Lancea Sanctum - The Danse Macabre

Vampire the Requiem - Covenant - Lancea Sanctum

Neonates: Wayward Flesh

When a mortal is thrust into the damnation of the dark and ceaseless Requiem, it’s like being born again into a more horrible world. Murderous urges supplant the beneficence of Humanity as the neonate’s mind drowns in a red wash of hunger. The Kindred will never see a sunset or a sunrise without fear, never again taste a home-cooked meal. The curse strips away his old life, and replaces it with little more than bloody starvation and profound confusion.
Thus the way of the Sanctified is so appealing to neonates. The Requiem is like being dropped naked into a cold, dark pit. The covenant offers a means out of that pit: a well-lit path, warm enough to halt the cold, and explored by hundreds of previous Kindred.
The Lancea Sanctum professes to offer sustenance, purpose, and a degree of uncompromising safety — provided the neonate is willing to listen for a while.

Neonates and the Lanea Sanctum

Faith cannot subsist on itself. It needs followers to survive — followers hungry to consume ancient or existent beliefs, desperate to fill those empty spaces. Faith, in its way, is the perfect predator, immaculate in a way the Damned may never be. The Lancea Sanctum knows its faith always hungers and needs to feed. Who better to place beneath its fangs than the most supple among the undead? Who better than the neonates?
It is, of course, a triumph to convert an ancilla or an elder, but bringing such established Kindred into the church has dangers that frequently outweigh rewards. Older vampires have spent their Requiems finding answers of their own, or worse, the answers of others. Sometimes this baggage of principles is hard to strip away, and the grim purity of the Sanctified faith may not truly take root within the dead soil of an elder’s doubting heart. Neonates, though, are like newborn children. They are empty vessels waiting — even longing — to be filled with faith. The word of the Dark Prophet and the righteous curse handed down by God Himself provide that faith, and more.
Neonates may be too young to meaningfully comprehend the mysteries and truths that The Lancea Sanctum explores, but setting them on the path early helps them achieve a greater understanding in later nights, as their Requiems play on. In the meantime, young vampires are welcomed into the icy arms of the covenant, given tasks and tests to cement their devotion and loyalty, and kept free of idleness, which is the enemy of faith.

Longinus' Lost Children

In sanguis veritas. “In blood, truth,” say the ancillae.
Do neonates understand this? Unlikely. Initially, Vitae is sustenance. The sticky, red, coppery, sweet substance drives a Kindred’s hunger, pulls at his stale guts and splashes at the back of his lifeless throat, but little may seem mystical about it. Where once a vampire was mortal and sought the comforts of bread, wine and meat, now his desperate appetite can only be sated by the consumption of blood; but quenching the bloodlust doesn’t satisfy the deeper (and perhaps unrecognized) craving to understand the vampiric condition, to provide meaning to a damnation that may seem arbitrary and senseless. For new vampires, the sensual reality of God’s curse overwhelms its spiritual reality. Night-to-night existence can create the illusion that undeath is utterly about the flesh, that blood is all. But within the blood, there is truth.
Neonates are, for the most part, cast adrift. Yes, they may have sires or sponsors or covenants that inform the basics of their condition — the How (how to feed, how to hide) and the What (what to fear, what a vampire is) — but often these basics are given no context. Rarely does anyone show them a framework of meaning that helps to ameliorate their comprehension of the big question — the Why (why vampires thirst, why vampires exist). The Sanctified have the answers. They do not share all answers lightly, though, and when they do it’s only to the devout, to the advocates and champions of the covenant.
For Kindred seeking greater answers, the Sanctified present an endless array of them, all leading to service and magnificence in the name of Longinus. Neonates no longer need to see their Requiem as an endless tautology of thirst and struggle for survival. Within The Lancea Sanctum, a neonate’s divine development in undeath is limited only by her faith and willingness to participate.

Recruitment

Many missionary Sanctified witnessing to a neonate (or a coterie of neonates) avoid the harder and more extreme lessons of the covenant to avoid scaring away potential converts. Should a hardliner or zealot be the one proselytizing to a newly Embraced Kindred, however, The Message may be one of harsh damnation and glorious unkindness in the Requiem. A sales pitch depends on the seller and a sermon depends on the sermonizer. Of course, just how well a sermon is accepted and understood depends on the listener. A “soft” message of faith — one that bends to accommodate the audience — may be accepted by most, but to neonates whose minds are either openly malleable or are perhaps already zealous in some belief or another, a harder, more “fire-and-brimstone” approach may be necessary. The mystical and alien theology of the vampire church must crack through a shell of worldly, mortal assumptions to reach neonates who have only begun to see through the lies of the World of Darkness.
Regardless of the exact message, the covenant attempts to lay hooks into neonates and then cast them back adrift, so that they may return to The Lancea Sanctum by their own will. Thus the covenant becomes a destination, converts become pilgrims, and the arrival at the church becomes a matter of relief and pride for the neonate. A willing convert is better than a forced one.
That’s not to say some Sanctified don’t favor violent, forceful programming. Some attempt to drive the veneration of Longinus into an empty-headed neonate with a hammer and spike. While this brand of conversion is seen as strong when it’s successful, it’s sometimes seen as damaging to a neonate’s faith. The word of Longinus may enter the soul through a broken body, but it may seep out or be replaced through never-healing fractures. The counter to this belief suggests that scars (tangible or not) remind the convert where true power can be found.
For the most part, it’s simply easier to say, “We have the answers. If you seek them, come to us.” Many neonates find such a siren’s call hard to resist, even if they later refuse to formally join the covenant.
Ancillae, hearing word of a newly Damned childe, may make an active effort to track down a neonate and preach to him immediately. Others favor a less religious approach, and simply find the neonate to offer a hand of mercy in confusing times. Missionary vampires might offer free poaching in a part of her territory, aid in ending a violent altercation, or even just a few earnest words of advice. It’s only later that the sermonizing begins. Perhaps a copy of the Catechism is left behind on a neonate’s doorstep, or maybe an evangelist casually mentions the teachings of the Dark Prophet. The recruiter hints at a great mystery, and far greater answers, then leaves a trail of breadcrumbs leading back to the church.
Of course, recruitment into the ranks of such a conservative and militaristic covenant isn’t always going to come with a soft word and an easy hand. When The Lancea Sanctum seeks to strengthen its ranks, it stops at nothing to produce new converts among the neonate population. Some extreme Sanctified do truly anything to bring in new converts: blackmail, bribery, torture, emotional reprogramming, murder. The key is that the covenant rarely officially approves of such negative tactics, and instead creates or exaggerates unfortunate circumstances to drive the weak or the suffering into the sanctuary of the church. The covenant doesn’t want to publicize a terror campaign against the city’s neonates.
The Lancea Sanctum is surprisingly adept at the art of misdirection. Vague and ominous threats against a neonate may come from a Sanctified missionary, but be made to appear as acts of violent Crone worshippers through the use of pierced thugs disguised as harassing pagans, scaring neonates into the sanctuary of the churchyard. The covenant works to establish the rest of the vampire world as a neonate’s enemy while maintaining The Lancea Sanctum as a safe refuge. The murder of a neonates’s loved one and a few obvious cult sigils or Carthian propaganda may give a neonate enough of a push in the right direction — and the right direction is always toward The Lancea Sanctum. Like wolves harrying their prey into a dead end, the covenant eliminates all other options from a targeted neonate’s mind, so she has little choice but to run into the arms of the covenant that secretly despoiled her. These are extreme examples, but not necessarily uncommon ones for regions where the covenant is desperate… or poorly monitored.
Should a neonate resist a recruitment effort by the Sanctified, they may allow her to proceed on her way, judging her unready or unworthy for now. Should a neonate cause trouble in her resistance (bringing violence against covenant members or publicly insulting the principles of the Sanctified, for example), she runs the risk of being branded a heretic and burning for her sins. If she has friends in high places, however, she may escape with little more than a few scratches to her reputation and sense of security.

Answers

The Lancea Sanctum needn’t rely on heavy-handed recruitment tactics to bring in neonate converts, however. Some covenant members are cruel enough to use the guise of the Sanctified to sadistically inflict suffering on potential converts, but most are genuinely concerned with the condition of Kindred everywhere.
In times of relative peace, when a domain or territory remains safe and unchallenged, the covenant prefers a more passive tactic to bring neonates into the fold. Members of the covenant don’t sit on their hands during this time, but neither do they go corner-to-corner, forcibly shoving dogma down the throats of lost childer. No, the tactic involves pointing a few neonates in the right direction, and waiting at the end of the road.
The Sanctified may come to one or two newly sired neonates within a domain and preach to them. Such preaching is handled gently — lessons of grim damnation have their place, but are not the way to bring converts through the door. The covenant members offer answers, first and foremost. These answers are for the most part sincere, as they are the precepts of the entire Lancea Sanctum. Many one-on-one Sermons begin with simple storytelling, with the Sanctified relating the story of Longinus and what resulted when he stabbed the Spear into the side of Christ. (Many neonates at this point already have the first hook planted in them: the mention of Christ. Whether a mortal was Christian or not during his mortal life, it’s a familiar name, and one that carries with it millennia of spiritual and emotional weight.) From there, the Sanctified continues to offer answers to troubling questions. What are vampires? Why are they Damned? Where do the Disciplines come from? Moreover, the Sanctified explains the covenant’s sense of morality and code of conduct. A neonate, often lost and confused, is like a boat cast adrift. The Sanctified provide an anchor.
When the sermon is complete, the Sanctified leaves the neonate alone. It doesn’t particularly matter if the neonate comes to The Lancea Sanctum or not, because that neonate will now spread the word to other neonates. He will tell others there is a group that claims to “have all the answers.” Even if that single childe never comes to the Sanctified seeking truth, others will. From that, the covenant gains new converts, greater strength, and a deeper well of faithful vampires.
The Catechism
The Testament of Longinus isn’t a particularly large text, but many modern neonates are put off by its florid, archaic Language and its metaphysical contemplations. As much as the Sanctified would prefer every would-be convert or Midnight Mass attendee to read, comprehend, and accept every message in the Testament, that’s unlikely to happen. So American Sanctified missionaries created the Catechism.
The Catechism is a small book — not to be confused with The Sanguineous Catechism, which contains the canons of the covenant written by the Monachus — of no more than 10 or 15 pages, depending on the printing. It is a barebones distillation of the Testament, written in informal and modernized Language (though elder Sanctified say such translations diminish the seriousness, solemnity and respectability of the message). The key concepts of Longinus’ writings are presented in a simple question-and-answer format that exemplifies the core tenets of The Lancea Sanctum without overwhelming neonates with dogma and, cleverly, without breaking the Masquerade. Metaphors and tangible, modern details are used both to appeal to young, materialistic Carthians and independents, and to obscure the subject matter from mortals. Whereas the covenant carefully keeps copies of The Testament of Longinus, it allows this desktop-published treatise to mingle secretly with the many mundane religious pamphlets that clutter tattoo parlors and musical venues, in hopes that previously unknown and unaligned vampires may happen upon it.
Missionaries of The Lancea Sanctum use copies of The Catechism to hook potential converts and to cut through the antireligious bullshit that gets spread on the streets of the World of Darkness. An unaligned vampire who finds a copy of The Catechism while slinking among his mortal prey may read words he wouldn’t take the time to listen to. A neonate who finds a copy on the stoop of his sad and wretched Haven may be relieved to know there’s a better Requiem for him out there. The Sanctified believe many Kindred want to know the truth about Longinus and the covenant, but are afraid to be seen asking questions.

Safety

The night is unkind to neonates. The Danse Macabre doesn’t offer a grace period to new vampires — it’s sink or swim, dance or burn. A neonate can meet her Final Death tonight in a thousand different ways, and she begins her Requiem ignorant to most of them. The other covenants don’t do much for neonates in this regard, says The Lancea Sanctum. They’re expected to kowtow to the social order and don’t receive much protection except from their mentors (and often don’t have the protection of their mentors, rather needing defense against their sires and other “allied” Kindred).
The Sanctified have seen other covenants fail young vampires in previous nights. The Carthians are too chaotic to offer much aid to neonates — sure, the Carthians offer protection, but can’t always back up such a promise. Apprenticeship in the Circle of the Crone is a hard, cruel affair; new Acolytes may fear their covenant brethren more than any unknown monsters. Finally, The Ordo Dracul doesn’t go out of its way to offer an open door to anybody, especially neonates, so not a lot of help can be found in that covenant.
The Sanctified, on the other hand, offer protection. In most cases outside the covenant, a neonate faces a fierce trial by fire — it’s survival of the fittest all the way. The Lancea Sanctum circumvents such social and supernatural Darwinism, and offers any neonate who joins its ranks unmitigated safety. If danger presents itself against a neonate, the Sanctified circle the wagons to keep their novitiate safe. This is because every neonate who joins its ranks serves to strengthen those ranks. The covenant stands united in every way possible (at least, when presenting itself to other factions). Often, it’s enough for the covenant to simply claim its neonates by putting out the word, “She belongs to us, now.” Smart vampires know not to wake a sleeping lion, and leave Sanctified neonates well enough alone unless some grudge or feud justifies provoking the ire of all the city’s Sanctifieds. When a Sanctified neonate attracts the attention of outside forces, The Lancea Sanctum rallies like a swarm, rushing to the defense of its novitiate.
Nobody guarantees a neonate protection from those within the covenant, but of course she isn’t told that. If the covenant finds reason to bring pain to a novitiate, it is a pure and holy directive, meant to keep the newly converted walking on the right path. Those who threaten The Lancea Sanctum are enemies of truth, whether they attack from within or from without. All within its boundaries should be champions of the Damnation, and should seek to enlighten neonates in whatever ways are required.

Sanctity

The Requiem is a sacred condition, according to The Lancea Sanctum. The actions of the Dark Prophet made him the avatar of the vampiric condition. Neonates in the covenant are attracted not just to solving the mystery of damnation, but to the idea that their curse is holy, however twisted that may seem to non-Sanctified. The covenant tells its novitiates not just that “it’s good to face what you have become,” but that “your Damnation has been sanctioned by God and made clear to you through the writings of the Dark Prophet.” A neonate is shown that she is an unaging example of God’s will and plan, that the non-Sanctified may gaze upon her and witness the truth of divine judgment. Such sanctity goes beyond mere purpose — it allows a neonate to feel as though she is part of something far bigger than herself, as though she is connected to the divine design of the world. This appeal is particularly effective for those Kindred who were followers of a Judeo-Christian or Islamic belief system in life.
Also intrinsic to this understanding of Kindred damnation is formal instruction on how to properly be Kindred. The covenant takes care to teach its neonates how to act out solemnly their righteous purpose as holy predators. Sanctified sires teach childer how to hunt properly. A neonate taught by a sire not of the covenant may well be taught anew by his Priest in the early nights of his new Requiem as one of God’s predators. Sanctified neonates learn how to track mortals, what locations in a city offer the best choice of vessels, where feeding is restricted and who is fair game. Accomplished Sanctified teach neonates how to be subtle and how to be brutal, how to take small tastes of Vitae and how to kill, all without risking the tenuous Masquerade.
The Lancea Sanctum considers the vampiric Disciplines as blessed grants from God, passed down through the Transubstantiation of the Blood. Thus, the covenant teaches novitiates how best to use and respect the Disciplines. The covenant begins by teaching a neonate how to employ the physical Disciplines (Celerity, Resilience, Vigor). Later comes training on how to use subtler powers (Auspex, Dominate, Majesty) to hunt, to manipulate weaker vampires, and to impress the mystery of the Dark Prophet onto other wayward Kindred. Particularly worthy neonates may also be trained in the covenant’s unique art, called Theban Sorcery. <2>Induction
Regardless of the depth of a neonate’s faith — or the grand potential purpose she may seem capable of fulfilling for the covenant — she may not be accepted as a true covenant insider by the Anointed of some domains until she completes a Rite of Induction. These ceremonies are typically simple pledges, promises, or recitations made by the novitiate to an Anointed Kindred authorized to receive new charges in the parish. Parishes overseen by especially arcane Sanctified may lead the supplicant to believe she is swearing an oath to Longinus himself, which the covenant can uphold through secretive and mystical rites — claiming, perhaps, to turn her blood to ash if she ever fails in her sworn duties. Strict parishes may require a neonate to undergo a ceremony very much like The Creation Rite (see p. 81), as a kind of vampiric baptism.
Typically, a neonate requests the performance of an induction ceremony, asking a Priest or other Anointed higher-up to conduct the ritus for him. However, notable neonates (those whose devotion stands out from the congregation at large, those who have served the covenant well or those who have somehow or other caught the eye of an ancilla) may be invited or emphatically “encouraged” to undertake the ritus. Only in rare occasions are neonates refused the opportunity to undergo the induction. The Lancea Sanctum can always deny the whelp greater Status and titles in the future, but the covenant loses nothing by formalizing its welcome. A neonate’s interest in becoming a full-fledged member of The Lancea Sanctum in name and station is reason enough to make some use of her.
Those loathsome and uncommon few who are denied welcome must be the worst manner of despicable anarchs who would only hurt the covenant and the congregation if allowed among the rank and file. Some, however, are simply the victims of timeworn grudges aimed at their sires or bloodlines, or are merely vampires who are somehow of greater use outside the bounds of the covenant. Perhaps a paladin intends to follow a rejected neonate to a coterie of Acolytes.
Once a neonate is allowed to participate in an induction ceremony, a Priest — preferably one the neonate is already familiar with — is assigned to perform the rite. Some Priests, eager for new converts, push neonates into “congregational acceptance ceremonies” or other “soft” rites as quickly as possible. Others, less convinced of the worth of neonates, take their time in organizing and ministering an induction service — and “taking time” against the backdrop of eternity can be a long while. Still others choose to conduct the induction ceremony at a time of great covenant showmanship, such as after (or during) a Midnight Mass or Gran Ballo.

