The Circle of Unlife
The chamber of sickness is the chapel of devotion. — Proverb
The existence of vampires may seem a contravention of the natural order. They are creatures caught in the middle of a process: the progression of life to death. The sun burns them. They animate their cadaverous muscles with blood stolen and consumed. Each is capable of possessing magic both fey and brutal. It is therefore easy to assume that vampires are unnatural. Those who know of the Kindred, including the Kindred themselves, tend to accept the vampires as an aberration.
Similar to cancer, they represent an abnormal growth that — in a healthy world — would not or could not exist. Their anomalous existence seemingly extends to all spheres. Physically, vampires are biological oddities. Socially, they cannot share space with the rest of the living world and are hence kept to its shadowy edges. Spiritually, the Sanctified suggest that vampires are the result of a curse levied against a Roman centurion for a callous — and yes, aberrant — act. It becomes easy to assume that vampires are creatures who were not meant to be. They will never belong to the world, for they are ineluctably Damned.
The Acolytes of The Circle of the Crone do not share in that easy assumption. Quite the opposite, actually. The Circle generally accepts that vampires are natural and as much a part of the world as trees, wolves and people. The Kindred are not “Damned” — such a term implies judgment. To the contrary, the Kindred simply are. They exist, and that is proof enough that they belong to this world.
The Acolytes don’t use biology to explain this, though. While some Acolytes are certainly capable of being scientific (the covenant’s various worldviews sometimes lend credence to the need for ecological balance, after all), science is only a tool. Science is not the proof. The proof lies in mythology. For the cults of the Crone, mythology is just as good as — if not better than — history. While some might offer that mythology is clearly “just” a pattern of metaphorical stories that cannot be true, the Acolytes point to the fact that vampires would, to an enlightened skeptic, be metaphorical creatures that cannot be real. Disbelief doesn’t make something false (and alternately, belief can make something real). And so, the Acolytes accept that mythology is just as real, or at least just as important, as history.
Mythology across many cultures is clear on a number of significant points. The Acolytes point to various creation myths (those before the advent of the Judeo-Christian mindset). In many such myths, the world begins out of darkness and chaos. In the Hindu scripture, “darkness was hidden by darkness,” and there existed no life or death. In countless mythologies (Greek, Norse, Zoroastrian), the world begins first out of a sunless abyss. In the chaos of the abyss, only eternity reigns. Among Polynesian genesis stories, the myths note that “things of darkness gave birth to things of darkness” while “things of light gave birth to those of light.”
Many creation myths also involve the spilling of blood: Greek myth speaks of painful birth and bloody castration. Stories from the Sioux Indians suggest that Great Spirit sat on a ledge before humans were created, drinking buffaloes dry of their blood (and the spill-off is what helps create humankind). In Japanese myth, the first thing that the two gods Izanagi and Izanami create is the blood-sucking leech.
To the Acolytes, this all demonstrates clearly that vampires have been around since the beginning. No sun? Spilled blood? Darkness, chaos, monsters and leeches? The cultists don’t understand how others don’t see the connection. Are they daft? How hard it must be to ignore the fundamental truths when they are laid out so plainly!
Moreover, mythology continues to support the existence of vampires through the countless millennia. The Underworld — sometimes called the “Land of Night” — is populated with monsters, many of whom are hungry for blood and flesh. Wise gods and goddesses often require sacrifices: Kali, Cailleach, Morrigan, Moloch, even Artemis (who had a crescent emblazoned upon her forehead). Vampire myths in particular are present in nearly every culture the world around. From Africa to Romania, from India to Mesoamerica — vampires have been present in stories since time immemorial. How other Kindred suggest that their kind is somehow a phenomenon dating after Christ is unfathomable to most Acolytes.
The Acolytes know the stories, and they recognize that they will perish alongside all the rest of the world. That is regrettable, but must be accepted because there is nowhere to flee. They’ll play their part and spit venom at all those who oppose them in the final war.
