“Throw off the elders’ shackles of the mind,
reach into thyself and see the truth revealed.
The truth, as truth is seen,
will illuminate your soul
and heal your wounds.
Know who you are, first, and be true to yourself.”
Brujah’s words to her childer

Thugs. Philosophers. Terrorists. Hipsters. Revolutionaries.

Even the clan itself cannot say which of these labels are true—in a way, perhaps they all are. Many Brujah would say that’s the beauty of it: the freedom to be any, all, and none of them.

The rabble may not be as influential as the Ventrue or as large as the Toreador, but they make up for it by sheer force of will. They’re the activists, the street artists, the thugs, the roughs, the toughs, the renegade scholars, and the angry young men. They’re the overwhelming vitality of the city, the thrumming engines and shining lights.

Don’t ever piss them off.