The Converted Neonate

Not all of The Lancea Sanctum’s predatory flock come to the covenant directly. Some are converted from mortal religions, some are converted from vampiric heresies, and some are brought in from the cold chill of atheism.
A vampire’s true conversion to The Lancea Sanctum is said to come in two stages. The first stage is a physical and vocal one. In it, the neonate chooses to stand with the Sanctified as a member of the covenant, and vocally pledges herself to the church. This is a conversion of allegiance more than anything else, suggesting a motive of genuine faith and spiritual promise, but not much commitment or honest devotion. Socalled first-stage converts are satisfied with attendance at Midnight Mass, and participation in those blood-soaked rituals they deem unavoidable — they are the fringe churchgoers, the lay congregation. Many neonates find only this first level of conversion and are content with it. Many — perhaps most — converts remain at this stage throughout their Requiems and, for the most part, The Lancea Sanctum accepts such minor servitude even when it does not praise it. A large number of converts maintain this sort of loose membership for decades, only to move deeper into covenant society and their own faith as they become ancillae. For this reason, the covenant can afford to be patient.
However, some neonates seem destined for greater things. These neonates prove early on to be ready and willing to accept a greater commitment to the precepts of Longinus, and also to seek true understanding of his teachings. These are neonates who stay up through the day with their copies of the Testament, who recast themselves in the mold of the Centurion and face the mysteries of the Requiem without fear. The Lancea Sanctum encourages such neonates (sometimes with complex patterns of reward and punishment) to seek higher levels of enlightenment and understanding in the covenant by furthering their conversion from covenant ally to covenant agent. Neonates who accept this challenge are said to have entered the “second stage” of conversion.
The second stage of conversion (the only sort considered true conversion by staunch covenant elders and traditionalists) is internal. The neonate leaves behind all vestiges of his previous existence — whether his mortal life or the service to some other covenant — and devotes his flesh and faith to The Lancea Sanctum. From this point on, his Requiem should play as a church song, praising Longinus and God, and echoing in whatever hallowed chambers the covenant names as its cathedrals. This change is a moral one, an honest revelation of faith. It cannot be satisfied with a pledge or a token appearance at mass, but must be demonstrated night after night, proven by the Kindred’s actions, for all eternity.
For some, this moral change happens overnight, sparked by a predator’s epiphany that alters the Kindred’s whole form as surely as sunlight. For others, the religious revelation takes centuries to unfold, like the slow erosion of a mountain. When it does happen, a neonate may find that she instinctually accepts and knows the teachings of Longinus to be true, even if she doesn’t — can’t — yet demonstrate an honest comprehension of them. The converted neonate exalts the predatory nature of vampirism, hails The Testament of Longinus, and devotes herself to the needs of the covenant, putting Sanctified ideals above her own.
Conversion to this deeper level isn’t considered a blind act. How could it be, when it is accepted fact that God cursed Longinus, and Longinus commanded adherence to his philosophies? This deeper conversion is also believed to be outside the boundaries of “chosen” grace, which is to say the conversion is considered a supernatural act the neonate accepts as it happens to her, rather than some religious secret that she learns. It’s as if the Dark Messiah has turned his eye toward the shadowy places within the convert and illuminated them with the glory of his insight — as if he has lit her heart alight with the only fire the Damned are meant to know.
Those rare neonates who find themselves converting completely to the ways of Longinus early in their Requiems are considered special. Sometimes they are meant for greater things. Those who stay behind, those who are slow to devote themselves, may be overlooked for favor within the covenant later on, even if they do find their faith some night. These lackluster predators are meant for secular, functionary positions within the covenant in the eyes of many Bishops.
Facets of True Conversion
The “second stage” of conversion has many facets of its own. A matured theological perspective on the Kindred condition hits a neonate on many fronts. First is the moral facet. A converted Kindred must manage a moral migration from the mortal standards she once knew and felt to the moral standards of the Dark Messiah. What would be considered atrocity in mortal circles is now an unshakable fact of existence. Lions, wolves, and raptors do not abide by human morality, and so neither should the Sanctified predator.
The second facet of conversion changes how the vampire views the Requiem. Prior to spiritual transformation, a novitiate may view her Requiem as an insane hell, a grim misfortune, or an inescapable prison of blood. Post-conversion, she may see her deathlessness as a blessed curse, one enriched with the holy mysteries of a divine plan, a holy Damnation. Her insane hell becomes meaningful purgatory, her grim misfortune becomes solemn duty, and the bloody prisoners will be pardoned on Judgment Day.
The third facet of conversion is a rational change. Many neonates, still recalling mortal lives with little or no traces of real mysticism, don’t accept spiritual accounts of the vampiric origin story. Longinus, to many Kindred, is more a mythological figure than a historical one. True conversion, however, demands a novitiate accept the acts of Longinus as the literal cause of the vampiric condition. Similarly, the supernatural elements surrounding Longinus — God, the Crucifixion and holiness of Christ, the miraculous powers of the Blood — all become matters of fact, not allegory. Many Sanctified in modern nights, however, do not claim to accept these elements of the Longinus myth at face value. In modern nights, non-fundamentalist Kindred may even outnumber their more literal brethren. For modern vampires, it’s essential to trust in the truth of The Testament, but not necessarily the facts of it. And yet, so much of what Longinus and the Monachus described is unchanged in the vampiric world that many vampires see their very existence as evidence of the facts as well as the truth.
The final facet of conversion is perhaps the most important to the security and the success of The Lancea Sanctum as a union of predatory monsters. Outsiders and casual Allies see the covenant and its members as a body separate from themselves. A true convert stops seeing herself as something separate from the covenant, and soon sees herself as an integral — and irremovable — component of it. She is The Lancea Sanctum; it is made of God’s Sanctified predators, not marble or stained glass. Just as important, converts hold that the reverse is true. They are a part of the covenant, but the covenant is part of them, too. Vampires are not hunting beneath the dark grandeur of the Sanctified. They are the grandeur. They are the Sanctified.
A devoted convert blurs (or confuses) the line between his own well-being and that of the parish or the covenant. He takes anti-Sanctified insults personally, he takes jokes personally. His opinions change with the Bishop’s. He feels compelled to defend the covenant in even casual discussions. Even his Language changes: “we” comes to mean The Lancea Sanctum and metaphors are drawn almost exclusively from the Testament.

Purification Before Admittance

In some parishes, neonates — or indeed any newcomer to the covenant — may be required to undergo a torturous rite called the Purification before they are admitted into the covenant. The purpose of the Purification is to cleanse a neonate, scrape away any shreds of her mortal life or previous undead blasphemies, and atone for the sin of her Embrace. The Purification, clearly, stems from the ceremonies of the same name that are so often a part of The Creation Rite. The Purification, in fact, began as a sort of symbolic Creation Rite for those neonates whose sires were not Sanctified and so may not have been punished by The Lancea Sanctum for violating the Second Tradition. In the absence of the sinner, the poison offspring of the sin is punished instead.
The Purification rite varies widely from parish to parish, when it is observed at all. Purification is sometimes as simple as a scourging, but may be much more elaborate. It is always an ordeal.
The Purification serves many purposes, some symbolic, some practical, and all serving the will of those administering the rite. The first is to determine the worth of the neonate. If a neonate can’t bear the discomfort of Purification, then the young Kindred is (for now) undeserving of the covenant’s grace.
The second use for the Purification is to expose a novitiate to the true mysteries and power of the vampiric condition, carving a code of accursed righteousness into her mind and soul while making manifest that The Lancea Sanctum is a serious, bloody endeavor, and it’s forever. Those who pass the Purification don’t forget it.
In the process of Purification, a neonate is set upon a path of self-reflection meant to reveal some of the truths of the Requiem. The Purification cuts away the scabs of the mortal coil and strips the neonate’s soul bare. After the Purification, a neonate understands that she is no longer human, for living creatures would never endure such tortures. Any shining connection she may keep to her mortal life is stamped out like an errant spark.
Outside of The Creation Rite, observances of Purification by ordeal went gradually out of favor in the covenant. As a result, moderation yielded to extremism, and tonight many parishes either cling fanatically to some interpretation of Purification or do not enact such rites except as part of The Creation Rite.
An Example of Purification: The Three Scrutinies
One of the oldest examples of the Purification dates back to the Dark Ages, when the Sanctified of many European domains ritualistically submitted to gruesome and violent molestations of their undead bodies. This series of linked rites was called the Three Scrutinies. Tonight, this formidable gauntlet is seldom performed in its entirety. Most of the few parishes that recall the Three Scrutinies challenge novitiates with just one of these three ordeals.
The First Scrutiny is the “Examination of the Testament.” This is a literal test — spoken, not written — of a neonate’s knowledge and understanding of The Testament of Longinus. A traditional list of passed-down questions for a Priest to ask of a novitiate does exist, but by no means is this list exhaustive or restrictive. Some Priests ask a series of 10 seemingly simple questions and fiercely scrutinize every pause and hesitation, every phrase and choice in the neonate’s answer. Others hammer a novitiate over the course of several nights with hundreds of interrogations on topics religious or personal. Questions range from the broad (“What are the true meanings of The Traditions?”) to the precise (“Recite the exact words spoken to the Monachus by the Archangel Vahishtael”), from matters of the mythic record (“Who was the first prey of the Monachus?”) to matters of personal crisis (“If I am to feed on your family tonight, with whom should I start?”). Perhaps the trickiest part of this trial is knowing what it is that the interrogating Priest is searching for. Too many neonates assume it is a factual answer or a recitation of scripture.
In game terms, the First Scrutiny can be seen as a test of Intelligence and Manipulation. A character can prepare for this test by getting to know the Testament inside and out, and learning what the Anointed expect of novitiates. Literal Research of the material might be represented with an Intelligence + Academics roll (while Wits could be used to get a sense of the popular and sanctioned interpretations expected by the Anointed), for the sake of earning a +2 or +3 bonus to dice pools used during the questioning itself. Alternatively, the Storyteller could simply require a player to raise his Academics Skill to represent his studies. Then the novitiate must deliver his answers with respect and reverence, to convince his interrogator of his enlightenment and intelligence. This effort could require a Manipulation + Academics roll, possibly as an extended action (to represent multiple questions) requiring 10 or 15 total successes, and penalized by the Composure of the interrogating Anointed.
The Second Scrutiny is one of intense self-reflection, in which the neonate digs down deep and examines the true nature of her condition and the future of her Requiem. This is no gentle exploration of feelings, however. Quite the opposite: a neonate undergoes a period of subjugation, starvation, and grueling rebirth. A Priest (perhaps accompanied by the neonate’s coterie, if they have already passed this part of the trial) takes the novitiate away from all she knows and loves. He binds her using straps or chains. He instructs her to prepare her own prayers, and consider what questions she might ask of Longinus. Then he puts her in a place symbolizing mortal death, from which she must escape. He may bury her in the ground, lock her inside a coffin or mausoleum, or bind her to a weight chair and drop her into a lake or deep cistern. Then he leaves her there for a period of time long enough for her to exhaust her Blood and begin to starve. During this time, she’s expected to meditate on her damnation, contemplate the difference between death and undeath, and realize what it is to thirst, to starve, out of view from the greater world.
When finally starving, she’s expected to claw her way free of her moorings, but that doesn’t always happen. Many Priests accept that a weak and starving child can’t always free herself and provide some means of escape, even if it requires the neonate’s coterie to dig her up. The problem, of course, is that the neonate is then insane with hunger, and may violate the Third Tradition if Kindred rescuers release her. Even a neonate who cannot escape her ritual funeral may pass the Second Scrutiny by restraining her frenzied hunger well enough to observe the holy laws of Damnation and fulfill her intended role by seeking out human prey.
In game terms, the Second Scrutiny is clearly a test of a vampire’s ability to resist frenzy, to maintain clarity of purpose in the face of the Beast. Therefore, it is a test of Resolve + Composure (see “Systems for Frenzy,” on p. 178 of Vampire: The Requiem). Beyond that, the Storyteller might also allow a character to make a Wits + Resolve roll to examine her own existence, possibly come to a new level of acceptance and gain a +2 bonus on the next degeneration and, if necessary, derangement rolls made as a result of feeding. Finally, the character must attempt an action (possibly extended) to free herself from her symbolic burial, whether that means a Strength + Stamina roll to escape a grave or even a Strength or Dexterity + Larceny action to escape chains.
The Third Scrutiny determines just how well a neonate really understands the previous lessons she’s learned, and if she has really accepted her role as a predator of the human flock. A neonate can recite lessons and scripture all she wants, can slake her thirst and fulfill her role as a predator, but can she really separate herself from the human prey she knew in life? Can she truly accept the holy role she seeks to adopt? She has to prove it.
How does she prove this? By shedding the last vestments of her mortal life and feeding on someone close to her. The scrutinizing Priest may select an erstwhile friend or loved one as prey, or he may allow the neonate to choose for herself. This trial doesn’t require a grisly murder, only a successful and devout hunt — unless the chosen prey recognizes her predator and the Masquerade is threatened. A breach of the Masquerade cannot be tolerated, and so the Third Scrutiny does often require the supplicant to demonstrate her acceptance of the curse over her love of a mortal. Some Priests do what they can to make this test as difficult as it can be for the neonate, selecting a beloved target or an anniversary night for the hunt, for example, to make her as strong as possible if she passes.
In game terms, the Third Scrutiny tests a vampire’s self-control, in the short-term, and her Humanity, in the long-term. A character’s immediate reaction to the target selected (possibly determined with a Resolve + Composure action in which failure reveals emotional turmoil) is measured by her superiors. Then the character’s approach to the hunt (no matter what method is attempted, see “Feeding” on p. 164 of Vampire: The Requiem) and performance during it is measured by her superiors. Finally, over weeks, months or years afterwards, the vampire’s moral and psychological reaction to the hunt (as represented by possible degeneration or derangement) is measured as well. Although the Anointed allow rumors to spread that unimpressive predators are unwelcome, the truth is that this final test is used to identify a vampire’s personal strengths and weaknesses. Knowing those strength and weaknesses allows the Anointed to aid, support, influence or undermine the scrutinized Kindred as they see necessary.
Some Priests hold a post-Mass celebration when a neonate passes this final rite, but others believe such revelry diminishes the reverence meant to accompany the Purification.
Those novitiates who fail any of the Scrutinies at any point are allowed to attempt them again when their Priest decides the time is right. Once a Scrutiny has been passed, a neonate does not have to pass it again. Only failed tests need be tried again, assuming that multiple tests were even called for.

Evidence of Devotion

Regardless of whether they have truly “converted” to the cause, most neonates remain relatively untested. They are naïve beings, stumbling around in the dark with — the covenant hopes — the light of the Longinus to guide them. This general naïveté stops most neonates from initially achieving any sort of real piety, but while deeply entrenched spiritual yearning may not be the fuel for their devotion, that fiery verve reserved only for the young and foolish may be. Like college students with a political cause or young men willing to die for their country (or God, or regime), neonates can make powerful devotees to The Lancea Sanctum.
Admittedly, many don’t. Many are just glad to have some small place in the Danse Macabre that doesn’t guarantee them a one-way-trip to Final Death — like many “faithful” mortals, the effort stops at what is minimally required. Those who do attach themselves to the principles of The Lancea Sanctum do so with the persistence of a starving leech. Such novitiates attend every Midnight Mass, even if they don’t know what’s really going on. They offer themselves to their superiors, ready to serve as foot soldiers or altar boys or anything that allows them to flaunt their newfound “faith.”
The curious contradiction here is that a neonate’s naïveté may prevent him from seeing the nuances of the Danse Macabre and achieving true comprehension of the covenant’s ideals, when this naïveté may also be the source of his devotion to the covenant in the first place. Neonates Haven’t fully witnessed exactly how the complexities of The Lancea Sanctum (and the interplay between other covenants and factions) actually affect them. They remain under the protection of sires, and such innocence affords them the opportunity to throw themselves into the covenant with little excess thought or doubt. The older members of the covenant don’t look down upon such neonates, and in fact see them as curiously prized. After all, if such zealotry can eventually be forged into something more meaningful, nothing was wasted. Occasionally, some neonates are left with crises of faith.
As they age (and become ancillae), such novitiates cast away the immature trappings of a zealous and thoughtless devotion, and come to see what they regard (correctly or incorrectly) as the “reality” of the covenant. It’s for this reason that some neonates appear more pious and devoted than their ancillae superiors — it’s simply a case of intact spiritual gullibility. The Lancea Sanctum handles crises of faith in short order by shepherding these neonates (whether with kindness or cruelty) into deeper levels of devotion. It’s during these spiritual crises that many Priests interject themselves into a neonate’s Requiem, offering a hand to help guide him toward the true faith of God and the Dark Messiah. Should the guiding hand fail, more extreme efforts (such as those of the sword) might be undertaken. Regardless of methodology, many Priests carefully monitor a neonate’s spiritual mindset, waiting for the moment when a crisis of faith looms. Should such doubt rear its head, the officiating Priest will do whatever it takes to steer a hesitant novitiate back to the path.
Are all neonates blind to what’s really going on? Are they universally ignorant of the powers of faith? Certainly not. While many (perhaps most) come into the arms of the covenant with little idea of what they should truly believe, many have a strong understanding of what’s at work with the faith. An intelligent or already-pious mortal (a Catholic Priest, perhaps, or a theologian) who becomes Kindred and begins his Requiem in the service of The Lancea Sanctum is not one who blindly follows pre-chewed notions of faith. Neonates of this stripe are more likely to replace one dogma with another, regardless of whether honest piety grows from the transition.

Organizing Neonates

As their blood grows more potent and their connection to their mortal lives dwindles, elder Kindred end up as lone predators. Neonates, on the other hand, can’t afford such solitary Requiems, and require a support system of fellow Damned to keep them safe and fed. Coteries are keystones of neonate existence. Without them, young vampires are likely to end up on the wrong ends of swords, guns or claws.
The Sanctified not only approve of neonate coteries, they facilitate them. In most cases, a Kindred who comes to the covenant and already has his own coterie to work with is encouraged to continue working with that group. The Lancea Sanctum is too loosely organized, too narrowly represented, and too small in many domains to manage covenant-exclusive coteries, and instead attaches young Priests to packs as ministers, chaplains, or simple moral influences. This is especially true if a Sanctified neonate has the potential to bring his fellows to the covenant over time.
Should The Lancea Sanctum sniff out substantial dissention within the coterie, however, or note the neonate’s attendance to Midnight Mass has been slipping in favor of coterie-specific activities, then the Sanctified must act to rescue the neonate’s faltering faith. At first, the covenant simply asks the neonate to re-examine his priorities and focus anew on his covenant responsibilities (and “bring your coterie-mates with you, of course”). Should the neonate resist or otherwise cause a problem, the covenant has several options. One is to let the neonate do as he wishes; if the covenant is strong in its territory, it has little reason to worry much about one errant whelp, provided the neonate still counts himself among the Sanctified. There is time enough to get him back, and in the meantime his Status will dwindle. A second option, invoked if the covenant is weak in the domain, or if the neonate is of some importance, is to bring the neonate back into the fold and to limit the influence of his current coterie through tactics either subtle or gross, coaxing or severe. A Sanctified overseer may discredit the neonate’s coterie to drive him from his cohorts to the church, or the covenant membership may cooperate to draw the neonate back into the fold, perhaps tugging the rest of the coterie along, too. Often, the Sanctified find that invoking a sense of guilt and fear in the neonate is enough, and harsher tactics become unnecessary. When possible, The Lancea Sanctum organizes coteries from the body of the covenant membership. Young Sanctified novitiates in the city sometimes consolidate into a coterie at the suggestion of the neonates’ superiors. They needn’t be unswerving Allies. For the most part, the Sanctified believe it enough that the coterie is bound by a common system of belief and, more importantly, by the name of the covenant itself. Five unconnected young Sanctified are not nearly as impressive as a single unit of five vampires who can collectively be called “a coterie of The Lancea Sanctum.” In this way, it’s as much about Perception as it is about actual strength.
In some fanatical domains, Bishops or Archbishops require recently formed Lancea Sanctum coteries to engage in the practice of Circus Sanguinus (known as a “circle jerk” in the vulgar tongue of those outside the covenant, but formally meaning “circle of blood”). The notion by design isn’t as ignoble as it sometimes is in practice, wherein each member of the coterie bonds himself to the next in a circle of Vinculums. In the rare occasions that the covenant enforces this union of Blood within a coterie, the practice isn’t allowed to simply “take place” wherever and whenever. Like all things in the covenant, the event is lent a high level of ceremonial significance. It becomes ritualized, occasionally on the order of Apostolica, with The Vinculum itself shepherded by an appropriate Priest or other Sanctified luminary. In some cases, the bonding ritual occurs at the beginning of Midnight Mass for all to see. From this, the coterie members are forged to one another like the links of a chain, Blood flowing into Blood in a holy union, from which strength grows.
In other domains, a coterie is bound together by The Testament itself. Each member of the coterie is given one or more books of The Testament to master. Each month, the coterie is then called before an assembly of Anointed Kindred — or even the whole congregation — and asked to recite, analyze, dramatize or sermonize on The Testament as a whole. Some coteries are assembled to sing as Benedictine monks would, some compare and contrast lessons from The Testament with modern goings-on in the domain and others produce plays, sculpture or paintings. No matter what approach the coterie chooses to take, they are judged as a whole. They must learn to cooperate and complement one another, or they must face disappointment together.
Regardless of how a Sanctified coterie comes together, the covenant supports the group and encourages its members to attend all rituals together, and so, to achieve success together. Some coteries are even given lofty names (such as “The Monachal Sons of Calvary,” “The Houston Deacons,” or “The Daughters Ascendant”) to lend a degree of significance, both to themselves and to the covenant.

Mixed Coteries

It’s unrealistic to assume that coteries subscribe to a single priority, or even that all the Kindred of a pack share a common belief system. In many domains, “mixed coteries” made up of representatives from different covenants (and with different degrees of loyalty) are the norm. The Sanctified not only allow their members to participate in such circles, but often encourage them to. A Sanctified neonate who is a part of a mixed coterie serves as a representative of the faith. From that one neonate, the faith may spread to the other coterie members, growing through the neonate’s actions or spoken beliefs (this is among the most effective avenues of conversion). It’s advantageous for The Lancea Sanctum to be so close to sheep of other covenants, so that even those Kindred who will not devote themselves to the ways of Longinus at least have access to the wisdom and power of the Testament. This is simply a groundlevel recreation of the counsel esteemed Anointed provide for non-Sanctified Princes; not all vampires must become Priests, but all vampires need a Priest to turn to.

