Louis was a goodly vampire, and the next 126 years as a Toreador suited him well. It was then that the Parisian Jyhad erupted (again), and Louis made his bid for power. A century of delighting in vampiric subterfuge politics made his an appropriate bid, and he became prince of Paris, and thus he was for 157 years, until 1841.

Meanwhile, in 1744, Frimonde Aldermaine was born. His mother was crazy, his father was crazy, and all three lived in of of the Paris asylums for the insane for a few years before the child was discovered. Frimonde wa sput into an orphanage, and at an early age became a natural leader of the other felonious children there, because of his size, his ignorance og what pain was, and his wrathful assaults on anyone who said otherwise. At age 35 Frimonde was put in jail for a number of years after havng led an attack of miserables on the news-houses for, "Printing words that hate us." It was there that he met Janeane, and 8th generation Malkavian who embraced prisoners just to watch them die in the sunlight. Frimonde accidentally didn;t die. so together they escaped, and she pretended to teach him proper vampirism, and he pretended to learn, and in 1783 he went on his merry way, after one dusk watching Janeane die in the sunlight.

Baljear was born in 1824, but his father, Captain MacLear didn't care, nor eventually did his mother, and when the boy was old enough to realize this, he threw himself into science. The old man across the rue was crazy, and hetaught Baljear everything he knew. So, by the timehe was 18, Baljear had devinded a grand unified theory of everything, and insisted the newspapers print it. However, insisting with torches and daggers was still illegal, and he was made an asylum resident.

Zemus was bnorn in the paris Ghetto in 1826, was raised by bruises, and grew to be quite an exceptional burglar.

What occured in Paris in 1841 had occured many times before, like in 1684, and in 1562, and 1514, and 1411, and so back, and so forward. However, this particular flare of Jyhad was particularily bloody, and many powerful kindred died during the subtle wars of the next two years. To get to proverbial ball rolling, the city elders called a bloodhunt on the deposed prince Louis. In the face of his imminent demise, Louis frenzied, but his was a unique frenzy. The next five nights saw Louis rise from a hidden haven and madly go about embracing and manymortals as he could get his undead hands on. Not knowing their new nature, most died the next morning, and thjose that didn't were killed by Paris neonates eager to experience diablerrie and gain power. On the rampage's fourth night louis came upon Zemus in a rather plush apartment- after Zemus took the silver coins, Louis took his life- then gave him a bit of his won and rushed onward. Zemus was able to survive the day and the next few nights, having quickly come to terms with his traumatic and terrifying experience. The heat wore off after the next night whe Deede Mercier, an evil, power-hungry 11th generation Gangrel found, staked, and drained poor Louis in his last haven. Today she is the only Canite who knows of Zemus' relation to Louis, and even now is hunting for "the Toreador Bastard." Zemus knew his would be a dangerous after-life if he staid in Paris, so he left Europe altogether and went to America.

The Jyhad raged in paris till 1843, and since most of the oder vampires were by then dead, the reletively young Frimonde was able to "Gtaher the pieces" so to speak and make himself Prince. Immidiatly he was obsessed with the notion that mere mortal blood was not good enough for a prince, and thus he set about "getting" progeny, for the purpose of creating immortal vessels. Scouring the nut-houses, he found Baljear, and being sympathetic to his rage, they having a common enemy, made him his first get. Al;so kissed ere Claire, Isabelle, Debi, Genaveave, and "baby," In order that he might avoid a blood bond with his progeny, Frimonde made the eight-month odl "baby" a vampire, bound himself to he and he to himself, and thus reigned as only a Malkavian could.

A few years after the turn of the century, 1903 to be precise, Gwendolyn Brooks was born to middle-class parents. Since she showed an early aptitude and prediliction for learning, she was allowed to do so. With learning comes knowledge, with knowledge, insight, with insight, wisdom, with wisodom, depth, and with depth, decedence, i.e. a true appreciation for frivolity. Gwendolyn was the quintissential flapper in Chicago's 1922 when she met Zemus. Zemus had been wandering the United States for half a century, keeping his hadn in burglary to way-lay boredome and loneliness/ He had watched as New York fell to the Sabbat, and disliking the anartchy, went to Chicago to see if he could improve his pick-pocketing. Zemus was awed by the blonde-haired, green-eyed Gwendolyn, whose very mortality stirred within him feelings he had not felt since hios own mortal days. They conversed, and Gwendolyn warmed to his simple depth, as they say, once thing led to another, and without reserve Zemus made her a vampire that very night. Together they partook of American artistry as it occured. By going from college town to college town. In 1980, they arrived in Lawrence.

