LeviathanTempest:ChapterOne

Chapter 1 : The World That Is (and Was)

"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the spirit of God was hovering over the waters."

• Genesis 1:1-2.

In a sense, the story of the Tribe begins here - at the origins of creation. But the formless world did not remain that way. Nothing emerges from nothing - the Tribe's legacy is encoded in the history of the Primordial Waters and the bloodlines of the Progenitors, realized in the Strains of the Tribe. A Leviathan is the inheritor of these bygone days - the points before definition, the world before the parting of the waters. The world before mankind and their mandate over the land and sky and seas. Before all this, the formless chaos of Tiamat and her offspring. After it, the Tempest.

Bereshit - The Tribe

A Leviathan is a man or woman born into a bloodline mixed with the blood of a Progenitor, who comes into that power and changes into an inhuman being, a divine essence limited and warped by the confines of flesh. Together, the Leviathans form the Tribe. United in blood and by circumstance, they are, for good or ill, the remnant of an aborted stage of creation. For the excesses of their ancestors and the riotous hunger encoded into their blood, Leviathans are immortalized in the myths and residual memory of mankind as the Wicked Tribe - the aboriginal Other, from whom all horrors descend.

Members of the Tribe do not have the luxury of dismissing this negative portrayal of their lineage. Their existence is unequivocally something horrific, something wrong - the world distorts around them. Their instincts guide them inevitably towards the pursuit of sin and excess, towards the abuse of others, the destruction and perversion of minds. The blood of the Progenitors cries out for the destruction of this new, diluted creation cast in the image of mankind and not their own. A Leviathan cannot plead necessity or make excuses for themselves - they should not be. The expression of their Strain, as the point at which they become something entirely other than human, thrusts them solidly into an untenable position, a point from which they must become something else. The crucible of change is not kind to a Leviathan, instinctively cleaving to their human life while simultaneously urged to run rampant and indulge in the most unrestrained depths of sin and cruelty. Most never progress, endlessly recapitulating periods of growth, stability, and eventual collapse. Some simply stop, becoming the monstrosity that their lineage directs them to become. They become Typhons, creatures of pure appetite, whose outrages reproduce the worst horrors of the lost age of Progenitor supremacy.

Before

What little information that the Tribe has about the world of the Progenitors mirrors numerous creation myths. They envision a world of formless chaos called the Primordial Waters. At the heart of the Seas, the deepest depths, rested the source of all things : Tiamat, the Mother. All things emerged from Tiamat - land, sea, and stars, and among them the Progenitors, immeasurable beings who in turn gave birth to lesser beings, and from them still lesser beings. From the mingling of the blood of the Progenitors and mankind, the Tribe was born and ruled over nations as demigods and heroes. As time passed, a member of the Tribe would evolve and grow, maturing into something new or possibly even into a Progenitor. Mankind lived in rough harmony with the world, subservient to the lineage of Tiamat, and the world was whole and ripe with possibility.

Or maybe not. The fact is, the Tribe's creation myth is just that - a myth. They have no idea how much should be taken as metaphorical and which parts are pipe dreams amended to the structure of the tale by later generations. Tiamat could be an entity or an ideal or even just another term for the primordial ooze. Progenitors could be literal beings or lines of evolution. Foremost among these concerns is the concept of the Leviathan stage as one of transition onto something better, more whole and complete - a state that no Leviathan has achieved, at least according to what can be divined from unreliable records. A stage that might not even exist. The Tribe professes a great and majestic history that was lost because the alternative is that they are detritus, a monstrous hybrid of two forms of life that has no possibility of future developement. The Tribe cannot accept that what they are is all that they will ever be. To do so would be to surrender to the fact that they are between states, that there is no exalted state to which they are returning. That there is nowhere to go but down.

Marduk

Myth or not, the world brought forth by Tiamat did not last. Mankind, not content to serve, began to harness the forces of nature. Humans built gods to supplant the idols of the Progenitors and formed communities that observed their own rules, resisting the edicts of the Tribe. Marduk - a man, perhaps, or group of men, or perhaps simply a movement - rose up in battle against the Tribe, and defeated them, casting down Tiamat and imposing a new order on creation. The Primordial Waters were parted and land and sky forged out of the bodies of the Progenitors. The Tribe, formerly deified, became reviled and hunted, their ancestral springs drying up and the Progenitors severed from their spawn. The towering spires and chapels of the Tribe were torn down or lost in the parting of the seas, and their history stricken from the record. The civilization of Man was built on the bones and guts of the Progenitors and the relics of the Tribe.

Or maybe not. Maybe Marduk was the first human to overthrow the tyranny of monsters and destroy their blasphemous idols. The Tribe refers to the Primordial Waters as a place of tranquility and harmony, and while this may be true for the Tribe it's hardly a leap of logic to think that the progenitors of a bloodline that thrives in the exploitation and wholesale degradation of mankind might not have been the pillars of a sustainable community, much less a world that one might want to return to. In fact, there's no real reason beyond a profound sense of the Tribe not belonging to this world that one must accept that some greater, more suiting world ever existed. The sundering of the world might be another of the convenient, self-forgiving myths that the Tribe use to justify their behavior and the way they treat humanity.

Noach - The Fall

"And the whole earth was of one language, and of one speech. And it came to pass, as they journeyed from the east, that they found a plain in the land of Shinar; and they dwelt there. And they said one to another, Go to, let us make brick, and burn them thoroughly. And they had brick for stone, and slime had they for morter. And they said, Go to, let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth."

• Genesis 11:1-4.

With mankind dominant in the world, the Tribe fades out of the stage of history, but not entirely. The blood of the Progenitors is immeasurably strong - it can't be bred out or extinguished. The Tribe has, as far as they can tell, always existed somewhere - at some point at the fringes of society, where cousin meets cousin one too many times and the ratio of human to Other in their blood reaches a tipping point. Where the lines blur between man and beast. Where the world gets a little bit weirder. Here, there be dragons. The Tribe's got a place in humanity's past, but it's at the fringes. Reliable records are scarce. Part of the day-to-day life of modern members of the Tribe deals with this sort of cryptohistory: tracking down the footprints left by monsters in days past and unraveling references and images in religious texts and icons.

What is known or suspected is that, during the period of mankind's expansion, as the earliest civilizations were taking root, the Tribe was present and the enmity between them and humanity enduring. The Tribe's mythologists record tale after tale of horrors - sea monsters and miscegenated freaks straddling the line between mankind and beast - and sees in them the deleted history of the Tribe. Leviathans became the Other to mankind's growing sovereignty over the world. In this period, the last vestiges of the Tribe's pure blood were wiped out, and they came to thrive only at the edges and with a much-lessened connection to the Progenitors and their divine nature. The Strains of the Tribe become stratified at this point, as only the strongest ties of blood, descent from the foremost of the Progenitors, could be expressed at such a far reach. Family lines began to solidify in isolated regions, either by accident or design, and the Tribe faded into a memory, recalled only through fragmented myths or through their Hybrid cousins.