Covenant Status for Neonates

The tests and trials the covenant subjects novitiates to are not mandatory for all members of the covenant. A novitiate can belong to The Lancea Sanctum without being an important part of it, just as common churchgoers are recognized as members of a church without being considered agents of the church. Vampires who pass the Scrutinies or are otherwise ceremonially inducted into the covenant are considered to have some degree of standing in the Sanctified community, and possibly the church hierarchy. Such standing is reflected by dots in the Covenant Status merit. Anointed vampires, of course, must have dots in Covenant Status, for they hold titles and station in the undead church.
It’s assumed that any neonate with one or more dots in Covenant Status has undergone a sufficient form of induction, such as Purification, and is noted as a valuable member of the order, rather than just a welcome constituent. Passing such trials always confers at least one point of Covenant Status, though not all vampires with Status in The Lancea Sanctum have passed elaborate and painful trials to earn their station. Specifics, as always, vary both by local custom and the judgments of the local Anointed. Some Kindred gain Covenant Status as a reward from thankful Bishops or as authorization to perform on behalf of the covenant, such as Legates do.
Higher levels of Covenant Status depend on the depth of a neonate’s faith, how many Allies or admirers she has among the ranks of the ancillae, and how much the local Sanctified need Kindred like her. Few neonates have more than two or three dots in Covenant Status, but these dots are enough to count a young Kindred among the Anointed of the covenant. A common Priest of Longinus may have just one dot of Covenant Status and, as the new boy, be tasked with unglamorous duties, or a new Priest may be given some unique title, such a Priest of the Neonates, if the church believes his charisma or popularity can benefit the Sanctified beyond the limits of his personal experience. Remember that dots of Covenant Status do not directly indicate specific titles, but instead describe a relative level of respect, responsibility, and recognition within the chosen covenant, in the context of the city and the chronicle. Status reflects influence, and Covenant Status simply denotes the theatre where that influence plays.
Vampires with no dots of Covenant Status but who are still considered members of the church (according to interpretation of the Storyteller, depending on the context of a scene or story) are subject to the influence of Kindred with recognized Status in the covenant; the bonus dice afforded by Covenant Status (Lancea Sanctum) may come into play with the common Midnight Mass attendant, even though the laity have no Status of their own.

Roles of the Neonates

As previously mentioned, neonates aren’t required to fully convert to the authority of the covenant. It’s enough to get them in the door — time and the brutality of the Requiem are sure to do the rest of the work. Since most neonates don’t have a mastery (or even a full acceptance) of Sanctified principles, most tend not to fill unique positions within the faction. Their contributions come in the form of basic adherence to the dogma and disciplines of the covenant, and a welcome swelling of the membership — as their age deepens, it’s believed that their faith will do the same.
That’s not to say neonates don’t fill important roles within the covenant. A small minority of “new blood” appears every so often who begin their initiations with enough zeal and tenacity to serve in some Anointed capacity or another. Few of these official positions come with much power (be it worldly or supernatural), but they do come with the potential for power. Neonates holding these positions have the benefit of seeing further down the road than others, knowing that the road is a long one, without foreseeable end. The Sanctified want neonates in these positions, as putting such novitiates at the forefront shows just how strong or popular the covenant is, and helps to bring other young Kindred to the cause. Neonates serve as examples first, and as able bodies second.

Neonate as Foot Soldier

Open confrontation is uncommon among the Damned, for it so often violates the First Tradition. The Lancea Sanctum, in addition to piously championing The Traditions, believes there are superior means of handling enemies than packing SUVs with pistol-bearing minions. Still, violence is sometimes unavoidable, and conflicts once contained in back rooms and dark alleys spill out onto the streets. When this happens, the Sanctified do not shirk from death, but accept combat in the name of Longinus as a grim-but-glorious necessity. Who among the ranks of The Lancea Sanctum are the first to have their Requiems put to risk in battle? Why, the neonates, of course.
The Sanctified do not wish for their neonates to perish. Any member of the covenant meeting Final Death diminishes the strength of the covenant body and destroys a work of holy design. Unfortunately, it’s a matter of pragmatism: ancillae are too valuable and elders can never be allowed to put themselves on the front lines. It’s not about the many years of unlife and service a neonate may have before her, as much as a matter of the centuries of accumulated insight and experience that would be lost with an older vampire. Both in defense and offense, neonates are the first to face bloody battle. Whether it means protecting the consecrated reliquary of a Sanctified Saint or storming a tenement teeming with heretical Ghouls of The Ordo Dracul, neonates are the ones on the front line, the footmen accepting orders from the knights and officers behind and above them.
Whether the neonates themselves agree or not, dying in the service of The Lancea Sanctum is glorious. A neonate who puts his Requiem on the line, surrendering eternity, is seen as a valiant servitor of principles far greater than he or any lone Kindred. The courage to sacrifice and the event of sacrifice itself are holy, and must be revered, remembered, and honored by the covenant. Those serving the covenant understand that defending the standards and tenets of the Dark Messiah is essential to the proliferation of Longinus’ word. The success of The Lancea Sanctum in the name of Longinus is the end that justifies any means. It is a prize for which the devout pay any price.

Neonate as Mule

In the simpler nights of the past, when The Invictus and The Lancea Sanctum are said to have held absolute rule over their medieval domains, mortal children weren’t born for love; offspring were meant to work the farm. Farmers needed more hands, and though children were an investment of time, it was a cheap investment that could pay off for decades. This is not a strange concept to Sanctified elders, and the investment necessary for Damned childer can be substantially more rewarding — only desirable candidates are borne into the Danse Macabre, and many bring valuable talents with them.
Neonates, then, are sometimes viewed as being useful in only one way: as mules. Mules do little more than grunt work. Despite certain romantic connotations of the Requiem, there’s always grunt work to be done, much of which can’t be (or simply isn’t) relegated to Ghouls. A neonate mule may be required to do all manner of servant work for the covenant. She may have to keep her head down and just drive the car wherever the Priscus demands. She may be required to purchase a supply of a Daeva Priest’s favorite silk handkerchiefs, or scrub the bloody footprints from the foyer floor of a Ventrue Bishop. Sometimes things just need to be carried from one place to another — relics, boxes of Catechisms to be handed out, bodies to dump. Some Sanctified with a flair for cruel whimsy invent mindless busywork to keep a neonate from falling idle, or simply to see how well a neonate accepts and performs his duties (even, or especially, when such duties seem beneath a divine predator meant to sow fear in the mortal heart). All such labor is performed for the covenant, of course, and the benefit of the neonate — never for the Anointed taskmaster.
A novitiate in the position of mule walks a curiously fine line. Speaking out of turn in such service is viewed as a sign of disrespect and may draw a scolding, a beating, or worse. However, dumbly providing service gives the impression that the neonate is a thoughtless lump, little more than a back without a brain. In some manner, a neonate seeking to elevate himself past this position needs to distinguish himself without painting himself a loudmouth or a whelp. Arguably, the only way to do this is with humility and subtlety. Perhaps a modest word of advice to a higher-up, or an unpretentious action that aids the covenant? If a neonate comes on too strong, he could be seen as arrogant or over-reaching, as a petty upstart without appreciation for the ageless dignity of his betters, but acting without strength at all makes the Kindred appear cowed and shamefully servile, if his higher-ups notice him at all. A mule must serve well so that it becomes invaluable, but it must also influence its handler into giving up what it wants.

Nenate as Pawn

Neonates are not brought into the Danse Macabre alone, for a connection always exists between sire and childe. A newly Embraced Kindred is, like it or not, regarded as representative of his sire. When a neonate errs, it casts a shadow on the sire. This connection makes each party vulnerable to the actions of the other. The Lancea Sanctum knows how to make this relationship work to its advantage.
First and foremost is recruitment: The Lancea Sanctum does its best to attract the attention of an unwanted neonate and bring her into the fold regardless of the whims of her sire (obviously, the covenant must sometimes make such overtures in secret, if the sire is powerful or dangerous). The Sanctified go out of their way to protect that neonate and grant her benefits and power beyond what her own sire can offer, all in a display of solidarity against her sinful parent. Even if the sire is relatively kind, The Lancea Sanctum might subtly slight his name, showing the childe precisely why she should escape the grisly grip of such an eldritch monster. If that doesn’t work, then certain Disciplines can grease the wheels, so to speak. The covenant has no compunctions about modifying the neonate’s mind to suit its needs, especially when its needs are to twist a Knife in the back of that neonate’s sire.
Once the neonate is “hooked,” and beguiled, intimidated, or supernaturally convinced to join the covenant, she becomes a pawn of The Lancea Sanctum usable against her creator. The covenant may use her to harm the sire’s reputation, to expose sins, to defame his covenant or coterie, or to disrupt some ongoing agenda. A neonate is often the weakest point in the armor of a more important monster.
Pawns may not have much future use for the covenant in the Danse Macabre after their initial play has been completed. Many well-intentioned neonates end up as casualties of the night, pushed too far for and sacrificed for the greater good of the covenant. Many others, however, transition into other roles after the covenant’s initial plans for them are finished (though such plans may take decades to unfold). Whether the neonate knows she was a tool or not, she is still likely to be afforded the protection and support of the covenant after her first use. It may be why she became Sanctified in the first place.
That’s not to say pawns need to be completely passive. A pawn who shows value beyond her initial use may be elevated to a position affording her greater choice. Pawns, after all, are easily manipulated — why not put someone you can manipulate into a position of real power? If a neonate proves herself intelligent and hard to control, however, the Anointed may find another use for her or slide her into a respectable but toothless spot in the covenant hierarchy. Problem is, few pawns recognize that they are puppets, or how they are puppets. Those pulling the strings don’t want a neonate to know that she is being made to dance — it takes a keenly perceptive novitiate to see she is being covertly influenced. Some members who see this influence will struggle to prove themselves to the covenant, whereas others choose to bide their time and make a move when the opportunity arises. Thus the pawn promoted to a prized seat may transform into a player all her own.

Neonate as Abecedarian

Many neonates have a balance of both Common Sense and naïveté. Wisdom suggests the novitiate is too good for a bottomscraping job like a mule, but the naïveté puts the young vampire far below the requirements of more important positions like Apostle or Proselyte. The covenant, rarely without acumen in the ways of directing its own flock, knows precisely what to do with these middling individuals. Realizing that such neonates require more than a little guidance to get them walking down the appropriate path, the Sanctified employ “Abecedarians.”
An Abecedarian is something like a ritual apprentice. Seeing unfocused potential, an ancilla of appropriate station takes on one or more neonates as Abecedarians. The occasional ancilla, overwrought and overworked, might take on an entire coterie as Abecedarians, and in rare circumstances, an elder Sanctified may take a neonate under his wing.
The official purpose of an Abecedarian is to provide aid during rituals while learning the ways of the covenant. While one covenant member could theoretically handle all such duties in many domains (carrying urns of blood, laying out sacramental cloth, preparing the altar), Abecedarians remove the need. Not only does this serve a practical function by freeing up the time and hands of a valuable ancilla, but it also ingrains the precise practice of these rituals into the heads of the assisting novitiates.
Another benefit of this role is that the initial duty isn’t overwhelming. Neonate Abecedarians aren’t required to give all of their time to the covenant, just those important ceremonial hours before, during, and after Midnight Mass and other Sanctified rites. Often, a neonate can complete her duties and then return to her coterie or Haven without having to invest all her time in the covenant at this early stage in her association with the Sanctified. Of course, as her experience and faith deepen, the covenant demands a far larger portion of her attention. In the beginning, however, they’re content with the occasional service of an Abecedarian.
Different ancillae or elders handle their Abecedarians in different ways. Most Priests assume the role of a minor Mentor to their apprentices, making themselves available for guidance. Some take on a more laissez-faire approach to an Abecedarian, seeing them as little more than altar boys, but such a dismissive view is discouraged. Some offer words of wisdom regarding survival and advancement in the covenant, but all school their charges on important matters of faith. Some hammer their Abecedarians with a perverse regimen of fanatical indoctrination. One thing is certain — a Priest is unwise to accept an inept or lax neophyte in this role. Should an Abecedarian breach covenant observances or do some untoward damage to The Lancea Sanctum, the Priest bears the brunt of the punishment, at least in a formal capacity (she’s sure to punish the transgressor herself, of course). An ancilla’s job in this regard is as a Mentor, instructor, or disciplinarian, and a neonate’s ignorance is seen as a failing of the teacher, not the pupil.
All Abecedarians are expected to be well versed in the readings of the entire text of the Testament of Longinus. Each Abecedarian is also given a ritual cruet (used in many of the Sanctified ritae to carry blood). The position of Abecedarian is the most common one among novitiates, and most are released from this duty after a few years of service, with the expectation that they pursue greater roles in the glory of the covenant. In more and more domains with Sanctified influence, however, the term Abecedarian has come to be just another formal word for novitiate or neonate. Some Abecedarians, for example, serve as minor representatives and agents of the covenant, as Priests-in-waiting, until they are deemed worthy of Anointment or an official position opens up for them in the parish.

Neonate as Apostle

The angels of God were divine messengers. As such, the position of messenger is an important one within the covenant, considered to be as solemn and respectable a duty as any other.
Many modern Sanctified call the covenant’s messengers Apostles, meaning “one who is sent forth.” Elder Kindred within the covenant, however, still refer to the position as the Internuntius or Internuncio, referring to a holy envoy of the early Catholic Church. (Elder Kindred may look upon this position with even more reverence than the common Sanctified, perhaps remembering nights when they themselves served as Internuncio centuries before, when a phone call could not be imagined). Curiously, the term Apostle connotes someone who recruits and spreads the philosophy of The Lancea Sanctum to the masses. This isn’t the case. While an Apostle is always welcome (as most are) to bring other Damned into the ranks of The Lancea Sanctum, that is not the function of the position.
Apostles carry significant messages from Kindred to Kindred within the covenant, but also bear “The Message” to non-Sanctified Kindred, often delivering a physical message, whether it’s a parchment, a package, or a CD. An Apostle is not the same as a Legate (who is expected to travel outside the city), though a single Sanctified can fill both roles. Apostles are as much heralds as couriers — sometimes The Message an Apostle carries is meant for a single Sanctified Kindred, but sometimes it is meant for every vampire in the city.
An Apostle may bring announcements of forthcoming rituals, warnings of impending searches or witch-hunts, requests for audience, or orders to produce alms or cease taboo behaviors. In a few rare instances, coteries of European Apostles have been bidden to protect and carry a torpid elder from one covenant parish to another.
So why is such an important position granted to the lowly neonates? First, let it be said that not just any neonate can enter this position. Only the most capable, clever, and reverent neonates (as judged by the Anointed) are allowed to undertake this blessed obligation. Second, ancillae sometimes choose to fill the position, as well; some simply remain in the role when they age out of their neonate years. An often-overlooked reason why able neonates are gifted with the Status of Apostle is the exposure the job gives them to the inner workings of the city at large, and the covenant within. While the role of Apostle is a sacred undertaking, it’s also not that difficult to do well. It lends the neonate a sense of importance in the covenant and the city, and is considered to be a steppingstone to other, greater responsibilities. An Apostle who proves herself time and again is destined for a long and powerful career in the covenant. Apostles who do not fare well are destroyed, as messengers so often are.

Neonate as Proselyte

Some Kindred are considered special by The Lancea Sanctum. The Sanctified believe the Blood of such individuals is powerful and somehow more sacred than that of “common” neonates. This isn’t considered metaphorical. The chosen are seen as being gifted in the Blood itself, as if the Kindred has been touched by God or Longinus. How is this odd eminence detected? By the superiors and elders of the covenant, of course. If they feel that an individual is somehow marked or otherwise an exceptional Sanctified, they may refer to that vampire as somehow special, or chosen. (This means the childer of prominent Bishops or other politically important neonates may be deemed “chosen,” as the title of “Proselyte” creates apolitical advantage as well as a spiritual one.)
Historically, a Proselyte is a special non-Sanctified vampire chosen from the secular masses and raised up by the covenant to demonstrate that the touch of Longinus reaches beyond the bounds of his followers, that the Dark Prophet may grace even those Damned predators who are not yet followers of the Testament. Proselyte, in fact, means “convert.” In modern nights, however, the term has come to be used for any neonate singled out by The Lancea Sanctum to play a part as a kind of celebrity recruiter, whether that neonate comes from within the covenant or not. The common thread that runs through each Proselyte is a kind of testimonial attitude: “I didn’t think it would work for me, but the Testament has given my Requiem real meaning,” or “The plight of those of you dwelling in the darkness saddens me, for now I know the truth of our mission on Earth. I have the light of faith, and I see what you don’t see — I see who you really are.”
Neonates named as Proselytes are both above and below the Status of missionary, considered to be something like “holy childers.” Their single task is to go among the unwashed vampire masses and bring others into the fold. And yet, it’s more complex than that. Proselytes are meant to show a more zealous face than their brethren among Sanctified missionaries. A missionary goes to the unaffiliated or those in other covenants and sways others to the cause with Sermons. A Proselyte is marked, often literally. They wear different clothing (often ritual raiment given by their superiors), and are expected to be exceptionally fastidious. A Proselyte and his retinue don’t just go to individual Kindred to preach. They hold evangelical spectacles in Elysium. They go into the salons and convocations of other covenants to reveal The Testament of Longinus. They go into the parishes of other Sanctified factions and demonstrate their special nature by braving fires, handling snakes or simply singing hymns and delivering speeches with the fearless (and hopefully infection) verve of faith. Proselytes are meant to appeal to more zealous Kindred, showing them the doctrines of the covenant as a road to holy service. Proselytes are the secret television faith healers of the Damned.
For their servitude, Proselytes are given much latitude in their actions. They are less likely to be punished for minor transgressions, and even greater crimes will be treated with more leniency than any other neonate. Despite appearances to the contrary, Proselytes are not ascetics. They are given access to a bevy of benefits — Vitae, Ghouls, the attention of elders. While history suggests that the position used to be a monastic one, tonight in the Danse Macabre, a Proselyte is given as much luxury as the higher-ups can afford.
Of course, being a Proselyte isn’t all blood and roses. Being heralded as a true childe of the cause is a sure summons for jealousy and resentment. If a Proselyte escapes penalty for a contravention of Sanctified principle for which other neonates were explicitly punished, that Proselyte may become the target of bitterness and bile from her presumed peers. Neonates may resent her, according her the spite reserved for the over-privileged. An ancilla who was once thought special herself may view a new Proselyte as an uppity neonate with a keen eye toward protracted vengeance. An elder may see a Proselyte as an infant given the keys to the kingdom, and may use her estimable power to crush the child outside the sight of the covenant. While being a Proselyte comes with its own glorious rewards, it can lead an unwary or undefended neonate to new enemies from inside or outside the covenant.
How is a neonate chosen to be a Proselyte? There is no single means of recognizing a Proselyte, but only experienced and magnificently pious vampires are capable of seeing the unique traits inside a Proselyte. The surprising truth about this method is that the chosen one needn’t be an adherent to the covenant. Some elders, either from some quirk of their bizarre, ancient minds or out of some finely tuned sense of power, may choose a Proselyte from the neophyte ranks of any covenant or from The Unaligned. Nobody knows exactly how a Proselyte is found or chosen, as most elders do not explain themselves. As a result of modern skepticism, however, most Proselytes don’t last very long before their popularity — and their power — wanes or dies out.
In practice, many of history’s Proselytes have been selected the way a record promoter might select a young singer for stardom: based on appeal first, and capability second. Like the child star, a neonate gives up some of her personal freedoms in exchange for renown and adoration — not to men tion the fanatical protection and support of The Lancea Sanctum. In public, the Proselyte may even be able to exert influence over her superiors, lest the “public” sense unrest between the church and its starlet.
The position of Proselyte isn’t common tonight. From time to time, one may pop up in a city where a curious Archbishop wants to rouse the heretics and disbelievers. In domains with many Sanctified vampires belonging to several different Creeds, multiple, competing Proselytes have sometimes been paraded about by different Priests hoping to energize their congregations or attract those of other Creeds. In many modern domains, however, Proselytes are seen as over-glorified publicity stunts or just another example of Sanctified fanaticism.