Maria was a member of Parisian high society in 1943, and though still young, she was quite madly in love with jacque, a demented (and therefore passionate) revolutionary. However, he was also very poor, so when maria was found ot be "with child," she was quietly sent to reletives in Orleans, she quietly had her baby, and quuietly returned. As friends were told Maria was visitng "cousin Cerick," the baby was named Cerrick, and abandoned at a conviently departing travelling circus, with a note stating his name and his worth as a "freak," because he had such a large nose, even at the tender age of three weeks.

So the circus raised him, more as a lark than for any other reason. As he grew his father's dementia began to show,to the delight of the clowns, for nightly Cerrick wouls sit amongst the watching crowd and laugh loudly and hysterically at everything. Laughter begets laughter, and the circus was able to sustain itself longer than most travelling bands do. Cerrick was taught to read, barely, and he was givena loose grasp of numbers, but the two greatest lessons he ever learned were that knowledge is useless for so brief a life as ours, and, those that are being entertained are the most entertaining: hence, the circus. Cerrick soon took great delight in showing off, and showing off his lack of intelligence.

He only ever read one book- a play, in fact- when someone told him he resembled a famous hero of the theatre, at least, nasaly. The sobriquet "Cyrano" quickly caught on and "Cyrano" came to enjoy flaunting a flamboyant persona.

The other clowns of the circus began to notice a similiar face on the crowds show after show, despite varying locales. However, as the circus was never more than a day's drive from paris, he was dismissed as a bored "richie" and most liekly only interested in onme of the girls. Not even when reports of missing children began to follow the circus dis suspicion arise.

One evening (in 1966), Cerrick was slowly rubbing off the last of his make-up, lost in a fascinated study of his face's skin texture. His reverie was broken by a fumbling at the trailer door. Onme of the other clowns, no doubt, to drag him off to some bar. It was, in fact Yves, with half his face-paint on still. He staggered in, hair white, eyes wide, and stood at Cerrick's chair. It was then that he noticed in the mirro that Yves' face had on it not paint- but blood, from a cruel gash that had sprayed the stuff over most of his body. "Cyrano, il y a un homme dehors. (Cyrano, there's a man outside)" and he collapsed. The door was torn from its hinges and a large man dressed in a soiled suit jumped through. He too was covered in blood, and he bared his fangs in disgust at Yves' body on the floor. "Idiot! His was to be eternity!" The blood, the man, Yves' body, the man's fangs, terro, revulsion, fascination- Cerrick was so overcome that he threw back his head and laughed, loudly and hysterically. As he howled, his body otherwise quite rigid with shock, the man whispered "Then its you, little Cyrano." and in one swift motion picked up a chair and shattered the mirror lights. Cerrick felt himsefl grabbed, and a sweet sting at his neck. And still he laughed.

The already dark trailer grew darker still, his own laughter sounded fainter in his own ears, and yet Cerrick laughed louder and louder. Of a sudden the man grabbed his face cruelly and nose to nose screamed at him, "Soon you will stop- and never luagh again!" then bit into Cerrick's cheek. Cerrick laughed all the more loudly and continued os untilhe dead. Then.

There was aburning, a bitterness on his tongue. With effort he opened his eyes and saw the man drooling blood- his blood, Cerricks' blood, into his mouth. He giggled, and lapped at the blood with a lust that revolted him. He looked at the man's face, saw the blood sparyed there on his white whiote skin; the mingling of disgust and desire flushed him with anger and he lunged at it. The man moved quickly, however, and Cerrick was pinned to the floor. "You drink what I give, Cyrano. Taking is for later." So Cerrick drank.

The man (of course) was Baljear. He had become at first tired, then disgusted, and finally incensed by his "purpose" as a Cainite. So he scoured Paris for a "replacement," someone to whom he could teach the kindred ways so that he himself could make his own way in the world. He had come to the circus on the off-chance that he might find someone crazy eough to control, and happened on Yves. So he followed him, and watched him, and one night made his proposal. "Immortality! Power!" Yves was terrified, and tried to run- Baljear caught him, and tore out his throat. Lost in the first adult vit‘ he had drunk for several decades, he relxed his grip, and Yves bolted and made it as far as the make-up trailer.

