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I've been thinking

So like the fallen are supposedly eidolons that influence various people and do some gnar-gnar shit, and like angelic messengers talk to the imbued or whatever, right? Well like they shouldn't be that different. I know in Dante's book he describes hell as changing the appearance of the fallen angels, but like, they're still angels, just without His grace, you know? If one thing works on one, it should work on the other? Like how all blank bodies are similar broadly but there's like beast blank bodies and like sorcerer blank bodies.

Does that make sense?

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Why I hate Hunters

CW:

So we all know that I support any night inquirers who are fighting back against the forces of the darkness. But the so called imbued are not to be trusted. They're monsters just as much as any blank body and spirit wolf. Not human, often see themselves as above us. And here's why I know.

Back when I was starting up the Skull and Bone, it was a pirate radio station, I was in college and had a copy of AV club keys and borrowed some equipment with my dear friend who went by tag name Lucky. She was a wiz at conspiracy theories and I mostly just had a crush on a girl with brown eyes, so I'd do anything she suggested. At first Skull and Bone was a blast. Late night radio talking on a secret line, occasionally getting calls from the insomniacs of my hometown. I don't know if I took it all very seriously, but it was my first real experience at getting my voice out there.

Remember, we were young. 19 years old. Well one night we had a visitor, and he didn't check in at the front desk if you know what I mean. A fully grown man with a trench coat and a shotgun. We probably should have been afraid, but he looked like a real life vampire hunter. I kind of thought we were going to be initiated into some sort of secret society. Lucky was sharp though, she didn't trust him and demanded to know who he was. He told us he'd heard our radio broadcasts, and we knew too much about blank bodies, like we had a source. Man had blown into town hunting a wild Ravanos, whatever the fuck that is. Well it wasn't long before words came to blows, and I remind you, we were *young* and dumb. Lucky was scrappy, but no match for a man who clearly fought for a living. I still remember the crack sound when the butt of his gun smashed against the back of her head. She went all limp in a way that made me want to vomit. Everything in my body was screaming to run, and I obeyed. Not sure if he actually fired the gun in the building or not, but he didn't give chase. Or if he did I escaped. Its a blur.

The next day I found Lucky in the hospital, and the day after that she was in the morgue. Official report is that there was a burglary that we got mixed up in. No one wanted to listen to my story about a man covered in scars who demanded to know if we were ghouls. "Another conspiracy theory? Isn't that what killed her?" said my former best friend. I got really weird and really antisocial after that. Ironic. The hunter who went by the name Haight is who drove me towards my vitae addiction. Glad I'm clean now, but if I ever find that man I'm putting two in his chest for Lucky, and one in the head for me.

Don't trust the imbued, night inquirers, they value hunting monsters more than they value protecting mortals.

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