Embraced into the Covenant

The World of Darkness stalked by a swelling population of recently Embraced and mostly ignorant young vampires. The covenant wisely seeks to attract these naïve childer into its ranks in an effort to shape them into pious and penitent exemplars of the Damned, rather than seeking ideal candidates for the covenant among the mortal flock. The Second Tradition is in place to prevent a proliferation of vampires crowding the scene and spoiling the delicate measure of fear the Damned were created to command. Besides that, the modern world is riddled with careless whelps and irreligious monsters sullying their own Requiems with their ignorance of their true design. Why create more vampires when so many already exist tonight who need guidance and piety, who are still unfinished and untaught?
Yet siring new childer offers some advantages to the Sanctified. Yes, it’s a breach of the Second Tradition, but the very existence of the covenant’s higher-ups demonstrates that, despite its rhetoric, The Lancea Sanctum knows new vampires must be Embraced. The Second Tradition is considered sacred, but Sanctified can atone for their failings and trespasses. The powerful Kindred of The Lancea Sanctum aren’t above violating their own commandments to make the covenant (or their own positions) stronger. The ends justify the means, and so goes the contravention of those hallowed traditions.
The key advantage to Embracing a mortal is that he is borne directly into The Lancea Sanctum, that he may be selected for his Merits and his piety, that he may serve the Sanctified from his first nights. The sire belongs to the covenant, obviously, and so the childe shall as well. The fledgling vampire can immediately be taught the importance of abiding by The Traditions (and how to respect the great, sinful sacrifice her sire made to show her the true design of the world). She can be shown how to behave, how to venerate the teachings of the Dark Messiah, how to participate in all the rites of The Lancea Sanctum, from the sanctified to the vulgar.
Other neonates — those not Embraced by the Sanctified — are at an instant disadvantage compared to those Kissed by the Sanctified. Not only are their heads likely filled with the fallacious claptrap of some other covenant, but their sires may have fed them lies about the true ways of the world, burying the neonate in shame when she should revere her nature, and enslaving her to the thirst when she should be the master of it. Bringing one of these neonates into the fold of the Sanctified can be difficult. The covenant may have to deal with the sire or wrench the neonate free from the sire’s influence. After that, whatever erroneous information her sire fed to her must be replaced with the gospel of Longinus. Neonates Embraced into the covenant make excellent partners to young converts, for they can relate to the new terrors and mysteries of unlife while granting support to a weak or doubtful childe.
A Kindred who is “born Sanctified” is considered more pure, unpolluted by the outside world. She has a clear conduit of information from her reverent sire. From the first night of her Requiem she belongs to The Lancea Sanctum, so her understanding of vampiric history and destiny is fuller than others of her age. This means that — fair or not — a pure neonate is often chosen first for all manner of promotions, boons, or beneficence from the covenant. Eyes fall first upon her to become a leader among novitiates (and a leader of others, further down the line). When the choice is between a more able converted neonate and a less gifted, pure novitiate, many Sanctified select purity. Many Kindred, both inside and outside the covenant’s membership, believe this sort of thinking is indicative of Invictus influence over the Sanctified, that it’s a sign of weakness in the covenant.
That’s not to say a neonate brought into the ranks of the Sanctified from another covenant isn’t accepted. Converts make up the vast majority of Sanctified vampires, both in the general congregation and among the Anointed. It’s not that vampires who join the covenant are hobbled by the state of their Embrace (it was their sires who violated the Traditions) as much as that those neonates who are Embraced into the covenant are granted advantages, whether formally or not.
A Shameful Sacrifice
The Lancea Sanctum has a complex relationship with the Second Tradition. Kindred who Embrace new vampires cannot be openly rewarded for bringing a valuable asset into the covenant, but neither can the covenant admit any leniency of the sinner or the sin. The choices it makes regarding the Embrace send potent signals to all childer, for even if a neonate is one of the Sanctified, the covenant wants him to fear their judgment if he violates The Traditions.
The attitude that covenant officers display before neonates and laypeople is one of sadness and wrath. Those who violate the Second Tradition have sinned against God and put their souls and the domain at potential risk. Such selfish trespasses may make Priests furious, but the destruction of the sinner does not make him a better agent of God. So the covenant punishes him for his deeds, and asks his new childe to do so as well. The punishment must be carefully balanced to make the neonate afraid to repeat his sire’s crime, without the neonate thinking he is unwanted or unwelcome in the covenant himself. So the Sanctified paint sires as the performers of a shameful sacrifice.
A sacrifice can be noble, but not when it violates The Traditions. A sacrifice can be respected, however, even when it is punished. It must not be celebrated, though, and can never be excused. Instead a sire’s shameful sacrifice is painted as something of a selfless, immoral act performed for the benefit of the childe — who is now presumably among the Sanctified. The neonate is now subtly indebted to his sire, who “did this for you, my childe.” The sire is then tormented and punished during The Creation Rite, showing his peers what one must endure when the Second Tradition is ignored, and demonstrating the depth of his strength and paradoxically magnificent devotion to the childe, who watches in awe or fear as her sire is burned or flayed… for her.

Relations with Others

Neonates of The Lancea Sanctum have relationships with their elders (from ancillae on up) that differ from the presumed standards of other covenants. The Sanctified are very specific about how such relationships need to break down — and for good reason. Organized devotion within the ranks, specifically regarding formality in how the Damned deal with one another, is the mortar that holds the stone blocks of the church together. Sometimes the entire affair seems a grandiloquent display of balance. To keep the precarious machine of cordial peace between the Damned in motion, The Lancea Sanctum relies on a blend of traditional mortal hierarchies and a formalized, often archaic, standard of respect and authority.
Neonates have their own ways of dealing with their superiors. Just as those above them in the Danse Macabre have uses for the youngest vampires — whether as pawn, assistant or student — neonates have uses for their betters, as well. Neonates need teachers, shepherds and pillars to climb to power. Beyond that, neonates need punishment and structure. But the neonates need mercy most of all, for they are the most ignorant among the covenant’s brood, and for them to survive the harsh night they need all the pity and protection the older Sanctified can grant. Those Sanctified monsters above the covenant’s neonates are responsible for teaching these willful whelps the truth about Longinus’ sacrifice and his Curse, and for turning childer into fearsome and devout monsters — and they have the experience and patience to not mock the young for their inexperience. No vampire can embody the Testament’s description of an exalted predator without great piety, strength of will, discipline… and practice. Older Sanctified, while delivering punishment, also grant lessons and second chances that a neonate may not get from another covenant. A smart neonate takes advantage of this mercy.

Neonates and Ancillae

The ancillae are usually the direct superiors of neonates. Ancillae are the teachers, parents and counselors, while the neonates remain students, childer and in need of guidance.
Much as it is with mortals, this dichotomy can create complex relationships. Smart neonates fear their superiors, even if there seems little to be afraid of. Such direct authority is a frightening thing, when an ancilla (especially a sire, though not necessarily) holds a novitiate’s deathless existence in her unliving hand. Fear may cause a neonate to quietly submit to the whim and will of an ancilla — or cause him to rebel, acting out against such strictures and structure. Quietly submitting may cause the covenant to view the neonate as weak and easily cowed, but outright defiance marks the young Kindred as a rebel and dissident.
Many Sanctified neonates do their best to please the ancillae, some out of sincere devotion to the covenant, others to play upon a superior’s ego and gain advantage. Sincere devotion takes a neonate far. Acting as a servile inferior flags the novitiate as an unwilled sycophant — but if his act is good enough, he might appear more faithful and devoted than the sincere neonate.
Finally, some neonates hope to just stay the hell out of the way, avoiding contact with the ancillae as a representation of authority. Or, perhaps more awfully, as the face of what a neonate inevitably becomes. Many elders Dominate the covenant from afar, but ancient vampires don’t often end up at street level, dealing with novitiates in a hands-on capacity. Ancillae are always there. Within The Lancea Sanctum, however, it’s virtually impossible to avoid one’s superiors. All-neonate factions of the Sanctified aren’t unheard of, but they are quite rare and only seldom survive more than a few years — most are either torn apart without experienced guidance or outgrow their childish fear and develop a taste for real power.
The common bond between an ancilla and a neonate is that of a Priest to his parishioner, or something of a “masternovice” connection. Neonates of the covenant are already a step ahead of those of other covenants (or unaligned childer), but they still have a long way to go. The Sanctified recognize that the principles professed by Longinus are not easily digested over the course of a few nights or weeks. The core principles are simple enough, but as it is with most religions and philosophies, every one answer reveals a dozen new questions. A vampire needs many years to savor and explore the philosophies of the Sanctified, and so God has given her all the years she could need.
Ancilla are chosen to field all of the new questions that a novitiate might have. The covenant is host to a number of seeming contradictions that many neonates chafe against, rather than puzzle out. Neonates always question, and ancillae are in place to make sure that confusion doesn’t cause a novitiate to stray from the path of piety. Like a shepherd corralling sheep back to the flock, the ancilla must provide boundaries and answers. Over time, a Priest gives more than just orders to novitiates, but also gives the reasons for such orders, and reveals how those orders will benefit the covenant and fulfill one’s holy duty. The neonate’s early Requiem is a time of much confusion and personal pain, and the ancilla is intended to be there to get a novitiate through such difficult nights. Of course, each ancilla has his own way of handling this teaching and counseling. An ancilla might be a hard-line finger-breaker who foists the will of the covenant upon novitiates with hammer and nail, an eerie Priest with complex ideas about The Testament of Longinus or a loose politico ready to offer a handshake and a Knife in the back. Some ancillae appear as (and in fact are) genuinely beneficent monsters, providing neophytes a lamp with which to light the darkness.
The neonate, whether she likes it or not, is dependent upon the “light” of the many ancillae above her. If a neonate finds herself in trouble, to whom can she go? If she has a crisis of faith, who else will set her back on the proper path? If her sins are a weight upon her and she must confess and submit to castigation, who will deliver her penance unto her? Other neonates may be able to offer some guidance, but none can match both the authority and the experience of the Sanctified ancillae.
A neonate may hate, adore or fear the ancillae above her, but she can never escape them, because her need is too great. Wise neonates recognize this and exploit the relationship, doing whatever they can to keep themselves safe and sane while aiming for some kind of promotion within the ranks. The only way toward true grace and excellence leads to the ancillae, whether you are pulled up with their help, slink past them, or fight your way through.
Unwise novitiates go through their fledgling nights fighting against this relationship, and end up either getting lost in the shuffle or meeting Final Death.

Neonates and Elders

In theory, a neonate takes great pride being in the presence of a Sanctified elder. An elder, after all, is closer to God’s judgment than most, his blood singing with the strength of the Curse. Plus, sighting an elder is something of a rare thing, and comes with great mystique and reverence.
That’s the theory, but the practice is a little bit different. In reality, while a neonate might feel a sense of disconnected pride, the overriding sentiments are ones of alienation and fear. Elders are frightening beings, often so far removed from the mortal mindset that their very existence inspires gut-churning Anxiety in all but the most stalwart novitiates. Neonates still recall their mortal lives in a way most elders never will again. A neonate still maintains some semblance of mortal morals and practices, whereas many elders seem strangely inhuman in both outlook and demeanor. For those neonates not repulsed by the inscrutable mindset and practices of the ancients, great and complex relationships can be had between the two seemingly disparate groups. A neonate may seek to learn from his elder, hoping to find some truth in the sizeable span of years between them. The age of an elder intimates a wealth of experience and knowledge, some of which an enterprising (or awestruck) neonate may hope to gain. Even if an elder’s memory of history is confused and inaccurate, elders among the Damned are still oceans of information compared to a neonate’s puddle of wisdom. Disciplines, rituals, histories, secrets… all are the domain of an elder, a small part of which may be imparted to a neonate. In fact, some elders are more likely to trickle such arcane information down to a neonate than an ancilla, to prevent a closer and already competent underling from developing the power necessary to challenge the master.
Of course, getting into an elder’s good graces is a difficult task for any novitiate. Only in the rarest of instances will an ancient Sanctified turn an eye toward a random neonate in the flock. For the most part, a new Kindred must strive and struggle for even a moment’s worth of attention from one of his oldest forebears. He must do something to stand out, to set himself apart from the rest of the covenant, without seeming like any other desperate powermonger. Selling out a heretic at great personal cost, uncovering an artifact of great worth to the covenant, and especially displaying exaltation and an advanced mastery of the predatory role may capture the attention of a Sanctified elder.
Sometimes, though, the tables are turned. Capturing the attention of an elder may backfire, and frequently does — the attention of an elder is not always a good thing. An elder may look upon a novitiate and (correctly or not) see an addled child in need of swift punishment, or a pest that should’ve left well enough alone. Elders are often assumed to see the covenant’s novitiates as little more than instruments of the covenant, and a whelp who attracts an elder’s attention may simply be bloodied and discarded like any other tool.
Still, elders can appreciate a rapport with a younger Sanctified as a great-grandfather can find solace in time spent with his line’s youngest son. Some elders may be attracted to a neonate’s youth, while others may see childer as vessels needing to be filled up with enlightenment. Neonates may regret getting the attention they seek, however. Should a neonate’s interpretation of the Testament not completely satisfy an elder’s discerning eye, that neonate may be in for many nights of obtuse eldritch teachings. To speak back to an elder offering guidance is to invite a wealth of suffering, so a neonate caught in such a trap may be wise to sit back and let the elder instruct her. Though, of course, suffering is sometimes the only means of escaping an elder’s trap.
Modern neonates seem to have even less respect for the oldest Sanctified, for they’ve been raised in life on a rhetoric which disparages seniors as senile and out-of-touch. A young Priest may revere the idea of his elders while thinking that orders descended from the highest shadows of the covenant are archaic and stale. Elders, as a category, are sometimes regarded like the constellations: mythically important, but in the modern night, distant and irrelevant. In practice, however, a Sanctified elder virtually never encounters such foolish static — the covenant doesn’t put such simpletons in contact with the order’s greatest predators.
This isn’t to say an elder’s lessons are necessarily regarded as worthless, only inaccessible. Ancient lessons are likely to be misunderstood (or unseen for what they are) by young Kindred without long periods of contemplation and centuries of undeath with which to examine it. Why learn such lessons now, then, when they can be looked up when they’ll be useful? So many neonates who have heard tales of the ancient vampires seek their miraculous gifts and awesome power for themselves, but so few neonates who see such power truly understand it when they do. The lessons an ancient vampire considers worth imparting may be useless to a young turk until it is recalled, centuries later, and seen for the first time.
Truthfully, most neonates escape the attention of elders totally. Even if a neonate doesn’t attempt to remain hidden from his bizarre betters, the elders often have other things to worry about. Yes, such neophytes may one night become worthy adherents of Longinus’ mysteries, but elders have greater problems to subvert than the religious instruction of a simple Abecedarian. Should an elder feel a neonate warrants special consideration, he may secretly steer the childer’s course through an intervening ancilla and into his own tutelage — and service.

Ancillae: The Body of the Faithful

From its first nights, The Lancea Sanctum has been dominated both spiritually and politically by the ancillae, believers for whom the Requiem has progressed beyond its initial and unfocused themes, and who have begun to explore deeper movements and interplays. The darkling strains of the Requiem are more assertive and elaborate with the passage of years, and so the ancillae have a greater sense of themselves and what it means to be one of the Damned. They have established traditions and habits suitable to their unique existence and are, therefore, more sure of their condition and of their purpose. While doubts remain, most vampires who have survived a half-century or more are at least confident enough to accept the mantle of responsibility that comes with being a member of The Lancea Sanctum. They have already seen and experienced a great deal, and are ready to accept the difficult strictures that the covenant requires of its congregation. As such, it is the ancillae who have the greatest influence upon their fellow Sanctified. The neonates are too young to adequately comprehend the solemnity and subtlety necessary for the proper leadership of the faith. The elders are too few and far between to assume the volume of duties the ancillae do — an elder may truly lead, but the ancillae are in direct contact with more of the congregation and more of the city. So it falls upon the shoulders of the ancillae to take up the offices of Priest, Bishop, preacher and centurion, to build in every place the undead make their havens a true Church of the Damned.

Heirs to The Testament of Longinus

Perhaps more than any other single factor, ancillae are drawn to The Lancea Sanctum on account of its august legacy, its insistence that there is a central, celestial design to the Requiem. Those who see the order and poetry of the vampiric condition unfold over a century cannot help but wonder if there isn’t some mystic creator behind their damnation. As the World of Darkness unfolds and the existence of arcane and spiritual forces is further revealed, one cannot help but be in awe of its resounding meaning. The Lancea Sanctum offers millennia of accumulated wisdom on these vexing questions, and its continuing power and Majesty reveal that it truly understands the spiritual crisis of the Damned, and has found strength therein.
Longinus gave to his disciples an order of divinely inspired customs, and traditions that are inviolate and eternal. It is, therefore, the divine duty of every Sanctified to accept this sacred inheritance and emulate the ways of Longinus, honoring him and God in the process. By recreating the practices first observed in the Black Abbey and by submitting one’s self to the Rule, a Sanctified can feel a special closeness to the ancient origins of the Curse that no gulf of time can deny him. The Sanctified ancilla understands that each time he recites a passage from The Testament of Longinus, each time he participates in a sacramental rite, and each time he accepts penance for his transgressions against God, he is brought closer to his true grace. Ancillae have accepted their heritage and their divine role and have become what they are supposed to be: unearthly predators and spiritual scions of the Dark Prophet.
Over the doors of many medieval churches is a stone bas-relief depicting the glory of Judgment Day and the hope of salvation it offered to churchgoers. But it also presents the horrors of Hell that awaited the sinner, replete with devils dragging the damned into the flames of the Inferno and devouring their unrepentant souls. This dichotomy instilled in medieval congregants a dreadful fear of what awaited them should they not cleave without misstep to the authority and commandments of the Church, even while simultaneously presenting them with a powerful message of hope. Once inside, these feelings are further exacerbated.
The massive weight of the stones used to build the church’s gravity-defying arches seems capable of falling at any moment and crushing the faithful below, yet the architecture is of such heavenly scale and beauty that it imparts an unavoidable sense of the celestial. Similarly, each Sanctified ancilla carries in her still the feeling that she has inherited something both terrible and magnificent. It is impossible, a devout ancilla may believe, to deny that there must be some heavenly plan in the powers and curses of the Blood. By becoming Sanctified, a Kindred can raise up his ceaseless nights upon the earth from a state of petty, bloody struggle for survival and transform eternity into a Requiem that is beautiful in God’s eyes.

Attraction

They have been tested and so understand the value of these things, but are not yet so old as to be beyond such dependence.
The trouble for many ancillae is that the night inevitably comes when mastery of the mental and physical self is no longer enough. Particularly for those who were once religiously oriented, but also for many others, the seeming lack of purpose to their existence looms large. When the strange mystery of the vampire’s existence becomes almost ordinary, a regular thing, what are you supposed to do with eternity? Eventually, a large number of ancillae feel an impending need to answer that question. The luster of wealth, easy to slowly amass over the decades when so many mortal concerns no longer cost the Kindred money, eventually fades. Mastery of a skill can seem superfluous without a deadline to beat. A vampire can be his own audience for only so long; why become a great violinist if the world can never hear you play? As the endless, repeating nights unfold, many ancillae feel rudderless. They have powers, they have opportunity, but it seems that it all earns the Kindred nothing but another meal of blood.
It is to these Kindred that The Lancea Sanctum shines like a beacon, promising to bring meaning and purpose to the Requiem. Where before the Kindred could hear only a faltering refrain that kept repeating itself, now the ancilla hears an epic score that sweeps her along with an enticing sense of importance and glory. To follow in the footsteps of Longinus, to tremble in the shadow of his fateful Majesty, to experience the rapture of his Testament, and to obey his commandments come hellish or early fire: That is purpose. To attain what can only be attained through undeath, to become what so few have ever succeeded in becoming, even with impossible powers and endless years — these are achievements large enough to fill the empty years of night with passion and glory.
Armed thus, all else falls by the wayside. All the political and social intrigues, all the clandestine scrabbling for material Resources, all the investments made to further lord over the living become but means to an end, rather than an end unto themselves. Sanctified ancillae feel as if they have taken control of their unlives and infused them with significance. The importance of this cannot be underestimated. The Sanctified who believes his every action serves a divine purpose is a force like no other. He bears the divine curse of the Damned with righteous passion, and woe unto those who stand in his path.

