Legate
Status: Lancea Sanctum (••+)
A Legate isn’t a formally recognized position of the covenant. A Cardinal, Archbishop or Bishop establishes it, and it isn’t permanent. A Legate is named when the necessity presents itself. The position isn’t precisely defined, either. A Legate, by definition, is a traveler. The job of the legate is to leave the safety of the city and to go somewhere else at the request of the Archbishop. Of course, the Legate’s function doesn’t end there, but traveling is the basic purpose. The Legate may need to transport items, information, even Kindred. A Legate may need to be a spy, or a diplomat, or an official representative of a city’s authority. The Legate may have to go into a rival domain or hostile territory to receive a message, steal an object, even assassinate an enemy of the covenant. Legates serving in this capacity may be sent to deliver messages and gifts to their superiors’ Allies in another domain, to warn the local Sanctified of criminals who have fled the Legate’s domain under a blood hunt, or to bring news of a dangerous new heresy encountered in another parish.
A Legate also occasionally performs functions similar to the Herald in the traditional, trans-covenant domain structure. In such cases the Legate speaks for the Cardinal, Bishop or Archbishop, delivering messages and even performing ritae on occasions when her master is indisposed.
The most important duty of a Legate is serving as her master’s hand in the performance of ritae, especially the Rite of Anointing. By Sanctified tradition in many parishes, a Bishop or Archbishop must be Anointed by someone of equal or higher rank for the rite to satisfy its meaning. However, most Bishops and Archbishops are understandably reluctant to leave their domains and journey to foreign parishes simply to perform religious rites. Fortunately, tradition permits a Bishop or Archbishop to allow a Legate to perform such an Anointing in his stead. A Legate, particularly if she is a skilled diplomat, can often develop strong ties with those Sanctified she has Anointed, even though they subsequently become higher than her in rank. At the very least, a Legate will almost always be welcome in a domain whose Archbishop she personally anointed. Thus, a skilled Legate can develop ties to powerful Sanctified in any number of domains, ties which give the Legate power in her own right, even if it isn’t typically accessible locally. Such a Legate can sometimes arrange safe passage to a new domain, provide favorable introductions to an outside Archbishop, and sometimes even arrange for a temporary Haven for a Kindred on the run (so long as it’s not from the Legate’s superior). Naturally, these duties of the Legate rarely come into play, given the isolated, localized and even xenophobic nature of the Requiem, but only the naïve assume such things never happen. After all, even the local Bishops had to come from somewhere.
The position of Legate is so nebulously described, no vampire really knows what he’s getting into when an Archbishop or Bishop names him Legate. While a position of dubious honor and deed, any Kindred assuming the position can at least feel confident that he has earned the trust of his betters…or their ire. A vampire who provides such nameless utility to covenant leaders is sure to also garner enough influence to potentially enhance his reputation. While being an Archbishop’s Girl or Guy Friday seems demeaning at the time, it could pay off in spades later down the line.
A Legate also occasionally performs functions similar to the Herald in the traditional, trans-covenant domain structure. In such cases the Legate speaks for the Cardinal, Bishop or Archbishop, delivering messages and even performing ritae on occasions when her master is indisposed.
The most important duty of a Legate is serving as her master’s hand in the performance of ritae, especially the Rite of Anointing. By Sanctified tradition in many parishes, a Bishop or Archbishop must be Anointed by someone of equal or higher rank for the rite to satisfy its meaning. However, most Bishops and Archbishops are understandably reluctant to leave their domains and journey to foreign parishes simply to perform religious rites. Fortunately, tradition permits a Bishop or Archbishop to allow a Legate to perform such an Anointing in his stead. A Legate, particularly if she is a skilled diplomat, can often develop strong ties with those Sanctified she has Anointed, even though they subsequently become higher than her in rank. At the very least, a Legate will almost always be welcome in a domain whose Archbishop she personally anointed. Thus, a skilled Legate can develop ties to powerful Sanctified in any number of domains, ties which give the Legate power in her own right, even if it isn’t typically accessible locally. Such a Legate can sometimes arrange safe passage to a new domain, provide favorable introductions to an outside Archbishop, and sometimes even arrange for a temporary Haven for a Kindred on the run (so long as it’s not from the Legate’s superior). Naturally, these duties of the Legate rarely come into play, given the isolated, localized and even xenophobic nature of the Requiem, but only the naïve assume such things never happen. After all, even the local Bishops had to come from somewhere.
The position of Legate is so nebulously described, no vampire really knows what he’s getting into when an Archbishop or Bishop names him Legate. While a position of dubious honor and deed, any Kindred assuming the position can at least feel confident that he has earned the trust of his betters…or their ire. A vampire who provides such nameless utility to covenant leaders is sure to also garner enough influence to potentially enhance his reputation. While being an Archbishop’s Girl or Guy Friday seems demeaning at the time, it could pay off in spades later down the line.
