The Black Lotus

The greatest punishment that the Cult could come up with, at least they thought that was what it was. For the Cult was thorough in removing whatever it was that had brought them to hold the Waypoint. Silencing a connection they once had to something the couldn’t quite explain.
But there was something. Something they couldn’t put their finger on. Like an itch, but so much more. A painful longing for something they didn’t recognise.

That didn’t mean they didn’t want it however. They wanted it so much, it hurt.

And the scrolls they found had made it so much worse.

They were a small find by a travelling Kindred. Looking to offer trade for care at the Waypoint and observe the politeness of their position. A box that had no perceivable latch, so the Kindred probably had no idea what they were giving away.

But they did.

For weeks they had toiled with it. The complex puzzles inlaid on the exterior giving way to greater complexities inside. Each avenue of progression tilting back upon itself creating a Gordian nightmare of complication and frustration. At least it would have for other Clans. But not a Malkavian. For their Clan had been founded on reflections in a broken mirror. On viewing the impossible puzzle that lay beyond sanity and screaming it’s tale of agony and ecstasy to the world.

Compared to that, the box was child’s play.
A satisfying click ended the intrigue brought the curious interlude to an end. A cursory glance of the title of the papers housed within the box brought a whole new curiosity to light.

“The Black Scourge of Dundee.”

They kept the scrolls private to themselves, not even letting Kay view them when they came for “tea”. But not for the usual games of power or Jyhad. But because the tale stirred something within them. A dark thing that felt bound in their soul.

In their private time, they read the tale.

It was a tale of a Malkavaian woman. For what tale in Kindred society did not paint some picture of their Clan. But this tale painted the Malkavian protagonist as a Scourge. The wrath of the Prince made manifest and that wrath was directed at true scum. The Caitiff.

These Clanless filth have betrayed the Kindred. A statement that is held by most Kindred after the Eclipse. But before that, they were answers to the clarion cry of the Sabbat where ever they decided to proliferate. In addition, the lack of proper education made them Masquerade breeches waiting to happen. Combined with the talk of apocalyptic prophecy, they were simply a cancer upon Kindred society.

A cancer that the Prince of Dundee decided to excise. Which he assigned to his Scourge.
This called to the thing in their soul. They could feel it tugging at its binds as they read on.

The tale moved on to detail the Scourge’s dark work. How the woman would hunt the Caitiff filth with a spring in their step and a song in their heart. Bring death to the unwanted, quickly if they felt the need. But more often than not, the death was slow and the Scourge delighted in the matter.

But, as is the way. The mind of the Scourge ran out of evils to terrorise the filth with. For the screams became hollow and repeated. Pains they had inflicted and pleading they had heard many times before.

Save one.

A red day in February. When the Scourge realised that the Prince had given them carte blanche. A dark day where the Scourge brought a new terror to the scum Caitiff.

For now, they broke their bodies and took their souls. What could terrify the filth more?

Why were they smiling? What was this story calling to? They had to know more.

The tale continued.

The Scourge reaped a heavy toll in the Caitiff in the months following. 7 more souls were tracked, stalked and reaped to add to the Scourges power. Their voices adding to the Clan’s. Making the Scourge a figure of terror. Both for the Caitiff, and for the court itself.
Of course, the fear in the court led to looser tongues than the Prince would have liked. A Brujah who was happy with the Scourges results, but despised their methods made point of calling the matter directly to the Princes attention. Leading to the Brujah to be ordered out and the Scourge being ordered to remove them. And remove them they did.

Another soul added to the power of the Scourge.
But from there, the descent began.

Soon, the Scourge recognised the power difference between themselves and the Prince. How the souls they had reaped had given them greatness and in that, it had given them freedom.
Freedom to reap the problems as they saw fit.
Soon, members of the court started to go missing. First there were the trouble makers. But then, the ones that annoyed the Scourge. After that, the Scourge struck with only their own plans in mind. Hunting and reaping and destroying as they saw fit. Feeding a hunger that lived deep down in them.

A thing that lived in their soul.

The name given to the Scourge was never mentioned. But it did give them a title. A call sign that could live in infamy and haunt the generations to come. A warning against the foul sin of diablerie.

“The Black Lotus of Dundee”.

They were smiling now. Full and unabashed. The thing in their gut singing to them even as they heard Kay arrive

“Oh good timing Kay. Cause I’m very hungry. And you are such a snack."