Community

Another thing that brings ancillae into the covenant is the nebulous sense of belonging to a community that extends not only beyond coterie but also beyond a single domain — even if the existence of that community must be taken on faith. The Sanctified feel always that they belong to something larger than their parish. Even though their local Bishop or Archbishop is the highest terrestrial authority they need ever recognize (barring the night when Longinus resurfaces), the devout see themselves as a worldwide and timeless community of the faithful, everyone dedicated to the unflinching obedience demanded of true believers.
This is not to say that ancillae suddenly concern themselves with the goings-on in other, unallied parishes, only that a sense of place in the larger family of The Lancea Sanctum is often welcome after what may be decades of solitary predation. It is empowering to know that you are not alone in your beliefs and purpose. Ancillae understand that one’s coterie can meet a great many needs, but many Sanctified eventually seek to further involve themselves in a larger society, either to protect themselves from the treacheries that are part and parcel of the Danse Macabre, or to feel important in a way that simple survival cannot provide. No degree of solitude can truly divorce a Sanctified from the swirl of schemes and ambitions of other Kindred, so it’s in the best interest of the individual to find a place within some community, however small, if only to benefit from the weight of numbers and theintimidating appearance of unity.
Some ancillae are simply desperate for something greater than companionship and camaraderie and find that their coterie alone can no longer provide all they seek. Coteries can be unraveled by the growing unease of an aging vampire, but most survive (or are made stronger) when a member seeks out new social ties and avenues of personal betterment. The Lancea Sanctum knows better than to position itself as the destroyer of coteries — a convert is seldom forced to leave his secular Allies behind.
Regardless of the specific needs of the individual Kindred, the time arises for many ancillae when filling a night can no longer be mistaken for filling an eternity. When that night comes, The Lancea Sanctum waits with open arms.
The use of rituals to formally demonstrate the new believer’s membership in the covenant, and the bestowing of religious responsibilities and privileges go a long way toward further nourishing the sense of belonging a new Sanctified ancilla feels. Because ancillae have substantial amounts of experience under their belts, others usually treat them with additional respect or task them with duties intended both to satiate their desire for purpose and make use of their talents. Just as importantly, ancillae may find opportunities to join the Anointed offices much more quickly than neonate novitiates. Aptitude and capability come from all manner of experience, and the leaders of the Sanctified know that. Ancillae are granted responsibilities and authority not simply to cement them into the covenant (which would undermine the order’s power), but because The Lancea Sanctum can always find a way to make use of a skill a new ancilla possesses. A weathered Kindred brings more to the covenant than a neonate, and so the covenant very often gives more back to him in exchange.
The clear hierarchy, the intolerance for disobedience, and the literal fear of God are some of the main reasons each Sanctified feels so attached to the others. Each knows his place in the structure and most have some duty upon which others depend. This interrelationship works not only to maintain orthodoxy and to ensure the completion of necessary functions, but also guarantees that every Sanctified feels both dependent upon and responsible for others. Ancillae of The Lancea Sanctum can earn authority without having to distance themselves socially or spiritually from their brethren (as political power may sometimes require), which is a powerful combination for those whose lust for power and desire for companionship rival one another.

Devotion

Ancillae have survived the crucible of their early unlives and chosen their paths. Those who have dedicated their Requiems to The Lancea Sanctum and been welcomed under the aegis of the covenant, whether it was their first calling or not, have set foot upon the road laid out by the Dark Prophet and codified by his childe, the Monachus. They accept the truth of the Testament of Longinus and have taken an oath to abide by The Rule of Golgotha in both practice and principle. Those who demonstrate piety and penitence serve as examples to the rest. The most honored may one night even be elevated to sainthood, usually — but not always — after their unfortunate destruction.
Sanctified look to these paragons of virtue as models for their own behavior, and strive to achieve their degree of spiritual rectitude — to fall short is to fail God. Of course, these are merely ideals. Few neonates already possess the aptitude for this kind of deep devotion, which can typically only be developed over a long Requiem spent struggling with moral tests. Only the ancillae and their elders are capable of such an enlightened state. Therefore, it is they who are most sorely pressed to work towards its achievement.
Most ancillae have yet to reach spiritual perfection, or even a close approximation thereof. The Requiem is — and must be — more than just a series of masses and sacraments broken by interludes of fervent prayer and bloody predation. An untold number of regular, earthly distractions also occupy the ancillae. It is all but impossible to banish these inconveniences in order to focus on matters of faith alone. Kindred who seek to refine their personal piety and spiritual strength may involve themselves in the hierarchy of The Lancea Sanctum even after a century of solitary contemplation.
Ancillae cannot escape the social games that play out in Elysium, in the Rack, and everywhere else the Damned congregate. A truly devout participant in the Danse Macabre accepts that and understands that it is a part of the Requiem (though not the point of it). Such an ancilla sees these endeavors as anvils upon which to hammer and refine the steel of his faith into a new Spear of Destiny. If an ancilla is not overwhelmed by such power plays or lured off the holy path, he becomes a more excellent monster, capable of withstanding the distractions and obstacles of the secular life — and perhaps capable of freeing others from themselves.
Fanaticism
Every crowd has its hotheads and incurably self-righteous who, once they adopt a philosophy or cause as their own, stop at nothing to prove they are fighting the good fight. Ancillae who fall under this category see in The Lancea Sanctum the perfect opportunity to be right and to show other Sanctified just how damned right they are. Whether they seize upon the idea of serving as literal paladins of Longinus or transfer their zealotry into less violent efforts, their dedication to the covenant and the central role of faith goes unquestioned.
Certainly, a number of fanatical ancillae do not adhere to every one of Longinus’ precepts all the time; some disregard The Rule of Golgotha when it interferes with what they perceive to be a more ardent demonstration of faith. The independence and authority bestowed by the covenant on some ancillae (or taken for themselves) leads many to justify impious actions with pious motives. And let no one call into question the loyalty of such a devoted agent! Fanatics unknowingly confuse the spirit of a philosophy and its scripture, but need never re-examine their positions, for they have faith and do not doubt. The Crimson Cavalry is but one example of this, with the group’s neo-Nazi dogma overriding traditional quasi-Catholic Sanctified doctrine.
But the most zealous Sanctified play, without question, a powerful and integral part in the covenant, even when their numbers are small. Their fervor inspires less confident members, whose own faith wavers. The opportunities open to them and the stature their burning piety earns them serves to keep these ancillae within the fold and to lure others to join. Few covenants welcome (or create) zealots as The Lancea Sanctum does.

Roles of the Ancillae

Those Damned who have survived more than half a century find few doors closed to them as members of The Lancea Sanctum. Every ecclesiastical office is theirs for the taking and every part is theirs to play, assuming they have the wits and wherewithal to succeed. Find a place in the covenant, gather the flock, give the word, and so let it be done.
What follows is a breakdown of some major roles ancillae play in the covenant, with a description of each role’s importance. Keep in mind that many possible roles for ancillae exist beyond these, and that neonates or elders might fill some of these roles in particular domains; there are no certainties in the Danse Macabre. As the ancillae are a meaty percentage of the covenant’s members, however, they cover the greatest ground in terms of contributions to the covenant. While the following roles are important, understand that many Sanctified ancillae do not assume any of them, but instead are simply granted (or adopt) the role of Priest, and minister to their neighborhood or flock as they will, sharing the evangel of Longinus and bettering their chosen Kindred without participating in the complex local machinations of The Lancea Sanctum itself.
Few Sanctified ancillae can escape playing some part, however. Age alone marks an ancilla in the minds of lay neonates and novitiates as deacons of a sort, knowledgeable and experienced Sanctified who can keep consul, share advice and give warnings without necessarily being tasked by the Bishop to do so. Many Kindred seek out such fringe Priests in favor of Sanctified Priests wearing some garb of the covenant. Sanctified fundamentalists, on the other hand, look down on such casual deacons as half-hearted and therefore dangerous, but their numbers (and, often, popularity) make it difficult to intervene without weakening the appearance of covenant solidarity. For the most part, the fire-and-brimstone types simply pursue their own passions and trust in the belief that fringe Priests are doing at least the bare minimum necessary to glorify Longinus and keep the local Kindred in line with the church.

Priest and Politician

Many ancillae serve The Lancea Sanctum as its night-to-night administrators, bureaucrats, and religious functionaries. They might like to pretend that spiritual matters come first, but the leadership of a Sanctified parish is not something that can take a back seat to other concerns. To neglect the covenant and its purpose in favor of personal enlightenment is not only irresponsible, but a surefire way to stumble in the Danse Macabre. A runaway diocese is ripe for corruption and infiltration by other covenants, either of which would be considered disastrous in the extreme. Therefore, a Sanctified ancilla must dedicate himself to the proper guidance of the covenant.
Whether bearing a formal title or not, the burden falls upon every ancilla to uphold the canons and tenets of the faith, to see to the proper application of the Rule, and to provide leadership to others, especially the neonates, who may one night themselves ascend to positions of authority. Each is a Priest in the most general sense, and each is responsible for acting the part. Perhaps most importantly, it is the ancillae, more than any other Sanctified, who represent the covenant and, ultimately, communicate the teachings of Longinus to other Kindred. Even if not actively giving counsel or preaching to the masses, the ancillae must always remember that they are the face of the covenant and their actions must reflect that. If they cannot stand out as models for others, the entire parish suffers. The ancillae should seek every possible way they might best personify the Majesty and righteousness of The Lancea Sanctum. Where the Sanctified hold the lion’s share of the power, this is relatively easy. However, where the covenant wields lesser political influence, the clergy needs to be more judicious in its use of rhetoric and its show of moral probity. Being excluded from important Kindred gatherings on account of arrogance or another impropriety is not a good way to help the covenant.
One of the most effective ways ancillae can enact their role as evangelists is also the easiest: they can dress the part. Clerical garb, whether ornate vestments and florid raiment or more conservative apparel, is always impressive. Even an ancilla of limited accomplishment can wear something that marks him to lay Kindred as a member of The Lancea Sanctum. Sacred ornaments and jewelry are also commonplace, but their ubiquity among devout Sanctified does little to mark an ancilla as a figure of special Status in the covenant.
As priests, ancillae are responsible for participating in (and often leading) at least one regular ritual. The vast variety of ceremonial sacraments and minor rites can be overwhelming, and in all but the smallest congregations multiple ancillae share the burden of overseeing these observances. Some might be very minor, but all are important in some way. One can’t simply choose to forego a particular ritual because of some personal conflict or secret motive. It is not the ancilla’s rite, but the covenant’s.
As much as the ancilla is a Priest, he is a politician, and in many domains the two roles are inseparable. Beginning the moment he gains the respect and privilege due an accomplished member of The Lancea Sanctum, an ancilla must understand and appreciate at least the basic state of affairs in the city (and use what skills he has to exploit those affairs). Within every parish political intrigues play out, some involving only a few Sanctified, others involving plots of such complexity that they have repercussions throughout the city. Many of these intrigues are secular, brushing up against The Lancea Sanctum only because of the covenant’s presence in the domain, but others originate within the covenant and draw in outsiders. The majority of these are relatively petty schemes concerning who presides over a certain ritual, which sermon shall be delivered at an upcoming mass, or which mortal shall provide the clergy their habiliment, for example. Some are more substantial. An attempt by a cabal of priests to oust and replace the current Confessor to the Primogen is no small matter, for example. It is critical, then, that the covenant’s ancillae become as politically astute as possible to protect the covenant and its congregation from the moral erosions of the Danse Macabre.

Counselor

The roles ancillae play as counselors to their fellow Kindred is no less vital than the role of a Priest — and can be just as political. Every Kindred in the city can be served by the wise counsel of a learned Sanctified. A holy confidant can be the closest ally of the most powerful Kindred in the domain, and there is perhaps no greater protection in the Danse Macabre than a reputation for being essential and discreet.
Naturally, not every ancilla qualifies as exceptionally wise or insightful, but the covenant may provide an education deep enough to enable any Anointed Kindred to offer some important advice to those in need. For many it’s enough simply for a counselor to listen carefully, present no personal bias (or ulterior motive), and offer a frank alternative perspective. Counselors may supply quotations or recitations from the Testament to demonstrate the familiarity of a problem, and how it might be overcome. The troubles of a modern Kindred can be shown in a new light by relating current woes to ancient parables and morality plays. Sometimes just the serenity of a Sanctified sure in her faith is enough. Often, of course, a counselor suggests that counsel-seekers are too preoccupied with matters of politics and property, for which they prescribe contemplation and predation, which bring clarity of purpose to all the Damned.
Even a fringe Sanctified ancilla with little interest in the betterment of his kind may become the counselor to some local Kindred, using the opening to put forth his own personal views or further his own plans. A canny ancilla can turn someone’s confidence to nearly any end, not the least of which is the cultivation of a confederate who might serve well in times of turmoil. This privilege of the trusted Sanctified is considered by some to be the greatest advantage an ancilla can wield in the Danse Macabre. The power to sway the opinion and guide the decision-making of other Kindred — often in secret — is a fearsome power that can stir up a substantial amount of jealousy and mistrust, however. Ancillae who abuse their trusted connection to other Kindred are reviled as selfish by those who cherish and uphold the role of the counselor as something sacred; in exchange, manipulative counselors believe any resource which benefits the covenant benefits all Kindred in time. For these reasons, some Sanctified counselors surreptitiously try to poach others’ supplicants.
The Lancea Sanctum is not a church for mortals, or mortal morality, however. A counselor who persuades, intimidates, or otherwise coerces his charge to perform acts that are (to some minds) immoral is not necessarily scolded by the covenant for his actions. Counseling an advice-seeker to kill a mortal only encourages him to behave according to his function, as Longinus wrote. That the death of a particular mortal may benefit the covenant, the counselor, or some other vampire may be beside the point, depending on the circumstances. In domains where the covenant is especially severe, Sanctified overseers have no apologies for Kindred who are used by their counselors or whose entourages of mortal servants arebled. As predators, all Kindred should first regard the living as animals to be eaten, and second, should be able to rule and protect themselves; getting hurt should make you tougher. Only the lamb cries foul when the wolf seizes what is his, and the Dark Prophet has no mercy for lambs.
At the heart of it, though, it is the fundamental responsibility of Sanctified ancilla to offer advice, guidance and assistance when doing so would prove beneficial to the Kindred and the greater glory of Longinus. Despite all the ways the role of counselor can be abused, most ancillae give counsel because they truly believe it strengthens the covenant’s relationship with the wider vampiric world. Most Kindred require some insight they do not personally possess, and the covenant strives to be there for them. Much of the insight other Kindred seek from the covenant is of a spiritual nature, of course, but once counselor and petitioner establish a rapport, a supplicant might ask an ancilla his opinion on nearly anything. Many ancillae make a point of researching the history and related philosophy of subjects important to their charge. The Anointed of The Lancea Sanctum often have a reputation for being well read or educated, and the covenant has access to historical records (both Kindred and kine) that give its members a broad perspective. Thus Sanctified counselors often grow to become political advisors, social strategists, or academic experts.

Confessor

The Lancea Sanctum does not abandon those vampires who fail to be the most perfect predators. It does not give up on those who violate the canons and precepts of the faith. Provided these weaker Kindred strive to better fulfill the role God gave to vampires, provided they recognize their failures, provided they reveal themselves to the Sanctified, Kindred who sin against their earth mission have an opportunity to strengthen themselves, hone their fatal ways, and restore their pious station.
The confessors of The Lancea Sanctum enjoy an autonomy and authority unlike that of Catholic confessors, on which they are only loosely based. Sanctified confessors are entitled to devise their own penance for their supplicants. The greater the crime, the more severe the penance. In very rare cases (though Confessor-Inquisitors were common for a time in Europe, well into the seventeenth century) a confessor may even destroy a vampire she deems dangerous to the covenant, such as one who has, or intends to, grossly violate the Masquerade. Most penance, however, resembles something more akin to personal exercise for the Damned. A confessor may demand the penitent attend a forthcoming ritual, bring the Bishop a gift of fine Vitae, endure atonement by torment, or hunt and kill a human in a particular fashion or location. Of course, some penance amounts to little more than a recitation of scripture or a simple service to the covenant.
In domains where The Lancea Sanctum is strong, it is not uncommon for formal confession to be required of every Kindred in the congregation — if not regularly, then at least on occasion. A Sinner’s Ball (once popular in French domains and, for a time, in New Orleans) is little more than a communal Confessional rite (see page 80) hosted by the covenant and dressed up as a social function; the specifics vary, of course. Fanatical branches of the covenant regard the role of confessor as something like that of an Inquisitor — she is expected to go out and get confessions.
Where The Lancea Sanctum cannot enforce its values so universally over Kindred society, the doors still stand open, so that any vampire can avail herself of the opportunity to purge her soul and be worthy of Longinus’ blessing. The sacrament of confession is not something to be taken lightly, and even when given in a less than official capacity, it demands much of the penitent. Not only must she reveal perhaps her darkest secrets to the ancilla receiving to her, but she must also accept a penance devised by the same Priest. Although many penances are routine and require no great tribulation, some are quite onerous, and others take a great deal of time to complete (a Sanctified confessor’s view of time is far different from one whose nights are filled with social games and indulgent political plays). Sanctified who cannot perform their penance with humility and fortitude, or who abandon this sacred duty entirely, arescolded, threatened or worse.
It goes without saying that this role presents countless opportunities for blackmail, betrayal, and subterfuge; such is the Danse Macabre, even among Priests. Should a pardoner be found guilty of disregarding the sanctity of confession by exposing his penitent’s sins to the public or an enemy to gain some personal advantage, the indiscreet confessor will have hell to pay. (Unless, of course, those he tells are more powerful than those he tells on.) Unlike a Catholic confessor, a Sanctified confessor is expected to report to an Anointed superior information on the sins being committed in the parish, but not necessarily who is doing what. The Anointed, as a body, are expected to maintain the privacy of the penitent, but only to a point. Powerful Anointed can certainly survive the minor scandal of reporting the crimes of a nobody neonate to the Sheriff.
The Sanctified do not claim the same purview as mortal priests, but many Kindred forget that and share secrets with a Sanctified confessor, which may be more valuable than the Requiem of the penitent vampire. If, for example, a neonate reveals that he has stolen from the Prince, his crime does not fall into the scope of The Lancea Sanctum’s spiritual concerns — theft is a violation of the Commandments, not the canons of the covenant. Whether or not the confessor reveals the thief depends entirely on the particular confessor’s loyalties and judgment… and what the thief is worth to the covenant.
Storytelling the Confession
A scene of confession can be a challenge to play out, but the benefits are often worth it. A Confessional scene is a moment for one character (and her player) to shine; it’s her Oscar scene. This is the chance for the other players to get a good look at what the confessing character thinks, how she sees herself, and why. You, as a player, might choose to prepare a dramatic or frightening reading for your player ahead of time or you may find that exploring an improvised monologue over a minute or two brings your character to life (sic) in a way he never was before. If nothing else, this scene is a great way to earn experience awards for roleplaying.
When describing your Confessional scene, make use of the unique elements The Lancea Sanctum provides. A Sanctified confession can take place anywhere, so take advantage of it. Imagine what the confession means to your character — and to the larger story being told — and consider what details either enhance the scene’s meaning, or contrast with it. A confession on a rooftop just before dawn or in a room spattered with blood is terrifically moody. Perhaps your character only finally confesses when she is starving or just one bullet away from Torpor. She could snap and scream her confession to a hideous Nosferatu elder in the burnt-out ruins of a cathedral, or she could whisper her confession to another player’s character in the familiar ground of a shared Haven. Make it yours.

