                                  DAEDALEAN



   By Timothy Toner

   BEGIN AUDIO TAPE

   "So why did you want to meet, 'Friend?'"

   "Call me a fan. I was admiring your write up on the Californian
   problem. I take it you caught no small amount of flak."

   "Yeah. They were pissed, to say the least. Not everyone likes their
   weakness becoming public record. They were doing such a damn good job,
   too."

   "I take it you're not sorry."

   "Heh. No. Not in the least. The bastards deserve whatever they get. So
   are you one of their _ardent_ supporters, because if you are, I've got
   a chopstick, and I know how to use it..."

   "No. Nothing so...mundane. I merely wished to correct one small
   mistake you made in your journal."

   "Oh, what's that?"

   "Your sarcasm is noted. I have done nothing to establish my
   credentials, while you are a legend in those who catalog the unlife,
   and all it holds. Suffice it to say that when I am done, all will
   become apparent."

   "Great. Whatever. Let's cut to the chase, Gramps. I'm getting hungry."

   "You're wrong."

   "Huh?"

   "You're _wrong._"

   "About?"

   "About the Clan. They were not the originators of Icarus. Their form
   is infinitely more powerful, and yet infinitely more perverse. They
   have twisted it from its true intent..."

   "Which was?"

   "...to escape. They invoke the raptor with each false heartbeat,
   instead of the swallow, with its grace and swiftness. "You see, the
   story is much more complex than you could ever imagine. It begins in
   Greece..."

   "I don't have time for _stories!_"

   "This one involves an alliance between the Tremere, Gangrel and
   Lasombrans. Interested?"

   "Yes!"

   "Good. Shut up.

   "There was a man who went by the name of Daedalos. He was the wisest,
   most clever man of his generation. His inventions were seen as
   bordering magic, universally praised for their complexity and utility,
   but these he dismissed as toys. He seemed to be lacking something in
   life, and he found it in an invitation from Crete.

   "There King Minos ruled with an iron hand, and all deemed him noble
   and just. He had acquired much land and spoils through conquest, and
   one of his most prize was his queen, the ravishing Aia.

   "However, both harbored a terrible secret, and a terrible love. They
   were Garou. The Gods had blessed Minos so far; why not put their love
   into the Pantheon's hands? They decided to have a child.

   "It was a monstrosity. Born Metis, its body was permanently warped by
   cruel fate, and a parents' lust. The light hurt its eyes terribly, and
   two huge horns grew from its brow. Worst of all, the creature was
   incredibly cunning, as if to compensate for its outward failings.

   "One sight of the child, and all were mocking the boy. Rathers than
   Prince, or Son Of Minos, or the more traditional Minos' Boy, the court
   renamed the child 'Minos' Bull,' or "Minos Taurus."

   "That was unwise. With the extreme cunning came an extraordinary
   brutality. The boy would single out one person, and then
   systematically tear their life to shreds over the course of weeks.
   They never found fault with the boy, since, for one, he was the king's
   son, and thus beyond reproach, and for another, most believed that the
   physical afflictions had affected his mind as well.

   King Minos knew, however, and when the hot blood raged through his
   son's body, even the mighty ruler feared for his life. He cared for
   his son, realizing it was his own arrogance that had made the child
   thus. He needed a way to give the boy what he wanted, and at the same
   time, challenge his mind enough to stop the slaughter. Minos knew that
   if anyone could figure it out, it was Daedalos.

   He sent for the inventor, promising a life of quiet ease, and a
   workroom where he could be uninterrupted by the cares of the world.
   Monos knew Daedalos well. No promises of trinkets would win his heart;
   only the thought of time alone to study undisturbed sparked his
   interest.

   Harangued and harassed by most of the scholars in the known world, he
   readily fled to Minos with Ikaros, his son. There he was treated like
   a member of the family. Minos asked but one thing, the fulfilment of a
   dream. Daedalos was so full of joy and mirth, he readily assented, not
   caring about specifics.

   "'I want a labyrinth,' said the king. Labyrinths were quite common
   amongst nobility, and such a simple task shocked Daedalos.

   "'Is that all?'

