Shepherds
Remember: I'm watching you. Don't get greedy.
Think of the way a shepherd tends to his flock. The herder watches over the sheep. He stays nearby, he directs them, he keeps them safe from wolves and starvation and disease. And then, when the time is right, he exploits the animals for their milk, wool and meat.
That’s what the Shepherds do. These Savages stand guard over the food supply — that food being the human Herd from which vampires feed. Admittedly, it’s not just about food, given that humans are powerful Resources in ways beyond being just walking, talking bags of blood, but that still speaks to a core need to keep the Herd relatively safe. Either way, whatever a human offers, he can’t be utilized if he’s dead or on the run. The Herd is best when kept docile and ignorant.
The Shepherds call this idea the “Fourth Tradition,” or the “Tradition of the Herd.” They claim that it’s just as important as the other three Traditions supposedly put forth by the Camarilla so many centuries ago, and that the Kindred have grown gluttonous and indulgent with the food supply. Any sense of moderation has gone out the window, and now the vampires let their Beasts have a taste whenever they see fit — often leaving a trail of bloodless bodies as a result.
That doesn’t help anyone. The Herd gets spooked, and then it withdraws. At night, they lock doors and windows. They don’t go out to the clubs as much, and the hookers all carry razors and Tasers and even pistols, none of which will stop a hungry vampire, but can all cause more than a degree of trouble. They call the police. Someone investigates the bodies, the blood spatter, the flakes of dead flesh left behind. They grow aware. Vampire hunters arise. The Herd knows it’s being hunted. The Masquerade shudders and fractures.
The Shepherds seek to stop this wanton disregard for the Herd. And so they do what seems anathema to many Kindred: they protect the humans from vampiric excess.
That’s what the Shepherds do. These Savages stand guard over the food supply — that food being the human Herd from which vampires feed. Admittedly, it’s not just about food, given that humans are powerful Resources in ways beyond being just walking, talking bags of blood, but that still speaks to a core need to keep the Herd relatively safe. Either way, whatever a human offers, he can’t be utilized if he’s dead or on the run. The Herd is best when kept docile and ignorant.
The Shepherds call this idea the “Fourth Tradition,” or the “Tradition of the Herd.” They claim that it’s just as important as the other three Traditions supposedly put forth by the Camarilla so many centuries ago, and that the Kindred have grown gluttonous and indulgent with the food supply. Any sense of moderation has gone out the window, and now the vampires let their Beasts have a taste whenever they see fit — often leaving a trail of bloodless bodies as a result.
That doesn’t help anyone. The Herd gets spooked, and then it withdraws. At night, they lock doors and windows. They don’t go out to the clubs as much, and the hookers all carry razors and Tasers and even pistols, none of which will stop a hungry vampire, but can all cause more than a degree of trouble. They call the police. Someone investigates the bodies, the blood spatter, the flakes of dead flesh left behind. They grow aware. Vampire hunters arise. The Herd knows it’s being hunted. The Masquerade shudders and fractures.
The Shepherds seek to stop this wanton disregard for the Herd. And so they do what seems anathema to many Kindred: they protect the humans from vampiric excess.
Culture
Culture and cultural heritage
History and Culture: It began during the mid- 19th century with the Montrose Party — a group of humans heading Westward toward Oregon. They were not alone. With them came a number of young Kindred, moving the “flock” of humans through the wilderness the way a cattleman might move his Herd dozens of miles so the beasts could have grass to graze on. It was a curious experiment — neither man nor vampire had ever easily crossed such a wild expanse before. It was also a failed experiment: the Montrose Party was beset by a wild tribe of horrific vampires, seemingly not Kindred at all (the Sta-Au). Few survived, most perishing at the hands of the monsters, others claimed by them.
One of those who did survive and escape was Greta Devenpeck, a Gangrel who had a powerful way of blending in with the human Herd, hiding in plain sight. Despite what was ostensibly a coldly pragmatic solution (usher the food supply to a place where the vampire herders could act as kings), she had formed a certain connection to the people of the Montrose Party — in much the same way as a keeper feels about a dumb hound or a stubborn Herd of goats. Greta had come to know these people intimately. She’d discerned their quirks, watched their relationships unfold, and of course tasted their blood from time to time. And then, like that, they were all gone. Dead, because she and the others couldn’t protect them (couldn’t even protect themselves, truth told).
