Of all vampires, the Gangrel are perhaps closest to their inner nature. These nomadic loners spurn the constraints of society, preferring the comfort of the wilderness. How they avoid the wrath of the werewolves is unknown; perhaps it has something to do with the fact that the Gangrel are themselves shapeshifters. When a mortal speaks of a vampire changing into a wolf or a bat, she is probably speaking of a Gangrel. Like the Brujah, Gangrel are fierce warriors: unlike the Brujah, Gangrel ferocity does not stem from anarchic rage, but from animalistic instinct. They are among the most predatory Kindred, and love to lose themselves in the thrill of the hunt. Gangrel have a keen understanding Beast in their souls, and prefer to spend their nights in communion with the animals whom they so emulate. Indeed, Gangrel are so attuned to their Beast that, after losing themselves to frenzy, animalistic features often appear on their bodies.
The clan itself has little contact with, or regard for, the rest of the Kindred. This might be due to a desire to avoid the snares of the Jyhad, but is more likely the product of simple disinterest. Certainly, Gangrel are popularly viewed as quiet, taciturn and reclusive. Although there is no more truth to this than there is to any other stereotype, the clan as a whole displays little of the ostentation found among lines such as the Toreador or Ventrue.
Gangrel are closely tied to the Rom, or Gypsies, adopting much of that culture’s speech patterns and mannerisms. Rumors speculate that the Rom is in fact descended from the Antediluvian who founded the Gangrel line. As such, say the rumors, any Kindred who harms or Embraces a Gypsy will suffer the wrath if the Ancient. Obviously, the vampires of the Ravnos ignore this fabled prohibition, and Gangrel and the Ravnos harbor an ages-old hatred for each other.
The eyes watch you as you walk, measuring your every move. You know they're out there, somewhere, and the thought is not comforting. You speed up, slow down, stop, go but they're still there, watching and waiting. 
A slight rustle to your left grabs your attention, and you spin -- only to find nothing. But they're there. You move on, and the rustling begins again. Again you stop, with the same result. You begin running, fleeing, screaming ... and then, no more.
