We once ruled the Dilona Valley. You once ruled. The heart of our empire, reduced to crumbling ruins and cold ash. Destroyed from within and without.

Since time immemorial, we warred with the lycans, the werewolves and werebears with their Druidic Circles. We've always tested ourselves, fighting for flocks and hunting grounds. But as we were drawn to the cities, we forced the Circles into retreat. We built a kingdom for vampiris, bent the mortals to us. But without a common foe, we began to bicker amongst ourselves.

The Four Clans of the Ordo Vampiris were not ready, had become indolent without active challenge when the Circles resurfaced and attacked. Our leaders, the Clan Strigoi, created droves of Spawn to fight against the lycans and druids. But the Spawn didn't want to die after gaining immortality. They cast down the Strigoi, leaving the oldest and strongest vampiris dead when they were needed most. The elders cursed them as they fell, dubbing them “zakazi.” Savages, in the Eld Tongue. The rabble wore it like a badge of honor.

The new Zakazi rose to challenge the Circles and the remaining clans. They were sloppy and animalistic - they caught the attention of the Holy Galgen Empire. They sent vampire hunters and Inquisitors en masse. The Dilona Valley was awash in the worst kind of blood - ours.

The clan elders came together and devised a plan. The Ordo Vampiris retreated to ancient and buried tombs and caves. It was shameful but our enemies were too many, too active. Let them bleed each other dry. We can outlive them. We can get our revenge.

You can get your revenge. You are vampiris.