Preacher and Missionary

The Lancea Sanctum would have perished at the hands of the Camarilla if it were not for those Sanctified who took up the task of spreading the word of the Testament, despite the risk to themselves. Of all the Kindred, the ancillae have historically had the greatest impact establishing a foundation for The Lancea Sanctum. Their charismatic Sermons, their firebrand tirades, their passionate revelations, and their willingness to leave the safety of their parish behind in order to further glorify the word and will of Longinus are why the covenant has achieved the influence it has in so many places. Rarely, if ever, are ancillae commanded to accept these roles, however. Rather, it is implied that all members of the Sanctified shall preach when the time (and the audience) is right, and most far-reaching missionaries take the dangerous task upon themselves. Still, enough do the holy summons to make these roles the stereotypical Sanctified endeavor in many cities, and these stalwart exemplars of the evangel shall reap miraculous rewards for their toil.
Every Sanctified worth her blood accumulates a mental library of scriptural passages, allegorical stories and moral aphorisms during her Requiem. Most ancillae, particularly those who have been members of The Lancea Sanctum for a considerable time, have a substantial arsenal of liturgical tools at the ready. They’re no fools and are more than aware of the awesome power an eloquent sermon can have upon the minds of susceptible Damned. Adding a dash of supernatural charisma only further amplifies the persuasive force of these religious speeches, and those who can command this kind of edge are encouraged to use it. Why would the Kindred possess such a talent if it’s not to be put to good use, and what could be a better use than rallying others to venerate and emulate the Dark Prophet?
Ancillae with Silver tongues are valuable members of the covenant, frequently called upon by their fellow Sanctified to sermonize at masses and other ceremonial functions. Some ancillae stand before their congregation under the darkened moon and exhort the throng with scathing attacks on the sinners among them, flailing them with words of righteousness and sanctimoniously hammering them with guilt. Others prefer to speak of their sacred purpose as Longinus’ heirs, calling attention to their state of Damnation as a reason to rejoice, their florid homilies instilling in audiences feelings of certitude and holy rapture. Still others adopt the role ofteacher, relying more upon intellectual skills and historical examples than any emotional appeal; their moralizing usually focuses on a singular topic and depends upon the balanced use of logic, levity and linguistic artistry to convey their message.
In some parts of the world, most notably in North America, another flavor of Sanctified preacher thrives: the showman. The evangelical movements that did so much to swell the ranks of the covenant on the continent are technically past, but the success of its wonder-workers continues to motivate some ancillae to adopt this method of sermonizing. Particularly in more rural domains, the evangelicals carry on the tradition of religious revivals that would make a mortal believer blanch. These carnival-like stage shows feature “Miracles of Longinus,” the presentation of “true relics,” and frightening displays of Theban Sorcery, not to mention the quasi-ritualistic exsanguinations of a few kine to sate the appetites of the ecstatic true believers and demonstrate the devotion of a few Damned. It seems that nothing is off limits at these events. If it brings in the crowds and scores converts, it’s in the show.
Whether they preach with puritanical zeal and put on extravagant midnight revivals to hypnotize the preternatural senses of the Kindred, or simply meander from town to town thumping the Testament, Sanctified missionaries and evangelists know well the danger in which they put themselves. Every road between the cities is a frightening one, replete with dangers of every sort and magnitude. For this reason, most footloose Sanctified travel in small groups led by a charismatic ancillae or elder and accompanied by others of lesser stature.
Each member of a migrant evangelical coterie knows her place and has clearly defined responsibilities that cover practical needs — securing a Haven, seeking vessels, covering the group’s tracks — as well as those necessary to put on a successful performance. Arriving in a city, these Sanctified may hit the Rack and Elysium to drum up interest in the preacher and test the political waters to find out how their presence might be received by the local powers. More than a few Princes discourage what they often see as vagabond charlatans and rabble-rousers from stirring up trouble in their domain. Itinerant preachers also learn what they can about The Lancea Sanctum in the city, as well as facts and rumors about the domain itself, which can later be incorporated into the show to great effect. They often distribute copies of the Catechism and The Testament of Longinus (which some Princes and Bishops fear risks breaching the Masquerade) and upon departing a city may accept new disciples into their coterie, so long as it does not jeopardize their ability to maintain the Masquerade and be welcomed elsewhere.
Only a rare breed of Sanctified takes to the road alone. Such ancillae are viewed either as truly exceptional paragons of faith and fortitude or as madmen driven by visions of martyrdom and a desire to meet their maker before the appointed hour. Some are known as the Nepheshim (see p. 154), but most have little connection to that ancient faction and instead wander of their own volition.

Crusader

The Lancea Sanctum is not without its detractors and outright enemies, and must forever be on its guard against such threats. The gravest dangers of all, however, cannot be faced in combat, for they cannot be found at all without vigilance and Vigor. They are the corruption of Longinus’ church, and the treachery posed by those Sanctified too morally weak to recognize heresy from the true religion. The covenant reveres the Spear of Destiny not just for its symbolism, but for its function.
To defend the covenant, its faithful congregants must sometimes step down from the pulpit and take up their spears in combat against pagan witches and the venal vipers within their own ranks. Neonates fill out the ranks of the covenant’s holy crusades, but the ancillae serve as the officers in the army of Longinus. Ancillae have many decades of reasons to fight with true ferocity and the experience to survive such battles.
Combat for ancillae usually involves the defense of the covenant’s membership and the protection of its sacred possessions. From escorting a venerable Priest to Midnight Mass or accompanying pilgrims to a holy site, to watching for unwanted trespassers outside a covenant gathering or standing vigil over a Sanctified relic, warriors of the faith have many occasions to come under attack. Certain high-ranking or exceptionally influential members of the covenant have personal bodyguards permanently at their beck and call, both to call attention to their station and to keep them from harm. This is especially true in domains with large wilderness regions, where the possibility of a sudden attack by Lupines or other horrors is not out of the question, and to a lesser degree in larger cities where the covenant does not hold power (or is actively at war), and the safety of ecclesiastic officers is a nightly concern. Missionaries, evangelists, and simple neonates on pilgrimage may find experienced Sanctified ancillae ready and willing to join them on their travels, to provide whatever martial services they might require. Some ancillae, such as Legates, know some routes so well that they are regularly employed to escort any Sanctified traveling that way. Many parishes, meanwhile, claim at least one relic — even if it is only a gilded bauble of dubious origin — and their safekeeping is no small matter to the local Anointed. Such artifacts very often serve as spiritual touchstones and anchors for the faith of the community. Their destruction, theft, or desecration can shake the local faith in the covenant’s strength.
Sometimes the Sanctified are called upon to do more than defend themselves. While not a regular occurrence in comparison to the frequency of such things during the covenant’s earliest years, the scions of Longinus must occasionally take the fight to the enemy. Violence is not the preferred method of dousing the fires that threaten them, but it is also not something the covenant’s paladins shy from; a predator must eliminate those who seek to steal his territory or his prey. The Sanctified know full well that direct force is sometimes the only means of absolute victory. Each one a testament to the excellence of the covenant, ancillae crusaders lead the charge against impious Damned and their mortal minions without mercy or hesitation. When the time has come for war, only victory can stop a Sanctified paladin. For them, shedding and consuming the blood of the heathen is their sacred reward as staunch warriors of Longinus.
Enemies of the Sanctified claim the covenant’s hell-raising holy wars and “glorious cause” threaten the Masquerade, but the terrifying combatants of The Lancea Sanctum know their purpose: The Traditions are the cause. Many, however, privately accept that The Traditions must sometimes be momentarily ignored to secure the total destruction of those who would see them destroyed utterly. Armed with the fire of faith and the blessing of the Dark Messiah, Longinus’ crusaders are a terrible sight to behold when they come with their medieval weapons and modern armor. Few among the Damned have the nerve or conviction to stand against them.
Often, Longinian paladins take up the good fight of their own volition. The Lancea Sanctum has no globally organized military arm, and few parishes have more than a handful of dedicated Sanctified warriors. It is not unheard of, however, for local Sanctified to form what amounts to a military order sworn to the full-time defense of The Lancea Sanctum. Such coteries often share a communal Haven as a show of solidarity and for protection against the covenant’s slithering enemies. In wealthy parishes, Sanctified knights may be outfitted with weapons, cars, security systems, and even elaborate garb for ceremonial observances. A group of militant Sanctified ancillae can alter the whole tenor of the Danse Macabre in a domain. When a group’s members are convinced, as some are, that the greatest demonstration of devotion to Longinus is martyrdom, the impact on the domain can be enormous and permanent.
Some members of the covenant take up the sword for Longinus as penance. They accept the risks of violent conflict as a means to purge themselves of their sins and demonstrate their worthiness to God. Such penance is usually limited to a particular mission or a limited period of time, but Sanctified of extreme piety have taken eternal vows to battle until their Requiems end in flames.

Inquisitor

Before the crusaders can wage their wars, the enemy must be found. Nowhere can the Sanctified be truly free from the danger of rot from within: corruption and heresy is as much the product of ignorance as of insolence, and it is impossible for all Sanctified to be religious scholars. Therefore, a number of ancillae are dedicated to the identification and eradication of these threats wherever they fester. While it is certainly important to combat those who wish to harm the covenant, these self-righteous Sanctified believe the invisible enemy to be the most dangerous — let none forget the Traitor at the Black Abbey! Conspiracies have historically posed a greater threat to the covenant than armies.
Most who don the mantle of the Inquisitor assume the responsibilities full-time, watching their fellow parishioners with unblinking eyes for any sign of heresy. The presence of an Inquisitor creates an atmosphere of Paranoia and fear, for they traditionally have the authority to investigate any Suspicion, and often the right to punish whomever they deem guilty. The accusations of ancillae carry greater weight than those of neonates. An Inquisitor must be able to present an unspoken attitude of stark acceptance — she has seen all of this before.Younger Kindred simply do not have the experience or the credibility to judge the character of other vampires. Elders make excellent Inquisitors, but the majority of the most ancient Inquisitors took the office as ancillae.
Not many Kindred have the wide range of skills necessary to excel in the role of Inquisitor. In practice, most Inquisitors fill the office for only a short time — sometimes as little as a single investigation — until they are suitably respected and feared to gain more power with less effort. Those Kindred who endure in the role are not like ordinary vampires, and they are the reason why the role of Inquisitor doesn’t appear (or, by many accounts, feel) like one that can simply be adopted. Many neonates who seek the office are told frankly that “you cannot become an Inquisitor, childe; if you were an Inquisitor you would be an Inquisitor.”
An Inquisitor must have an intuitive grasp of both the Man and the Beast, of how the living and dead minds interact in a vampire. An Inquisitor must exhibit extreme skills of empathy without revealing anything of her true character in return. An Inquisitor must be able to outwit, outmaneuver, and outthink his elders. An Inquisitor must not be moved by pleas for mercy or tales of woe, or surprised by words or deeds. An Inquisitor must be able to master pain; this is more important than the ability to fight. An Inquisitor must be able to avoid combat: she does not defeat her subject, she reveals and eliminates him. An Inquisitor must be able to get information from any vampire — whether he wants to or not, whether he knows he’s being interrogated or not.
The mystique of the Inquisitor reaches well beyond the covenant congregation. Invictus leaders, especially, have a reputation for being impressed by Sanctified Inquisitors. It is therefore not uncommon for influential Kindred outside of the covenant to seek an Inquisitor’s services in secular pursuits. Those rare Inquisitors who don’t see such efforts as a distraction from their purpose have been known to assist Princes, prisci, and others as investigators, interrogators, advisors, and jurors on matters both public and private.

Keepers of Theban Sorcery

Knowledge of, and experience with, Theban Sorcery is as important as knowledge of scripture in some parishes. Ancillae, as agents of the covenant, split the difference between age and accessibility, so it falls to them to both understand the supernatural powers of the Damned and to pass on the means to gain further understanding to the neonates who follow them. In practice, this responsibility extends to all of the vampiric Disciplines the ancillae of the parish may have access to, but the covenant’s arcane customs stem mostly from its heritage of Theban Sorcery.
As with most of the covenant’s customs, the control of its miraculous magic is handled in any of a hundred ways in a hundred different cities. One principle, however, is so widespread as to be almost universal: the right to learn Theban Sorcery must be granted by those who know it. Simply surviving twenty-one years of undeath or attending Midnight Mass does not warrant a Sanctified the right to learn Theban Sorcery. Those who know a rite must choose to pass it on.
The volume of rituals known to the Sanctified, and the strange array of powers they afford, means that most rites are shared when needed, whether for a particular endeavor or for the safe-keeping of the miracle itself. Ancillae might not even share rituals with each other. The customary response to a Sanctified who asks to be taught is snide but polite: “No, because you do not need it.”
In practice, however, most parishes do not typically hoard power from the able. Theban Sorcery is the unique instrument of The Lancea Sanctum, so it must be guarded, but at the same time it is of little use if it is not in the hands of the Sanctified. Simple rites are readily shared in parishes confident in the loyalty of the membership, but even the simplest rituals are reserved for the Anointed in less-secure domains. The Bishop might reserve the right to authorize new practitioners or require all talk of Theban Sorcery to be limited to covenant grounds, but these are artificial limitations on the art. Ultimately, it is the decision of each Sanctified to share or withhold the power of The Lancea Sanctum’s dark miracles.
Proficient Theban Sorcerers may also undertake the cataloging and collection of rituals. Such scholarly Sanctified may go to nearby parishes to collect or share knowledge, Research forgotten rites, or investigate claims of new power. These keepers of Theban Sorcery are forbidden to hide their findings from the covenant leadership, however, and in many parishes it is forbidden to deny an elder any ritual he seeks to learn. History, however, is rife with tales of ancillae and elders who practiced secret forms of Theban Sorcery.

Relations with Others

The ancillae, as the accomplished adults of the Danse Macabre, are in the thick of it. They are the social strata through which so much of vampiric society is conducted. Many neonates would hear nothing of the elders if were not for the ancillae, who were once the neonates to yesterday’s ancillae. Many elders would not survive the modern night without the support of the ancillae, their childer.

Ancillae and Neonates

Every ancillae was a neonate. This colors everything about the relationships between these two groups. The Sanctified ancillae understand the difficulties neonates face and know the truth about the stations they seek. Thus the ancillae are forever treating fledgling Sanctified as vessels to be filled with knowledge, wisdom, and purpose, but also as naïve children who don’t know what is best for them. In some manner, virtually every relationship between an ancilla and a neonate reflects this.
It might seem as though Sanctified ancillae view neonates as little more than instruments for covenant use, but that is a grave misinterpretation of The Lancea Sanctum, and possibly of ancillae in general. Even if a neonate shows no aptitude for the clergy, she is a divine heir to the power of Longinus. Every neonate experiences the Requiem, and each, likely or not, has some potential to excel at the part she was Cursed to play. No neonate possesses the same combination of skills, talents, and potential of another, so each must be judged on her own basis. Only the most narrow-minded ancilla does not recognize the fearsome power flowing in the neonates, despite their lack of refinement. Those who accept the Testament of Longinus, who do their best to abide by its precepts, and who demonstrate their devotion to the covenant must be allowed the opportunity to prove or damn themselves.
Ancillae should see to it that neonates are given the spiritual education necessary to satisfy their needs and the needs of the covenant. Ancillae interact with novitiates directly, becoming their priests, confessors, mentors, and shepherds. The Requiem is a cruel and arduous existence, and all but the most callous ancillae prefer to spend it in the company of their Sanctified brothers and sisters. Even in the largest domains, the total number of Sanctified is limited. With so few to turn to for companionship, if nothing else, most ancillae see reason to understand those neonates, with whom they share time, hunting grounds, and eternity.
Consider the likelihood that the covenant’s ancillae outnumber its neonates in many domains. The difficulty of the Embrace and the covenant’s strict observance of the Second Tradition sometimes result in a swollen “middle class,” of sorts. Obviously, the Second Tradition is broken with some frequency, even by the Sanctified, but that rarely makes up for the passage of time that turns last night’s neonate into tonight’s ancilla. This can create a feeling among the ancillae that the neonates are in some sense on probation. Not until they have survived the demands of the Curse and conducted their own Requiem in a fashion worthy of the Longinus — things that cannot be accomplished in just a few decades — will they be truly regarded as equals.
Many ancillae form lasting relationships with neonates. Advising a neonate, or hearing the neonate’s confessions, the ancilla becomes closer to him. She learns not only of the fledgling’s sins, but also of his fears, ambitions, and regrets. Whether this blossoms into something more substantial outside the Confessional becomes the choice of the ancilla, who still holds power over the neonate. She may feel that the neonate would make a good ecclesiastical assistant. A more empathetic ancilla might even adopt the neonate as her protégé, taking pride in what the inexperienced Sanctified might one night become under his capable ministration. However, unless they share a Vinculum, even the most well-intentioned and emotionally generous ancilla may discover his relationship with a neonate plagued with the whisper of Paranoia. The Predator’s Taint not only colors all Kindred relationships, but a personal relationship between Sanctified can become a matter of concern for others in the covenant. When two neonates become more concerned with their own existence, it can be chastised as errant folly; when an ancilla is involved, Status may erode and important duties may go unperformed. The covenant won’t allow a neonate to unravel one of its vital members.
An ancilla who is sire to a Sanctified neonate may find it difficult to escape the shame and blame of her sins. Even if the congregation absolves the ancilla after The Creation Rite, she may not absolve herself. As the neonate rises through the ranks of the covenant, the sire may grow defensive; the hackles of a social predator are raised when rivals approach one’s social Status. Thus, even as the ancilla is helping childer become the vampires the covenant demands, she may be threatened by a neonate of her own creation.

Ancillae and Elders

If the ancillae truly fear anyone or anything other than Longinus and God, it is the eldest members of The Lancea Sanctum, who have passed the tests of time and become the exemplars of the covenant.
No ancillae knows what it requires to survive the Danse Macabre long enough to be an elder, or what glorious might such an ancient predator possesses. It is one thing to listen to an elder speak, to take her counsel, and to see her perform ceremonial rites. It is quite another to understand what goes on in the mind of an ancient. It is the unknown inevitable that makes ancillae fear their elders.
In The Lancea Sanctum, the great power afforded to elders magnifies that fear. The ancillae know enough to be afraid of their elders and have endured long enough to have a great deal to lose — to be taken from them by their revered superiors. The ancillae must simultaneously celebrate the covenant’s aged monsters and dread the brilliant machinations they devise to glorify the covenant. An elder must be feared as each ancilla one day hopes to be feared.
The Sanctified never take an elder for granted. The ancillae may be technically responsible for the night-to-night administration and defense of the covenant, but everything they do falls under the lengthy shadow of these eldest Sanctified. Nothing can be assumed to escape their imperious gaze, leaving every Sanctified feeling as if they are forever being watched (or second-guessed). What if an ancilla’s misstep causes an elder to intervene? Doubtless, the ancilla’s reputation would suffer as a consequence. This leaves the ancillae in a difficult position: they make up the bulk of the priesthood and are expected to provide leadership, but a sword of Damocles hangs over them constantly. What’s more, as the most visible representatives of The Lancea Sanctum at covenant functions, the ancillae’s job of presenting a unified front — or at least a consistent one — to other Sanctified becomes that much more complicated when the overpowering personality of an elder is added to the equation.
The Requiems of the ancillae are balancing acts. They must be leaders trusted to speak for the covenant, but at the same time they must defer to their revered elders whenever the Sanctified ancients wish to exert their staggering influence in covenant affairs. They must appear strong to the neonates without overstepping the bounds of their station in the eyes of the elders.
Those ancillae who rise to positions of ecclesiastical power above some of the covenant’s elders — like one handpicked to replace an elder entering Torpor — are particularly uncomfortable. While title gives them the authority to tell the elders what to do, only a reckless or arrogant ancilla would presume that authority supersedes reverence. Such an ancilla may feel impotent, never sure when his authority will be countermanded. When the elders show support for an ancilla leader, the ancilla may be seen as a puppet or a scapegoat. Of course, ancillae often are exactly that: puppets of their elders. Few ancillae do not imagine they are in some way serving the interests of the Sanctified elders; many hope they are. An ancilla’s own goals and interests might coincide with those of an elder who is more likely to get what they both want, if the ancilla only plays along. Sanctified ancilla can trust the elders of their covenant more than most Kindred would feel comfortable doing, so one might feel safe just doing as he is told and learning along the way. Of course, trust is always dangerous, but if an elder decides to place a subordinate ancilla at risk to further the goals of the covenant, then that is pious service, too.Several of the covenant’s local ancillae may be the progeny of a resident elder. The ancilla’s relationship to an elder sire is markedly different from that of a neonate to an ancilla. The guilt borne by many ancillae sires as a result of their defiance of the Second Tradition seems to be absent in the eldest Sanctified, either because time has washed away any lingering shame or because sin takes on a different meaning for Sanctified elder. Some elders may feel their sins are alleviated when they embrace their childer once again and establish new relationships that turn the ancillae from objects of shame into true priests, counselors, missionaries, and soldiers of Longinus. This gives the ancillae opportunities to forge closer and perhaps more beneficial relationships with their sires, and therefore gain more power in the covenant. This may not mean an ancilla has his sire’s ear when he wants it — elders may simply have no interest in the temporal troubles of a young ancilla. Being the childe of an elder does not promise an elder Mentor.
Most ancillae who find themselves with an elder Mentor choose to remain cautious, asking for nothing that is not offered and always showing the utmost gratitude for the privilege of calling that elder their Mentor. Remember, even if they receive nothing more from their sire than the Embrace, a wise ancillae knows that the power of that elder will always reflect upon him to some degree, and that is an invaluable boon.