Career
Qualifications
Legate is as formal a position as Bishop or Inquisitor To qualify, a candidate should be trusted, competent and well regarded. Every Bishop has the right to appoint Legates as he sees fit (though few do it so often in practice, and nobody really cares if a Bishop appoints none or 10 or 50). A series of ordeals are sometimes required before the candidate is declared fit for duty. The following section is an example of how a Bishop might have a potential Legate prove his mettle.
First, the would-be Legate is required to watch the sun rise. Not for very long, but he must see it crest the horizon and feel its wrath begin to burn before bolting for shelter. Hardcore Bishops test a nominee’s mettle by having some Ghouls shove him out of a car minutes before sunrise, in an unfamiliar place. If he can watch the dawn, he’s got the willpower. If he cansurvive the test, he’s got the requisite cunning.
The second test covers knowledge of The Testament of Longinus (and whatever interpretation thereof the Bishop favors). Sometimes this is an actual written test, but more commonly a panel of Sanctified scholars sit and take turns grilling the student. In other domains, the prospective Legate is required to fast for several days and take her test standing on top of a helplessly chained-down mortal who has been nicked in several places. Only after the test is passed (or failed) is feeding permitted. Generally that’s only the custom in places where the services of Legates are particularly needed or esteemed.
The third test gauges the believer’s readiness to face the animosity of unbelievers. Specifically, it’s whatever the Bishop can arrange to test the aspirant’s ability to avoid, escape or mitigate Kindred Disciplines. The would-be Legate may have to resist Dominate, display indifference to Majesty or avoid getting staked by a Sanctified elder well-versed in Obfuscate (or, for that matter, one with Vigor and Celerity).
The final test is the simplest in some ways, but simple doesn’t mean easy. The last step to becoming a Legate is to surrender, as much as possible, everything that makes your Requiem safe and comfortable in your home district. Got a great Haven? Give it away. Feeding rights? Pass them on or return them to the Prince. Herd? Retainers? Influence on a local business? Set up one of your fellow Sanctified and let it go. That last ordeal ensures that the Legate is serious about his vocation — and it often serves to make him pretty damn popular with the beneficiaries of his largesse. (If he doesn’t have friends unto whom he can bequeath his goodies, well, at least he can give his stuff away in public and shame the receivers as ingrates if they ever do him a dirty.) It also means that local Lancea Sanctum faithful have a chance to hit the jackpot if a well-oiled devotee feels the call to go itinerant. To some extent, this offsets the Bishops’ understandable reluctance to deplete their numbers by Anointing particularly capable Kindred and sending them out on the perilous road.
The Lancea Sanctum takes the Legate position seriously, for the most part. It’s expected that local temples extend every courtesy to such itinerants. There’s an equally great store of contempt for those who vie for the position and fall short. By extension, that same opprobrium falls on those who are forced into the position and who (deliberately or not) bungle out of it.
Once a Legate has successfully navigated the ordeals, there’s a ritual of investiture privately performed by the Bishop. After a night of fasting and prayer, the Legate is brought before the Bishop, who then administers the Messenger’s Mark — a small brand in the shape of a lance or arrow burnt into the Legate’ skin over his heart. It is a final test of self-control and dedication, and a symbolic reminder of the authority of The Lancea Sanctum’s elders. After receiving the brand, the newly invested Legate receives a chalice of blood to slake his thirst. His brow is Anointed with oil in a solemn ceremony that celebrates the aspirant’s new role in service to the covenant.
While the Messenger’s Mark is the most important sign of office, it’s not the only one. Code words and even complicated handshakes are often used to ensure the Legate’s authenticity to a foreign Bishop. Like the mark, the codes are secret but hardly top secret — since Bishops are generally elders, they often worry about torpor-induced memory loss. To counteract this, they keep notes, which can get compromised. Still, if it’s not an inviolate secret, neither is it common knowledge.
Typically, once a Legate rolls into town and identifies himself to the Bishop, the Bishop announces him to the faithful congregation and he’s treated like visiting royalty. Sometimes the Bishop or messenger wants to keep the Legate’s presence secret, in which case the Bishop is responsible for providing the Legate with Haven and sustenance appropriate to his station. In any event, there’s always an attempt to keep the other covenants from finding out, just from general Paranoia. The success of such secrecy varies wildly from town to town.
It’s a lot of effort to become a Legate, and The Lancea Sanctum community supports them heavily. This is because they serve several roles, all of which are important.
