort, pushed to the margins of this physical world, touching the very edge of the realm of the dead. (More information on The Land of the Worms can be found on p. 40.)
And so it goes that the Wicked Ones are a curious (and to some, contemptible) breed of vampires that recognizes its own iniquity as a failing, yet also exalts such wickedness as being a path to not just enlightenment, but to a full-scale transformation of their condition. They are not a part of the world. The world is home to temptation in the form of life and Humanity, and they seek to secede from such temptations.
Joining them is not a passive affair. One is not slowly drawn into the web of the Wicked One, seduced for so long that one evening a character wakes up and finds that his blood is that of those around him. Joining is far more active. A vampire either seeks out the Sta-Au, or they “claim” a potential member by abducting certain Kindred who brazenly wander into their territory. Even then, they ensure that the abducted has a choice to join. Those who refuse are considered sad, and deserving of pity for being unprepared to transform (note: not transcend) one’s nature. A swift death is the mercy that is given to them.
So why seek them out? A vampire might track down the Sta-Au for a number of reasons, some true, some based on deception. If the character thinks them a group truly closing in on Golconda, and Golconda is his greatest desire, it makes sense to walk among them. Another vampire may have grown weary of hiding among humans. In recognizing one’s own base desires and sins, it isn’t unusual to want to leave the world of temptation and find a place and a people who are willing to help you realize your full, awful potential. (For some, that’s even a noble quest — “I don’t want to hurt these people anymore, but I cannot make myself better.” For others, it’s selfish — “I am a monster, and I want a place where I am allowed and encouraged to be that very thing.”)
Those who join them are considered truly dead, so much so that they are given a version of a Blackfoot funeral where the prospective member is “left for dead” in a tree, covered from the sun only by a heavy swaddling of dark blankets, and put to the mercy of hungry carrion birds. Those who survive the process are allowed to become full-fledged “shades” within the bloodline, considered twice-dead and as much ghost as vampire or human.
Times have changed the Sta-Au, somewhat. Once, they were monsters kept to the furthest-flung fringes, and all they needed to do was hunt. More fiend than common beast, they stalked the lands they called their own, The Land of the Worms — and any animal, human or vampire that would dare to wander into their domain was quick to become prey. They’d consume the blood and use the rest for leather, or build weapons from the bones, drums from the skulls, or blankets from the hair. Should other Kindred enter The Land of the Worms, they’d first measure them at a distance. They’d warn them away, making it very clear that to continue on was to take a step into a very bad land. Believing that they were not monsters for the sake of monstrousness, they’d even attempt to give potential prey three chances to turn away, to save themselves from a vile fate. Those who dared to ignore the warnings (frankly, most everyone) were treated to the greatest of cruelties. Why shouldn’t they be? They were forewarned.
Now, these incursions by outsiders happen all too often. The continent may still be home to some truly out-of-theway places (think Saskatchewan forests, tracts of land high up in the Rockies, or long stretches of dead Mexican desert), but it’s not like it was 200 years ago. People stumble into The Land of the Worms with far greater frequency: lost vacationers, explorers, scientists, drug-runners, isolationists and so forth. This isn’t a bad thing, necessarily. It allows the Sta-Au to hunt within their territories far more frequently without sending out hunting parties (which they’re known to do — they aren’t bound to their territories), but it does ensure that they cannot be as exiled and isolated as they once were.
Physically, those of the bloodline have eschewed any native garb, though some elders still walk the world naked or dressed in very minimal deer leathers. Most mark themselves as monstrous in some way: filing teeth to points, scarification, branding,dizzying tattoos and so forth. Skulls are a common motif. Animal skulls are used as masks, or painted skulls like those found during the Mexican Day of the Dead are worn. (Skulls are also used as warnings, marking the edges of Wicked One territory.)
Major organizations
Reputation: Few know of them, so it’s difficult to garner a widespread reputation. The Ordo Dracul is aware of the Sta-Au, and actually has a very loose alliance with those of the bloodline. They are given a pass to walk amongst the Wicked Ones so that the two groups may share secrets about the transformation of the vampiric condition (a few Sta-Au have even joined the covenant, but have done so against the wishes of the other Twice-Dead). Secretly, the Wicked Ones accept that The Ordo Dracul will never truly transcend or transform the Kindred condition because to do so necessitates a refinement of the Blood, not membership in a club. It’s true, of course, that the Coils work; the Dragons are theoretically on the right track. The Sta-Au, however, maintain that while the Dragons might be on to something, there’s more to finding the Sand Hills than dodging the Curse.
Outside of what the Order of Dragons knows, the reputation that precedes the Sta-Au is one of mystery and urban legend. They represent one more grave warning whispered from sire to childe about the dangers of “going nomad.” Wandering away from the city lights puts one in the center ring of a circus of monsters, and the Sta-Au are just one more bogeyman out there in the dark.
Outside of what the Order of Dragons knows, the reputation that precedes the Sta-Au is one of mystery and urban legend. They represent one more grave warning whispered from sire to childe about the dangers of “going nomad.” Wandering away from the city lights puts one in the center ring of a circus of monsters, and the Sta-Au are just one more bogeyman out there in the dark.
