Checklist: The Countdown

The Darkest
Occult Practices
The traitorous Tremere are secretive; the deviant
Necromancers horrify others just by what they do; the
Assamite sorcerers are a surprising display of flexibility in
what was once considered such a one-dimensional Clan.
Then there are the even more rare arts of Blood Magic: the
Koldunism of the Tzimisce, the Blood Sorcerers of the
Settites and more—they all have their relative obscurity. Each
of these rare arts has their own unique flavor to it, appealing
to different vampires and players alike.
Abyss Mysticism is a form of Blood Magic that is all of these
things, only more so.
If the Discipline of Obtenebration were to be thought of
(rightfully) as the signature of the Clan Lasombra, then Abyss
Mysticism would be the occasional punctuation or
underlining of that signature. To further the metaphor, if
said person can be thought of as more enthusiastic in their
use of punctuation, then a student of Abyssal knowledge
would likewise be far darker than their typical
Obtenebration-oriented companions—and perhaps even
enthusiastically so.

Lasombra Clan Faction
The Abyss' Children
(Lasombra Clanbook, Revised, p. 48)
“What you see—all light—is but a reflection of that which has always
existed in pure darkness.”
—Vencin Di'able, wandering pack member, Casablanca,
Morocco
As with most, if not all, clans and bloodlines, there exists
within the Lasombra a peculiar group only truly paying lip-
service to the Sabbat, yet often far more loyal to Clan or just
themselves and their studies.
These Lasombra, calling themselves the Abyss' Children,
dedicate themselves to the study and practice of Abyss
Mysticism specifically.
Though they are feared or
misunderstood for their strange personalities and exotic
powers over shades unknown to most of their clan, many
Bishops and other Sabbat leaders who hear about them
slowly come to find themselves thankful to have access to
such terrifyingly effective allies.
Most often, members of this faction are afforded tolerance
because they prefer to keep to themselves, pouring through
their research notes and studies—sometimes in complete
darkness—rather than indulge in nightly excursions. For little
trouble at all (except for possibly needing to meet their
hunger demands, or clean-up after an experiment-gone-
wrong), Sabbat leadership can often be convinced to allow an
Abyssal Child, or even a few, to take up haven in their city.
On nights of danger from enemies, these Abyss Mystics,
rarely fail to prove their value, rising up from their shadowy
laboratories to unleash frightening and unheard of powers
upon completely unsuspecting transgressors. Then, no
sooner has the threat passed than they return to their dark
studies in relative silence—until the next time they must pay
their dues in exchange for their continued peace.
Interestingly, rumors persist of secret enclaves of Abyss
Mystics keeping their own company, far removed from any
known Sabbat strongholds. Locations or members of these
supposed groups remain only speculation, as there seems to
be no evidence of such a group interacting with kindred
society anywhere—they must either keep to themselves
exclusively, or interact with other vampires under identities
crafty and cunning enough to so far remain completely
undetected for what they truly are.
Noteworthy
Traits
Abilities
Expert Skill: Blind Fighting
(V20, p. 274; Blood Sacrifice: The Thaumaturgy
Companion, p. 26; Vampire Player’s Guide, 2nd Edition,
p. 27)
Screaming, the former slave-trader once known as Zaid ibn Aban
shook off another savage attacker in the darkness and reached out
again, but this time his hand struck something besides gnarled and
obviously decayed bodies and disgusting smelling, revolting, waist-
deep filth and stickiness. Rock and packed dirt, it felt like, but wet,
of course. He growled in pain but it turned into a scream muffled
by clenched teeth—the hunger! The hunger he felt, the pain that it
caused him, was unbelievable, he had no idea such a thing could
hurt so much. He caught that scent in his nostrils again but it
made him retch the last of what he had left in his stomach. He
waded through it. In this complete darkness that he had awoken in,
he still knew it already had much worse in it.
Zaid realized not all the sounds he could hear in the darkness were
of insane violence and the screaming, moaning wails of pain and
hopelessness of those who could fight no more. Some of the slopping,
splashing sounds were actually the sounds of those who were making
feeble attempts to climb the walls of this pit of gore—and
continuously falling back into it with him. He put the thought out
of his mind though as the pain in his stomach returned, doubling
him over. Waist-deep in filth and decay, bending over like that
almost fully submerged him in the thick pool of whole and partial
corpses. He opened his mouth reflexively to retch again and instead
got a mouthful of whatever it was he was immersed in. He threw
out his hands as if to push his head up out of the gore, but—didn't.
Instead, he found himself drinking, even eating it in. He couldn't
help himself—he wanted to throw it all up, he could feel the pieces of
flesh and rotting meat, taste every bit of it, but he couldn't make
himself stop, and he realized that it was making the hunger go
away, he found that he didn't want to.
Others in the pit with him brushed past him, bumped into him,
climbed across his back, even fell on top of him after another failed
attempt to scale the side of the pit to freedom and life—or whatever
form of life they would have after this. The one that was once a
trafficker in human lives finished feeding—the first, death-stained
meal of the rest of his unlife—and then he began to attempt the
climb himself.
An obviously flailing hand slapped his back, then began the almost
instinctive attempt to start scratching away at his skin trying to find
a hold on him—another mindless savage, not strong enough to

etc.