It was traumatic, and it changed her. Back in towns and cities, she found she could stand in a crowd of humans and they’d barely even notice her. The sheep did not see the wolf that stood among them in full sight. Years later, while on the East Coast, Greta came to notice things about people: sometimes, the Herd would grow spooked. If too many fell victim to monstrous predations, they’d start to Circle the Wagons (so to speak), standing vigil over one another, shuttering the windows at night. Even a mote of awareness blooming in ignorance became dangerous, and when the vampires had trouble feeding, the competition over Resources became all the fiercer. Fat and happy, the Kindred had an easier road to peace. Lean and hungry, they tore at each other like starving dogs.
Greta and her coterie took it unto themselves to police the overindulgences of their kind. If they caught a Kindred slaking his thirst like a mad dog, leaving a trail of bodies, they came to that animal and did what anybody would do with a rabid beast: they gave it swift mercy with stake and axe. From Devenpeck and her coterie of Savages grew the transformed blood of the Shepherds. It’s why they’re more than just a small covenant of vampires. The Blood shifted within them. They are wolves who walk in shadow, they are hunters in darkness. But above all else, they are Shepherds.
Joining is as easy or as difficult as making a mark on one of the local Shepherds. One must of course be judged worthy. If a Gangrel has given herself over to hungry excesses too many times, the Shepherds will cast her to the curb (or destroy her outright). But if she can prove her devotion to moderation, to the safety of the Herd and not to her own raw desires, then they’ll give her a proper look.
One of those who did survive and escape was Greta Devenpeck, a Gangrel who had a powerful way of blending in with the human Herd, hiding in plain sight. Despite what was ostensibly a coldly pragmatic solution (usher the food supply to a place where the vampire herders could act as kings), she had formed a certain connection to the people of the Montrose Party — in much the same way as a keeper feels about a dumb hound or a stubborn Herd of goats. Greta had come to know these people intimately. She’d discerned their quirks, watched their relationships unfold, and of course tasted their blood from time to time. And then, like that, they were all gone. Dead, because she and the others couldn’t protect them (couldn’t even protect themselves, truth told).
It was traumatic, and it changed her. Back in towns and cities, she found she could stand in a crowd of humans and they’d barely even notice her. The sheep did not see the wolf that stood among them in full sight. Years later, while on the East Coast, Greta came to notice things about people: sometimes, the Herd would grow spooked. If too many fell victim to monstrous predations, they’d start to Circle the Wagons (so to speak), standing vigil over one another, shuttering the windows at night. Even a mote of awareness blooming in ignorance became dangerous, and when the vampires had trouble feeding, the competition over Resources became all the fiercer. Fat and happy, the Kindred had an easier road to peace. Lean and hungry, they tore at each other like starving dogs.
Greta and her coterie took it unto themselves to police the overindulgences of their kind. If they caught a Kindred slaking his thirst like a mad dog, leaving a trail of bodies, they came to that animal and did what anybody would do with a rabid beast: they gave it swift mercy with stake and axe. From Devenpeck and her coterie of Savages grew the transformed blood of the Shepherds. It’s why they’re more than just a small covenant of vampires. The Blood shifted within them. They are wolves who walk in shadow, they are hunters in darkness. But above all else, they are Shepherds.
Joining is as easy or as difficult as making a mark on one of the local Shepherds. One must of course be judged worthy. If a Gangrel has given herself over to hungry excesses too many times, the Shepherds will cast her to the curb (or destroy her outright). But if she can prove her devotion to moderation, to the safety of the Herd and not to her own raw desires, then they’ll give her a proper look.
Common Dress code
The Shepherds don’t dress in any notable way, and in fact are purposefully non-notable. They wear non-descript clothes for the most part, and keep their hair and any makeup to acceptable but not extreme levels (unless, of course, the general fashions of an area suggest such a thing — the goal is to blend, not to be a dullard in a room full of fashion mavens, or a golf caddy walking amidst a gaggle of homeless).
Major organizations
Reputation: Their reputation is, at best, mixed. Some value their presence. They can be a bit self-righteous and icy, and it’s downright spooky the way they often just appear (sometimes with two or three of them in tow), but for the most part they’re actually fulfilling a useful function for the good of Kindred society. Some Princes keep them on Retainer, and make them a valuable part of “the organization.” Many Shepherds have even ended up as sheriffs and seneschals.
The problem is, most of the Damned aren’t interested in “the good of Kindred society.” They want to eat. They want to party. They want to fuck and kill and run and laugh. What the Shepherds warn against is something most don’t ever see — while a snowball effect does indeed occur when a vampire indulges in gross feeding excesses, most are too blind to really notice it. And, even if they do notice it, who cares? Blood’s the same two blocks over, so the vampire simply moves his hunting ground.
