This one was stolen, at great personal cost from my mind. . . Brujah: A robust and flavorful blood, it somehow leaves you lacking at the end, almost as though it were borrowing the taste of another. It often offers promise that it cannot fulfill, but is still a kick in the pants. Gangrel: Woodsy (of course) and yet elusive. Hard to get a hold of and really taste. Course, if you can find a vintage bottle, then by all means, dig in. The rush can be well worth the effort, though having a tail sprout after finishing the meal can be quite a social faux pas. Malkavian: Um, yes. Well. Anyone actually willing to do this, raise your hand. Down, Malkav. You don't count. . . Well, if you're willing, this can be the most interesting of the bloods, and will give you a much deserved entry point into the clan. Mad is as mad does. Never the same twice (except for a strange recurring taste that is actually several in one . . . ). Still, this blood can give you the most interesting feelings . . . Things you've never seen. Or, it can pierce your skull and bash in your brains like a sardine wrapped around a gold brick, so . . . . Often, this blood is the easiest to get - just ask. Many Malkavians are willing to share. Just beware of what you ask for . . . . Nosferatu: If you can get past the outer layer, the inner taste is actually quite good. Rich, full-blooded, full of life. Err, yes. Well. The sewer rat's blood is probably the most underrated and most overlooked of the bunch. But good luck surprising one to take it. Still, it can be good in quantities. Toreador: An overwhelming taste. Conflicting, pretentious and overblown. Laced with a bit of melodrama, this blood can fill you up, but will rarely provide any enjoyment. Still, everyone else will rave about it, so you may as well try it. At least choose an artiste. They at least have a substance to them. Tremere: Eww. Sort of slimy going down, and worse coming up (with apologies to Bere). If you can stomach the stuff, it'll probably give you some sort of Secret Knowledge and Wisdom (™ by the Tremere High Council). Course, if you've had one, you've had them all . . . Overall, the Tremere blood is not particularly flavorful. Rather bland, actually. It seems stable in taste, but when you get down to it, it wobbles, wiggles and falls down. Ventrue: Rich. Really, really rich. Syrupy sweet, this blood is highly pretentious. Always promising things which it rarely delivers. Still, once you get past the intial sweetness, there is . . . nothing to it. Go figure. Assamite: Not worth the effort. Tastes of metal and magic. Giovanni: Intensely stale. The sort of taste you would get from taking a glass of blood, setting it in a tomb for 30 odd years, then using it to wash your money, then sipping it. Come to think of it, that's what they did. Hmm. Still, stale. Course, this could also be one of those Secret Knowledge and Wisdom (still in the courts over the copyright law) granters. But, like the Tremmies, they all taste the same. Ravnos: You can never get a hold of the taste of this blood. You think you've got it, and then it slides away. A light, bouncy taste when you can get it, but mainly good for the hallucinations. Last time I had some of this, I was seeing elephants for a week. The weird thing was, they all had Dick Clark's face . . . . Salubri: Tastes just like chicken. Err, worm. Err, Tremere. But without the slime. Wonder why? A definate delicacy, as there are only 7 of these folks in the world. If you can get to one fast enough, maybe it'll be 6. Samedi: Why? Surprisingly enough, this blood isn't as putrid as you would expect. Sure, the first taste will make you gag. But after that, you really get down to some good vitae. Your head may be withered when you're done, but, dammit, it's worth it. Besides, it'll grow back. Won't it? Daughters of Cacophony: A musical blood. Light and airy. Although it can give a strange urge to shriek. Toss some to a Torie, and watch them go catatonic listening to the music in their heads. Then, steal all their paintings and replace them with exact doubles. Drives 'em nuts. Of course, as is always the case, vintage year and care can make a world of difference. Choose your vitae with care, and it could last you a lifetime. Er, you know what I mean. Loki. Not that one, the other.