Severed from the Primordial Seas, the Tribe's control of itself and connection to its divine nature was greatly lessened. In place of Tiamat, the core of their world became what they call the Tempest - both a literal disruption at the core of the mystic waters that the Tribe has access to and a term for the emotional and social havoc that a Leviathan is subject to. The ascent of mankind has, in essence, robbed the Leviathans of their birthright and their self-control. In the "fallen" world, the Tribe has little control of the changes that take place in their bodies and even less control of the contents of their own mind. Little wonder, then, that mankind records them as horrors and predators.

Speciation

As the Tribe's "story" begins to overlap with the historical records of humanity, the various lineages and ancestries settle into a more distinct grouping. Those human bloodlines that were touched lightly, or host to the blood of lesser Progenitors, eventually began to produce fewer and fewer offspring who manifested that blood, until it was functionally absent. While the blood of the Tribe cannot ever be said to truly disappear, the vast majority of Leviathans born in the span of known history have descended from a handful of Progenitors. The greater part of these, in turn, can trace their ancestry to a group of seven Progenitors, with their bloodlines expressing themselves in distinct and identifiable patterns. Occasionally a freak birth occurs, a member of the Tribe that is not linked to a known Progenitor or from a line that was believed to no longer exist. Far more common are families of Hybrids that cannot be easily traced to a known Strain - the leftover fragments of a lost bloodline. On the other hand, the most commonly-seen Strains have collated information about their Progenitors and a mythology of the lost world has evolved over time.

Primordial Icons

"Mother Hubur, she who fashions all things,

Added matchless weapons, bore monster-serpents,

Sharp of tooth, unsparing of fang.

With venom for blood she has filled their bodies.

Roaring dragons she has clothed with terror,

Has crowned them with haloes, making them like gods,

Whoever beheld them, terror overcame him,

And that, with their bodies reared up, none might turn them back."

• The Enuma Elish

All told, there are seven Progenitors whose blood survives in the modern world in appreciable quantities. The seven Strains descended from them represent a little under nine-tenths of the Tribe's numbers and has done so for thousands of years - while one group might grow or shrink, the proportions remain roughly the same. These Progenitors have received the lion's share of the scrutiny directed by the inquisitive minds of the Tribe, and therefore more information about them has survived to the present.

Bahamut is a being of immense size, called "Unchained." It was said to be tranquil at most times, with cities and temples erected across its broad back, but to rumble with rage when displeased, responding to rebellion or heresy with apocalyptic wrath. These rampages were said to rock the foundations of the world and shake the skies. Some Leviathan scholars - or "scholars" as the case may be - identify Bahamut's periodic purges with the shifting of ages in Mesoamerican myth, or the fabled Deluge of the cradle of civilization. From Bahamut descend the Bahamutans, a Strain who have a talent for emulating both their Progenitor's nurturing fecundity and incredible power and size.

Dagon, "the Hierarch" also called Dagon the "Arch-heretic," is a hotbed of life and sustenance - but not of ease or security. It is called "the Hierarch," and is said to give birth to countless creatures and serve as a source of "creation" in general. Religious edicts, practices, and rituals were its purview, and it rewarded compliance with full harvests and nourishment. It was the patron of faiths and fertility cults, and could call down rain when pleased or devastating storms when wrathful. It survives in the half-fish icons of Mesopotamia and in the cruel and bloody rites that mankind relied upon to call forth fertility or a healthy crop. From Dagon descend the Dagonites, a Strain who maintains the deified stance of their Progenitor, creating life and directing mortal cults.

Lahamu, called "Watchful" or "The Celestial Eye," is the guide of the sun, described as one of its many ever-watchful eyes (along with the moon and the innumerable stars), yet itself never came to light. From reclusive secrecy it monitored all things and declared edicts and directed the Tribe and their mortal followers, gifted with prophecy and insight into the minds of others. Nothing escaped its gaze and those that attempted to deceive it would be dragged screaming towards its gaping maw. From Lahamu descend the Lahamin, a Strain gifted with their Progenitor's vision whose cults are ever monitored and whose eyes - and influence - can be found everywhere.

Nu, the "Elder," also called Naunet or Nun, is said to be the first of Tiamat's offspring, and to have the most profound connection to the Primordial Waters. It was the stirrer of the seas and the sky, having inherited their mastery from its creator, and its fluid form could go anywhere and take any shape. Nu was the most distant from humanity and yet was subject to great fear and reverence, for its control shaped the known world. Knowledge of Nu remains in fragmented tales of primordial ooze and original waters from which life emerges - as well as in the terror presented by storms and floods. Nu's descendants keep its name, and the Strain is known to retain the strong bloodline and elemental mastery of their Progenitor.

Oceanus, the "Father-of-Seas," is said to have been granted dominion over a greater portion of the human masses due to its incredible beauty and allure. As a deity of men, it was said to have created the rivers and lakes that sustained them, all in exchange for irrational fealty and servitude. If denied reverence, it would break the minds of the rebellious, or turn their families upon them in furious storms of zealous violence. Even among the Progenitors, it was a source of horror, for the wrath of Oceanus had faces and names; it would come as a loved one with a culling blade. From Oceanus descend the Oceanids, a Strain that claims itself a noble linage, as displayed by that their unearthly beauty and might.

Tannin, called "the Unbending" and the "Sinner-Devouring," is hailed as the foremost predator. It was said to stalk the Primordial Waters, unseen but all-seeing, wreathed in gaping jaws and poisonous spines. Those that crossed its path, if found wanting, would be devoured without hesitation or remorse - Tannin's mouth was the gate of Hell. Whole nations of rebels were said to have disappeared between its razored teeth. It is immortalized in the stories of devouring beasts and the images of Hellmouths, as well as mankind's terror of the predators of the deep blue sea. From Tannin descend the Tanninim, a Strain who continue the work of their Progenitor, wielding the natural weapons of the Tribe and passing judgment on the Tribe's enemies.

