Chapter 2 -- How I died the First time -- B.E.Z
Unknown to my and my friends, two opposed societies of vampires were waging a secret war in the night-time streets of Denver in late 1996 through the Spring of 1997. I and my friends were casualties of this shadow war; I was captured by a faction known as the Sabbat and taken to Fairmount Cemetery for that sect's creation rites. Though I was drained nearly to death by the Sabbat, it was a vampire elder of the opposing sect, the Camarilla that embraced me.
Don Alonzo De Vargas was an elder Lasombra Antitribu who was embraced during the early years of the Spanish Reconquest. He had journeyed to the the New World with Hernán Cortés and later settled in the northern territories of New Spain. He had watched Denver grow up around him and refused to let it fall into the hands of Sabbat scum. Don Alonzo and his get had trailed a Sabbat pack to the graveyard for their creation rites and ambushed them as they were creating canon-fodder. To this night, Don Alonzo has never explained why he embraced me while I lay dying; but I am no less grateful for his gift.
I was give an intense and rigorous education in the traditions of the undead, on my bloodline's illustrious history, swordplay, etiquette and my place in the world. Apparently, my embrace had created some kind of political difficulty with the prince of the Denver and I was declared a bastard and sent away. I left Denver with only a letter of introduction, a small stipend and a sword. I was told to make my way as a mercenary and my first job was to travel to Milan and aid its traitor Prince Giangaleazzo in riding his city of the Sabbat.
