The Autumnal Equinox
The Autumnal Equinox is sacred to The Mother and The Father, and just as The Spring Equinox, the Autumnal Equinox is regarded as a time of balance. But from the more experienced perspective of the parental archetypes, that doesn’t make it a strong day for a vampire’s ever-beleaguered humane spark. Instead, the balance of light and darkness makes the Autumn Equinox a time of transition, when bargains between the sides can be struck and when the walls between Day and Night, Right and Wrong, Life and Death are at their thinnest.
Execution
The Autumn Equinox occurs in three phases, broken up by what can only be termed intermissions. During these gaps in the ceremony, people often leave and show up, and this is expected. Not every element of the ritual is right for every Acolyte.
Equinox rites are conducted outdoors, but usually under some kind of shade. A clearing in a dense forest is ideal. The Equinox rite begins with the Dusk Serenade, led by the local Hierophant. It begins at dusk, meaning the moment the sun has gone down. Being in place to sing about mingled rebellion and resignation to the setting sun is a severe challenge.
Most Kindred who plan to attend make some form of temporary Haven at the ceremonial grove, with the most trusted mortals and Ghouls nearby to make sure nothing goes wrong. The serenade itself is haunting (even when not augmented by Majesty, which it usually is), a paean to the hated power of the sun, then a defiance of it in its absence and finally a recognition of the balance between sunlight and shadow.
After the Dusk Serenade, the Acolytes relax and recover. Despite the best efforts, a few may rise too early or have inadequate protection from solar fire. Even more rarely, some Kindred deliberately expose themselves, be as penance, or a show of bravado or simply in the Acolyte spirit of tribulation.
Several hours after dusk, about nine o’clock, the second phase begins. This is the Equinox Feast, a time of both celebration and judgment, of both misery and satisfaction. The Fathers of the covenant preside over it, setting the stage with a long table covered in autumn produce. Grain, fruits and vegetables are spread out, elaborately plated, a vast (though vegetarian) feast. Mortal members of the covenant are invited first to sit and dine, while the Kindred stand behind them and the Fathers invoke their patron gods. When the mortals have eaten and the prayers are complete, the youngest Father present asks, “But where is the meat?” Then the knives come out.
Both the living and the undead may be sacrificed at the Equinox Feast, but only when the Fathers, the Hermits and the Crones have all decided together that punishment by death is warranted. Some who die are taken completely by surprise, seized and flung atop the food with no warning. Far more often the condemned have been imprisoned beforehand and are wheeled out in cages, sedated or staked, then hauled limp upon the feast. Mortals are decapitated. Kindred are partially flayed. Both executions are calculated to spill the most blood and to ensure death. As the condemned convulse, the Kindred (and those mortals and Ghouls who choose to partake) fall upon the blood-soaked fruits and eat. It’s not polite; it’s a brawl to see who can gorge deepest.
Frenzies aren’t uncommon, and are regarded as simply providing more sauce for the meal. Soon, of course, the Kindred begin to heave up the solid foods. Many mortals follow suit, since the sight is a sickening one. The Kindred purge themselves as the mortals purge themselves, as the covenant itself is purged of the treacherous and incompetent.
Afterwards, the participants typically slink off into the woods, either to head back to their havens or to wait for the final phase, at midnight. The setting is not conducive to chatting.
Midnight is the Rite of the Borderlands, a ceremony celebrating and exploiting the reach potential for transformation. Called to session by the oldest Mother in the region, the Rite of the Borderlands starts with personal penances. In full sight of the assembled covenant, Kindred who feel they have done wrong pledge to make it right. They state their sin, explain why they think it was a sin (and for many Acolytes, the criteria of proper and improper action are quite removed from typical human mores) and announce how they are going to spend a year making it right. Once this pledge is made, all witnesses present have three duties towards the oath-taker.
First, they are to render all reasonable aid in the pursuit of the penance, which often takes the form of enforcing the pledge. Second, they themselves swear to no longer hold the sin against the Kindred who confessed. Third, they swear to exact punishment if the oath is broken.
