Within the clan Malkavian, a less than secret clique has existed over the past 500 years. They share a single group dementia which causes some Kindred to shake their head at the seeming lack of imagination, so distinctive in this clan. Those who try to study this group know that they are far from powerless, and are dangerous in their own right.
Put simply, they as a group, individually and collectively, actively believe that they are Caine. They refer to themselves as the Children of Caine, and travel the world, seeking those interested in the Progenitor, and actively making their lives miserable. The Children do not discriminate in regard to politics. They equally terrorize the Camarilla, the Sabbat, the Inconnu; anyone curious enough to wonder how it all began is the target of their inquisitive nature.
The response of the different factions is curious, to say the least. The Camarilla is angered by the intrusion of the Children in their cities (since the Children never feel the need to present themselves, and when they do, the answer is always the same: "I'm Caine), but the Children seem just as concerned about the preservation of the Masquerade. They will do nothing to embarrass Kindred in front of mortals, but will come very close to it at times.
Because of the Path of Caine, the Children of Caine are revered, almost worshipped by certain members of the Sabbat. With the influence of the Cainites, the Children can get away with just about anything. It is believed by the Cainites that the Children of Caine possess secret information regarding the First, and that anyone that harms a Child endangers the information. Which leads to the other significant factor: their virtual martyrdom. The Children tend to wander into dangerous areas, where their presence is neither desired nor needed. They seem to face hostility with a child's innocence, not understanding that they're angering those with which they speak. They have no fear of the most maniacal Sabbat, or the most powerful Prince, or even of the most omnipotent Antediluvian. This attitude has cause not a little fear amongst groups unfamiliar with such open-faced bravery.
The history of the Children of Caine is as straightforward and convoluted as the Children themselves. Those who speak only do so after the scholar has been sent on a wild goose chase thousands of miles long and months in duration. In short, the petitioner must be able to show that she really wants to find out the truth. Only after she has been taken past her breaking point, does the "true" tale come out.
Their history, they say, begins with the history of Malkav and the Third Generation. The Second City was burning, the Third generation having taken their bloody vengeance out on the Second Generation. Those who survived howled in delight as the blood of their Elders soaked the streets. Then the door opened, and Caine awoke.
The Third Generation froze in panic. They had hoped the First would sleep, and sleep long enough for the Third to rally their courage to take even him out. He walked past them, neither looking nor caring about the carnage that surrounded him. As he walked out of view, the Third, expecting to be killed, shook their head in confusion. It was time to leave, they said. Let the Old One wander into the pits of Sheol for all they cared.
Not so Malkav. He had howled with his brethren all the same, but had read something mysteriously powerful in the face of his Grandsire. Something that haunted him, distressed him. He knew he could not rest until he knew what that secret was.
And so he journeyed all over the world, follwoing in the spirit and the footsteps of the Wanderer. Whever he went, there were tales of the Sad One, who brought a small bit of suffering with his arrival, and left a small bit of bliss with his departure.
At last, after years of fruitless searching, he came upon Caine. It was in the mountains, where the cold, hard rock provided little protection from the rising sun. It was suicide, following him up this far, but Malkav had to know.
He found him on a rocky ledge. "Why have you followed me. Why have you become a partner to my suffering?"
"When you left, I--I saw your face. It was-"
"Sad? Pathetic? Boy, I don't need your pity. Leave this mountain while you can."
"What do you know? I will not leave until I know it!"
"You are willing to die to learn the secret that destroys my soul? What kind of fool are you?"
"The worst kind. The inquisitive kind."
And then the First...smiled. "Yes. You deserve something for your hard work. As I was rewarded for my tilling of the fields. Very well, I tell you this. In that place, from where I slept, I finally have been given the vision of totality, of pasts, present, and futures. I know all the things I am responsible for, and all thing I cannot control. I was going to climb up this mountain, and toss myself off, so that the secret would die with me. If such a fall could kill one such as myself. But I doubt it. It honestly never occurred to me that someone else would be interested. I am flattered."