   "'This is to be a labyrinth like none other. It will be built into a
   huge cavern, far beneath our feet. It will have shifting wall, and
   hidden spaces. It should be able to challenge the most clever minds
   Crete has to offer.' He filled in the details, telling the size of the
   cavern, a space so huge, Daedalos was convinced Minos was jesting.

   "'It will take ten years to fill that space.'

   "'So be it. That is my dream. Fulfill it, or perish.' "Guards seized
   the inventor and his son, and forced them into the very cave that
   would one day house the structure. Supplies would be dropped from
   above daily, and he was to have some formal structure done in a year.
   At that time, the creature would be led in, and Daedalos was expected
   to continue, avoiding the creature all the while.

   "Ikaros bemoaned their fate, but Daedalos got right to work designing
   the machines he would need in order to do the work of ten men with
   only two.

   "In a year, an amazing amount was done. However, a year with no sun
   had taken its toll on Daedalos. He did not see himself surviving the
   month. Ikaros, for his part, adapted remarkably well to the cavern.

   "The beast was let in, and it tore around, searching for the inventor
   and his son, but their bolt holes were too cleverly hidden.

   "The first victim to be sent down to the creature was a vampire who
   had been caught by Minos' pack. To make the abomination prove its
   allegiance, it had to hunt down the hated prey, a Gangrel who had come
   here quite by accident. The vampire was dropped in the hole, and left
   to perish.

   "Without knowing its true nature, Daedalos took pity on this creature
   which so closely mirrored his own existence. He hid the Gangrel from
   the minotaur's wrath. Weak and close to starvation, the Gangrel could
   not emulate the same kindness. He bit deeply into Daedalos, and almost
   killed the genius.

   "Daedalos was weakened beyond measure, however. He forgave the
   vampire's attack, and treated him as if nothing at all had happened.
   Instead of cursing, Daedalos showed the Gangrel all his wondrous
   inventions that no man would ever see. And all the while, his health
   failed.

   "The Gangrel, mourning his stupidity in attacking the one being who
   had shown him kindness, sought out a way to stop his friends'
   suffering. With but a drop of blood, Daedalos would finally be free to
   actualize all that he had imagined. No longer would he put off the
   long term projects that each day of poor health made that much more
   impossible. He presented the idea to the inventor, and oddly, Daedalos
   agreed readily. To him, it made sense.

   "There was, however, a problem: Ikaros. Daedalos did not want his son
   cursed so early in life, and yet each day the Beast grew more cunning.
   Further, not even Ikaros could easily survive the remaining seven
   years of their captivity, at least without a little help. In the end,
   it was Ikaros who decided. He wanted to be with his father, to the end
   of time, if necessarily.

   "And so it was done. Ikaros and Daedalos were embraced, and their
   first lesson was how to summon the creatures that they would feed on,
   so that they need never starve.

   "Eventually, it was time for the Gangrel to try his escape. Daedalos
   warned him against this, since Minos' pack patrolled the night, and
   only during the day would escape be conceivable. But he tried anyway,
   preferring death to imprisonment, as all Gangrel do. And he died, his
   head nailed to the Temple of Hekate.

   "From that moment on, Daedalos prepared. He realized that the potent
   powers granted to him would not allow him to escape. Something more
   was needed to effect release. He knew the harbors were closely
   guarded, and the only was across the sea was a ship. But what of
   _over_ the sea?

   "And so he began. He called the birds to him, and studied their flight
   before devouring them. Watching them, he leanred much about his own
   abilities and nature. As he gripped them, slowly increasing pressure,
   he felt their fear, and their desire for release. And something
   happened in that moment, when, instead of feeding the hunger, he let
   one go. In that moment, he felt it: the joy of escape.

   "It filled the decayed shell he called a body with ecstatic bliss.
   Nothing felt this good. Ever. And with this enlightenment, this
   spiritual elevation, something else came as well: flight. He could
   fly.

   "It took a time, but eventually Ikaros too was enlightened. Freedom
   now burned within his blood with the intensity of the sun. Daedalos
   knew that soon he had to act, lest Ikaros try something rash.

