Vampire Thralls of the Coven

The vampire thralls of Arthur Belfrie’s Coven are not creatures of elegance or grandeur. They are the castoffs, the discarded remnants of those once promised power, now reduced to little more than tools of blood and desperation. Ensnared by various high-ranking vampires, these thralls live in chains, bound not just by iron but by the ceaseless hunger that gnaws at their minds. Their days blur into one long, agonizing torment as they are driven to starvation, their senses dulled and sharpened all at once by the relentless craving for blood that is never satisfied. Rarely are these thralls set loose, and when they are, it is not to fulfill some noble purpose. No, they are released only when their bodies have become so ravenous, so desperate, that they become nothing more than rabid animals. When their chains fall away, they are not hunters but scavengers, willing to tear into anything that crosses their path. The first scent of blood, the first glimpse of warm flesh, sends them into a frenzy. They do not discriminate in these moments of madness: vampire, mortal, or otherwise; all are prey. On the Isle, this bloodlust is most often directed toward the Werewolves, the bitter rivals of their vampiric masters. The coven sees the thralls as weapons, something to be pointed in the direction of their enemies. When the time comes, these poor souls are loosed upon the Werewolves, the clash of fang and claw nothing more than sport for their vampiric overlords. For the thralls, there is no honor in this, no glory, only a brief respite from the torment of starvation. But their moments of freedom are fleeting, and once the blood has been spilled and the frenzy sated, the chains return. The cycle begins anew.