Children of the 80s
In hindsight, 1988 must have been the year where it all began to change for the Kindred of Atlanta.
With a Democratic convention early in the year and a growing campaign to attract the Olympics to the city, of course the growing murder rate was suppressed. But those that were local at the time can’t help but recall the almost unconscious foreboding that grew throughout the year. It seems that everyone was only a few acquaintances removed from someone that had just gone missing or turned up mysteriously mauled by some kind of animal. Even in nicer neighborhoods, you just didn’t go out at night unless you absolutely had to. If your neighborhood wasn’t nice, the only thing scarier than the rise in “gang violence” was the realization that the local thugs were staying indoors at night too.
Then, after the long nights of that year’s winter, it was all over. No more strange rumors, no more scared citizens, no more mysterious deaths. The news had never made a mention of it, so it was easy to forget. If the occasional gossip wanted to talk about how someone swore he’d seen cracked-out hobos tearing at each other like animals at 3 am sometime over the winter, it was easy enough to laugh off.
But then you were embraced, and began to pick up clues from your sires that most of them were recent immigrants to the city. The former Camarilla presence had fallen to some kind of “sabbat” and they had taken it back; to the conqueror, the right of rulership. The city had been mostly emptied of Kindred, not enough established Camarilla members wished to make the trip, so they found all of you to welcome to the eternal night and help them shore up their new power structure.
Any inquiries on this subject of what a “sabbat” is, what happened to the previous Camarilla, or what went on three years ago seems to be a secret that all of your elders have agreed not to share with their childer.
See also GA 1992 Incidental News.