“He’s bleedin’ out, somewhere. You’d be amazed at how far they can run even after they been shot in the side.”
For many Damned, the hunt is a simple thing, a thing of whim, subsistence without a plan. A vampire enters the night, finds a target and then he feeds. Lather, rinse, repeat. The Gangrel tend to do things a bit differently: One pack of hungry Savages might harry prey into a pit trap and then slowly descend upon their captive meal, while another lone Gangrel might instead let his hunger get the best of him to the point where he’s little more than a rampaging thing of pure craving, a thing that hunts without grace.
The Hounds of Actaeon — or, simply, the Hunters — have their own way of putting blood in their bellies. They hunt like humans hunt animals: with rifle or spear, with arrow or 12 gauge. It isn’t for sport, not for most of the Hunters. No, this is about feeding. About performing a sacred duty that goes back a long ways, indeed.
Weakness: The curse of the frenzy supposedly incurred by Artemis still haunts the Hounds of Actaeon: any roll to resist a hunger frenzy is penalized by -3 dice.
