By Lance Alloway (lanja@cbn.net.id)
Pranksters believe it is their not-so-solemn duty to follow the Call of Malkav, bringing light to a world in search of nothing of the sort. This path is devoted first to ripping away the mental security blankets that the Kindred, Kine, etc. all cling to so tenuously. It is also a path of assisted self-exploration as followers of the path engage in "quality control measures," or more simply put, "layin' sum wisdom on mah-brother."
Many vampires on this path believe the rumors that the Malkavian and Toreador Antediluvians, and thus their respective clans, are very closely related. Pranksters assert that the same 2nd Generation Cainite embraced the two of them for their rare genius; Arikel for her artistic talents and Malkav for his skill as a teacher. Some also assert that the two were wedged in between Saulot and Set on their sire's roster. But from there the details get a bit blurry.
On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays most #@!!*)$%& Kooks insist that Malkav and Arikel were mortal brother and sister. On Tuesdays and Thursdays they claim Malkav embraced Arikel himself and later talked her into sucking his over-sexed Sire dry, "Just to show him." If asked over the weekend (or on bank holidays) most will denounce both of the above theories as vile Salubri propaganda, and insist that Malkav and Arikel are just different names for the same ancient and wise vampire.
(Note: Discussion of the third option is usually accompanied by hugging the closest Toreador, giving him/her a big wet sloppy kiss and screaming "THIS IS MY BELOVED BROTHER NUMSIE!!!" at the top of one's undead lungs. Cans of processed meat are often exchanged on such occasions.)
"NO! NO! NO! You IDIOT!!! Not again." Saulot sang, "How can I get it through your thick skull that . . . ." But as our hero had a couple of quarts of Caine in his veins, he felt no need to listen to the Childe whom he embraced for wisdom and purity. [Grab, Squueeeeeeeze, WHACK! Thud-groan] Thus is the way of the kindling...er, I mean Kindred.
Upon reaching the twins' home, our hero was startled to find the parents standing in the front lawn, dressed in rags. When asked about their allegedly amazing children, they looked somewhat distraught. The mother began to cry.
"Yes," the father explained, "our daughter is an exceptionally talented artist." As proof he pointed to the beautiful and amazingly lifelike statues of small red-capped gnomes and small animals that decorated their lawn. "And yes," he said pointing to the group of youths jumping up and down on the couch in their living room, "our son is a brilliant and captivating teacher." The mother's sobbing was by now becoming somewhat distressing, and annoying.
Restraining the urge to drain the woman dry, our hero focused his marsupial intellect on the man's continued whining. "But our daughter rarely sells any of her works," the man complained, "because buyers cannot explain what her pieces mean to her." "And our son," he explained while wringing his hands," keeps failing all his students and horribly offending their parents." Scratching his head vigorously, our hero considered their dilemma.
"Have you tried speaking to them?" our brilliant hero asked. The father assured him that they had on many occasions, but to no avail. "In the meantime, we have resigned ourselves to poverty." Hearing this, our benevolent hero kindly offered to help resolve the situation. Sensing the wisdom that blazed from our hero's red eyes, the parents quickly agreed. The father giggled uncontrollably as his wife, wiping her eyes, slammed her elbow into the old man's ribs.
So without further ado, our hero stormed into the house, barged into Arikel's room, and demanded to see her. There, listening to a vintage Smiths CD while decorating her whole room in black, was one of the greatest beauties he'd ever seen. "Why do you make things so difficult for your family?" he demanded of the scantily clad girl. She looked him over, sighed and gently closed the door.
[SORRY, PAY FOR VEW ONLY]
Batting her teary eyes and pushing up her breasts Arikel replied, "Cursed? How sad." Taking out a small vial of sparkly nail polish she purred, "Tell me more about it."
[TO SUBSCRIBE CALL 1-966-LUV-SNAK]
Shortly before dawn, our hero staggered from her room in a daze. "I'll be back." was all he said before taking his leave. At the door, Arikel smiled sweetly, adjusted her clothing and retired for the day.
The next night our hero returned as promised to speak to Malkav. "Why do you insist on failing your students?" he asked sternly "And why do you torment your lovely sister so?" At this Malkav grew tense and looked all around with nervous suspicion. Drawing close to our hero's ear he whispered . . . .
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As this revelation sank in, they continued talking. This went on for nearly five minutes before Malkav's interest began to wane. Forcing the glaze from his eyes, Malkav interrupted our hero's diatribe by suggesting . . . .
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Our hero continued crossing and uncrossing his eyes in the manner Malkav had suggested. "You are sure this will help?" he asked. "Yes," Malkav replied, "but practice makes perfect. . . . Oh, and hum. I almost forgot that part; you need to hum . . . yes, like that."
