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Insurrectionist Roman clans are composed primarily of native vampires who’ve had their power bases subsumed by the conquering of their lands, or those who are displeased with the current direction the Empire takes. There is often little unity between them save for dissatisfaction with their assumed peers, though alliances have cropped up from time to time.
Deus ex Mort, occasionally called Clan Cappadocian in other lands, is believed to be a harmless collection of unliving oddities, creeping through the night babbling about the process of death. Once, this may have been untrue, but a recent upheaval in the clan purged many other elements from their ranks. This sudden reduction in numbers, new focus, and the usurpation of their place as viziers among the Triumvirate has led to bitterness and exile. Now the Cappadocians fight with the Nosferatu over the catacombs and sewers of Rome, plotting for their return to power with knowledge of the mystery of death.
Nosferatu lurk beneath Rome, finding themselves branded Insurrectionists by default, as they have little to no truck with Rome’s political schemes; the hideously twisted visages of this clan leave them preferring to remain out of sight, and plotting from beneath the city. Some have formed alliances with the Tzimisce, while others are engaged in territory wars with the Deus ex Mort. Their position, however, often leads others to ignore them, which allows them ripe access to news and information others may not have.
Not nearly as vehement as the Tzimisce, seeming to side with the Insurrectionists out of spite and whim rather than any actual ideal, the Toreador move among all circles of society, playing their games with mortal and Cainite alike, hoping for a day when all will grovel at the feet of the most beautiful and talented beings in all of creation – themselves, of course. Despite the dismissive attitude most others have of the Toreador, they are often quite conniving and wield a great deal of temporal power through legions of blood-addicted lovers, slaves and scribes.
The Tzimisce, fearsome lords of the mountains and woodlands, bend knee to no one, and their forced subservience to Noctis and Ventrue rule chafes them greatly. Were a power to arise from the Insurrectionist “rabble,” the Tzimisce would likely be it. One thing their homelands have taught them, however, is the lesson of patience. They wait to strike when the time is right, and then the streets with flood with their misshapen ghouls and progeny.
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