In the ancient days of the First Cities, the Gangrel hunted not just for sport, but for survival. Amongst their quarry was a mighty Elk, thought to be the familiar of a second generation Cainite. Harried through vast plains, over mountains, across desert dunes, and frozen straights, into alien lands. e Elk, driven to near-starvation and a shell of its former majesty, collapsed next to a deep pond. Its thirst nigh unquenchable, the Elk buried its head into the dark waters and drank it dry, revealing the resting place of an even more ancient thing at the bottom, bound to the tar and mud, broken and barely conscious. The Elk, voraciously starving, gorged without thought upon this creature, each bite bringing with it a plethora of blessings, twisting its bones and bolstering its muscles beyond even its greatest peaks.