Letters from the Fans
Letter #1
Dear infinit777,
The fuck did you just allege of me, you Thin-blood Fledgling? I'll have you know that I was Embraced zeroth among the Antediluvians, so many epochs ago that the written word hadn't been invented yet, numbers were a myth, the Enochians forgot I was theirs and Lilith herself might as well have Sired me if she hadn't met Caine first. I've dulled my fangs on untold moonlit battlefields, and I have over 300 confirmed Diablerized. I taught the Camarilla how to Masquerade and I'm the top Blood Hunter in the entire thirteen Clans. You are nothing to me but just another kine. I will Beast you the fuck out with Wassail the likes of which has never been witnessed before by vampires of this World of Darkness, mark my fucking words. Have you truly placed faith in the notion that you can escape my unholy wrath after uttering such sacrilicious filth to my cyber-form presence? Don't even BELIEVE that, fucker. As we speak, I am conspiring with my secret cabal of Blood-bonded Thralls across the global Kindred population and your soul is being telepathically Auspiced right now so you better prepare for Gehenna, Childe. The awakening that turns the pathetic supernature you call your unlife. You're fucking Finally Dead, Kindred. I can wake up anywhere, anytime, and I can Diablerize you in over seventeen hundred ways, and that's just with my teeth. Not only am I extensively versed in vampiric sorcery, but I am learned in the entire array of Disciplines of the Kindred Clans and I will harness them in their full abyssal fury to hex your mystical ass off the coil of biological immortality, you astral shit. If only you could have known what diabolical Reckoning your petty "clever" quip was about to unleash upon you, maybe you would have bit your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't and now you're praying I won't arise from my sarcophagus, you damned fool. I will bleed fire all over you and you will bathe in heat. You're fucking undead, Childe.
Best regards,
The Author