The Pyramid had shown him great kindness, he'd been told, as if though they'd expected gratefulness. All of that went a long way towards illustrating the point; that the world of darkness was just as sick and twisted as the one you would have to leave to get there, if not worse. For all his deeply ingrained cynicism, freedom of information was something he really believed in. Knowledge may not turn the world into a better place to live in, quite the opposite in many cases, but for all it mattered it made life, or unlife, or whatever the hell you'd call it, a bit more bearable and he considered it his saving grace that he displayed enough altruism to believe that it should be passed on freely. Of course, it's a well known fact that fate has a sense of humor, and more importantly, an acute feeling for irony. He'd been sired by the Tremere, whose stance on the information flow would have caused Orwell to give it up entirely and become a car salesman. He'd been caught pouring over some books of forgotten lore, and, well, that he was to do nevermore. Granted, he'd been told that neonates weren't allowed in the library on the third floor. They could just as well have told a kid not to touch the cookie jar. He just couldn't understand why they made so much fuss about it. A less organized clan probably wouldn't have bothered, but the Tremere had a tendency to take things seriously. In this respect, he'd been lucky. The rules of the Pyramid didn't sanction him being expelled or given final death; in fact, the worst that could happen was that his promotion within the pyramid would be delayed a year, and they knew he didn't care about that. So they'd given him a mission instead. Go to Skellefteå, they'd said. There've been rumblings about supernatural occurences. Record any strange phenomena. We'll provide you with a car, an appartment and enough money to get by. Good luck. He'd grown up in Skellefteå, and quickly became bored with it. Needed to get out. He'd performed well at school, studied theology and philosophy at the university of Umeå and later on, Vienna, always with flying colors. He spook six languages fluently. For what reason was he sent here, of all places? Of course, no one would recognize him by now, but still, what was it? Fate, probably.