He held Malkav tightly, and whispered half the secret into his ear. It bled into his soul, and infected the blood which ran deep in his veins.
"There. Now all your children will know a fraction of the mystery. It will run in your blood, and infect their souls as well. They will burrow deep within their psyches to escape the horror, but there is no escape."
And then the First kicked the quivering mass of Malkav down the mountain, until he nestled in a crevice, safe from the sun's rays. He awoke...changed. Renewed. He passed through India, and made his first Progeny there. They used the madness wisely, enriching their existence.
After thousands of years, after witch hunts and pogroms against their kind, a group of Malkavians, fifty in number, clustered together to talk of old times. The reason for the gathering mystified them one and all, until Kerwyn stepped forth.
He was not a Malkavian, but rather a Brujah who had heard the legend of the secret. If it were true, each Malkavian possessed a fraction of that secret. Bring enough together, and perhaps someone could divine the secret from the mish-mash.
The Malkavians were impressed. No one had ever sought to take them seriously before. They smiled at the thought. As a one, they decided to put his theory to the test, and submitted to his questions.
One by one, Kerwyn reached into their minds, and uncovered that fraction of the secret. The moment it hit the conscious mind, something extraordinary happened. Their derangements evaporated when there was nothing left to hide.
And finally it was done. The grand experiment completed, the Malkavians turned to Kerwyn. He shrugged mightily, and explained that it just didn't make any sense. Perhaps a bigger pool was necessary. Whatever the case, it was over.
The Malkavians disagreed. It made perfect sense...to them. Once they began assimilating it all, the pieces started falling into place. They thanked Kerwyn, patting him on the back for his troubles. So demeaning were they, that Kerwyn began to lose his composure, and demanded to know what it was. They reminded the Brujah that it wasn't his place to know such things. Then, quite unexpectedly, they turned on him, and knocked him unconscious.
According to the story, they then formed a circle, with Kerwyn at the center, and through his blood, summoned the First. He smiled at them warmly, and congratulated them for deciphering the first part. He then asked them if they were ready for the last. As a one, they replied, "No."
The First was more than confused. "Why then was I awakened?" They pointed at the prostate form of Kerwyn. "He has awakened us, at much cost to himself. He wants to know the second part. We think he should know it."
He bent low, and tasted Kerwyn's blood. It was, as they said, deep, rich, and inquisitive. "Very well. I will grant it unto him. Realize, however, that such knowledge will make you subservient to him."
"We are but your Children."
"Leave us now. You know my secrets, thus you know a secret part of me. Go in my name, and seek those who dwell in darkness."
They left, to find others and to free their minds.
The rest is speculation, based on what Kerwyn told his successor, and what his successor has told the successor, and so on. Caine walked to the form, and asked him if he wished to know the great secret. Kerwyn, licking his lips at the thought, agreed.
"There are burdens to such power."
"I don't care! I've suffered so! Let me know!"
And Caine told him. And Caine gave him. The blood, tricking from the source, was too much for Kerwyn's humble form. It ruptured and cracked, split apart. But theform that arose from it was mighty indeed. And at last, Kerwyn understood...
Further, a Child, when asked, will always identify herself as Caine. She will seek to hide knowledge until the asker has been sufficiently tormented, and only then, when the petitioner has all but given up, will the information be told. All the while, she will drop hints that lead to greater questions.
Tremere: Who's he? Don't you mean Salubri?
Ventrue: Fussy eaters. Always pushy, too. Doesn't play well with the other children.
Gangrel: What comes of letting them play too long outside. Sometimes thay don't like to come back in.
Toreador: I knew we had problems when he _liked_ the piano lessons we made him take. What do I mean by we? Why me and his mother, of course.
Brujah: Real hyperactive. Your best bet is taking a strap to their miserable hides once a day. They're so cute when they try to make you eat it afterwards.