"Island-Breaking" Thalassa or "Mighty-Armed" Thalassa, is a being of the deep, suited to the pressure of the seas. Its power and grace were legendary, both raising up landmasses with its strong arms and gracefully sculpting mountain ranges or delicate palaces and temples of coral - or destroying them with singular, devastating blows. It was a being of fluid form but impossible strength, as much appeased as revered. It survives as in legends of treasure guarded by mighty beasts and the mythology of crafted terrain - mountains said to be the bodies of immense beasts felled in bygone days, or collapsed piles marking a captured titan. From Thalassa descend the Thalassans, a Strain who use their power and influence to dominate humans and thrive in centers of wealth and power.

But these are not all. The legends of the Tribe record the names of dozens more, and from time to time a descendant of one of these lesser-known Progenitors emerges - or is discovered. Among the dire names listed on the tablets of the Tribe are Sanna the Glacierhide, Cipactli the First Diviner, Nagaraja, king of snakes, Tangaroa of the Burning Blood, Isonade, Herald of Storms and World-Coiling Jormungandr. Some others exist, but it can never be certain if a name refers to an unknown Progenitor or merely indicates a familiar figure. Much of the history of the Progenitor's world has been subsumed into the myths and pantheons of mankind.

Legends of the Tribe

The Tribe has little in the way of formal history. In certain ways, the history of the human world is somewhat irrelevant. It is the world that the Leviathans inhabit, but it is not theirs. Still, the Tribe has existed for the whole of human history, and there are certain moments which are of some import to all Leviathans, if only for the lessons they contain. In the earliest recorded moments of human history, the Tribe operated more openly, attempting to reclaim some fragment of the dominance they once held. Legions carted off whole villages for sacrifice and cults grew to unprecedented size. It was these excesses that ensured them a lingering presence in the catalogue of mankind's fears, but the ascent to mythical status was accompanied with a bloody response. From temples in Kish and Uruk emerge the first records of what would be called the Marduk Society. The inheritors of the slayer of Tiamat, the Society were tireless enemies of the Tribe. They broke the backs of the Legions and put the cults of the Tribe to the sword. Yet whispers abound of bloody rites performed in secret temples, the flesh of Leviathans devoured to raise the mortal men of the Society to the height of the gods that they had cast down. Others speak of monstrous assistants and grim alliances, the Society rotten inside with the machinations of one or more of Tiamat's children. Whatever of these rumors were true, the Society exists in the modern day, harnessing the will and energy of man to cow and slaughter the Tribe. Some dispute their antique origin and claim that they have only usurped the legacy of a far purer and more upstanding organization, but few of the Tribe would argue the case of their ancient enemy.

Yet the stinging defeat that was handed down was not enough to suppress the Tribe forever. On the Indian subcontinent, nearly two thousand years before the common era, the progeny of Nagaraja began to mass, with powerful leaders deliberately cultivating dozens of children, seeking to produce heirs and allies that were full members of the Tribe. A great and sprawling empire was built on the backs of the swarming Hybrids and maddened cultists that the Vasuki commanded, and the human civilizations quaked in the shadow of a kingdom of demigods. Yet it was not to be. Other members of the Tribe began to resent the excesses - and successes - of the united Strain. More insidiously, factions began to grow, as cohorts began to scheme against one another and Legions concocted religious justifications to topple their rivals. The hunger of the ancient Vasuki grew only greater, and eventually the Tribe came to police its own. Wondrous Bhogavati, the great and horrible capital of the empire, was swamped in ferocious storms. Warbands of Hybrids stalked the streets and devoured the inhabitants. The dynasty of Nagaraja ended in flames. Spite and outrage ensured that its citadels were torn asunder and its treasured scattered across the face of the globe. It was not alone. The scholars of the Tribe record several such civilizations, some pure speculation, all eventually scourged from outside or rotting from the inside out. Records exist of a lost island in the Mediterranean, and a great kingdom of Thule, and of Lemuria's crystalline spires. If all existed, or none, is irrelevant - what is important is that those cities and kingdoms forged by the Tribe seemed inevitably fated to end in horror and blood. It seemed that the world itself conspired to extinguish the legacy of the Progenitors, scrubbing its inheritors and their works from its surface.

Here the record breaks for centuries. While stories exist of the blood of the Tribe flowing in the veins of the heroes of ancient Greece, and bloody rituals for their benefit in the shadows of Rome, these are mere speculation. The same impulse that drives mankind to fear the Tribe seems equally driven to categorize the Leviathans with the other demons and bogeymen of their mythology. Modern Leviathans experience mankind's history like interpreters and cryptographers, divining from hints and suggestions those points at which the footprint of the Tribe left an impression on mankind. Such clues are scattered across the globe in countless sources, and at the very least a Leviathan can be sure that his ancestors were present across the face of the world. Writhing horrors lurked in the waters off of China and Japan. Cults worshipped serpentine abominations in the fragmented ruins of ancient Bhogavati. The Tribe persisted, even if it did not flourish. Humanity spread to every corner of the world and, with it, the blood of the Progenitors. New traditions arose, but the instinctual fear remained. As consciousness of the Tribe waned, the lives of Leviathans became simultaneously more easy and more difficult. Easier, for they were no longer so readily hunted. Harder, for a newly-Emerged Leviathan would be bereft of guidance and information.

One last cautionary tale circulates among the Tribe. While little evidence exists that strictly supports it, it has gained some traction either due to some degree of veracity or due to the virtue of being an ancient and well-loved fabrication. The Tribe's historians claim that, during the early half of the previous millennium, reports of rampaging dragons and ship-devouring serpents can be traced to the action of an influential and well-manned Legion. Called the World-Coiling Legion, the group was purportedly motivated by a prophecy specific to the Strain descended from the Progenitor called Jormungandr. This Legion's destructive ritual beliefs, paired with the relatively limited ability of mankind to counter the depredations of the Tribe during this period, led to widespread destruction. It seemed as though man would again be subject to the dominion of the Progenitors, or annihilated in the flames of the World-Coiling Legion's grand prophecy. Emboldened by the Legion's success, other groups of Leviathans came forth, staking claims on territory and lashing out at humanity. And then the reversal came. This time, the judgment came not from the Tribe's internal strife, but from mankind itself. This time, however, it was not - or at least was apparently not - the Marduk Society, or any such group, that struck back. Merely the backlash of many individual men (and women) standing forth against their tormentors. This era of "dragon-slaying" saw the World-Coiling Legion devastated and its membership slaughtered almost entirely, while also proclaiming quite simply that resistance to the "demigodhood" of the Tribe was not solely the province of the Tribe's sworn enemies.

Most modern Leviathans, as a result of these and other similar tales, keep themselves relatively well policed. Beyond the threat of the Tribe's most driven enemies, there is the simple fact that even the power of Progenitor blood has its limits, and the world of mankind is not as hospitable to the grand ambitions of would-be conquerors.