   "And soon a plan came to light. Minos and his pack were away, waging
   war on the hapless Athenians. It seemed that the Creature's appetites
   were growing stronger in time, and there seemed to be fewer criminals
   to offer up. Thus, it was necessary to fight battles to procure proper
   tribute. This, of course, meant that the troops that guarded the day
   watches now had to keep to the night, once the dominion of Minos'
   pack. With all his calculations, Daedalos knew that leaving during the
   day would give them the best opportunity to escape. But how to do
   this, and not be incinerated?

   "It was no small mystery that Minos despised the priestesses of
   Hekate, goddess of primal magic. She was at times antithetical to his
   true love, Artemis, of the moon. Often when one of his pack rages,
   they were pointed in the direction of the temple, and every calamity
   was blamed on those who resided in that place.

   "But of all these ignomities, none was more foul than the night that
   Minos became drunk, and freed his son to rampage through the temple
   proper, killing three priestesses. For this, and for many more things,
   the Hierophant agreed to assist Daedalos in his plan. She could not
   touch the Crown prince in any way, but she could take secret joy it
   foiling his greatest plan.

   "When the sun crawled higher in the heavens, she began her magic. On
   and on, it droned summoning roiling clouds, dark and ominous, bearing
   the spectre of heavy rains to the gentle earth. But none came.
   Instead, when she was done, the thick cloud mass distended, and
   reached out for the closest bit of mainland.

   "At the arranged time, Daedalos rolled back the boulder, and realized
   with horror that although the Gangrel had told him all about the
   weaknesses of his present form, no mention was made to his son. With
   time wasting, and the cloud slowly dissipating, Daedalos could only
   mutter to his son to fly no farther than the clouds, and not to soar
   near the water, as fishermen in boats could betray them with pleas to
   Poseidon, who would surely strike them down.

   "Ikaros, having not seen the sun for 10 years, longed to stare into
   its face. But he had always obeyed his father, and he nodded his
   assent.

   "Both lunged into the air, and lanced toward freedom. Whatever it was
   that forced them to sleep was now weighing down their minds. Both
   longed to crawl in a hole and sleep, but there would be no return to
   that prison. There was only onward, across the trackless sea.

   "Perhaps it was the wearniness of his mind, perhaps it was the
   assumption that Ikaros would obey, as he always had done, but Daedalos
   lost sight of the boy for a moment, and that was all it took.

   "With horror, he realized that Ikaros had succumbed to the freedom
   that suffused every pore of his being. The narrow track of safety,
   forged by magic, would not limit the freedom he found in his heart.
   Daedalos tried to rise, but the fear of certain death kept him down.
   There would be no tarrying; a moment's hesistation would be death, as
   the sun brined through the layer just behind them.

   "He saw his son, a while later, plummeting to earth like a falling
   star, screaming in agony as he fell. A numbness seized Daedalos'
   brain, and he drove onwards, controlled by an unseen hand. His ears
   strained to hear the reassuring splash as his son's body slammed into
   the cold embrace of the sea, and Ikaros was at last free.

   "He lived, survived, though why, he was never sure. Without Ikaros,
   all meaning was stolen from his life. Stiil, in his wandering, he came
   upon those like him, imprisoned in mind and body, who needed
   desperately to be taught the lesson he had discovewred. He cared not
   for politics, alliances, and affiliations. All he wanted was for the
   pupil to be an advocate of the personal freedom long denied in his and
   his son's existence.

   "A few mortals seeking this freedom were blessed with the Change, but
   not many. With the power that flowed in their veins came the curse of
   Ikaros, a desire to surpass their cages, and shed all shackles of
   oppression, sometimes even acting very much against their own best
   interests. It takes much inner restraint to survive as a Daedalean."

   "...so that's _it._"

   "As the tale goes. THose who abuse it now discovered it tangentially
   in Greece, around 400 years before the birth of Christ. They were
   weak, victims of a savage curse. A single shaft, placed into the
   heart, brought about the Final Death, just as sure as fire or the sun.
   THey were being hunted to extinction, and the nobility that at that
   time crawled in their veins would be snuffed out.

   "Daedalos took pity on them, and taught them the ability, granting
   them opportunity to escape their oppressors. However, rather than
   accepting the way of the Daedalean, they instead turned petty and
   vengeful, and attacked those who once oppressed them."

   "So Icarus isn't one of theirs, huh?"