So as our hero continued his exercise, Malkav recapped. "You're a vampire eh? And that makes you immortal?" Our hero hummed in agreement. To which Malkav replied, "so prove it!" Confounded by this deeply philosophical question, our hero did the only thing he could think of. Saulot beat his head against a nearby wall in vigorous approval.
[SCENE CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE]
And so the story ends out on the lawn where our hero posed for Arikel's next masterpiece -- Dawn of Man, while Malkav and Saulot enjoyed a friendly wrestling match. Then, just as Saulot was going for the three-count and Arikel thought the light was just about right, Malkav stuck his fingers in Saulot's face shouting the immortal line:
"Whooooooop whooop whooop whoooop!!!! Nyuk. Nyuk. Nyuk."
Try as he might, Saulot chose not to defend himself against Malkav's vicious poking. "Well if you don't like it grow one in the back!" the victorious Malkav yelled. "What good is a third eye if you can't get people to stop poking you in it?"
"And what about the twins' parents?" you ask. They had already slipped out of town and moved to Bora Bora where they lived happily ever after.
The Pranksters are currently at war with a group known as the Erisians, followers of a rival Malkavian Path of Enlightenment. Periods of intense fighting between these two "fundamentalists groups" go on for decades separated only by the occasional joint Prankster/Erisian strategic planning conference. Rumors concerning these interfaith festivals abound. It is said that copious amounts of blood and cheese-whiz are consumed; all Tremere tomes stolen since the last conference are burned in a massive book-toss competition; and the next few years worth of major syndicated newspaper cross-word puzzles are designed.
Recent escalations in the Prankster/Erisian conflict have led to the aerial bombardment of a major Camarilla stronghold with 17,000 metric tonnes of whipped SPAM and eggnog. Both groups have claimed responsibility. The incident resulted in a rather loud protest from Clan Tremere (following the complete disruption of a major Thraumaturgical ritual due to SPAM inhalation). This in turn drew grave warnings and condemnations from the Malkavian Justicar. But he stopped short of taking any actual punitive action toward either group, claiming that the large bribes each group had previously given him would make action ethically inappropriate. A bill for the Justicar's services was sent to Vienna.
Path of Caine: (The Path of Diablerie's Okay - RIGHT??!!?!) Forgive me for not spending much time with this crowd. The creeps remind me of bug collectors. As soon as they catch a whiff of you they start shifting through mountains of moldy old books looking to ID you, then if you're useful they go out and try to "collect" you. I mean you're talking about folks who think the sincerest way of showing respect and admiration is diablerie. "What? Dinner at your place? No thanks!"
Path of Cathari: (The Path of Yuppie -- Volvo Strain) Now these guys are really interesting. If they pitched out all the good god, evil god, reincarnation Hoo-Haw they might just have something original -- The Anti-Path of the Spoiled Beast. Rule #1) Do whatever you want. Rule #2) Let the Beast do whatever it wants. Rule #3) If rules 1 & 2 put the follower in conflict with his Beast, both should throw HUGE temper tantrums until one gets tired of crying or the Cathari's head blows up.
Path of Death and the Soul: (The Path of Jack Kavorkian . . . Ewwwww Icky!!! ) COME ON MAN!!! If any of them really meant it they'd already be gone.
Path of Evil Revelations: (The Path For Really Short-Term Thinkers) These are basically Cathari masochists: They get to break all the rules AND get a good spanking! Most of these sorry bastards are beyond all hope, since even if you laid some truly heavy wisdom on them, their souls will still be in hock to the Dark Lord David Hasselhoff. But if you can get to them first it's another story. It's a little known fact that nearly half of the Sabbat's Infernalist Los Sombreros (over 40 percent of the whole Clan) mistakenly sold their souls to a consortium of rich Pranksters pretending to be demons. On a more touching note, there is rumor of a small group of Pranksters that recently made the ultimate sacrifice. They willingly sold their souls to various greater Demon Lords just for the opportunity to REALLY foul things up in Hell. We're predicting snow.
Path of Harmony: (The Path of Kumbayah) These guys aren't all that bad really. It's kind of like Golconda-Lite. But all the support meetings, candlelight sing-alongs and group hugs are a bit much for me. "I LOVE you man! Sniff, sniff."
Path of Honorable Accord: (The Path of Abuse Me Please) "Duuuh . . . Which way did he go George? Which way did he go?" This path is for those folks too nice or too slow to be Infernalists. Its followers generally either don't realize that NOBODY in the Sabbat really believes in ANYBODY'S freedom, or they know full well and are just looking for a chance to whip that lil 'Los Sombrero's weeny ass. Treatment for the former is far easier, but often leads to a severe case of the latter.