Playing the Sta-Au
It may seem that these guys would make great antagonists, and they would. But that’s not the mode of play we’re advertising. We want you to use the Sta-Au as characters. They’re morally complex, recognizing their monstrous natures without glorifying or exalting the monstrousness.The Sta-Au represent an option for characters who have perhaps gone too far down the moral dark hole, or have grown weary of the damage done to their loved ones. The bloodline offers a “controlled slide” downward — yes, they fail to regain lost Humanity, but in isolation it’s impossible to degrade swiftly. The Wicked Ones meditate on their awfulness. They offer warning, and thus chances for escape, to those who might suffer from their monstrousness. What follows are a handful of story hooks you might want to use as the basis for a Sta-Au character or coterie:
- Hunting has been difficult. The Sta-Au number too many, and they’re pushing themselves inevitably to a dangerous and hungry edge. One coterie must go out and travel to a populated area (the closest big city, say) and hunt. But it can never be so simple, can it? The coterie, returning to the “human world” after a long exile, now must confront other Kindred (who claim the city as their domain) and humanity as a whole. The goal is to bring back a herd of humans who can serve the Sta-Au for a time, but moving a dozen or more people (read: abduction) isn’t easy, and is probably considered poaching. What other complexities await the characters back in the big city?[\li]
- One among the Sta-Au has achieved what the bloodline aims to do: he has become something different, a true monster, a hybrid of ghost and vampire with the Humanity burned out of him. He is frightening and powerful. Do the characters so detest what he has become that they must escape the Sta-Au and warn others? Do they want to learn his powers before destroying him? Or will they worship at his feet, learning from him as good disciples?
- The Land of the Worms (p. 40) is filled with ghosts, and in the blasted lands the dead are far easier to see and interact with — right there a wealth of stories exist. The restless dead need resolution. The Sta-Au, to learn more about death and what lies beyond the pale, often seek to aid ghosts in return for knowledge. They help usher the spirits to the next world or instead assist them in exercising their most fundamental urges (revenge, contact with a loved one, achieving physical sensation).
Nickname: Shades, the Twice-Dead
Parent Clan: Unknown, though likely Mekhet or Gangrel; some within the bloodline believe that it has two founders, one from the Tunaxa people, one from the Tunaha. That being said, once one joins the bloodline, that individual eschews clan as an identifier (and vampires of any clan may become part of this lineage).
Bloodline Disciplines: Auspex, Obfuscate, Protean, Resilience (see sidebar, “Disciplines of the Twice-Dead”)
Weakness: The vampire keeps her current clan weakness, but in addition suffers a debilitating moral and mental frailty: the vampires of the Sta-Au may not regain lost Humanity. It is believed that by joining with the Wicked Ones, a vampire no longer needs his connection to the mortal, moral world, and so his Beast (or, if one believes the legends, one’s own shadow) prevents reclaiming Humanity lost to degeneration. Derangements gained from degeneration cannot be overcome. Concepts: Death-obsessed freak, exile from The Ordo Dracul, grief-struck loner, lost soul, Kindred nomad, unrepentant monster, vampiric embodiment of the Wendigo, scholar of atrocity, ghostly hitchhiker, hunterturned-hunted
The “Sand Hills” is the Blackfoot Indian notion of Heaven, kind of a “Happy Hunting Ground” reached for the true warriors of the tribe.
For the Sta-Au, this idea remains, but has been perverted somewhat by their perspective as monsters. The Sand Hills are their interpretation of Golconda. Once they push past their awkward “half-existence,” straddling the worlds of life and death, they’ll be allowed to roam free in a blessed hunting grounds — the Sand Hills. They actually expect that their extant territories (the Land of the Worms) will change from the bleak and desolate places they are now into the sacred “hunting ground for glorious monsters” they desire.
The Discipline spread of this bloodline is unique, and given that a vampire of any clan can join the ranks of the Sta-Au, it raises some questions as to what should be done with the vampire’s existing Disciplines. The answer is simply that the vampire keeps all the dots in Disciplines already possessed, but once she joins the bloodline, only the four listed here are considered affinity for purposes of lowered experience costs. Raising other Disciplines — even those that were previously considered part of the original clan’s set — now costs the full amount of experience as an “out-of-clan” purchase.
Bloodline Disciplines: Auspex, Obfuscate, Protean, Resilience (see sidebar, “Disciplines of the Twice-Dead”)
Weakness: The vampire keeps her current clan weakness, but in addition suffers a debilitating moral and mental frailty: the vampires of the Sta-Au may not regain lost Humanity. It is believed that by joining with the Wicked Ones, a vampire no longer needs his connection to the mortal, moral world, and so his Beast (or, if one believes the legends, one’s own shadow) prevents reclaiming Humanity lost to degeneration. Derangements gained from degeneration cannot be overcome. Concepts: Death-obsessed freak, exile from The Ordo Dracul, grief-struck loner, lost soul, Kindred nomad, unrepentant monster, vampiric embodiment of the Wendigo, scholar of atrocity, ghostly hitchhiker, hunterturned-hunted
The Sand Hills
The “Sand Hills” is the Blackfoot Indian notion of Heaven, kind of a “Happy Hunting Ground” reached for the true warriors of the tribe.For the Sta-Au, this idea remains, but has been perverted somewhat by their perspective as monsters. The Sand Hills are their interpretation of Golconda. Once they push past their awkward “half-existence,” straddling the worlds of life and death, they’ll be allowed to roam free in a blessed hunting grounds — the Sand Hills. They actually expect that their extant territories (the Land of the Worms) will change from the bleak and desolate places they are now into the sacred “hunting ground for glorious monsters” they desire.
Disciplines of the Twice-Dead
The Discipline spread of this bloodline is unique, and given that a vampire of any clan can join the ranks of the Sta-Au, it raises some questions as to what should be done with the vampire’s existing Disciplines. The answer is simply that the vampire keeps all the dots in Disciplines already possessed, but once she joins the bloodline, only the four listed here are considered affinity for purposes of lowered experience costs. Raising other Disciplines — even those that were previously considered part of the original clan’s set — now costs the full amount of experience as an “out-of-clan” purchase.
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