Baljear kept Cerrick locked in the cellar of an old castle for th next fifteen years, for Cerrick's protection and his own- protection from Frimonde. Nightly he tossed him a half-drained body and taught him of the masquerade, etiquette, and fencing. The blade was an example of control over a deadly force. Precission and finesse are more important than brute strength and force; failing to control your sword with either will allow you to be killed, or, you may kill yourself. He taught him about restraint, control, and other aspects of humanity foreign to the beast of vampirism. Throughout he called Cerrick "Cyrano," and used the same character as a model, until Cerrick came to believe he actually was Cyrano de Bergerac.

When he thought all was ready, Baljear presented Cyrano to Frimonde. At first, Frimonde thought it was a joke- and a good one! He luaghed, and Cyrano joined in. Even Baljear giggled. When the reality of the situation became apparent, Frimonde flew into a rage and attacked Baljear. Over a century of pent-uprage burst from Baljear and the two rended one another in a very bloody battle, with Cyrano laughing all the while.

After several hours Frimonde's age finally won over Baljear's rage, and he tore his childe's throat out. Baljear fell into a totpr, and Frimonde limped toward Cyrano. Cyrano giggle and stayed out of his reach until Frimonde himself collapsed. Cyrano left and lost himself in the reckless joy of Paris.

A few years later he almost read Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire and decided to go to New Orleans to see if there was ny validity to the hoopla surrounding the book. But he got confused, and went to St. Louis instead, where he has been ever since.

At this time the Jyhad awoke again, and Frimonde was deposed. His get were either killed or fled, so, confused, and without enough will to establilsh plitical influence in Europe, he persued his shallow desires of diablerrie. Even today he and Baby are searching America for Cyrano.

A young man, born in 1971 in Lawrence, Kansas, discovered an apreciation for the beautiful before the desire to obtain the beautiful. This appreciation mad ehim such an outcast from a materialstic society that his name, Iggy, befitted him like no other. "It's strange, different, not entirely pleasent, suggesting you'd be better off on your own," said one high-school counselor. Iggy had a desire to learn, but a dislike for the beauracracy of education, so at 17 he dropped out of school and set about reading the contents of the University library. This, too, suited him, and he got a job at a fast-=food place to support himself and his meagre expenses.

One evening a fewmonths into this lifestyle, Iggy was working in back flipping burgers, dropping fries, and day-dreaming about the French revolution. A beeping signalled the entranceof more customers, and Iggy peered around the dividing wall to look upon what was probably themosrt beautiful person he had ever seen. Long lightly curled golden-blond hair, bright almost flashing green eyes, pale and flawless skin, thick, deep red lips. He was stunned, not unlike the first time he had heard the university orchestra perform Brahms' First Symphony, or when he had seen Henry V performed, or when he had seen the rocky mountains. The rest of the night was a loss to him, for she completelty and totally dominated his thoughts, and so for the next sevewral days.

It had been (of course) Gwendolyn. She and Zemus had been "university-town hopping" for some seventy-odd years. Over those years Zemus had become rather fond of basketball, and the promosing KU team brought them to Lawrence (sure enogh, a year later, they won the National Championship). That particluar night, Gwendolyn was with one of her "boyfriends," a diverse herd of interesting men, all of whom knew nothing of one another. She, of course, noticed Iggy's fascination, being highly empathic, and she was struck by the lack of eroitic desire in that fascination. Thousands of men (and women) had been effected by her beauty, but never for its own sake. She decided to follow this boy to find out more about him. The more she discovered, the more attracted to him she became-his depth, his love of art, his need for knowledge for its won sake. Eventually Gwendolyn introduced herself, and and was re-struck (as was he) by Iggy's interest in her intellect.

There was no way she could fathopm not making him a favored vessel, and one night, barely able to control herself, she skipped the usual "seduction" and leapt upon him. The passion for life was a tangible taste in his blood, and she became entranced in it. Iggy himself felt their joining as if he had beome a part of the knowlege and art that he loved. As she drank his heart beat louder and louder, untill it stopped altogether, for he was dead.

Gwendolyn was mortified, and then instantly overjoyed. She calmly scratched her own neck and gently fed Iggy till he came back to life, albeit afterlife. As she held him in her arms, she explained what she had done, and Iggy realized that this was meantto be.

Iggy was introduced to Zemus, who gradually took to Iggy like a sort of father. Presnetly the three share a haven in a sub-sub basement of Spencer art-museum.