Path of Power and the Inner Voice: (The Path of Yuppie - Anal Retentive Strain) "I'M INVINCIBLE!!! You're a looney." These guys are just sad, sad, sad. They honestly seem to think that if they just learn to clench their ass cheeks tight enough, they can rule the world." Stick it to'em boys!
Path of Lilith: (Path of YO' MAMA) Oh, they get it alright, but DAMN they play rough. Watch your tail or they'll be thanking you profusely for your lesson, while braiding your entrails. It's generally advisable to let them see to their own educational needs, unless the situation demands your attention.
Path of the Scorched Heart: (The Path of Pretending Not To Be Pissed-off at Troile) These guys have got to be the most miserable bunch of passive/aggressive old farts around. They've spent CENTURIES brooding over how they're going to get their sweet revenge, but have thus far done bupkis about it. The TIME'S not right. Meanwhile they'll just pretend that nothing's bothering them. "Nope. I'm fine. [Sound of popping veins] No emotions here. Heh heh heh [Steam issuing from ears]...ARRRGH!!! I'M GONNA KILL HER! [Sound of rapid furniture disassembly] I'll RIP HER APPART THE LITTLE TROLLOP! [Pathetic sobbing] I WAS BRUJAH'S LITTLE GOLDEN BOY!!! Er, there's no film in that camera is there?" Best of all, they've learned how to bend time all around just so they can maximize their brooding time. At the last #@!!*)$%& Kook/Erisian bake-off, there was absolutely NO discussion WHATSOEVER of ANY plans to preemptively cause the final death of Troile, nor are their any plans laid for the leverage buyout of Clan Brujah.
Path of Self-Focus: (The Path of the Silent Fart) If they sit REAALY still, no one will notice them.
Path of Eris: (The Path of Heretical Bullshit No. 2) Maniacal drones enthralled to the twisted desires of their not-so-sacred Chao. Destroy them before they destroy you. Oh and before I forget, blood-dolls and Ventrue's Funniest Home Videos with them this weekend.
Brooding-Ha-Ha: Almost as much fun as the Torries, but please don't make them mad. That's been WAY overdone. Instead, try making hypocritical manipulative control-freaks out of them. It's almost as easy, but so much more fulfilling.
Dang-squirrels: Gangrel spelled inside out is angry. Winding them up takes a bit more time and effort, but the show is WELL worth it. Just have a scapegoat ready and wear your favorite running shoes.
Gee-you're-naughties: The one speck of truth in the Malkavian Clanbook. HONEST!!!
Malted-Albanians: Poor crazy bastards. Put 'em down on sight. You're doing them a favor.
Noze-fell-off-you: "I'm so pathetic and ugly. I'm not worth worrying about. Just ignore me Mr. Ventrue; I'm not riffling through your underwear drawer. Really. Besides, these are not the Droids you are looking for." These guys are great! Oh, sure they still need work, but who doesn't. Just don't let them know that, 'cause it would spoil all the fun.
Grab-those: These seedy little Gypsy bastards are all in league with our enemies the Erisians. Show 'em no mercy, and should you be taken in glorious battle, give 'em nothing but name, generation and cereal number . . . . Okay and the keys to the men's room. No it doesn't matter if it's a she.
Saymoooobrie: I've got a secret. I've got a SEEcret.
Sleazites: Look, I like good snuf-porn as much as the next guy, but I wouldn't go making a religion out of it. Some people just don't know when enough is enough. If you want to get on their nerves, make 'em feel like they're lamers. "Aawwww MAN! There's ALWAYS somebody more depraved than I am." Next thing you know they're sucking their thumbs. Better yet, make them look like closet nice guys to other Sleazies. "Uhh Raoul, is this your copy of It Takes a Village, and could you play SOMETHING besides Wind beneath my wings?"
Bull Chasers: The Farteeests are our meat and potatoes my friend. Every mechanic has one reliably crappy lemon of a 1972 Chrysler Le Edsel that the owner just can't bear to part with. Every lawyer's got that client who can never quite stay out of trouble. We've got the Toreador. Remember, an idle brain tends to fall out, and it always leaves a hole. Besides, he ain't heavy; he's your brother.
Try-Feare: I've got a secret. And I'm gonna keep it. I've got a seecret. Pfffthththbbbbpt!!!
Wrong-species: "Er, excuse me, but something seems to be dripping out of our pantleg."
Spend-tru: Money, money, money. Mommy, Mommy, Mommy. "But I don't WANT to eat my vegetables!" You'd be surprised how effective the liberal use of Vicissitude can be with these fellows. Remember the old Switching-the-Labels-on-the-Canned-Goods trick?
Los Sombreros: Aye-yaye-yaey-yaye! Hope Daddy's dead-ah. If he ain't you see, he'll be real mad at me. And we'll all be iiiiin the shiiiiiitttttaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!