Elders: The Guiding Hand

Those Sanctified who have walked the earth for centuries, who have mastered the hunt of human prey, who have overcome the erosion of the mind and survived the torments of a hostile night are revered like saints in The Lancea Sanctum.
Only a very few of these exalted figures have been able to endure the terrible strain that the passage of so many lifetimes can place upon their once-mortal psyches. It’s difficult for a human mind to manage the transition to a higher role, to hear and truly understand the secret gospel of the Damned, and to persist in excellence for hundreds of years. The Curse continues to transform elders, plaguing their memories, warping their reasoning, and searing their emotions in ways that should destroy them. But a few survive this trauma, slipping into sleep as Longinus vanished into the desert, to awake years later, as Longinus will one day return.
They are majestic creatures whose presence commands obedience and whose capabilities make them all but indomitable, yet they must wage a war against themselves to keep the Beast at bay, to keep their meager mortal frames in line with the holy mission, and to resist the churning pull of the ages. What then can The Lancea Sanctum offer them? Why do they join and why do they remain?

The Pillar of Faith

Some elders believe that the best way to fend off the threats of forgetfulness, ennui, dementia, and insanity is to cleave to a spiritual or intellectual anchor, allowing them to withstand the withering waters of eternity they find themselves pulled ever further under. For many of them, as with mortals, faith provides this anchor — a pillar the elder can tie his mind to — offering a very real sense of spiritual, moral, and mental stability. By clinging to the pillar of faith he can hold firm against the passage of time and not be swept away to a powerless future or Final Death.
The Lancea Sanctum provides a foundation that has lasted for nearly two thousand years and, with the exception of a few cracks and fissures, seems destined to be there for just as many more. This promise of endurance means that no matter how long eternity proves to be, an elder who holds fast to the covenant can feel assured that he will not simply be lost in the fog of eternity that waits to swallow him whole. The Sanctified shall guard his torpid body like a relic, record the deeds of his past nights, and awake him with reverence and respect. The elder may be more influential when he wakes than he was before he fell into Torpor.Elders are closer to the covenant’s origins than other Sanctified. This gives Sanctified elders a strong sense of covenant ownership. The elders cling to the pillar of faith, and the pillar was built by a succession of elders before them. The Lancea Sanctum is a covenant built on a foundation of respect and reverence for those who came before. Without their early achievements, without their eternal guidance and unwavering devotion to the Testament of Longinus to serve as the map to piety, there would not be a Lancea Sanctum tonight. They have provided the younger generations the stability necessary to nurture the covenant, and the moral strength to fight for Longinus against all challenges. Although many of the covenant’s elders no longer care to worry themselves with the minutiae required of Sanctified leadership — it is not uncommon, in fact, for them to cede the highest ecclesiastical seats to ancillae — they are the touchstones of piety and perseverance that keep the covenant from crumbling under its own considerable weight. The elders might prefer to spend their nights pursuing other more personal or more far-reaching agendas than mere clerical administration, but their presence is a reassurance to younger Sanctified that tomorrow night the covenant will be no different from tonight. The Lancea Sanctum continues to carry out the work begun by the first elder, and will not cease until God or Longinus commands.

Purpose and Meaning

Neonates struggle to understand how to be a vampire — how to hunt, how to hide from the kine, how to deal with other Sanctified. Ancillae want to know what to do with their Requiems: what Allies to choose, what plans to set in motion, what goals to reach for. Elders no longer concern themselves with these things. For elders, the central question of The Lancea Sanctum has become their own central question: why? Why do vampires exist? Why must they seek Vitae? Why is the Curse what it is?
Certainly, younger Sanctified wonder these same things, but not until a vampire has had his temporal self eroded away as an elder has do these questions begin to take on such all-consuming relevance. Political, social, and economic power are fleeting, and as an elder watches the people and places from which he drew his power crumble to dust, he wonders what remains.
The Lancea Sanctum provides an elder not only with potential answers to questions of faith, but is something of an answer itself. What remains when temporal power is lost? God’s holy mission remains. What remains when Ghouls and havens are ash? The Lancea Sanctum remains.

Eternity Together

Because Sanctified elders are scarce, and because only other elders can really understand what it means to exist for so long with the thirst for Vitae, loneliness looms for the increasingly rare elder Kindred. Even those elders who scoff at the notion that they cannot survive the Requiem alone recognize, if only in private, that without some type of suitable companionship they will lose grip on sanity and be ravaged by the Beast. Like all other vampires, elders are predators and are possessed of primal instincts that cause them to pull away from society in order to better survive on their own. However, unless they wish to lose all semblance of their former psyche and devolve into a feral monster, they must form some kind of bond with others of their kind. For elders, the Requiem has played for so long that their time as mortals is nothing more than the faintest echo, a subtle leitmotif that can barely be heard above the din of the modern night. The coteries to which the elders belonged as ancillae are no more; former Allies may now be sleeping away the ages or already sent to their Final Deaths. In the absence of a trusted coterie, the covenant allows the elders a place to call home, a community to which they can belong.
Yet even surrounded by his kind, an elder can feel set apart from the events of tonight. Each night, each individual vampire can seem meaningless against the backdrop of countless ther nights and vampires past. Being surrounded by Kindred who cannot hope to appreciate an elder’s situation cannot fill the cracks eroded in the Kindred by withering time. Even the company of other elders may do little to make the Kindred feel anything but dead. What, then, is the point of belonging?
The Sanctified offer two compelling reasons: power andrespect. The Lancea Sanctum reveres elders who have witnessed important moments and vampires of the past. They hunger for the perspective an ancient mind has on the Testament. They long to hear tales of the oldest nights of antiquity, of the great Kindred of the past, and of the distant places mentioned in the covenant’s histories. They believe an elder is blessed with his endurance as a predator. The elders are akin to church fathers and saints, whose gift to the ancillae and neonates is the manifest faith of Longinus. Therefore, it is the place of every younger Sanctified to adore, to venerate, and to obey the will of the elders.
A parish lucky enough to claim an elder among its faithful is fiercely proud to have one of the night’s oldest children in its midst to emulate and to guide the congregation along the arduous path of damnation. For his part, the elder can accept the gifts of the faithful. He seeks meaning: the congregation gives him meaning. He seeks purpose: the congregation sees him as its purpose.

Devotion

The majority of Sanctified elders do not feign devotion but are, in fact, genuinely pious and sincerely believe the covenant’s scriptural doctrine. As said, this helps the ancients stave off descent into bestial madness, so doubt does them little good. More to the point, an elder no longer has much reason to pretend; most do not fear the judgment of lesser Kindred any longer.
The strength of an elder’s religious convictions is perhaps the most critical influence she can exert over her fellow Sanctified. In domains where the elders possess unshakeable faith, Sanctified are able to draw strength from that faith to endure all manner of worldly torments, whether physical or spiritual, so convinced are they in the righteousness of the elders. Where the elders display less confidence in their beliefs, The Lancea Sanctum may loses its edge and be more easily broken. The piety and power of a saintly figurehead reflects that of the whole congregation, but also radiates out to all the faithful.
This special relationship between the potency of an elder’s faith and the morale of the parish makes all but the most callous or apathetic elders (of which The Lancea Sanctum has few) focus a significant portion of their time and energy on tending to their spiritual enlightenment. It is far better for the covenant to take a few minor hits, so to speak, than to suffer the catastrophe posed by the spiritual dissolution of its guiding elders. Therefore, unless an elder is convinced that she has actually attained an unassailable state of religious transcendence — a likely sign of a delusional break and a minor heresy, for the work of the Damned is never finished — the elder works to further fortify her faith in every way she can. Immersion in complex theological philosophy, enduring gruesome physical punishment, taking up seemingly impossible pilgrimages, and engaging in the unchecked exploration of every aspect of her vampiric nature may augment her spiritual potency and open new paths to those who follow behind. The extreme effort necessary for such purely spiritual quests can leave an elder weak, and is the main reason so many elders step down from, or never accept in the first place, the most time-consuming ecclesiastical stations. They must remain the pillar of faith for the parish, and all other considerations fall to those below.

Pragmatism

Many elders simply see The Lancea Sanctum as the most effective means for them to gain an advantage in the Danse Macabre. While it might come as a shock to the covenant’s neonates and ancillae, this sort of pragmatism informs, to one degree or another, the decisions of most elders — even those who seem above such petty things. No elder can safely ignore the Danse Macabre. So long as an elder makes her Haven in a city, she is caught up in the vampiric struggle despite any desire to the contrary. Faith (or the faithful) may grant power in the Danse Macabre, but it cannot exempt an elder from it.
Sanctified elders are always weighing how best to use their position as leaders to benefit them and the covenant most as a power in the domain. Not all such elders are pretenders, feigning faith in exchange for power — there are easier ways. Rather, most believe in the mission of the covenant, but do not believe that piety alone keeps the Kindred out of the sunlight. The covenant is power, and if the elders do not use that power, someone else whose ambitions and abilities oppose those of The Lancea Sanctum will. The use of the faithful in this fashion may come across as treacherous, (certainly many devout Sanctified react with alarm to untempered pragmatism holding the reigns of their church) but to assume the covenant does not use its congregation for the survival of its ideology would be naïve in the extreme. Those with the best interests of the covenant at heart, and those with the means to excel in the name of Longinus must perform the Danse Macabre.
Many elders, therefore, choose The Lancea Sanctum not out of true faith or some spiritual emptiness in themselves, but because they believe The Lancea Sanctum is the covenant that will outlast all others.

Roles of the Elders

The elders of the Sanctified cannot be easily categorized. Even if doing so is convenient, it is a vast underestimation of what the elders mean to the covenant. Elders may fill a functional role, such as Cardinal, but also transcend it. Elders may play a part, if only to define what it is for those who come later. Elders may serve, but the covenant serves them, too.
The roles examined here are meant only to exemplify the magnitude and authority elders embody in The Lancea Sanctum. Nearly every elder has a number of roles to play that extend far beyond the confines of their covenant — how can they not, given their undeniable power? — but each elder’s position is unique in principle. In practice, however, these are some common ways in which Sanctified elders are seen.

Elder as Ecclesiastic

To be an elder and a member of The Lancea Sanctum is to be one of the Anointed, and therefore an officer of the religious hierarchy. But the distinction between the Anointed elders and their ancillae counterparts is tremendous. Whereas ancillae may be mired in political intrigue and operational struggles from within the covenant or from the outside domain, Sanctified elders rise above such things. For them, it is obedience to the Testament of Longinus that takes center stage, not the particulars of where to hold Midnight Mass, the elevation of deserving postulants, or disputes concerning parish Resources. The elder outlook, the result of centuries of wisdom, is that being a pious and penitential vampire who understands his place in God’s Creation as a predator damned to suffer the Curse is vastly more consequential than any administrative or social concerns. It is good for the covenant’s administrative business to run smoothly and its members to be one unified community under the authority of the Bishop, but it is meaningless if the church’s patron elder is kept from his religious Research and holy ministrations.
A significant number of elders leave not only the actual administration of the covenant to the ancillae, but also forgo or resign from those official seats of authority and leadership that are rightfully theirs. They never do so lightly, but from where they sit the pros don’t always stack up with the cons. Whether Bishop or Cardinal, many elders simply come to the conclusion that the responsibilities and aggravations that accompany such lofty positions are not worth the terrestrial rewards that follow. Instead, they prefer to give their blessings to younger aspirants (who may be yet other elders) whose ambitions, talents, and natures are suited to the tasks and their attendant difficulties. This leaves the elders free to pursue purely spiritual power, to master the Curse, and to understand Theban Sorcery’s most miraculous secrets. An elder is, before any title or accolade, still an elder, and the lack of a formal designation doesn’t change this one bit. What’s more, freedom from a formalized seat allows the elder to more easily conceal his moves in the Danse Macabre — a difficult thing to accomplish when all eyes are upon him.
Of course, plenty of elders do hold one or more formal seats of power in The Lancea Sanctum, but even these tend to delegate many of their tedious duties to underlings eager for the scraps of power that fall from the elder’s table. Sometimes, of course, an elder may wish, for whatever reason, to be closely involved with the small details of covenant operations and may carry out all the responsibilities attached to his position. In those very rare domains where an elder Cardinal holds supreme power, for instance, temporal power is never surrendered for mystical pursuits or navel-gazing, but these individuals are rare even among the already scarce population of Sanctified elders.

Elder as Saint

Aside from being the recognized leaders of the covenant, officially or not, the elders are also The Lancea Sanctum’s eminent examples of Longinian excellence. The most ancient and majestic vampires are held up as saints, even while they still stalk the earth. Every word they utter, every action they undertake, is analyzed, debated, and mimicked by other Sanctified. They are a physical embodiment of the Testament and stand as icons of Longinian virtue and rectitude.
Some Sanctified even claim that saints can never be wrong. They believe that God guides every action of an ancient elder, and regardless of how things may seem in the short term, in the end the saints are unerring. They argue that the young and unworthy simply cannot yet understand the divine righteousness of their blessed elders.
Should a saintly elder deign to become personally involved in the Requiem of a lesser Sanctified — as confessor, Mentor, or commander — the acolyte receiving the elder’s attentions considers herself the recipient of a great blessing, as Longinus blessed the Monachus. Even the youngest and least pious Sanctified who curse their elders in privacy find it all but impossible to resist trembling in near-rapture from the unexpected mindfulness of one of the most ancient Sanctified.
For these reasons elder members of The Lancea Sanctum prefer to keep their distance from most of the lesser priests and congregants. A few vague words spoken without consideration might wreak unintended havoc among the lower ranks. Should an elder fail to impress, or should he somehow damage his holy image, he could lose his power or appear fallen or corrupted. The risks that come with such a lofty station are simply too great to flirt with, so the most powerful elders choose to keep a safe distance from the congregation, intervening only when the situation demands their unique attention, and their success can match their holy esteem.
No parish is short on rumors about its elders, of course, but this only serves to make the enigmatic Sanctified ancients even more mystifying — and ultimately terrifying. To understand an elder is to diminish his power, however, and many Sanctified want to be overwhelmed by their saints. It is more inspiring to view them as dark, awesome angels of Longinus than as stagnant monsters or archaic masters. A distant, unknowable icon inspires praise and reverence, but a ravenous, half-mad sorcerer engenders only fear.

Elder as Dialectic

The elders of ancient domains are often tasked with attacking untold theological, philosophical, and moral problems that the Sanctified have faced since their formal inception nearly two millennia ago. Scholarly elders attempt to rectify what some see as errors in the Testament of Longinus, while others address more flagrant difficulties. In addition to the sacred scriptures, The Lancea Sanctum has amassed an overwhelmingly vast body of precious writings by Sanctified theologians of nights past.
St. Decimian, for example, tackled the very important question of proving Longinus’ existence and authored more than forty-nine volumes of notes, thoughts, and arguments in defense of the faith in his Annotations — mandatory reading for any serious student of Longinian religion. The hermit St. Leonora contributed a tremendous volume of notes on the legal complexities and ramifications of Sanctified society and The Rule of Golgotha on secular Damned; it has no title, but is called “the Leonora File” tonight. And the Gangrel St. Radczik is acknowledged for his detailed treatise on the investigation and extermination of heresy in his vividly illustrated Lies of the Damned. These landmark works, along with too many more to mention, provided The Lancea Sanctum with the intellectual legs it needed to survive bloody and fiery nights of eras now gone.
Beyond their own parish, then, elder scholars may be recognized as authorities on Longinus’ words and will. The interpretation and extrapolation of scripture continues still, with nearly anything written by an elder taking on special significance for faithful readers.
Some elders use their special Status as scholars and philosophers in order to play a related, albeit markedly different, role. They believe that unless the Sanctified forever challenge the beliefs of the covenant with vigorous and rational examination, it cannot remain strong and will forever be open to attack by others. These canny elders assume the role of Devil’s Advocate and muster all the intellectual prowess they can to test their own beliefs as well as those of their fellow Sanctified. To them, blind faith and obedience is not true devotion, for without reasoned insight, belief can be subverted by doubt or shift with the popular culture. By pushing the Damned to question their faith and see the light of reasoning, the covenant develops defenses against those attacks. Heresy is less likely to take root and unwanted fanaticism is curtailed.
Sometimes referred to as “Longinian dialectics,” these elders appear to some as almost anti-religious in their approach, seeming to take a sinister satisfaction in crushing the spiritual underpinnings of ancillae and neonates below them. Some act openly blasphemous at times, forging relationships with unbelievers that seem founded on mutual ridicule of Sanctified doctrine. But this may be little more than a clever deception in the Danse Macabre. By nurturing close ties to important Kindred outside the covenant, dialectics are able to set traps intended to eventually snare the target in a trap of contradiction, preferably before an audience. Once the victim finds himself conceding an argument to the dialectic in public, he can be forced to recognize the truth embodied by The Lancea Sanctum and increase the covenant’s powerful appearance.

Elder as Grandmaster

Every Sanctified elder member of the covenant, whether martially inclined or not, can appreciate the military potential he has at his fingertips. Although it is not common practice to resort to violence to accomplish its aims, The Lancea Sanctum does hold up the Spear of Destiny as its defining symbol. The Lancea Sanctum is ready to be thrust at its enemies and only the most cautious elders hesitate to use the might of the covenant when nights call for it.
Elders, of course, seldom participate in the actual bloodshed of battle, and instead sit back in the shadows and look out over their holy army as it burns the covenant’s enemies to the ground. The most common forms these armies take tonight are small coteries of specialized crusaders, often created at an elder’s decree for a specific purpose or a particular enemy. Sometimes individual paladins are sent into the field to carry out violent missions, including assassinations and kidnappings. These holy fighters are under command to take the utmost care not to let their actions threaten the Masquerade, no matter the cost to themselves. This means most military actions end up being more like clandestine skirmishes than true warfare — no less brutal, and usually just as effective. The elders await report of the mission’s success and may choose to formally recognize the participating Sanctified afterwards, awarding them recognition for their achievement or honoring them as martyrs fallen in service to the Sacred Lance.
The visceral thrill and intellectual stimulation of a genuine war can fill the emptiness in an elder left cold with the struggle to resist change, but the memory of adrenaline is fleeting. In time, the desire to see the domain shaped by swords and fangs may become more important to a warrior elder than any reason to make peace. Such elders seek out enemies with packs of armed paladins rather than subtle Inquisitors. When they cannot find enemies, they make them out of those who refuse to take the side of the Sanctified: The Unaligned, the nomads, and the outcasts. These are the elders who have given The Lancea Sanctum its reputation for fanatical violence.
Though few elders have reason or desire to risk their Requiems in any simple fight, the glory and Majesty that comes from a holy Crusade can be something else altogether. An elder may truly believe the dark miracle of his faith can save him from harm, and with Theban Sorcery in his service, he may be right. If nothing else, martyrdom may be the Damned’s only chance for redemption.
When an elder does decide to join the fray and lead her own Crusade, it is a fearsome thing to behold. Few lesser vampires can withstand the onslaught of the oldest Sanctified, especially one overflowing with bloodlust and a mission to manifest “the wrath of God.” Sanctified warrior-elders who survived one bloody battle after another in nights past were sometimes said to “become the Sacred Spear itself.” The title of Sacred Spear is still given to some Sanctified crusaders tonight as a gift from the congregation, given in reverence but also out of fear.
Elders who are prone to violence — or thought to be prone to violence — are the most feared ancients of all. Their presence in the covenant creates a palpable tremor of dread through the entire congregation, even while its members are thanking God that the elder is one of their own. Who knows when the elder might turn her sanguinary tendencies upon her own flock for some heresy found hiding within?