A Kindred Virgin might, for example, confess that she has been deliberately feeding off prostitutes because she judged herself to be their moral superior, but that a recent discussion with some students of Hathor has convinced her she was wrong. She swears to confine her feeding to the sexually innocent for a year in penance, on penalty of Torpor. The Hathor students present are expected to forgive her affront, and everyone there is to help the Virgin feed, if she needs assistance. On the other hand, if she’s caught feeding from someone experienced, she can be starved or beaten into slumber.
A Hermit might have an entirely different mortal code and feel that his greatest sin has been focusing on the amassing of wealth instead of wisdom. He pledges to give away all his wealth and to not handle currency for a year, on pain of Final Death. The witnesses assembled will need to manage his finances while he focuses on less earthly concerns, and if he so much as picks up a penny, he expects them to destroy him.
When the penance pledges are complete, the next element is ritual contact with spirits. The specifics of this are dealt with in greater depth on beginning on p. 58. In this context, the assembly often breaks into smaller groups, depending on which entity they wish to contact and bargain with. Generous Storytellers may give a +1 bonus to characters rolling to contact spirits, due to the propitious date.
The climactic element of the Autumnal Equinox is the induction of new Kindred into the ranks of the Mothers and Fathers. In descending order of age, candidates come forward and perform the Embrace. Successful Embraces are lauded, with the neonate Kindred being given gifts of dappled animals on which to feed — calico cats, spotted dogs, even brindled calves. For the newly made Mother or Father, a buckthorn crown is presented.
There is no shame for those whose attempt at creating a Requiem yields only a common death. But there isn’tmuch pity or consolation, either. When it is apparent that the Embrace failed and the candidate merely died, it is as if the vampire who tried it is invisible and inaudible, socially untouchable until the next night. These vampires are literally treated as if they were not present and had not made the attempt.
There are, of course, two classes of Embrace. Some mortals who have been blood dolls or Ghouls or just fellow-worshippers in the Circle welcome and relish their release from life. Others are dragged kicking and screaming. Both attitudes, solemn joy and hysterical resistance, are honored and understood. Neither attitude is seen to reflect badly on the neonate afterwards. The Embrace, particularly on this night of transition, is seen as a new start with a clean slate.
Equinox rites are conducted outdoors, but usually under some kind of shade. A clearing in a dense forest is ideal. The Equinox rite begins with the Dusk Serenade, led by the local Hierophant. It begins at dusk, meaning the moment the sun has gone down. Being in place to sing about mingled rebellion and resignation to the setting sun is a severe challenge.
Most Kindred who plan to attend make some form of temporary Haven at the ceremonial grove, with the most trusted mortals and Ghouls nearby to make sure nothing goes wrong. The serenade itself is haunting (even when not augmented by Majesty, which it usually is), a paean to the hated power of the sun, then a defiance of it in its absence and finally a recognition of the balance between sunlight and shadow.
After the Dusk Serenade, the Acolytes relax and recover. Despite the best efforts, a few may rise too early or have inadequate protection from solar fire. Even more rarely, some Kindred deliberately expose themselves, be as penance, or a show of bravado or simply in the Acolyte spirit of tribulation.
Several hours after dusk, about nine o’clock, the second phase begins. This is the Equinox Feast, a time of both celebration and judgment, of both misery and satisfaction. The Fathers of the covenant preside over it, setting the stage with a long table covered in autumn produce. Grain, fruits and vegetables are spread out, elaborately plated, a vast (though vegetarian) feast. Mortal members of the covenant are invited first to sit and dine, while the Kindred stand behind them and the Fathers invoke their patron gods. When the mortals have eaten and the prayers are complete, the youngest Father present asks, “But where is the meat?” Then the knives come out.
