I heard this song the other day and it brought back memories from my time in modern day Poland. (1871-1886) Back then though it was was divided between the Prussian Empire, the Austrian Empire, and the Russian Empire. However, I was primarily in the Russian and Prussian partitions. I mainly spent my time in the cities of Kijow, Rowne, Luck, Wilno, and Warsaw.
1868 was the year when I began making plans to travel. If you have not traveled across the world in the late 1800's then you have no idea how difficult it was to move back then. Even with my former riches, getting everything together for a long journey was still complicated. Luckily, the rom's caravans were not extremely hard to sun-proof. The problem is that the rom were looked down upon by all. Most viewed us as an ethnicity that was just waiting for someone to cleanse. Sounds terrible, I know. In 1873, I arrived in the Russian Empire's city of Rowne. There my retainers and I met up with another camp of roma. They had been persecuted worse than others that I had seen. Their children were abducted and abused. They were then usually either ransomed back or sold off into slavery. The local officials viewed slavery as illegal. However, my people were not considered legal persons, so the questions of legality were null and void.
I refused to accept it. I met with the families that had lost. I gave them a choice. A choice of the power to get revenge and to serve me or to accept their lot in life and to live free. It was here that I created my first ghouls. The six that chose power and service I gave my blood. The change was startling. I also taught them how to properly use small blades, the only legal 'weapons' that we could have. With these skills, they were able to kill fourteen of those responsible. In one night. I used my powers to distract and assist.
It was vulgar. It was messy. It was evil. I am ashamed of what I enabled mortals to do. One of them died that evening. Not right away, but as a result of wounds he suffered during the attack. I know that they were grieving and that they might have sought revenge without me. But, I gave them the power and the initiative to do it. However, my word was kept and I expected them to do the same. The families did.
We left Rowne relatively quickly after that night. I cleaned up the dead as best I could, but it was time to move on. Luck was the next city. And it was anything but that for us. Along the path, the ones I empowered needed more and more over-watch like children who were overly unruly. The gift I bestowed didn't save them from their grief and just gave them another... hunger. I had to feed more than usual during our journey just in order to keep up with their demand.
When we arrived, I sold most of the gold jewelry that I had stolen or conned from people back in Rowne. I used the majority of the proceeds to buy a small house that could serve as a haven for the time being. This proved to be a poor decision. I should have not chosen to put down roots so soon. My ghouls thirsted for vitae. This complicated things when establishing a temporary home. I know that I do rituals now but back then I knew nothing about the occult other than the superstitions and tales of my people and that kindred society existed. I knew the hunger that we kindred feel. I knew the heady rush of clamping my fangs in the flesh of a living human and feeling the splash of hot vitae in my mouth. I knew the pleasure that i bestowed with the kiss. I knew the joy afterwards of licking the wound. I did not however know what it meant to be a ghoul. I did not know the clutch of the vinculum as a mortal. I did not know the drive to keep the vitae in your system. I did not know how instead of just empowering the body how it also warped the mind.
The remaining five, whose names I have forgotten to history, were in mind and action every possible definition of the word ghoul and ghoulish. They strove to keep me fed simply so that they would not feel empty. They made so many mistakes that were almost breaches of the masquerade. I spent much of my time tending to them because they could not and would not take care of themselves. Their hunger was too great. After an incident with the wife of a Russian Officer, we had to leave again. It was 1876 according to my journals. Luck had been where I first saw the problem that would haunt me throughout our journeys. The trip to Wilno just further confirmed what I had previously seen. Their hunger and rage was all that I fed them. When I reprimanded them about their behavior, it was like kicking a puppy. They recoiled simply from my harsh words. They had lost control.
They years in Wilno were better. That is not to say that they were good, but the city was (and still is) far larger than Luck or Rowne. This gave us an amount of room to hide in. The Prince of the region was a member of the First Estate and being that I was still on the run from my Sire's allies, I chose to not introduce myself. I poached and hid and taught the five to do the same. One night one of my ghouls was discovered and without an acknowledged master summarily destroyed. I only found this out years after the incident. However at the time, when he didn't come back and I didn't hear of his body being found, I thought that he broke free of the spell my blood had over him and freed me from the curse of watching over him. It was 1882 when I had to leave Wilno rather abruptly. I crossed paths with another kindred late one evening. As you well know when we meet, our beasts snarl. He managed to not recoil from me, but came to his senses and ran to report me. From what I have heard, the prince of Wilno back then was rather militant about outsiders. We prepared to leave that night and my servants made certain that we departed by morning. I was asleep by then of course.
It took us almost a full eighteen months to reach Warsaw. We took and inefficient route that ensured that any trackers that may have been sent after us would not be able to follow. In addition to this, we avoided taking the easier route through the Austrian Empire. We were in the Prussian Empire and it was time for a positive change.Warsaw like Wilno was a larger city. It was easy to blend it. To play the game of wicked masks. To put down roots and to corral the desired of my ghouls. By the end of 1884, they had taught me their final lesson. When I gave them the choice eleven years ago between power and acceptance of their fate, I did not give them a choice. I infected them with my own wants and desires of revenge. It was not a choice. The ones that chose to keep the ways and not accept my 'gift' were the lucky ones. I'm certain that by then they had learned to accept their loss and forgive their oppressors. I fell into a year long depression. Mortals around me felt the waves of my power even back then. Many killed themselves. It just served to push me farther into examining what I had lost and what I had done to my own people. I was equally as bad as those that abducted children to sell as slaves. I deserved the lowest form of contempt.
Meanwhile, my ghouls kept me fed. They tried to raise my spirits. They tried to bring me out of my low swing any way they could. But they did not and could not know that their very attempts were what haunted me and drove me deeper into self hatred. In late 1885, I decided that I needed to save them. That that was the best I could hope to do. However I could. I would at least do that. I tried purging them of the vitae, but they starved for it, and I couldn't watch them suffer. I was still weak. I let them drink from me after refusing for some time. I tried to teach them to control their urges, but it was futile. Everything I did just endeared them to me more. They just wanted more, and they still hated. The hate burned almost as bright as my blood in their veins. But, I had to save them.
It was hard. It may have been the third hardest thing I have done in my unlife. I murdered them. I look back on it, and I could call it a mercy killing at the time, but it was murder. They were alive and then through my actions, they were not. I had cursed them. I had taken what made them Rom and robbed them of it. All that I could see as solving that at that time was ending them before they sacrificed more of themselves for me and my desires. So, as a result, I murdered them. At the time I tried to rationalize it as best I could. It broke me. The experience made me accepting of the monster that I am today. It shaped me.
The lyrics of the song that song earlier hit me like a wave, crashing into my chest and making me miss the thump of a heartbeat once more.
I'm a constant sinner
A conscience killer
...
I'm a red-blooded sickness
There was no way around it
...
Cause it don't mean all that much, does it?
But we never really had a choice
No it don't mean all that much to us
But we never really had a choice
We're conscience killers
Don't want no conscience at all
I recently made my first ghoul since then. I don't know yet if ti was a mistake. But it was not rom. I will never again do that. I like to think I learned form my mistake, but I feel more like I am doomed to repeat it.
Farewell conscience,
-L
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