The Rift

In the absence of the Primordial Seas, the Rift is what remains. In place of permanently basking in the undiluted glory of Tiamat, the Tribe now wallows in a hollow echo, a stunted replica of what might once have been a very real physical entity which covered and contained the entirety of the world. The Rift is little comfort to the fevered mind of a Leviathan - it is dark and wracked with spasms, impossibly and terrifyingly vast while retaining an oppressive and claustrophobic atmosphere. Ultimately, the Rift represents the subconscious of the Tribe, the twisted minds of both Leviathans and their Lahmasu relatives, as well as scattered remnants of the Progenitors. In a sense, it is a museum - a place where neuroses, afflictions, and fears survive, long after their owners have died. The Rift teems with horrors both native and imported, and above all it resonates with a feeling of loss and impending violence - there is no comfort or security to be found in its depths. And yet it is the closest thing the Tribe has to an ancestral homeland.

A Leviathan may enter the Rift through the medium of water, although alternate methods exist. The more the water resembles the sea, the better - and a sea that is wracked with the fury of a storm is better still. In any form, water is a powerful conduit for the blood of the Progenitors, and any body of water sufficient to cover most of a Leviathan's body - and that of any potential passengers - will serve as a gateway. The trip is often one-way, and the passage of the Leviathan opens the conduit to the unrelenting fury of the Tempest, tossing water into the sky or causing it to breathe forth great clouds of fog or mist.

The Rift has layers, each one farther from the Shore (the physical world). Its increasingly inhospitable depths are host to numerous beasts both ancient and newly-forged, and in some dark corners lie lost structures, sunken in the parting of the waters, which a Leviathan might explore or take shelter in. Ultimately, though, a Leviathan reaches the core of the Rift - the gaping wound left in it by the death of Tiamat - and gazes upon the physical Tempest, a churning mass of such ferocity that no being has entered it and escaped. Rumors abound that the Tempest, should one pass through, might serve as a gateway to a deeper, purer reality - but none have returned and few would chance annihilation in that terrifying maw simply to test out a rumor. For the time being, the Tribe is cut off from the world that they lost, and might always be so.

Lech Lecha - Getting By

Time passes, and the Tribe, for all intents and purposes, disappears. As civilizations grow and spread and mankind makes strides in mastering the forces of nature and understanding natural history, reason replaces fear. The blank spaces in maps are filled in, and myths are debunked. The overall effect is that the Tribe has, for the vast majority of human history, possessed no real information about the lost world they ruled or the Progenitors they are descended from. A modern Leviathan is born into an era in which almost all of the relics of the Progenitor's world have been destroyed, and all of the lore buried in century after century of speculation and addition. They are changing - cannot help but change - but into what, they have no idea. The Tribe's society exists solely as an attempt made by desperate and terrified individuals to build a model of life that sustains them and offers hope and direction.

They need it. The blood of the Tribe is not something that can lie still. A Leviathan cannot be human again, not really, and if they should attempt it they will find the press of the Tribe's atavistic urges growing stronger and stronger if left unindulged. The Tribe are not human. This is the revelation that a Leviathan reaches during the period in which he or she comes to realize that there is something not quite right about them - the transition from normal person to Leviathan. There is no single factor that is known to begin the change, and no method is known which can discern a potential Leviathan from a normal human. In the absence of a trigger, however, there are a multiplicity of potential factors, each of which pushes the portion of a human's blood that contains traces of the Progenitors forward. Genetics are an issue - families that have produced Hybrids and Leviathans before will likely do so again. The placement of the stars upon a person's birth may also matter, or his blood type, or the number of siblings she has - or none of these. The fact of the matter is that the Tribe has attempted to isolate the necessary traits to produce another of their number and has simply failed. Failed for the whole duration of human history, despite grotesque breeding programs and mystical rites - all of which have left monstrous remnants across the globe, twisted hybrids and defiled stretches of land.

Emergence

As a result, most Leviathans come into their inheritance while ignorant of the history of the Progenitor's world and the existence of the Tribe. This lack of information adds another layer of discomfort to a process that is already physically and emotionally agonizing. No two members of the Tribe experience an identical Emergence - the period during which the fledgling Leviathan begins to manifest the Wake and the ability to change shape. However, the Emergence is uniformly a period of anxiety and loss of control, during which the blood of the Progenitors runs rampant, causing emotional distress and Outbursts of uncontrolled transformation. A Leviathan might find her friends become uncomfortable in her presence, or a beloved pet becomes aggressive and refuses to be touched. He might dream of the ocean depths, or feel muscles - or creatures - squirming beneath his skin. Old impulses, the usual catalogue of basic instincts, become more pronounced, or begin to overlap. The scent of rotting fish might become, for a brief and stomach-turning moment, arousing. The touch of a lover might call up blinding rage alongside the usual warmth and comfort. Such incidents will begin to occur with increasing frequency. Some Leviathans seek medical or psychological aid, or council from family members. The most fortunate of these (for a given value of fortunate) will be in families that have some knowledge of ancestors whose bloodline also manifested, or even perhaps a living branch of the family composed of Hybrids. These will receive kernels of information, often misleading or misinterpreted, about their condition.

Most others are not so lucky. Those that seek medical help will likely be turned away by frightened mortal doctors - or themselves flee from the obsessive curiosity (and reverential awe) that the Wake conjures up in their would-be healers. Some are in no position to seek help, or too afraid of what they will discover. These may research on their own, or delve into family records. There is often little to nothing to find. Throughout this period, incidents will become more pronounced and more frequent, but some degree of control will develop. A change might be bitten down upon, or at least suppressed for a few crucial moments. The terror evoked by the fledgling's presence may weaken to a general sense of unease. Hardly optimal - but survivable. A Leviathan's Emergence can be said to be complete when he or she grasps enough self-control that getting by on a day-to-day basis without incident becomes merely uncertain rather than preposterous. This is the point at which the struggle can move from resisting one's nature to mastering it. A key element to coming to this point is a degree of acceptance. A Leviathan must be willing to accept that he or she is not purely human - or no longer purely human - in order to identify with and govern their divine nature. This acceptance doesn't have to be life-affirming or positive, and rarely is. Most Leviathans remain horrified with themselves well past their Emergence. It merely means drawing a line and saying, "I am something other." What follows is determining what that "other" is going to be.

Schools

[Picture, half page: The top half of the picture shows a walking man in work clothes and a hardhat. Rising up around him are half-completed buildings, mostly skeletal, and the sky is covered in smoke. He holds a box lunch in his right hand and a hammer in his left. He is walking through a large puddle which dominates the ground. In the puddle is a reflection depicting a similar-looking man wearing black robes with hieroglyphic figures sown in. He wears a steepled priest-like hat. rising around him are towering ziggurats, and the sky is stormy. He holds a human heart in his right hand and a cruel bronze dagger, stained with blood, in his left. Both men are smiling in an off-putting fashion.]