   "They had something quite like it. Realize, however, that flight has
   been the grandest aspiration of man since he first beheld the birds
   weaving in the air at the beginning of all things. However, it seemed
   to be the most difficult to emulate. For those who harnessed magic,
   the best they could do was to make the wind drive them along,
   buffeting them to and fro. Not very safe, I'd imagine. Although what
   they had was a mastery of the air, flight was denied them until they
   came across Daedalos, and begged him to bestow his mercy."

   "You seem to know quite a lot. You're Daedalos."

   "Heh. No, sorry. I'm not Daedalos. He died long, long ago, victim of
   Tremere treachery."

   "You mentioned that before. What's that about?"

   "The Tremere were magi, once, long ago. Noble souls, they feared a
   growing chasm that threatened to engulf them. They decided to forego
   the inevitable, and become one of the damned. "New to the game, they
   were quickly put upon by all to prove their true worth. They became
   whipping boys, for a time, but systematically used the magic theory
   still burning in their brains to try to emulate each of the vampiric
   powers through magic. Largely, they were successful. Those that did
   not translate well were mixed with twinges of hermetic magic, to make
   the formula complete. And they were indeed poised on a takeover of the
   Kindred population, if not for that Daedalean.

   "His name is lost to time, but his deeds will be remembered
   forevermore. He committed the most mundane of sins: a gloating pride.
   He and his kind paid for it with the Final Death.

   "A, oh what do they call it, ah, a chantry newly formed in Macedonia
   was out gathering vis for a powerful ritual, when they noticed the
   Daedalean floating above them all. The best of their attempts to mimic
   flight allowed such a feat, so they treated him as one of their own, a
   wandering Tremere.

   "He laughed at their foolishness. To think they thought he, a free
   spirit, would be one of the enslavers and enslaved. This was not
   particularly smart. The Tremere were warned against those who
   practiced a form of Thaumaturgy lost long ago. If not the blood magic,
   what else could he be doing?

   "One lashed out with power, a fist of fire designed to scare the
   floating vampire. Instead of being driven to the ground, he leapt
   forward and upward with astonishing speed. Soon he was out of sight.

   "The Tremere realized that there existed a vampire who could do the
   impossible: fly without the aid of wind. Subsequent inquiries led them
   to discover that it was not one, but an entire clan who had untapped
   the ability to fly through sheer force of will alone.

   "A few dark deals later, and they had the information they required.
   They tracked down the first they saw, and ask him to teach them the
   gift. He laughed at them, and told them they did not have it within
   their power. Further rubbing salt into their wounds, he fed a mortal
   who was with him a point of blood, and both began to rise away. The
   Daedalean muttered that the power lay in a mere mortal, but not in
   their enslaved souls. This was his final mistake.

   "The Tremere, ready for this, seized him in unbreakable bonds, and
   staked him as he lay wimpering. Realizing that the ability did indeed
   lay in the blood, they performed experiment after experiment, until
   finally one time they went too far, and the Daedalean perished.

   "Rather than becoming discouraged, those in the Macedonian Chantry
   reported to Vienna with the news. The Seven met, and decided a plan of
   action was necessary. THis was too good an opportunity to let pass, so
   all machinations were temporarily shelved, and all eyes reverted to
   Greece.

   "The tests the Chantry had performed led them to believe that the
   Daedaleans were an offshoot of Gangrel. A few made overtures in that
   direction, to find out their true heritage, but were mostly refused
   and ignored. It took a time, but enough information was discovered to
   show to the Genitor of Clan Gangrel. THe evidence was tainted with
   Tremere deceit, but enough held true. Daedaleans were consummate Garou
   hunters, with not regard for the sanctity of the Wild, or of the
   purity of the Story. They were their children, but they were
   untrained. They were abominations. Clan Gangrel agreed to the Hunt.

   "The Lasombrans were less difficult to convince. The thought of
   flight, a means of escaping the darkness of the abyss that lay beneath
   their feet, and in their soul, pleased them to no end. The Tremere
   needed a means of dimming the fire within the Daedaleans, and nothing
   was better than the dark stuff of the Lasombra.

   "It was monstrously successful. Daedaleans were hunted like dogs.
   Those who escaped through flight were pursued by shifted Gangrel.
   Those who fought were held fast by Lasombran might. They did not stand
   a chance.