First, the would-be Legate is required to watch the sun rise. Not for very long, but he must see it crest the horizon and feel its wrath begin to burn before bolting for shelter. Hardcore Bishops test a nominee’s mettle by having some Ghouls shove him out of a car minutes before sunrise, in an unfamiliar place. If he can watch the dawn, he’s got the willpower. If he cansurvive the test, he’s got the requisite cunning.
The second test covers knowledge of The Testament of Longinus (and whatever interpretation thereof the Bishop favors). Sometimes this is an actual written test, but more commonly a panel of Sanctified scholars sit and take turns grilling the student. In other domains, the prospective Legate is required to fast for several days and take her test standing on top of a helplessly chained-down mortal who has been nicked in several places. Only after the test is passed (or failed) is feeding permitted. Generally that’s only the custom in places where the services of Legates are particularly needed or esteemed.
The third test gauges the believer’s readiness to face the animosity of unbelievers. Specifically, it’s whatever the Bishop can arrange to test the aspirant’s ability to avoid, escape or mitigate Kindred Disciplines. The would-be Legate may have to resist Dominate, display indifference to Majesty or avoid getting staked by a Sanctified elder well-versed in Obfuscate (or, for that matter, one with Vigor and Celerity).
The final test is the simplest in some ways, but simple doesn’t mean easy. The last step to becoming a Legate is to surrender, as much as possible, everything that makes your Requiem safe and comfortable in your home district. Got a great Haven? Give it away. Feeding rights? Pass them on or return them to the Prince. Herd? Retainers? Influence on a local business? Set up one of your fellow Sanctified and let it go. That last ordeal ensures that the Legate is serious about his vocation — and it often serves to make him pretty damn popular with the beneficiaries of his largesse. (If he doesn’t have friends unto whom he can bequeath his goodies, well, at least he can give his stuff away in public and shame the receivers as ingrates if they ever do him a dirty.) It also means that local Lancea Sanctum faithful have a chance to hit the jackpot if a well-oiled devotee feels the call to go itinerant. To some extent, this offsets the Bishops’ understandable reluctance to deplete their numbers by Anointing particularly capable Kindred and sending them out on the perilous road.
The Lancea Sanctum takes the Legate position seriously, for the most part. It’s expected that local temples extend every courtesy to such itinerants. There’s an equally great store of contempt for those who vie for the position and fall short. By extension, that same opprobrium falls on those who are forced into the position and who (deliberately or not) bungle out of it.
Once a Legate has successfully navigated the ordeals, there’s a ritual of investiture privately performed by the Bishop. After a night of fasting and prayer, the Legate is brought before the Bishop, who then administers the Messenger’s Mark — a small brand in the shape of a lance or arrow burnt into the Legate’ skin over his heart. It is a final test of self-control and dedication, and a symbolic reminder of the authority of The Lancea Sanctum’s elders. After receiving the brand, the newly invested Legate receives a chalice of blood to slake his thirst. His brow is Anointed with oil in a solemn ceremony that celebrates the aspirant’s new role in service to the covenant.
While the Messenger’s Mark is the most important sign of office, it’s not the only one. Code words and even complicated handshakes are often used to ensure the Legate’s authenticity to a foreign Bishop. Like the mark, the codes are secret but hardly top secret — since Bishops are generally elders, they often worry about torpor-induced memory loss. To counteract this, they keep notes, which can get compromised. Still, if it’s not an inviolate secret, neither is it common knowledge.
Typically, once a Legate rolls into town and identifies himself to the Bishop, the Bishop announces him to the faithful congregation and he’s treated like visiting royalty. Sometimes the Bishop or messenger wants to keep the Legate’s presence secret, in which case the Bishop is responsible for providing the Legate with Haven and sustenance appropriate to his station. In any event, there’s always an attempt to keep the other covenants from finding out, just from general Paranoia. The success of such secrecy varies wildly from town to town.
It’s a lot of effort to become a Legate, and The Lancea Sanctum community supports them heavily. This is because they serve several roles, all of which are important.
Perception
Purpose
Courier, Evangelist, Talebearer
Spy
The obvious corollary to the Talebearer function is spying. This is often far more hazardous than open news-gathering. When asked by a Bishop to get information on a city (or, just as common, an individual within the city), the Legate often has to enter unannounced and scout around like a more common drifter, with all the hazards that entails. He can break cover and run to the local Temple if necessary — if done with enough poise and panache, it may look deliberate and not even cost him any street cred. But it definitely blows his cover.
A dangerous game for a messenger, of course, is to just make stuff up. Who else is the Bishop going to believe? Who’s going to unmask the deception? (Most commonly, another Legate. While Bishops deal harshly with spies who fabricate, messengers who watched “The Tailor of Panama” are pretty well equipped to flee, hide and start over.)