The primary activity of a Leviathan, beyond the day-to-day elements of normal life, is a search for definition and structure. The control that the Tribe can exercise over their powers is unreliable at best, and nothing can be done about the isolation imposed by the Wake. In the face of this instability, members of the Tribe adopt methods of coping and moving forward, attempting to create a sketch of the sort of being that they will become. These approaches are referred to as Schools. Despite the institutional tone that the name conjures up, a School is not an edifice. Instead, it should be seen as a stance adopted by a Leviathan towards the reality of their nature and the lost history of the Progenitor's world. A School is a marker of how a Leviathan deals with the questions of who and what they are and what relationship they will have to humanity and the Tribe.

Those Leviathans that seek their place in the Rift and the study of the Primordial Waters make up the School of the Abyss. They are explorers and ascetics, looking to find their place in serene harmony with their surroundings. Part of this search involves accepting that, on some level, the Tribe are alien to the human world established by mankind, and most of the School's proponents eventually gravitate towards the margins of civilization, living in the deep woods or on remote islands. In isolation they continue their search for a Tranquility founded on self-awareness and self-acceptance.

Those that make up the School of the Sun are the priests and demagogues of the Tribe. Asserting the lost position of the Tribe as intermediaries between mankind and the Progenitors, they attempt to return to that position. The heart of the School's strategy is finding a place in something larger than themselves, exploring their spiritual life as part of guiding and participating in the growth of others. The School of the Sun are the Tribe's cult-leaders, politicians, and visionaries, looking for a Tranquility that comes from external inspiration, humility, and spiritual fulfillment.

The School of Clay searches for a place in the world of humanity, attempting to grasp the core of the human experience and integrate themselves appropriately into the human world. They are the socialites and psychologists of the Tribe, using analysis and observation as a basis for constructing a survivable social role for themselves. Understanding that life in the human world will not come to them "naturally," they seek it out, accomplishing with science and patience what instinct will not provide. Fearing (or, more charitably, acknowledging) the isolation that the Tribe suffers, the School of Clay constructs identities around itself. They manufacture the role that will offer their Tranquility.

Those Leviathans driven to defend themselves and others make up the School of the Reef. Realizing that the human world offers no sanctuary to the Tribe, they throw themselves into the fray, studying their enemies and honing their skills. The School's approach insulates them from the anxiety of their condition, burying metaphysical concerns beneath the more immediate problem of survival. The more far-sighted members of the School look forward to a battle to overthrow the result of Marduk's success, a victory that would return the Tribe to positions of safety and security. They found their Tranquility on having a purpose and a goal - defend my friends and cow my enemies, whoever they may be.

Some Leviathans find themselves devoting their time to considering their own condition and the nature of the Tribe itself. These make up the School of Fog, who seek to reforge the alliances that once bound the Tribe and rebuild lost traditions. The mysterious history of the Tribe becomes the focus of their study, seeking a place in relation to their peers. The final goal is a complete lineage and culture that would sustain and guide the Tribe for centuries to come, offering a place to stay and a person to be. The School seeks a Tranquility through the revelation of history and the hunt for a sense of belonging and purpose.

While a Leviathan is not indoctrinated into a School, a slight hierarchy might be present on a local level. More experienced and established members of the Tribe, should they find themselves sharing opinions with a "cousin," might take them under their wing. For the most part, guidance and assurance are the best that a mentor can offer. Confidence and security cannot be taught. These local icons might eventually be seen as a figure of import in Tribe politics, but this is more a factor of their person as their School. No member of the Tribe can outrank another except by the complicity of the "junior."

Sidebar: Other Schools?

It's certainly a possibility that Leviathans exist that don't fall into one of the specified Schools. What's far more unlikely is a Leviathan without any School whatsoever. Fundamentally, a Leviathan without a School is without a strategy for dealing with the stresses of his or her condition. Part of Emergence, and one of the key elements of being a Leviathan with tenuous control rather than a fledgling without any, is accepting one's inhuman nature and thinking actively about how to live with it. That's where Schools come in. The Schools are intended to be broad and to cover a multitude of strategies, but if a character isn't well-represented by any of them, it's certainly possible for a player and their Storyteller to design a School that makes sense. Schools should have a clear concept of what a Leviathan is and how they should act - that's what a School is. Mechanically, they offer a free Specialty in one skill from a choice of three (one from each category) and favor Adaptations from two Vestiges.

Leviathans occasionally change Schools during their lives, but it's rare for one to entirely abandon School altogether. Such a change would represent a rather dramatic shift in personal philosophy and would likely be the precursor to a catastrophic breakdown and loss of Tranquility - being without a School is akin to having no clear goals, self-image, or life philosophy.

Humanity

The largest barrier between a Leviathan and a normal human life isn't the risk of unwanted transformation. While such incidents are horrifying for onlookers, they are sporadic. Comparatively, the Wake is inevitable. The neatest explanation of the Wake is that it is a region surrounging all Leviathans which triggers instinctual responses of fear, servitude, and awe in normal humans. While its effects don't quite reach the level of mind control, it nonetheless presents a near-insurmountable hurdle to having normal social interactions. Humans in the presence of a Leviathan feel uncomfortable and anxious. Their teeth are on edge, and the hair on the back of their neck stands up. They lower their voices unconsciously. More importantly, from a moral standpoint, they give way to the Leviathan, both physically and socially. In a face-to-face conversation, a Leviathan is essentially constantly bullying his audience.

Imagine what it would be like to never receive a contrary viewpoint or unexpected refusal. More than that, imagine what it would be like to speak to people who were, you knew, certain (on some subconscious level) that they must appease your whims. Members of the Tribe make people uncomfortable, and there's not much they can do to prevent it. As a Leviathan grows more powerful, the Wake becomes more oppressive and widespread - permeating first his home and then his neighborhood. Children no longer play on the street. People lock their doors and neglect their yards. The cops don't come around. Families move away. Worse are those for whom the Wake becomes an irresistable lure, breaking their will and causing them to respond with slavish devotion to the Leviathan. Called Beloved, these unfortunates have their personal world rewired to revolve around their new obsession - either with fanatical worship or, far more often, confusion and terror. The Beloved retain their presence of mind and just enough of their will to know that they are experiencing some sort of traumatic breakdown, but they have no idea what it is that draws them to the Leviathan. Some become stalkers. Others are far more pitiful, lingering around the subject of their obsession, equal parts frightened and captivated.

