From left to right:
The Honorable Vasco Monforte, Toreador Neonate
Her Grace, the Noble Condessa de Avila Carla Reisinho dos Santos, Toreador Ancilla
The Honorable Guillemote, Toreador Neonate
The Clan
Magnificent roses in a garden of evening stars. A lilting aria in a drowsy twilight. The sweet brush of a lover’s kiss. These images evoke the Toreador, as these vampires are the most beautiful of all.
Toreador are artists, writers, and creators: artisans enjoying an immortal life of pageantry and sensuality. Unlike other clans, Toreador plunge themselves into the mortal world.
Often, they will pretend to be mortal, living as glitterati and giving patronage to inluential mortal artists. From city to city, passion to passion, the Toreador lit about, inspiring the inest art and leaving a trail of broken hearts.
With such reined tastes, it is easy for a member of the Toreador clan to become jaded and bitter, illed with ennui.
Surrounded by excess, they quickly lose interest, seizing prize after prize — the sweetest of which are those stolen from another. The oldest Toreador often become depraved, sinking into debauchery simply so they can feel anything at all.
Toreador love politics and live for hierarchy, so long as they can remain at the top. They develop cults of personality, gathering followers captivated by their beauty or begging for their patronage. They are always at the cutting edge of arts, culture, and society. They pride themselves on their beauty and poise, hosting salons and gatherings to show off their wealth and style. Those who cannot keep up are mocked and ridiculed. Vampires who are ugly, uncivilized, or show no respect for the arts are torn apart by a Toreador’s metaphorical claws. For this reason, there is an eternal enmity between the Nosferatu and Toreador clans, a hatred that will never be reconciled.
Stereotypes
Assamite: Blood-soaked barbarians.
Brujah: A fire may be stoked, but if left unattended, it may destroy what it once warmed.
Followers of Set: Worms breed in their vile footprints.
Gangrel: Beauty and the Beast, only without the complication of Beauty. Pity them.
Giovanni: Which is more unctuous: their smiles or their hair?
Lasombra: If I looked like they do, I’d hide in the dark, too.
Malkavian: The tedium of it all.
Nosferatu: They make a strong case for the Mark of Caine being a sickness.
Ravnos: There are two types of these creatures: Awful, and absent.
Tremere: Aren’t they supposed to turn back into pumpkins at midnight?
Tzimisce: It is a poor artist who blames his tools, but that’s the only conceivable answer here.
Ventrue: Why are older brothers always such corpulent bullies?
Caitiff: The worst sort of fish is the one that feeds from the bottom.
Camarilla: This house needs a good cleaning.
Sabbat: Such marvelous passion wasted on such craven dementia.
Anarchs: Only a petty ruler acknowledges no greater purpose than himself.
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