A Storytelling Game at the End of Days From the introduction: Merely human hearing would have had difficulty picking up the scuff of a cheap plastic stereo being set down on the bare concrete of the unfinished high-rise, especially over the gusting wind, but Prince Alexis was a member of Clan Toreador and had spent three hundred years refining the bloody magic of his lineage. He heard it clearly, and raised a finger to silence his childer in the middle of their briefing about the recent disruptions to city operations. The three vampires turned and peered into the shadows atop the construction site: moonlight; deep shadows; the eerie motion of loose plastic sheeting flapping in the breeze. “I heard it too,” the youngest of the trio, Donald, said. “Is anyone else supposed to be up here?”