Relations with Others

Elders are inclined to keep some distance between themselves and the younger Sanctified. This is not necessarily a physical separation (though elders do maintain very private and inviolate havens) but a psychological gap, an emotional distance. Very little needs to be done on the elder’s part to create this distance, for the younger ranks instinctually know to keep their distance from their strange and potent elders. The throng parts before them.
This is not to say elders do not come into contact with the younger vampires of the covenant, however. While some elders avoid unnecessary exposure to the strange neonates of the modern night, many elders continue to be active participants in The Lancea Sanctum. The Sanctified are truly blessed to have so many elders in their ranks.

Neonates

In the eyes of many Sanctified elders, the youngest covenant members are nothing more than fleeting bodies whose greatest contribution to The Lancea Sanctum is simply not belonging to another covenant. They provide a congregation and a means to defend the faith. The elders do not demand much from them in the way of responsibilities — the ancillae can do the demanding. Elders ask no more than adherence to the Testament of Longinus and obedience to the local Bishop. Unless a neonate demonstrates uncommon spiritual power or causes great trouble for the local Anointed, he is likely to go unremembered by his elders. An elder cannot be bothered with every imperfect fledgling. Many elders see the world in broad, contemplative strokes tonight; simple neonates are too fine a detail to stand out. They’re background noise.
This opinion does not hold for all elders or all situations, of course. Exceptions abound. When a neonate has distinguished herself from the crowd by virtue of her actions (perhaps with remarkable sermonizing or the unanticipated conversion of an important Kindred) she is judged apart from the mass of her peers. When a neonate shows extraordinary courage and zeal in the covenant’s crusades she may be held up as a model of piety for other Sanctified to emulate. Whatever the luster of a particular neonate may be, a keen elder cannot overlook a rare gem.
To survive the Danse Macabre, one must exploit every conceivable tool, so elders may take exceptional neonates under wing and groom them for their own ends. Rarely is this relationship flaunted (for long), for too much attention upon a creature so young not only breeds jealousy, but can weaken the spiritual strength and piety of a neonate. A neonate who was once devout and penitential and set an example for the congregation might become filled with conceit and distracted by his own celebrity. Elders should strive to apply only the lightest touch when conducting business with the younger membership, using subtle gestures, specially chosen words in a sermon, or even the use of a persuasive Discipline to coax their special disciples along the path. Unless, of course, it is the elder’s intent to test or lure the neonate -— some novitiates are subtly groomed for decades for special work within the covenants without even their own knowledge.
The sire-childe relationship is also a powerful connection between elders and neonates. Though some Kindred avoid siring progeny so far into their Requiem, elders are not infallible celibates. When an elder sires a childe, he creates a conduit through which he can (or must) deal with all the neonates of the domain. Sanctified elders, who theoretically Embrace only according to The Traditions of the covenant and, therefore, only sire Sanctified childer, have an advantage over secular Kindred in that the role of teacher and Mentor can be passed off onto the main covenant body. Still, the childe of a Sanctified elder, even when released into his own custody, is an immortal reminder to others of his sire. Although the neonate’s actions are his own responsibility, they do reflect upon his creator, who selected him. Every elder realizes this, and so many maintain close watch upon the conduct of their childer, whether by proxy, — assigning an ancilla, for example, to monitor and evaluate the childe — with her supernatural powers, or in person. Elders may even take a more direct interest, perhaps establishing regular, formalized times for the two to spend together. Such obvious interactions between an elder and a neonate draw all sorts of conclusions from the congregation. Rivals and outsiders may take advantage of regular meetings to locate the elder, or see the childe as the vulnerable spot that can be struck to bring the elder down. An emotionally charged relationship (whether parental, romantic, or something utterly inhumane) between a weak and naïve neonate and a potent elder is like a thin crack in the rigid hierarchy of the covenant; it can even be the pressure point that breaks an entire parish apart.
For the sanctity of the covenant and the safety of himself and his childe, an elder must be precise in his relationships. A neonate may be loyal but show poor judgment in Allies; a neonate may be powerful, but lack restraint; a neonate may be eager to please, but quick to betray. Elders must know better than to trust someone simply because he might love them.

Ancillae

A working relationship between the elders and the ancillae of The Lancea Sanctum is more common and, therefore, more formalized. The ancillae make up the bulk of the Anointed in most domains, and so elders cannot direct the covenant without dealing with them. The covenant structures these working relationships to minimize the fear and backbiting between the Sanctified in power. Anicllae need not be looking over their shoulders every night for the elder who looms above (though they certainly might), but the Danse Macabre demands that they maintain regular communication with their elder leaders — a fact which makes some ancillae seem powerful and mysterious, just by proximity to the legendary elders. Elders know this.
Most elder-ancilla interaction takes place privately, with the ancillae reporting to the elder’s chambers, for example, for instruction, praise, or punishment. Of course, given the nature of the Danse Macabre, private commendations or rebukes are not likely to stay private for long. This is sometimes intentional. Every elder realizes the effect the rumors have on the rest of the congregation and that is part of the purpose of such audiences in the first place. To address priests publicly could indicate a lack of cunning and decorum on the part of the elder. Ceremonial displays would be quickly forgotten, given the covenant’s already ubiquitous use of pomp and ritual. On the other hand, the irresistible lure of privileged gossip may not only linger, but become distorted and even more sensational as it passes from the cold lips of one whispering Sanctified to another.
As long as the dealings between ancillae and elders remain mysterious, they remain powerful. Elders who may not otherwise be able to match the potency of their own legends can appear majestic and masterful without making an appearance at all. They reserve their opinions and dictates for those times when they are necessary or most dramatic, but then do not hesitate to act on their subordinates in a manner of their choosing.
Some Sanctified elders take on an ancilla as a personal aide and protégé. Such ancillae are sometimes ridiculed as the elders’ pets behind their backs and must step very cautiously around the peers of his elder Mentor, but the relationship brings with it a great many perks, for both Kindred involved. For one thing, elder Sanctified have no interest in wasting their Requiem dealing with what amounts to domestic chores. Ancillae are chosen for their proven skills and discretion, but also to maintain the perceived distance between the elder and the wider world of the domain. Ancillae know positions so close to their elders are often testing grounds for advancement within the Anointed, so even accomplished ancillae may tolerate unthinkable abuses to keep his station.
An ancilla aide may also function as a grounded counselor, for the ancilla hears things an elder may not. Even Sanctified Elders may not be able to trust their peers to speak openly. An ancilla should be too afraid of an elder’s unknowable powers to lie and too power-hungry to simply agree with everything — he should want to prove his worth. Of course, ancilla advisors are weaker than elders, which is beneficial when an elder finds that his aide can no longer be trusted.
Among the Kindred of The Lancea Sanctum, elder-ancillae relationships remain primarily practical. Even the sire-childe relationship can be buried between formal titles, rites, and ceremony. This is exactly as the covenant intends. When inevitable clashes occur between the oldest Kindred and their rising replacements, the Sanctified want those conflicts to be matters of faith and fiery devotion to the Testament rather than personal vendettas. Certainly, exceptions do occur, but among these elder priests, personal allegiances and emotional unions must be kept secret. And, of course, they are kept secret, for these are the covenant’s masters, the greatest of the night’s monsters, who hide and hunt among the kine without a slip of the Masquerade.
Yet the Anointed of many parishes fear their highest echelons are riddled with these most base conspiracies. Just how many of the covenant’s elders and ancillae keep secrets from the rest of the Sanctified? How many are engaged in private plots beneath the holy image of the church?

---

Why The Lancea Sanctum is Best

The Invictus provides an established path to power for neonates, but while vassalage may smooth the operations of the feudal machine, it may do nothing to better the vampire herself; even political power may not improve the self. The Carthians, in contrast, suppose to grant the neonate personal power without personal insight. The Ordo Dracul makes fascinating promises about the salvation of a neonate’s soul, but offers little spiritual support along the strange road they follow. And the Circle of the Crone? Most neonates with mortal memories fresh in their heads shudder at the thought of joining the mutilated ranks of such hoary lunatics. The Lancea Sanctum, however, offers the same draw as the churches many mortals knew in life. For those who seek foundational answers, The Lancea Sanctum allows a comfortable, moderate level of worship and admittance provided a neonate follows the basic tenets of the covenant and attends a minimum of necessary functions. (It is also important for the neonate to recognize and present himself as “Sanctified” in allegiance, to strengthen the image of Lancea Sanctum ubiquity.)

---

Excerpts from The Catechism

Q: Isn’t The Lancea Sanctum just a religious establishment founded by The Invictus to control what Kindred can believe?
A: No. The Invictus had no hand in the formation of The Lancea Sanctum. The Invictus never even appear in the story of Longinus the Centurion! Besides, The Lancea Sanctum doesn’t control what Kindred can believe. The Testament is a guide for every vampire’s Requiem — a true story of faith, personal strength and divine intervention that has lead Kindred of many beliefs to find a new enlightenment.
Q: Won’t The Lancea Sanctum require me to become a Priest and serve the church as a soldier?
A: Not every Kindred who believes in The Testament chooses to become a Priest and the church doesn’t require anyone to do so. You don’t have to become a Priest to understand The Testament or to join a Sanctified congregation. The Lancea Sanctum welcomes new Priests into the service of the church every night, but the laity is just as valuable to the parish as the clergy. Our primary goal is to strengthen a Kindred’s relationship with God and her relationship with herself.
Q: Doesn’t The Lancea Sanctum encourage its members to commit murder and destroy Kindred who don’t belong to the church?
A: Many of the Sanctified enjoy the company of Kindred outside of the local congregation. The Lancea Sanctum discourages the luring of Kindred of faith from the path set forth in The Testament, but the church understands that not everyone is ready to devote themselves to religious pursuits yet. It is a common misconception that The Testament encourages unnecessary violence, when in fact Longinus does not require the Sanctified to kill. The Testament tells us it is our duty to feed upon the kine without regret or mercy, for the Curse is a mandate from Heaven, but we are not ordered to slaughter our meals.

---

The Subtle Pull of the Sanctified

Not all parishes require a ceremonial transition be enacted for Kindred moving from the lay congregation to some perceived inner circle of the covenant, and not all Sanctified vampires undergo such ceremonies in those parishes who claim to require it. The Lancea Sanctum doesn’t maintain central seminaries for would-be Priests to graduate from. Sometimes the covenant gradually, subtly promotes a vampire with desirable qualities further into the order using techniques similar to those used to pull in converts. Special cases, urgent missions, or exceptional emergencies may be cited (or concocted) as reasons to tie a Kindred to further responsibilities within the covenant. “We desperately need someone to go and meet this new childe, someone who understands modern youth,” the Bishop says, “and bring him to sanctuary before something terrible happens to him.” With a gentle brushing of blood or a kiss on each cheek a Bishop may thus bequest the priesthood of the Damned upon a hesitant neonate; it’s not terribly unlike a battlefield commission or informal knighting. A character who receives such a promotion may gain one or more free dots in Covenant Status (Lancea Sanctum), at the Storyteller’s discretion.
Now, however, the neonate has good reason to stay with the Sanctified… and can expect a terrible penalty if he abandons his fellow Priests. An enemy character who once had Covenant Status in The Lancea Sanctum is worse than an adversary — he is a traitor.

---

He Who Is Sin

All neonates are the offspring of sin. Each is proof of a crime against The Traditions. Only Longinus is not.
The Lancea Sanctum displaces guilt for the Embrace from the neonate to the sire, but the distinction does not always stick. Neonates are regarded in some domains as the unwelcome remains of selfish impiety who can only be cleansed through prayer and induction into the covenant. This isn’t the widely accepted outlook of the Sanctified, however, because this kind of contempt makes a neonate feel important. The covenant wants young vampires to be afraid and lost, to feel as though they need The Lancea Sanctum to make sense of the Requiem and the world for them — most neonates genuinely do need a Priest to help them do that, in the eyes of the Sanctified.
So the covenant emphasizes itself, The Traditions, and the sire over the childe. The childe was sired because the covenant needed her. The childe was Embraced because her sire failed to respect the Second Tradition. The childe was Embraced because her sire is a selfish sinner, who wanted her as a bloody slave. “The world is dark and dangerous, childe, and you are unwelcome in it…. But, good for you, The Lancea Sanctum is here to accept you despite your shroud of sin.”
In truth, however, the childe is usually the hinge on which the decision to Embrace turns, even among the Sanctified. A vampire overcome with the memories of mortal lust brought on by the childe emotionally confuses the traumatic rush of the change with sex. A Kindred remembering love decides she cannot live forever without this mortal companion, and so makes her eternal. A Sanctified, in a moment of weakness, believes that he can make a difference in the World of Darkness if this mortal were to become his comrade in damnation.

---

Growing Old, Then Ancient

The transition from neonate to ancilla is gradual, and largely cultural. As a Kindred ages, she is assumed to become more experienced as the decades pass. With that experience often comes respect, deference, or fear, and the Kindred is thereby made more powerful. Nothing is promised, however. There is no celebrated age, even among the Sanctified, at which a neonate becomes an ancilla.
A Kindred respected by her betters and her subordinates is an ancilla, even if her Requiem has been playing over just a few decades. A vampire alleycat with no Allies and no temporal power may be considered a neonate by the rest of the domain for the whole of his unlife. An elder may strategically describe an up-and-coming vampire as an ancilla as a kind of subtle social promotion. Few Kindred, however, experience any moment of transition from one state to the next — you are a neonate until you know (or are told, ready or not) you are an ancilla.

---

Patience Bears Its Bloody Fruit

Though many of the covenant’s ancillae are Kindred who joined a Sanctified congregation in their first nights of damnation, it is surprising to learn that most are not. A large number of the ancilla operating on behalf of The Lancea Sanctum tonight came to the covenant after many decades of undeath. Some were never properly exposed to the teachings of Longinus when they were young, and others simply felt they had no use for God in those first harrowing years enslaved by the Blood. Perhaps most, however, attended public rites and Midnight Mass as neonates, but were not willing to commit to any covenant yet. Bishops who have seen many Sanctified come and go from the covenant claim that The Lancea Sanctum is a popular second choice for many modern Kindred — when the other covenants let neonates down, The Lancea Sanctum looks more appealing.
This is the covenant’s soft-sell policy of “educate and wait” in action. Many Kindred must learn firsthand how the risks and distractions of the night can spoil their grace before they can appreciate what The Lancea Sanctum has to offer. There’s no shame in that, at least not in the eyes of many Sanctified missionaries. By informing as many Kindred as possible of the covenant’s mission and message and being patient, the covenant welcomes many latecomers who are converted not with a bible and a brand, but by the nightly torment of an existence without faith. “You may not see why you need us now,” the Sanctified preachers say in New Orleans, “but when you do, we’ll be waiting.”

---

Brother Superior

One of the benefits of the Sanctified community is the backing an ancilla has to act like Brother Fucking Superior. The Sanctified don’t pretend to be anything less than they are: exalted predators in the glorious service of the Lord, blessed with supernatural might and station, and the faithful scions of Longinus, to whom God spoke. The Sanctified are second to none in matters of the spirituality of the Damned. Common monsters play at being vampires, but the Sanctified are the champions of their kind. While other covenants dabble and distract themselves, the Sanctified are saving Kindred (and mortal!) society from itself. All Kindred respect and fear The Lancea Sanctum, and with good reason: They are above you, and you should be above mortal man.
Sanctified ancillae have the power and authority to wear their superiority as a vestment. They are the chosen agents among the common Damned, and they shall watch you and judge you and punish you with the wisdom and severity passed unto them by Longinus through his gospel. You may divide territory and control kine and think yourself the master of your immortal existence, but the Priests of The Lancea Sanctum see your soul and know what awaits you when your Requiem ends. They will continue when you are ash.

---

The Holy Administrators

Sanctified of lower station are given mixed responsibilities, blending the spiritual needs of the congregation with the operational needs of the covenant. As the authority and overall responsibility of the station increases, the purview of those responsibilities narrows. Common Priests perform rites and meet with parishioners, but may also be tasked with monitoring the behavior of novitiates or finding supplies for the covenant. At the top of the hierarchal pyramid, one Bishop may oversee spiritual matters almost exclusively, while another Bishop manages the logistics of church operations. Though a logistical leader is still responsible for her own pious behavior and devotion to the covenant, her primary objective must always be the administrative integrity of the parish. A concern for the success of efforts outside her purview is respectable, but no mercy is granted to those who fail because of distraction.

---

What do Monsters Confess To?

The Lancea Sanctum isn’t concerned with impure thoughts. The Sanctified want Kindred to feel lessened when they act below their station as the divine army of fearsome predators of God’s beloved humans. Though the thresholds of shame vary with the fundamentalism of each parish, two common threads run through the Sanctified interpretations of sin: To fall short of their exalted role is sinful, and to violate The Traditions is to defy God’s will. Here, then, are some examples of behavior that a Testament-heeding Kindred might feel compelled to reveal to his confessor:

• Sparing a chosen target after feeling a pang of guilt.
• Socializing with a mortal without intending to feed from him.
• Watching over old loved ones from mortal life.
• Not stopping another vampire from siring a childe.
• Showing mercy to a known diablerist.
• Being witnessed while feeding.
• Eating human food.
• Succumbing to frenzy over earthly matters.
• Doubting the existence of God.

---

Set Dressing:
The Evangelical Movement

Some evangelists are so talented, and their revivals such spectacles, that they are known by Sanctified of numerous domains. Solomon Fell is perhaps the most famous of these itinerant celebrities. Word of Brother Fell’s traveling revival always stirs a fervid level of excitement among the faithful, and even non-believers find it hard to resist the draw of such a spectacle.
Another popular evangelist is simply known as the Parson, and while his approach does not inspire the same intensity of interest as Fell’s, he comes off as more substantial because he depends somewhat less upon mere showmanship to rouse those who come to see him. The Parson regales his audience with tests of faith instead of flash and bluster, demonstrating the might of Longinus and the truth of his Testament by engaging in all manner of self-abuse. A few who witness his masochistic performances are so stirred by the sight that they spontaneously mimic the act, sometimes with such blind fanaticism that they do not survive the experience unchanged. Traditionalists among the covenant attempted to put a stop to the Parson in the 1970s, claiming he was more Acolyte than Sanctified. His defenders say he makes Sanctified out of Acolytes.
Not every evangelist is so enamored with performance art and Hysteria, however. Sister Clair, an ancilla who confines her appearances to the Pacific Coast, is famed for her ethereal voice, said to be a gift from the angel Amoniel. Her hymns produce in listeners a feeling akin to transcendence, and have lifted up even the most craven Damned to beg forgiveness for past indiscretions and throw themselves upon the altar of Longinus in repentant obeisance.

---

Conversion At Gunpoint

Conversion by force is, generally, a waste of time. When the covenant decides that the time for violence has come, it is not because the local population is resisting the invitation to join their ranks… or at least, it is not for that reason alone.
The covenant does not attack those it wants to convert, because the Sanctified do not show mercy. The covenant’s enemies are those who must be destroyed because they cannot be converted. The swift and terrible elimination of such enemies does attract converts, though, and the Sanctified know it. Violence attracts the violent, and victory attracts followers. A display of magnificent force brings in the weak, who seek protection, and the meek, who want to feel powerful themselves. If nothing else, the destruction of the covenant’s enemies prevents them from luring any more would-be converts.
In strange contrast to common notions of war, the Sanctified have found that frank declarations of hostility can swell the ranks of the covenant. As vampires are burnt and decapitated in covenant wars, previously unknown whelps are driven out of hiding to choose sides. While The Lancea Sanctum’s crusaders are spearing heretics and gutting werewolves, the congregation is gathering together more tightly than before, behind the fortifications of faith that protect them from the anguish and Final Death outside the churchyard.

---