Both the living and the undead may be sacrificed at the Equinox Feast, but only when the Fathers, the Hermits and the Crones have all decided together that punishment by death is warranted. Some who die are taken completely by surprise, seized and flung atop the food with no warning. Far more often the condemned have been imprisoned beforehand and are wheeled out in cages, sedated or staked, then hauled limp upon the feast. Mortals are decapitated. Kindred are partially flayed. Both executions are calculated to spill the most blood and to ensure death. As the condemned convulse, the Kindred (and those mortals and Ghouls who choose to partake) fall upon the blood-soaked fruits and eat. It’s not polite; it’s a brawl to see who can gorge deepest.
Frenzies aren’t uncommon, and are regarded as simply providing more sauce for the meal. Soon, of course, the Kindred begin to heave up the solid foods. Many mortals follow suit, since the sight is a sickening one. The Kindred purge themselves as the mortals purge themselves, as the covenant itself is purged of the treacherous and incompetent.
Afterwards, the participants typically slink off into the woods, either to head back to their havens or to wait for the final phase, at midnight. The setting is not conducive to chatting.
Midnight is the Rite of the Borderlands, a ceremony celebrating and exploiting the reach potential for transformation. Called to session by the oldest Mother in the region, the Rite of the Borderlands starts with personal penances. In full sight of the assembled covenant, Kindred who feel they have done wrong pledge to make it right. They state their sin, explain why they think it was a sin (and for many Acolytes, the criteria of proper and improper action are quite removed from typical human mores) and announce how they are going to spend a year making it right. Once this pledge is made, all witnesses present have three duties towards the oath-taker.
First, they are to render all reasonable aid in the pursuit of the penance, which often takes the form of enforcing the pledge. Second, they themselves swear to no longer hold the sin against the Kindred who confessed. Third, they swear to exact punishment if the oath is broken.
A Kindred Virgin might, for example, confess that she has been deliberately feeding off prostitutes because she judged herself to be their moral superior, but that a recent discussion with some students of Hathor has convinced her she was wrong. She swears to confine her feeding to the sexually innocent for a year in penance, on penalty of Torpor. The Hathor students present are expected to forgive her affront, and everyone there is to help the Virgin feed, if she needs assistance. On the other hand, if she’s caught feeding from someone experienced, she can be starved or beaten into slumber.
A Hermit might have an entirely different mortal code and feel that his greatest sin has been focusing on the amassing of wealth instead of wisdom. He pledges to give away all his wealth and to not handle currency for a year, on pain of Final Death. The witnesses assembled will need to manage his finances while he focuses on less earthly concerns, and if he so much as picks up a penny, he expects them to destroy him.
When the penance pledges are complete, the next element is ritual contact with spirits. The specifics of this are dealt with in greater depth on beginning on p. 58. In this context, the assembly often breaks into smaller groups, depending on which entity they wish to contact and bargain with. Generous Storytellers may give a +1 bonus to characters rolling to contact spirits, due to the propitious date.
The climactic element of the Autumnal Equinox is the induction of new Kindred into the ranks of the Mothers and Fathers. In descending order of age, candidates come forward and perform the Embrace. Successful Embraces are lauded, with the neonate Kindred being given gifts of dappled animals on which to feed — calico cats, spotted dogs, even brindled calves. For the newly made Mother or Father, a buckthorn crown is presented.
There is no shame for those whose attempt at creating a Requiem yields only a common death. But there isn’tmuch pity or consolation, either. When it is apparent that the Embrace failed and the candidate merely died, it is as if the vampire who tried it is invisible and inaudible, socially untouchable until the next night. These vampires are literally treated as if they were not present and had not made the attempt.
There are, of course, two classes of Embrace. Some mortals who have been blood dolls or Ghouls or just fellow-worshippers in the Circle welcome and relish their release from life. Others are dragged kicking and screaming. Both attitudes, solemn joy and hysterical resistance, are honored and understood. Neither attitude is seen to reflect badly on the neonate afterwards. The Embrace, particularly on this night of transition, is seen as a new start with a clean slate.
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