Gallows Post

She looks you over, and tells you no, she’s not going to Edinburgh.

Nobody tells you “no,” you tell her, but she’s already moved on. Checking her cargo manifest, or pretending to. You remind her that your sire owns this city, and how easily her ship could get impounded. You wait for her to react. You know what she’s got on this ship, and you’ve got her in a corner. Will she lash out like the dumb Beast she is, or will she whimper for mercy like a whipped dog?

Instead, she cackles. She says you can impound her ship. Hell, you can burn the whole harbor down. By the time you’ve got your maggot flunkies moving, she’ll be long gone, and the next time you leave your miserable shithole of a city you’ll be buried up to your neck in churchyard to see your first sunrise since the pope has been in Avignon.

She knows that you know that she’s the only Post captain in town for the next six weeks at least, and that if you’re desperate enough to arrive in Edinburgh this close to the Feast of St. John, when the sun barely sinks below the horizon and the night sky is more orange than black, then you aren’t going to wait that long.

"If you’re going to go to Edinburgh," she says, "you’re bringing a ship’s load of wheat with you. Last year’s harvest failed, she says with a glint in her eye, and there’s a great dearness of wheat."

You want to join the Gallows Post because

You want to see what’s on the other side of that mountain. You want your own place to call home, even if it’s in the middle of nowhere. You don’t like people telling you what to do. You don’t like staying in one place. You’re a pagan or a heretic. You’ve committed a crime somewhere else, and you’re on the run. You prefer to be left alone.

The Big Picture

Strange things prowl in the woods at night. There’s safety in numbers. The countryside carries its own special kind of dread. You can’t know every road, and being caught exposed in the wilderness when dawn comes is a death sentence for the Kindred.

That’s where the Gallows Post comes in.

While the Lancea et Sanctum and the Invictus have the money and the power to protect themselves on overseas voyages, or along well-traveled routes, not everyone can march with an army at their side. The Gallows Post is a hardy covenant of warriors, merchants, and adventurers who carry messages and provide passage across mountains, seas, and forests to keep Kindred society alive. They provide a valuable service for the rest of Kindred society. After all, it’s impossible to consolidate power without communication, and reliable communication is what the Gallows Post is best at.

Ironically, their role in the consolidation of other Covenants’ power bases only serves to marginalize them further. They live in the liminal spaces between cities, where no other Kindred survive.

Where we came from

The fall of the Legion of the Dead left a lacuna in Kindred society. Many who fled the Legion’s dissolving ranks (and the potential vendettas of those they had wronged) found a new existence on the margins of human and Kindred society. Starting in the Eastern areas of the Baltic, and eventually spreading west into Scandinavia and south towards the Black Sea, these ex-legionnaires intermingled with indigenous vampires. Together, they developed a code and a law of their own, suitable for navigating life in the dark forests and harsh winters of the northeast.

Our practices

Though they are perpetual outsiders, the Gallows Post is not a lawless group of brigands and outlaws. Each member of the Post wears a symbol of the noose somewhere on their person. Representations range from an elegant piece of gold knotwork to a rope belt tied in a slipknot.

The covenant observes only a few definite laws, but anyone who breaks them will face the wrath of his fellows as surely as any city dweller. These simple laws ensure the integrity of the Post without interfering in the day-to-day lives of its members. After being declared an outlaw by the Gallows Post, a poor fool has nowhere to hide.

  • Honor your brother’s hospitality. Do not cause trouble in another Brigand’s territory; allow any other Brigand to pass through your territory so long as he does no harm. Depending on any particular Brigand’s temperament, their definition of “harm” may not be very generous, so travelers are advised to tread lightly.
  • Honor your contracts. You can equivocate, you can scheme, but you can’t fundamentally go back on your word. The reputation of the Post rests on each of its members.
  • Do not scheme against your brothers. If you want to kill another member of the Post, you should openly proclaim your intent to kill him before doing so.
  • The Crossroads Cant. The Gallows Post has its own secret language used to communicate with other members. Through various signs and symbols, the Code is used to mark territory and warn other Brigands of potential dangers.
  • Nicknames: Brigands

    Concepts: Blood-sucking Robin Hood, sharp-eyed doxy, feral poet, dread pirate and occasional legitimate businessman, professional pilgrim

    When we are in power

    Though generally democratic, the Brigands inevitably squabble when too many are together for long. If bordering territories are contested, it’s almost unavoidable that one will claim that the other has insulted or injured him in an inexcusable way. When that happens, a feud erupts, and it does not end until one party is staked out for the rising sun.

    When we are in trouble

    The Gallows Post is arguably better at going to ground than any other covenant. Many have close relationships with mortals, as they’re crucial for protection and information on the open road.

    Merits

    The Hangman’s Code Members of the Gallows Post may purchase Carthian Law merits. Any references to the Carthian Movement are replaced with the Gallows Post.

    Type
    Social, Group
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