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The hour grows late and the war drums are deafening. If I die again before the reckoning may it be in trenches with my brothers and sisters.
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Family matters are always a source of confusing feelings, aren't they? What a paranoid, narcissistic lot we are. Perhaps my sire was right to leave me buried to hatch and mature alone.
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Their grandsires awaken on a nightly basis, hungry for the blood of their descendants, and still they play as though the game has no terminus? It's a fine trick, convincing the larder to tend to itself.
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Ugh, stop proselytizing and do something about it. Secular nonsense.
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Honestly, it is hard to imagine I was ever so delicious.
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I would have laughed when I was told to fear and respect their power, were it not for the person who told me. Still, I can't help but be curious...
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Phhhhhhhhhhhbbt-! Really?! Do they taste like Lucky Charms?
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I guarantee I kill fewer kine in a year than one of these lot do in a week. Scary bunch of religious zealots with sub-human impulse control. I wonder, is this how we seem to the Camarilla?
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I find no small measure of comfort in knowing that those mortals I have killed may yet linger on to suffer still.
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