Kindred existence is marked with blood, and so is the punishment for breaking the laws of that existence. Most Kindred scholars can date the Lextalonis to the time of Caine, as it follows the Old Testament precept of "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." It may well be that this is the only certain pronouncement of Caine's that continues to survive into the modern age without becoming corrupted by time. Among the youth and less tradition-minded of the Kindred, the practice is called the blood hunt.
The Lextalonis is tied directly into the Sixth Tradition, and probably has been since its inception. The Sixth Tradition orders that only the eldest shall call the blood hunt, with "eldest" being taken to refer to the prince. While there may be other elders in the city who might attempt to call a hunt, they have neither the right nor the authority to do so. The calling of the hunt remains a prince's purview, and a prince is perfectly within her rights to punish one who would usurp her Tradition-given right. Any Kindred foolish enough to follow an overly presumptuous elder's call are often subjected to the same punishment they would have inflicted on another, although rare exceptions have been made for neonates and childer who have never been taught otherwise.
The blood hunt may be called for numerous crimes, including:
• Kin-slaying;
• Diablerie;
• Wide-scale breach of the Masquerade or continuous offenses regarding such;
• Invasion of domain that has resulted in kin-slaying or breaches of the Masquerade;
• Any behavior deemed a sufficient threat to the safety of the Masquerade and the Kindred of the city.
The hunt is formally declared in Elysium, with primogen and those present expected to carry news of the declaration back to their clanmates, or at least to pass it along the so-called barking chain. All who hear the call must participate at least nominally in the hunt, even if they find the activity distasteful or wrong. Fortunately for those who might object to a hunt, in these fallen times "participating" can mean simply staying out of the pursuers' way and not interfering with their business. Some Kindred find the hunt exhilarating in the same way as they might once have enjoyed a fox-hunt, reveling in the thrill of the chase and bringing the quarry to ground. There are few greater excitements than predators hunting predators, according to these eager hunters, and every city seems to have one or two Kindred who place themselves at the forefront of the hunting pack. Such excessive enthusiasm is looked on with some trepidation by a few elders. After all, over-excitement during the chaos of a blood hunt seems to some to be an open invitation to a figurative tiger pit. You never know who might "accidentally" be killed along with, or instead of, the actual quarry.
Aiding and abetting the quarry of a blood hunt is dangerous, and often a sure means of becoming the next to be hunted. As a result, calling a hunt is an excellent way of separating the quarry from her allies and supporters; they can but watch or risk becoming hunted themselves. This can be a dangerous card for a prince to play, however. Too blatant a use of the hunt as a tool for excising political rivals or isolating dangerous opponents tends to get the local citizenry thinking about replacing the one calling the hunts.
For the most serious of crimes (such as aiding the Sabbat or deliberately and repeatedly violating the Masquerade), the prince has the option of declaring that every Kindred in the city must take active part in the hunt or risk being declared accomplices of the quarry. Particularly paranoid princes make mandatory active participation a condition of all of their hunts, but again, abuse of this perogative is taken as proof of unsatisfactory leadership by many Kindred.
The blood hunt is not called lightly, although the last decade has seen a significant upturn in its use. Any prince calling the hunt does so with full knowledge that the Camarilla may examine her judgment of the situation in conclave. Such a threat has been enough to keep a prince from calling a hunt if her motives are even the slightest bit questionable. If the conclave determines that the prince has called a hunt without cause, she usually suffers a profound loss of status among her peers, and may well be saddled with an archon "observer" to keep her on the straight and narrow. If too many hunts are being called in a city, a justicar may choose to call for a conclave and have the offending prince deposed, assuming the angry residents don's remove her themselves first.
It has happened that new evidence comes to light during the conclave, evidence which clears the hunted one of wrongdoing. Too often, though, the acquittal comes after the fact, and tradition demands that once the hunt has been called, it cannot be stopped. In such circumstances, the prince or conclave may suggest that certain measures be taken in reparation; while no one may make an outright attempt to call the hunt off, the pursuit of the quarry may become rather less vigorous as a result of a conclave's findings. The hunted may also find himself receiving surreptitious aid from clanmates and friends; a guard may "casually" look the other way at just the right moment, or a convenient window may be left serendipitously open to facilitate escape.
On occasion, the blood hunt is used as a means of enforcing exile, of literally hounding someone out of the city. Such an option is extended by some princes who must exile a Kindred in response to an outraged populace or when the accused's crime does not warrant a death penalty but still demands punishment. The hunted may then flee and seek a new haven in another city, but she does so knowing that she may never return home. No matter who rules after this prince, the blood hunt remains in effect until her Final Death. The names of those exiled are often kept by sheriffs and keepers of Elysium, and are marked in the annals of city histories by those who style themselves lore-keepers.
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