Overview
Elders are the power elite among the kindred. Having spent more than 150 years as a vampire, they have generally amassed significant personal power and, if they have any sense at all, a goodly portion of political power as well. It is among the elders that the true Danse Macabre takes place as they vie for ever greater power and dominion over both kindred and mortal society alike.
Being an elder carries its perquisites, a certain prestige and respect are naturally accorded one who has for so long charted a successful course among the perils and riptides of a kindred's requiem. Neonates fear and respect their powerful elders, ancillae regard them with jealousy and a calculating eye, other elders treat them with the wary respect one powerful predator owes another. Every elder exists in a world of unrelenting dangers. All power is fleeting and must be held with an iron fist lest it be wrested away.
And then there is the problem of too much power. High Blood Potency gives an elder an edge in battle with younger vampires. Knowledge of powerful disciplines gives them tools they can use to maintain their position. But as one gains power, is forced to use it, one risks both succumbing to the beast and losing Humanity: what's more important, keeping your feeding grounds by destroying the power base of your most significant rival, an act that will kill a few dozen mortals and lower your humanity, or losing your feeding grounds (and associated benefits and prestige) and keeping your humanity intact?
And even the most powerful elder cannot resist the siren call of torpor. As the blood gains potency, the Vitae needed to maintain one's existence becomes ever rarer, harder to acquire. Few vampires willingly allow an elder to drink from their veins. Few elders will risk the Vinculum that prospect entails. Thus drinking the blood of other vampires inevitably becomes Diablerie. Eventually the long sleep of torpor becomes impossible to resist. And while you are forced to sleep rivals take your place. Your power -- both personal and political -- weakens, your mortal contacts grow old and die, your ghouls lose their source of vitae and must either seal themselves to another kindred or face death. Your assets are at risk unless carefully concealed and protected. Even your memories become indistinct and unreliable. Who was your friend? Who was a bitter enemy? Remain in torpor long enough and you may no longer be sure. Even the most powerful Prince will inevitably fall, to sleep, to dream, to rise again a lesser being.
And then the Danse begins again.
