Long deemed the harbingers of the end of days - The Caitiff understand what it means to be deserted by others that should understand them. For the majority of kindred history their existences were myth.
A century ago, their number was miniscule: but as the eternal night draws on, and the potency of blood lessens, they grow larger by the hour.Amongst their number, these Misfits count accidental embraces, disappointing childe,
Shovelheads, and Licks weak enough in the blood to resemble no true clan. They have no common curse, no similarity of disciplines between them. And yet, unlike their newer Duskborn Siblings, they are very much still true vampires.
The Camarilla will not have them, the Sabbat treated them like disposable cannon-fodder: and so it was inevitable that they would find a home in The Unbound. Who else would even care?
The inexorable march of time is a wonderful thing for the Panders. Once they had ran - squirrelled themselves into the Anarchs out of pure fear for how they would be treated elsewhere - now they find themselves the building blocks and foundation of a sect that knows what it wants, and how to get it. In decades past, they were playthings for beings of thicker blood, condemned to do the dirty-work of others,
thrown away in the aftermath. Now, they are an army in their own right, bound by their hatred for those who have mistreated them. And, by God, are they going to take the fight to whoever stands in their way. Maybe there was something in calling the heralds of the end times afterall…
Disciplines:
Any 2 Disciplines (Except Blood Sorcery, Oblivion and Thinblood Sorcery)