On occasion, a human whose will is snared by the Wake will resist being broken. Perhaps instinctual hatred and terror overwhelm the impulse to worship and obey, or perhaps a strong mind responds to pressure with outraged resistance. Regardless, devotion is replaced with obsessive hatred of the Leviathan whose Wake touched them, as well as animosity for the Tribe as a whole. No less fanatical than the most devoted Beloved, these strong souls dedicate themselves to the annihilation of the Tribe. In ancient days, the Tribe called them Nebrodids, but the more common label in the modern world is more evocative of their drive - Ahabs. An Ahab is a dangerous enemy of all Leviathans; their will insulates them against the Wake, while their fanatical drive makes them relentless and unpredictable. Most will be satisfied with nothing less than the complete and total extinction of the Tribe.

While much could be said of the sins committed by members of the Tribe making use of their miraculous powers, the Vestiges, the fact is that the average Leviathan is far more likely to abuse the Wake. In place of a storm that devastates a city, a Leviathan can begin to simply take what he or she wants from others, never having to feel the sting of denial. The ensnared hearts of the Beloved are even more susceptible to an immoral Leviathan, who can compel them to give up their comfort, lifestyle, even their very lives, to please the focus of their obsession. These little betrayals are less obviously evil than some wrathful outburst of divine power, but more likely to slowly push a wedge between a Leviathan and humanity. It is more common for a member of the Tribe to descend into depravity with numerous small concessions to necessity.

Strangely, some humans are completely unaffected by the Wake. Called Atolls, they seem to be entirely untouched by the pressure created by a Leviathan's presence, and contact with them can serve as a momentary respite from the Tempest. The allure that they have to members of the Tribe cannot be overstated. The sound of an Atoll's voice, or a touch of their hand, offers a momentary relief from an otherwise inescapable sense of anxiety and tension. Leviathans have likened contact with an Atoll to a massage or a long bath - something that seems to allow them to step outside of the hardships of their life and relax, if only for a moment. Members of the Tribe will often go to any length to secure this contact, and the result can become horrific. An unscrupulous Atoll can manipulate a needy Leviathan, while a desperate Leviathan might kidnap and imprison their "soulmate" to retain access to the addictive comfort of respite. The Atoll's immunity to the Wake only exacerbates the problem - they are one of the few people that can simply deny a Leviathan. The Wake is a powerful tool, yes, but its power often means that a Leviathan is desperately underprepared for socializing on an even keel.

Cults

Those humans that become the Beloved of a given Leviathan have a tendency to congregate. After all, their whole lives have begun to revolve around a shared experience of a particular person. They'll spend time around the Leviathan, and that often means spending time around one another. The trend of this association is the formation of a Cult. The "echo chamber" of ideas and sensations that a group of Beloved experiences leads them to greater and greater reverence and focus on the Leviathan whose Wake ensnared them. They've encountered other people who are ready and willing to spend hours discussing what they feel, and can compete with one another for the Leviathan's attention or regard. Eventually you get a group whose devotion to the Leviathan is absolute and whose viewpoints are reinforced (and policed) by their fellow Beloved. This is a Cult. As long as the Leviathan spends time addressing the Cult, making them feel like part of a unified group, their devotion and focus become powerful tools. Receiving prayers and devotion provides the Leviathan with mystic power, while the mundane resources of a group of devoted individuals can lighten the burden of everyday necessities and desires.

Cults are not limited to the merely everyday, however. A Leviathan that wishes to do so can shape his or her Cult, like any other society, imposing sanctions and requesting service. As long as the progression is gradual and the Leviathan remains "in touch" with the Cult, his or her followers can be forged into a more dangerous tool. Simple devotion can be replaced with elaborate rituals and sacrifices, while obsession can be turned outwards into violence. As a Cult grows, it can insinuate itself into positions of authority, or even overtake a small community - many "quaint little towns" in the world's remote corners are ultimately ruled by an insular Cult at the center, all working for the benefit of their "god." Even in a large city, the Cult's influence can become pervasive - policemen can be turned, and lawyers, and businessmen. A careful Leviathan can end up with "agents" operating at many levels of society, robbing his enemies of any hope of safety.

The greatest limitation of a Cult is that, no matter the intent of the Leviathan at its core, the structure is predicated on the intimidation and negative pressure created by the Wake, reinforced by harsh internal strife. Even the mildest and most fulfilling Cults are imposing on the wills of the participants, and most powerful Cults are ruthlessly violent in the pursuit of the will of the Leviathan. It is the nature of the Wake, and perhaps of the Tribe, that they do not have positive and self-affirming social relations. This effect infuses the Cult. The violent obsession that drives a cultist differs greatly from a mild and psychologically satisfying religious conviction. The Cult becomes a tool by which the Leviathan may indulge his or her vices, and its members begin to revel in the transgressions they commit. While the traditional model of the cult is the hidden religious conspiracy, a more apt modern parallel is a terrorist organization - indoctrination, manipulation, and violent fanaticism. Unsurprisingly, when Leviathans come into conflict, it is usually their cultists that become casualties of the conflict. Their utter devotion and apparent willingness to do whatever is asked of them offers an easy way past the horror of violence and acknowledging moral responsibilities. A cruel Leviathan might spend the lives of his cultists indulging his most grotesque and brutal impulses while claiming no personal stake in their actions.

Family

It is a source of mixed feelings for most Leviathans to know that they are linked by blood not only to their immediate mortal family but to each and every member of the Tribe and, beyond even that, to all of the spawn of Tiamat. At the first level, a Leviathan can find some allies in his parents and siblings. A family that is deeply touched with the blood of the Tribe is often subtly different from its neighbors. The family remembers. If a Leviathan has emerged from the family in the past, there will be traces. A Leviathan that interacts with their family - or raises one of their own - will change them. Siblings and cousins become cultists. Children are twisted hybrids, warped by the presence of a Progenitor's blood. Elements of the Leviathan's search for meaning and position will be imposed on family tradition and practices. Rituals will emerge. As time passes, the more direct influence might fade, but elements will remain as family folklore and superstition. In the most drastic cases, a whole branch of the family might be composed of Hybrids, lurking at the fringes, just awaiting the re-emergence of the blood of the Progenitors. For some Leviathans, a lot of the little quirks of their family begin to make a hell of a lot more sense after their Emergence.