Most break it down into the predator-prey dichotomy. All things consume other things. Humans are not chided for eating the vegetables that grow in the ground or the livestock that they raise. Why should the Kindred be open to scorn? They are simply continuing the food chain. Drinking blood and gaining both sustenance and power from it isn’t strange — the act is merely an extension of nature. Some Acolytes believe that the function they perform isn’t so much predatory. Instead, they accept that they are parasites and Humanity is the host. The Kindred are simply more advanced versions of the world’s parasites: leeches, mosquitoes, viruses, bacteria.
Again, this isn’t all purely biological. Few Acolytes cling to a solely scientific view. No, all of this is informed by a vast mythological underpinning. The gods have created this balance. They are the ones that created the world from blood and darkness. They themselves operate in a kind of food chain — some gods are always above other gods. Gods murder gods. They eat parts from one another and gain wisdom from doing so. They establish hierarchies and great chains of existence. Vampires are a part of that chain. (Some cults see themselves as the servitors of these gods, others see themselves as the natural heirs of divine power.)
One philosophy that has spread through some Acolyte cults claims that vampires are (metaphorically or literally) the heirs of Tantalus. They feast as gluttons but can never be full. Because of their insatiable thirst (leading sometimes to diablerie), all Kindred are punished. This goes against much of what the covenant believes regarding sin and castigation. That is why most Acolytes will not teach these heretics Crúac. It is also why most of the believers of this philosophy share membership with other covenants. Followers of these ideas are quite unpopular amidst most Crone devotees.
For most Acolytes, the answers are simple. They are gifted with godly powers, and so they must use them. Disciplines are tools, and abstaining from their use would offend the gods. The Acolytes teach that Disciplines are simply another aspect of a vampire’s existence, as natural as a mortal’s breath and heartbeat. The Circle urges its members to use their Disciplines as regularly as they care to do so. Flexing one of those god-given powers is as normal as drinking blood, whispering a prayer or resting during the day.
The first point is that not all Kindred are capable of using blood mage. Crúac, in the eyes of its servitors, is not merely the fulfillment of an occult recipe. Blood magic requires genuine belief. One cannot perform blood magic without a true veneration of the old gods, of blood or of vampires themselves. (Whether this is actually true or just what most Acolytes hope their comrades will believe is forever unclear.)
Acolytes who work the sorcery recognize that it is not exactly natural. The other Disciplines come relatively easy — expend a portion of one’s will and blood, and the innate magic comes. It requires small sacrifice and no devotion. Crúac, on the other hand, is complicated. Blood magic cannot be brought to bear with a hand wave and a sprinkling of blood. No, blood must be poured and flesh cut. The more the practitioner understands of this magic, the more of his soul he must give to it. As his powers grow, the Beast within grows, too. The ritualist becomes more easily debased. Madness creeps in at the edges and begins to slowly subsume the Acolyte’s rationality.
Essentially, Crúac helps to eradicate balance inside the vampire. Many Acolytes are devoted to balance — this idea, after all, is what helps to include them in the natural order. All things must be balanced: human and Beast, life and death, creation and destruction, suffering and reward. The dark rituals of the Circle exist, in a way, outside the cycle. They allow the vampire to violate the natural ways and to disrupt the balance. And, as she does so, her own internal balances are similarly disordered.
Is this a bad thing? Some cults say yes — and this is why they treat Crúac with the proper fear and respect. One may practice the rituals and do what one must with the dire powers, but to become slave to it is anathema. Blood magic is a gift from the gods, to be sure, but one should not overuse such a potent endowment for fear of insulting the powers that be. Some cults, however rare, eschew Crúac completely. Perhaps they were once practitioners, but found that the chains it placed upon their souls (or the chains it removed from the monsters within) were unwelcome.
Other cults, also rare, give into Crúac with mad abandon. They practice blood magic constantly, practically addicted to the power Crúac promises. Such Acolytes become wildly imbalanced and dangerous creatures, ending up as the subjects of many a bogeyman tale. They spill blood as if it was water. They give into their basest urges: rending infants into pieces like split pomegranates, consuming the souls of their Kindred brothers and Embracing mortals unreservedly. All of this done in the name of the hungry magic that nurses at a vampire’s soul.