   "Despite all those captured, the Tremere were no closer to the
   solution. When they were finished, all that was left were ashes, ashes
   that provided no answers. And the Gangrel were getting restless. They
   were not told what was happening to those they caught. The Tremere
   were still trusted at this time, but this was changing.

   "It was then that Daedalos came forth. He was working as a laborer in
   the workshop of Da Vinci. He never assisted in the experiments, but
   rather delighted in watching the gleam of inspiration glow in the
   inventor's eyes.

   "Daedalos, preferring to stay out of Kindred politics, discovered the
   hunt, and determined to put it to a stop. He surrendered to a pack of
   Gangrel, and told the story of he and his clan, of their love of
   freedom, and their devotion to the elevation of the soul, physically
   and spiritually.

   "Convinced now of the wrongness of their action, the Gangrel called an
   end to the Hunt. The Tremere responded with power, engulfing the
   Gangrel in flames. Only Daedalos' action, flying into the heart of the
   flames, drawing it into himself, and exploding with a primal fury,
   saved those who would have hunted him.

   "Word of the Tremere's treachery spread throughout Kindred society,
   and their position as "loyal" advisors was revealed to be a power play
   of the most devious sort. Nevermore would they be trusted, and, as a
   result, the world may have been spared Tremere domination."

   "A mediocre story. Couldn't you have thought up a better one?"

   "I speak truth."

   "All right. If you're not Daedalos, then who are you? Why do you know
   so much, so much that only Daedalos knew?"

   "I was...a professional mourner."

   "WHAT?!?"

   "It was quite common back then. The family was supposed to be stoic in
   the face of death, and thus people were paid to mourn in their place.
   It was all I could do. I was trapped by circumstance, and every other
   tear was wept for me and my plight.

   "Daedalos, upon gaining his freedom, held a funeral for his fallen
   son. He told the tale there freely, and in doing so, created an
   enduring legend. Upon hearing it, for the first time, I wept not for
   myself, but for another. He sensed my pain, my plight, and my
   sincerity. And so he...freed me.

   "I remained with him, all his nights, his constant companion, and his
   bitter reminder of the loss that weighed down his heart and soul. I
   wanted to remain with him, so that he would not have to face the
   Tremere and Gangrel alone. He compelled me to leave, saying that if I
   indeed cared and respected him, then I would do my job, and leave him
   to do his own.

   "Now, there are less than five of us in the world. We are forgotten by
   all but those who seek our destruction, and by those who seek to be
   freed. One has described us as a waystation on the path to Golconda. I
   wish I could believe that.

   "That is my tale. That is our tale. My life is spent wandering the
   planet, seeking out those who need to be freed, who need to be taught
   how to be freed. Theyt call us cowards, but they are wrong.

   "I must go. A friend, one I knew long ago, waits for me in Toronto."

   "Wait...it's five minutes before sun up! You can't reach shelter in
   that time! Stay here!"

   "I must go. I must stand in the shadows, and watch for the rising sun,
   the sun I know is there, but reains forever hidden from me. That is my
   job.

   "Now wait a minute, you damn psycho, you're staying right here. I have
   a few questions for you...hey, put me down! HEY!

   "Okay, this is really funny. I'm on a hook, twenty feet above the
   floor. Now get me down. Wait, where are you going...WAIT!"

   "I am going to do my job. I am a mourner. And I must mourn Ikaros."

   END TAPE

   Begin Addendum:

   So that's it. He walked out, just like that, leaving me on a damn
   hook. I never saw the bastard since. However, in my spasms as he
   seized me, I succeeded in my true goal: obtaining a piece of flesh.
   It's permeated with Tzmisce power.

   He's alive. The bastard's alive.

   End Addendum.



   ----

Clan Daedalean



    Nickname: Icarans (Ikkers)

   The few Daedaleans who remain keep to themselves. They very seldom
   create new Childer, seeing them as just potential prey for the
   Tremere. However, they seek out those who are oppressed, Kindred and
   kine alike, and try to free them at every opportunity.