Family connections can be a blessing, but most are tainted with the same disparity of power that isolates a Leviathan from other humans. Relatives are not proof against the Wake, and the acknowledged divinity of a member of the Tribe means that the tendency towards worship will only be more pronounced in those that are "in the know." A Leviathan who returns to his family will find that his role has shifted completely. Those that once offered consolation and advice will now come asking for blessings, and former close siblings will be deferential and timid. The role of deity is incompatible with the role of a child or sibling. It is for this reason that most members of the Tribe find that their only peers are, well, their peers. Fellow Leviathans are immune to the Wake. They share many of the same concerns and are undergoing the same changes. The solution isn't perfect. Just because members of the Tribe have something in common doesn't mean that they enjoy one another's presence. Beyond the usual hurdles of incompatible personalities and annoying quirks, the instincts encoded in the blood of the Progenitors are deeply rooted in the urges of a beast. Being close to a fellow Leviathan can trigger numerous and conflicting instincts - inappropriate desires combined with a violent and territorial outrage. Members of the Tribe are simultaneously experiencing one another as human individuals and as potential rivals or mates (or both).

When a group of Leviathans meets, whether for a given reason or because they all share a given trait, such as living in the same region, it is called a taxon. These serve as the most relevant social unit for the Tribe, but they are entirely ephemeral, and can vary widely in size. If every member of the Tribe in a city meets, that's a taxon, and it's the same deal if it's only the three Leviathans that share a county. Many taxon are composed of Leviathans who share a School, as some event relative to their shared interest comes up that they wish to consult on. These events aren't built with a guest list in mind, however, and no one with an interest is going to be denied entrance to the meeting - they're there because they're interested, not because they're part of some secret club. A taxon might involve an exchange of information, especially contact information, in order to build a support group, but many Leviathan are reluctant to be "in touch" with other members of the Tribe - there is an understood degree of emergency that is necessary before contact will be made.

Regional taxa might meet on repeated occasions and evolve an informal leadership structure, in which the most dangerous or experienced Leviathan that bothers to show is given precedence and can make requests of those present. The position is mostly organizational, however, and Leviathans will effectively be offering aid on their own discretion. The regional "leader" will be the one that members of the Tribe look to for advice and guidance when a local cousin goes rogue (or Typhon), often right before each individual does what he or she intended to do in the first place. A regional taxon is also where Leviathans that will later form a Cohort might meet, and where members of a School can trade information and talk shop with one another. Informal taxa leaders are traditionally called Hetmen. The most influential of these might "lead" for years and impose a certain regularity to taxon meetings, but this is rare. Far more often, a given region with a significant Leviathan population will instead have several Hetmen that lead taxa on different areas of interest. A truly driven and well-respected Hetman can serve as the founder of a Legion, forging his taxon into a ritual event with far-reaching consequences.

Many newly Emerged Leviathans have enough trouble dealing with the news that they're scions of long-lost primordial gods. Learning that you and your "cousins" are monstrous shapeshifters is quite a shock. Then there are the more distant relatives. The family tree of the Tribe is more of a thistle bush, and there are a vast number of beings that share at least some fraction of their ancestry with the Progenitors.

Hybrids are the foremost of these, with a mixture of strong Progenitor and human blood producing a being whose form echoes the Progenitor, without many of the mystic gifts of the Tribe. Hybrids can vary from nearly-human to complete abominations, and many are cursed with animalistic minds to match their bestial bodies. The primary Strains of the Tribe are fortunate to produce relatively stable Hybrids who share roughly the same set of traits. These serve as their servants and acolytes, the defenders of the line, and are differentiated from others by the title of Lahmasu. Other lines of Hybrids are produced by accident or through exposure to the blood of Tiamat from sources other than the Tribe. These can vary wildly in appearance and mentality, and most lurk in forgotten places as predators and scavengers. Hybrids can be allies, but most that are not Lahmasu are unreliable and often have their minds warped by the hardships of their twisted existence. They combine the predatory instincts and natural weapons of a beast with the cruelty and cunning of a human predator, making them extremely dangerous. Taxa are occasionally formed simply to wipe out a band of Hybrids that has grown too brazen in its excesses, but, as Hybrids can recreate themselves reliably through reproduction, it is hard to tell if a given clan has been truly exterminated.

More dangerous than Hybrids are those offspring which shoot from Tiamat's other spawn. While the Progenitors were apparently the most numerous, the Tribe has discovered that they were not alone. Little is certain about these distant cousins, and theories abound of a Progenitor or group of Progenitors which were spawned for sovereignty over the sky and earth as well as the seas. Some Leviathans point to the story of Echidna, another mother of monsters, as a potential offshoot of Tiamat. The Tribe refer to these disparate terrestrial cousins as the Cryptids. Some Cryptids manifest supernatural abilities, including a sort of Wake, while others do not - suggesting perhaps that the "lesser" cousins are in fact Hybrids spawned from a hidden and parallel Tribe of the land and sky, which has survived in pockets to the modern nights. When members of the Tribe meet these distant cousins, the results are usually not pretty. Thus far, there is no known record of contact and cooperation with the "other Tribe," should it truly exist.

Cohort

Leviathans that share a taxon and who come to be particularly close (or at least maintain an unusual level of contact) form into a unit called a cohort. Equal parts support group, political unit, and family reunion, cohorts are the favored social organization for younger and fresher Leviathans. While the tension of contact with fellow Leviathans means that cohorts rarely share living space, most are close enough to come when called, and the local scale of the unit permits them to come to one another's aid when necessary. Such aid can be as straightforward as a spare arm in case of violence or as complex as counsel and emotional support. The disturbing mixture of attraction and loathing that members of the Tribe share means that cohorts exist in a particular form of stress. "Love-hate" relationships are the norm, and often are experienced with an intensity that would shock and distress outside observers. For a member of the Tribe, though, such tempestuous connections are better than the isolation and discomfort that they experience in the company of normal humans.

Leadership in a cohort is usually a difficult subject. It's rare that a Hetman emerges in a cohort, as they are usually founded by relative equals operating on similar scales and dealing with the same problem. In such a scenario, a grab for power will usually be seen as insulting at best and as an outright threat at worst. Some cohorts grow to have an informal organizer, usually a level head who helps mediate between members, but even these would be startled by the suggestion that their arbitrator is in a leadership position. It's far more likely that each member of the cohort has a given region of focus, in which they are given some credit for their authority. If a member needs help rooting out a dangerous clan of Hybrids, he or she will go to the most militantly-minded member. If they need something translated, the most scholarly, and so forth.

Most cohorts are relatively short-lived, lasting for a year or two until members move away or succumb to the dangers of their condition. Some implode, often viciously, as members come into conflict and lash out emotionally and physically. Those cohorts that survive for longer periods are usually at some point in between, being close enough to remain cohesive without becoming so close as to invite disastrous clashes. As with most things, it's a balancing act. Those cohorts that do manage to survive can become incredibly influential, as cults support one another and individual members develope. A number of Legions have formed from a core group of a Cohort that comes to share ideas about the Tribe and their shared destiny.