And that attitude makes the Shepherds seem like sanctimonious conservationists of the most annoying order… which further makes them enemies to any Prince or Archbishop or pack of snarling nomads. It’s a bit of a vicious circle. The Shepherds end up hunted, but they themselves are capable hunters. Factions clash, and in the interim, the human Herd suffers anyway. It’s a struggle the Shepherds must endure; truthfully, those of the bloodline have yet to safely navigate such troubled waters in most cities.
The problem is, most of the Damned aren’t interested in “the good of Kindred society.” They want to eat. They want to party. They want to fuck and kill and run and laugh. What the Shepherds warn against is something most don’t ever see — while a snowball effect does indeed occur when a vampire indulges in gross feeding excesses, most are too blind to really notice it. And, even if they do notice it, who cares? Blood’s the same two blocks over, so the vampire simply moves his hunting ground.
And that attitude makes the Shepherds seem like sanctimonious conservationists of the most annoying order… which further makes them enemies to any Prince or Archbishop or pack of snarling nomads. It’s a bit of a vicious circle. The Shepherds end up hunted, but they themselves are capable hunters. Factions clash, and in the interim, the human Herd suffers anyway. It’s a struggle the Shepherds must endure; truthfully, those of the bloodline have yet to safely navigate such troubled waters in most cities.
Nickname: Watchers, Herders
Bloodline Disciplines: Animalism, Obfuscate, Protean, Resilience
Weakness: In addition to having to endure the normal Gangrel weakness (p. 107, Vampire: The Requiem), the Shepherds also suffer from being too “human.” This doesn’t actually bring them any closer to Humanity, but instead casts them further from their own people and nature. As a result, Blood Potency is particularly difficult to gain. The vampire only receives one dot of Blood Potency per 100 years and the experience cost to purchase new dots in Blood Potency is now new dots x 10. In addition, a Shepard who tries to commit Diablerie must accumulate double the usual number of successes (see p. 158 of Vampire: The Requiem).
Concepts: Embattled Prince, helpful sire, Kindred pragmatist, reserved glutton, self-righteous castigator, Seneschal, survivalist, wary Sheriff, trend-setter, penitent avenger
The reality is, the Shepherds aren’t the “good guys” just because they keep humans safe. They’re basically just pragmatic predators, tending to the flock the way a cautious drug dealer keeps his customers from killing themselves so that they can continue to indulge their addictions. A parasite does best when it keeps the host alive, right?
Still, pop culture is home to a number of antihero protagonists, and Vampire: The Requiem falls in line with that idea from time to time. The Shepherds in particular can play — if you and your Storyteller agree — as something a bit more high-minded and heroic, if need be. They still play at being pragmatic predators, but in this more optimistic version, they’re actually unwittingly or willfully keeping the Herd safe because they strive against the Beast within and the evils of Kindred society. They’re the bulwark against cruel predation, and thus you have a mode in which your vampire Shepherd can be more of a “good guy” than you’d perhaps find in a standard mode of play.
Parent ethnicities
Weakness: In addition to having to endure the normal Gangrel weakness (p. 107, Vampire: The Requiem), the Shepherds also suffer from being too “human.” This doesn’t actually bring them any closer to Humanity, but instead casts them further from their own people and nature. As a result, Blood Potency is particularly difficult to gain. The vampire only receives one dot of Blood Potency per 100 years and the experience cost to purchase new dots in Blood Potency is now new dots x 10. In addition, a Shepard who tries to commit Diablerie must accumulate double the usual number of successes (see p. 158 of Vampire: The Requiem).
Concepts: Embattled Prince, helpful sire, Kindred pragmatist, reserved glutton, self-righteous castigator, Seneschal, survivalist, wary Sheriff, trend-setter, penitent avenger
White Hats
The reality is, the Shepherds aren’t the “good guys” just because they keep humans safe. They’re basically just pragmatic predators, tending to the flock the way a cautious drug dealer keeps his customers from killing themselves so that they can continue to indulge their addictions. A parasite does best when it keeps the host alive, right?Still, pop culture is home to a number of antihero protagonists, and Vampire: The Requiem falls in line with that idea from time to time. The Shepherds in particular can play — if you and your Storyteller agree — as something a bit more high-minded and heroic, if need be. They still play at being pragmatic predators, but in this more optimistic version, they’re actually unwittingly or willfully keeping the Herd safe because they strive against the Beast within and the evils of Kindred society. They’re the bulwark against cruel predation, and thus you have a mode in which your vampire Shepherd can be more of a “good guy” than you’d perhaps find in a standard mode of play.