   The main belief common to all Daedaleans is freedom. Freedom comes in
   many forms, including Death, as most have discovered. Some seek
   freedom through violent actions, thrashing off the manacles, as it
   were, and some choose to do it through quiet introspection, meditating
   until the chains might not be there at all. Some choose to instigate
   revolutions, impersonating Brujah, while others seek out the
   individual, wallowing in misery.

   It is believed that only five to eight Daedaleans remain after the
   Tremere purge. Still, their influence is felt deeply within the World
   of Darkness, since in their own quiet way, they try to bring
   everything that closer to the light.

   Victims of systematic extermination, they will not hesitate to flee if
   a situation does not favor their side. SOme call this cowardice: the
   call it survival.

   Often they fly high in the air, hanging there for hours at a time, and
   turn on their Auspex, opening up to the totality of creation. To them,
   this is ecstacy on the level of the Kiss.

   Appearance: There is no common appearance. Once, most Daedaleans were
   of Greek ancestry, with a few exceptions. Now they come in all shapes
   and sizes, often impersonating as a member of another clan.

   Haven: Daedaleans prefer abandoned spires and other high places to
   rest. Often they will close off the intermittant floors, so that only
   those who can fly can reach their homes. Each has a door or opening
   that faces the east, toward the rising sun. Most try to dart in, just
   as the sun comes over the edge of the horizon, weeping in pain,
   sorrow, and ecstasy at being so close to true freedom.

   Background: Most Daedaleans have the Generation background, to
   describe how few of them there really are in the world. Some make
   Contacts, mostly in mortal organizations such as Amnesty
   International. Others have made it a habit to play a small role in
   everything, picking up Influence right and left.

   Concept: As mentioned above, Daedaleans seldom create new Childer.
   Most were victims of oppression, be it physical, emotional, mental, or
   spiritual. Others were embraced because of their work in freeing
   others. Such saints should not be allowed to perish. Usually Outsider.


   Clan Disciplines: Auspex, Fortitude, Ikara

   Weakness: The Curse of Ikaros: All Daedaleans are Overconfident
   (gaining the flaw automatically), striving to fly higher and faster
   than any before. They often gloat to others, like the Tremere, who
   voluntarily shackle themselves to mundane, unenlightened existence. To
   some, they seem arrogant, but to others, they are saviours. Also, they
   are terminally curious, flying into danger on a whim. Also, they
   cannot stand to be held, whether it be physical, magical, or symbolic.


   Organization: None. Some have set up a network through various relief
   organizations, so that news can be communicated quickly to all
   concerned, but nothing formal has been established.

   Gaining clan Prestige: Through freeing others, one grows in the
   admiration of the Clan, almost as much as putting down oppressors.
   However, it is well known that taking down an oppressor is not enough,
   as the mind of the enslaved must be changed to prevent it from
   happening again.

   Quote: "Well, Mr. Tremere, how do you like the view? I agree, the air
   up here is very clear. What's that? I think the Gary Steel mills, but
   from this high, you can't really tell. Oh dear me. I seem to have
   allowed my grip on you to slip. How thoughtless of me."

   Stereotypes:

   Assamite, Brujah, Nosferatu, Settites, Toreador, Ventrue, Ravnos,
   Giovanni, Children of Osiris: "Who?!?!"

   Tremere: "Yes. The Ikarans. We know them well. Treacherous bastards to
   the one. We wiped them off the face of the earth, forever ridding the
   Camarilla of their foulness. And what do we get in exchange for our
   dedication? Accused of treachery. There is no justice, except that
   which the Tremere make."

   Gangrel: "..."

   Malkavian: "A fascinating group to be sure. Why, I saw one just the
   other day, flitting around with a red cape around his neck, and
   sporting a big "s" on his chest. Anyone that can make the Gangrel feel
   sorry for themselves, and really piss off the Tremere has to be
   respected."

   Salubri: "Kindred spirits we are. However, they profess to speak for
   spiritual freedoms, when in reality they delight only in the physical
   sensations. Unless they free themselves from this delusion, there will
   be much more suffering."

   Inconnu: "We know of them. They are brave souls, not allowing even
   eternal persecution, persection felt only by clan Salubri, to taint
   their drive to be freed. Even the Salubri have something to learn from
   them. It is said that no kindred can reach GOlconda without first
   meeting with a Daedalean."

   View Ikara discpline.