Sidebar: Tiers and Leviathan

As a basic model, when applying the "tier" structure to the Leviathans, the following guidelines are the most accurate fit:

• Tier One - The Cohort (3-10 members, limited geographical scope, limited power and resources)
• Tier Two - The Legion (10-150 members, each with his or her own Cult, regional power, considerable resources and power)
• Tier Three - The Tribe itself (More than 5,000 members, no unified goals, global scope, immeasurable resources if they worked in tandem)

"Culture"

The most important thing to realize about the Tribe is that each member is engaging in the creation of a culture. While the tendency is to dress the practices of a Legion or cohort up as remembered elements of a lost society, there's very little actual authority to be found. Most Leviathans are constructing the orthodoxy they claim to uphold. The consciousness of this varies from Leviathan to Leviathan, but it's never entirely absent. The "primordial kingdom" that the Tribe discusses is a mishmash of images and myths collected haphazardly from a dozen or more cultures and asserted alongside a claim of veracity and accuracy. It's ridiculous, perhaps, but it's also important. The "big lie" is what stands between the Tribe and complete and total uncertainty. If they were purists about only embracing what they can prove to be true, they would have nothing at all.

The upshot of this is that the Tribe's "culture" is pretty fluid. Thoughts about the nature of the Progenitors and the significance of a given myth or relic are going to vary from Leviathan to Leviathan, and from Cohort to Cohort. Within a given taxa, it might be the case that a charismatic or domineering figure might champion a viewpoint, causing a resultant shift in the beliefs of those in the area, but these are the exception. It also means that the inevitable shifts aren't accompanied with the same sort of difficulty and reluctance that typifies a major shift in political or religious ideologies - there's a certain "attraction" that a new "truth" offers. Change is compelling. Change camouflages the fact that the Tribe hasn't really made meaningful progress towards a reliable idea of what they are and what they should do throughout the whole of history.

Cohorts tend to share an aesthetic or narrative of history, but it's not always the case. Many are formed out of necessity, after all, and discontent and disagreements are hardly unusual. Legions tend to have a far more stable set of beliefs, which they impose upon entrants, but even a Legion isn't a stable entity. There's politics and personal interest at every level, and the inheritors of a Legion, or those "reviving" a "lost" Legion, tend to have their own views that are imposed with the assertion of authority and orthodoxy. Even fanatics are still people.

Fitting In

While a Leviathan's School emphasizes the ways in which the Leviathan seeks to formulate his identity, they do little to necessarily highlight what a member of the Tribe does on a day-to-day basis. Most Schools at least hint at some career path that might suit the Leviathan's self-image and desires, but these are hardly binding. Furthermore, the uncontained nature of the Leviathan's supernatural ancestry is such that most normal, mortal jobs are difficult to hold down. Outbursts of rage (or, more problematically, transformation) tend to keep most Leviathans from positions that require a great deal of human contact. Even a disciplined Leviathan won't be comfortable in a heavily social setting. Those that do undertake highly social roles tend to provide themselves a buffer zone, either physical or social. A Leviathan that's involved in politics, for instance, might have a private retreat to which he absconds every couple of weeks. A social buffer can be formed of like-minded individuals or, better yet, the Leviathan's Beloved. Having an aide or two "in the know" can relieve a lot of pressure. The nature of the Wake is such that, regardless of position, a Leviathan will be known by his co-workers and customers. He'll likely have a small group that is either enthralled or terrified by his presence, and his workplace will eventually come to have some sort of reputation. Due to this, most Leviathans tend to end up in smaller, privately-owned businesses, either ones they own themselves or those that have employers that are sympathetic or apathetic to the Leviathan's plight. Unsurprisingly, most Leviathans aren't rolling in cash - they lose jobs and miss work often, and the businesses that will keep them tend to be smaller and in rougher neighborhoods. Even in a major city, the Tribe tends towards the margins.

On a more global scale, the Tribe tends to gravitate towards regions with large bodies of water accessible (for obvious metaphysical and practical reasons.) Furthermore, the ways in which Leviathans have an easier time existing when not under major scrutiny, and establishing power bases in regions that are already chaotic, leads many to congregate in places torn by warfare and strife. It's quite easy for a Leviathan to co-opt a small local militia or similar insular group, and the chaos that accompanies warfare and bloodshed serves to screen them from scrutiny and interference. It's important to note that the Tribe is not responsible for most conflicts, but they fit in quite readily amidst the atrocities and superstitions of pitched warfare. A squad, seperated from its fellows and terrified out of its wits, is ripe for recruitment by a confident and convincing Leviathan. For many older Leviathans (or the inheritors of a grandparent's legacy), the major wars and ethnic conflicts of the 20th century served as a smokescreen in which a remarkable petty kingdom could flourish. World War II in particular is remembered as a high point of the Tribe's influence, as the hundreds of remote and unexplored islands that dotted the Pacific Theatre became host to numerous Leviathans. As a result, many of these little "former kingdoms" are now host to isolated clans of Hybrids, some still caught up in a conflict that has long since ended.

Some Leviathans strive to find places of refuge, separate from the chaos and discomfort of contact with humanity. This is a risky prospect. Isolation is psychologically dangerous even for normal humans, and doubly so for a distressed member of the Tribe. A lack of human contact can erode the barriers that separate the Leviathan's mind from its bestial urges, and many members of the Tribe have gone utterly mad in their retreats, having been foolishly confident that they could undergo apotheosis if only they could "escape" their human lives.

The result is that most Leviathans have to cope with a balancing act. When possible, they avoid the stress and anxiety that would lead to a loss of control. They ration their time spent with other people. They try and build a safe area to which they can retreat. If they get a chance, they'll spend time thinking about their condition - but that's long term planning. Most Leviathans aren't in the social, financial, or psychological position to just forget about work for six months to explore some ancient Sumerian ruin. The day-to-day takes precedence, and much of that involves finding ways to work around the problem of one's ancestry. The Leviathans that are really on the ball find ways to make their everyday lives more fulfilling in terms of their desire to forge a role and achieve a sense of belonging. This is where School takes precedence in the Leviathan's actions, guiding them towards certain ways of interacting with humans, other members of the Tribe, and their cults. Every once in a while, a major problem comes up - either something that the Leviathan did to themself or some outside threat. These are the really dangerous moments. The Leviathan's cozy little world comes under pressure, and the order of the day is "How can I solve this problem without sacrificing aspects of the person that I've become and the stability I've struggled to achieve?"

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