Warrior
It is impossible to stress enough that most vampires eschew anything that even resembles a fair fight. When you’ve got the potential to exist forever (and when you may believe hell awaits if you ever do perish), you tend to favor any strategy that minimizes your risk. Vampires rarely plan to go crazy on each other and start blowing up the neighborhood. Hell, what with frenzy risk, there’s enough chance of it happening unplanned.That said, there are times when a Bishop needs some muscle. A show of Sudden Strength — especially scary guys from out of town, who came in through the lupine-infested wilderness — can actually be more effective than open violence.
The flip side of such shows of strength are acts of strength that aren’t shown: If a Bishop wants a rival staked and suntanned, who’s he going to call? A local tough that his enemy is likely to recognize as one of the loyal Sanctified, or a Legate whose abilities to resist Disciplines and survive bad scenes are part of the job, and whose anonymity is nearly perfect? The Bishop calls in the Legate, keeps her presence mum, feeds and havens her so that she’s not exposed and puts her on the road after she does the hit with no one the wiser. Bishops who go this route are in deep debt to their messenger/assassin and know it, but if you can afford to buy her silence — or you can convince her it’s her religious duty — then a Legate is an admirable weapon for the task.
Spy
The obvious corollary to the Talebearer function is spying. This is often far more hazardous than open news-gathering. When asked by a Bishop to get information on a city (or, just as common, an individual within the city), the Legate often has to enter unannounced and scout around like a more common drifter, with all the hazards that entails. He can break cover and run to the local Temple if necessary — if done with enough poise and panache, it may look deliberate and not even cost him any street cred. But it definitely blows his cover.
A dangerous game for a messenger, of course, is to just make stuff up. Who else is the Bishop going to believe? Who’s going to unmask the deception? (Most commonly, another Legate. While Bishops deal harshly with spies who fabricate, messengers who watched “The Tailor of Panama” are pretty well equipped to flee, hide and start over.)
Warrior
It is impossible to stress enough that most vampires eschew anything that even resembles a fair fight. When you’ve got the potential to exist forever (and when you may believe hell awaits if you ever do perish), you tend to favor any strategy that minimizes your risk. Vampires rarely plan to go crazy on each other and start blowing up the neighborhood. Hell, what with frenzy risk, there’s enough chance of it happening unplanned.That said, there are times when a Bishop needs some muscle. A show of Sudden Strength — especially scary guys from out of town, who came in through the lupine-infested wilderness — can actually be more effective than open violence.
The flip side of such shows of strength are acts of strength that aren’t shown: If a Bishop wants a rival staked and suntanned, who’s he going to call? A local tough that his enemy is likely to recognize as one of the loyal Sanctified, or a Legate whose abilities to resist Disciplines and survive bad scenes are part of the job, and whose anonymity is nearly perfect? The Bishop calls in the Legate, keeps her presence mum, feeds and havens her so that she’s not exposed and puts her on the road after she does the hit with no one the wiser. Bishops who go this route are in deep debt to their messenger/assassin and know it, but if you can afford to buy her silence — or you can convince her it’s her religious duty — then a Legate is an admirable weapon for the task.
Type
Religious
Other Associated professions
Used By
Some Great Reward
Some Bishops have noted that the position of Legate provides them a slick pretext to rid themselves of truculent Kindred. In these domains, the position is not a voluntary one — the Bishop can decide (or “be guided by God”) to appoint any Sanctified he chooses. Maybe it’s a rival who’s getting a little too much authority or perhaps a snotty neonate who would (in the Bishop’s estimation) serve the world better as roadkill. Maybe it’s someone who owns something the Bishop wants. Whatever the reason, the Legate position provides a pretext for elimination.The candidate can simply make a point of flubbing all the tests, but it’s not that simple. Some of the tests are public, and making a poor showing is a good way to look like a loser in front of one’s fellow covenant members. If the Bishop already dislikes you, getting out of town may be the lesser evil. The greater is sticking around with a powerful enemy, when you have (by default) given all your Allies a perfect excuse to abandon you.
On the other hand, if the Bishop appoints a Legate in order to be rid of him, it’s a ploy that can backfire. It is a title that demands respect (at least in most cases), and the perfect position from which to poison every other Bishop’s mind against the Legate’s patron. Plus, Legates are expected to come back periodically and give reliable reports on conditions elsewhere. The Bishop who hosed him presumably knows better than to take his victim’s word for everything, but the Sanctified around him may not. This doesn’t touch on the trouble the messenger can cause (and, to be fair, get himself into) pretending to speak on the Bishop’s behalf to others.
All this assumes, of course, that he survives the road.