The Che'Butt:
Tzimisce: "Okay, we're free. So, who's going to be in charge?"
Lasombra: "Oooo! Oooo! Oooo! Me, ME, MEEEE!!!!
Tzimisce: "And do WE ALL AGREE WITH THAT !!!!!...?"
Chorus: "... Huh?"
Infernalists: "BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!!!!!"
The Hand: "..."
Tzimisce: "Yesssss Lasombra, it appears that you win."
Ventilated-Aunties: "But. But. But."
Lasombra: "Woo-hoo!!! I AM the Dark Lord, be my willing thralls!"
Assamites: "Can we eat 'em? Can we eat 'em?""
Tzimisce: "No dear, not yet."
The Inconntinent: ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZ . . . eh? . . . zzz . . . Huh? Oh. Honey . . . Wake up. It's your turn to feed the demon.
Hairballs: I'm sorry, but they don't make newspapers that big. You'll just have to make nice when you meet them and be ready to run. In either case, playing fetch is your best bet. It works like this: 1) Grab something important to the Hairball(s) in question, 2) Throw item/individual in the window of the meanest, nastiest Tremere you know, 3) Quickly retire to a good vantagepoint to watch the newfound friends play together. They're so cute! It should be noted that this works just as well in reverse: 1) Take target Tremere's tome/artifact/naughty lingere, 2) Deposit in Doggie-den (Dressing Doggie totem statue in Tremere lingere for maximum effect. 3) Buy front row mezzanine tickets from the local Ragabash scalper and enjoy.
The Fae: Do anything and everything you can to help them out. Why? Well, a) they are far more interesting than your average Banalite, er I mean Analtite, oops that's Cainite. II) They help maintain your daily allowance of Dreamer vitae, and most importantly, Q) they're often perfectly aware of and willing to ADMIT that they fight with each other for the sheer fun of it. Try getting to warring crotchety Elders to 'fess-up to that! The one way you can't help them is by telling them anything what so ever about what's going on in Arcadia. It's not that we don't love them 'n all, them's just the rules. Besides, they probably would rather not know. Why do you think WE manage to slip in from time to time?
Those Other Dead Guys: Do you remember how annoying it was when your favorite record got a scratch in it. You know, you'd get to the best part and it'd skip like "When I'm calling yoooou-oooooou-ooooooooou SKIP oooou-ooou SKIP oooou-ooou SKIP oooou-ooou SKIP oooou-ooou SKIP oooou-ooou SKIP oooou-ooou SKIP oooou-ooou SKIP oooou-ooou SKIP oooou-ooou SKIP oooou-ooou SKIP oooou-ooou SKIP oooou-ooou. GOD I HATE THAT!!! My suggestion, toss it in the trash and buy the damned CD.
| 10 | Failing to meditate each night on your overall lesson plan and all valuable lessons you have learned. Failure to continually seek direct contact with Malkav's consciousness (the fabled Mount Quack) and spread word of its existence. Failure to regularly exchange processed meat products, flaming objects, Deathday cards and Haiku poems with your Arch-Rival. |
| 9 | Failing to educate the needy even at risk of one's own existence. Refusing to "Let-go your Ego." Failing to have at least one Erisian Arch-Rival. |
| 8 | Not suitably "thanking" others for useful lessons taught you, or apologizing to those students whose failure to understand resulted from a poorly constructed "lesson." Unnecessarily upsetting the plans of Mauraders, Gypsies, Ragabash Lupines or Changelings. Not looking for ways to spread Malkav's wisdom to the Children of Seth. |
| 7 | Failing to educate the needy despite moderate risk. Failure to seek out and antagonize Malkavian Elders, so as to encourage the exchange of wisdom. Passing up any good opportunity to shake a mortal up by "dropping your pants" (revealing your supernatural nature). |
| 6 | Carrying out pranks with absolutely no educational value. Not seeking to spread wisdom beyond the Children of Caine to the rest of the "supernatural community." Not attending joint Prankster/Erisian events. |
| 5 | Failing to learn from another's efforts to educate you. Unnecessarily destroying a Maurader, Gypsy, Ragabash Lupine or Changeling. Not immediately investigating and acting on any sign of Erisian plots. |
| 4 | Not analyzing others to see if they are in need of your "assistance." Not engaging in long philosophical and metaphysical conversations with children. |
| 3 | Failure to carry out a prank when only minor risks are involved. Showing displeasure at being pranked by others. Telling a Changeling anything meaningful or true about Arcadia. |
| 2 | Allowing others to understand your motives. Not preaching of the evils of the Erisian. Failing to produce processed meat as an offering to your elders. |
| 1 | Failure to carry out a prank when you just KNOW you'll get away with it. |