Also, Ghouls allow for a form of creation deemed “legal” by other Kindred. While technically a breach of the Masquerade, ghoul creation is generally allowed in most cities (although it’s not always as unregulated as the Circle might like).
Finally, votaries represent the power of faith. The dark gods demand things, be they prayer, blood or some other sacrifice. Votaries can, just as their Acolyte masters, help to deliver on the covenant’s promises to the dire powers. While certainly no votary is allowed to even glimpse the nature of Crúac, votaries are expected to take part in other basic rituals. They are even encouraged to serve the gods (and the vampires) by using the votaries’ own limited Disciplines through the Vitae that has been given to them.
All of this leads to the fact that, in most cults, Ghouls are not only a natural part of the process, but practically a requirement for Acolytes of impressive Status.
The Acolytes often make Ghouls of animals and plants (called mandragora), probably more than the Kindred of any other covenant. Animal Ghouls may represent elements of creation, physical representations of totemic entities, or just favored pets. “Ghoulish” plants find use in many rituals and ceremonies, but many Acolytes also include them in their durable (and weird) gardens.
(If you want them, more information and game mechanics for mandragora and animal Ghouls can be found in the Ghouls supplement for Vampire.)
Regardless of how often The Traditions are flouted, in the Danse Macabre most accept that the Embrace is not natural. Vampires are abnormalities, and so it goes that their method of procreation must be as well. Yet again, few Acolytes agree.
The Embrace represents many possible things to the members of the Circle. The Embrace may represent veneration of the gods. If the vampires are children of the gods or even small gods themselves, then it is only proper to have children who can carry on worship and perhaps later even become gods themselves. On a simpler note, the Embrace represents just one of many divinely given rights. The Carthians think they have cornered the market on freedom, but the Acolytes believe that they are the true arbiters of autonomy. (By serving the gods, the Acolytes know that they become free.) By denying the Embrace, one denies the power of the gods and their blood that transubstantiates inside the crucible of an Acolyte’s body.
Of course, this is tricky. The Embrace remains a violation, and so the Acolytes cannot go around wantonly siring neonates. Ultimately, the Embrace tends to balance. Most cultists accept the Embrace as a natural but sacred. When siring a vampire, one is choosing a childe to carry on the ways of worship, blood magic and the sire’s own Expectations. This is not done lightly. And so, when the time finally comes to Embrace, it is a rare enough event that it can often occur with minimal punishment (provided of course that the Acolytes have not offended the ruling body of vampires).
Much as the creation of Ghouls is expected, so, too, is the Embrace. Most cults expect their adherents to — at some point in their long Requiem — Embrace a mortal and bring her into the fold. While pragmatism sometimes stops this from being a reality, the cults’ acceptance of the Embrace still represents a vocal difference between this covenant and the others.
For many, bloodlines represent more than just a social division. Forming a new lineage is literally a moment in which a vampire changes her soul (for the Acolytes have little problem believing that they, despite their deaths, still maintain living souls). This “soul-crafting” often exemplifies exactly what the vampire believes about the old gods and their effect on the cosmos. A Kindred who believes in the powers of the Underworld may gain powers over darkness and death, but suffer a weakness that deepens his sensitivity to the light or sleeping above ground. (Weakness is an accepted part of this soul-crafting process. Reward comes only through sacrifice, remember.) An Acolyte who worships one of the many mad sky gods may be able to draw down the weather against her foes, but may also be hobbled with the need to sleep outdoors beneath the stars.
The refinement of the vampire’s blood often embodies the characteristics of her faith. She may then go among others of her kind and belief, and act as the Avus to allow others to learn the gifts that she has been given from the dire powers.
Some suggest that, within the Circle, the ratio of bloodlines is abnormally high. This may be the case because the Acolytes consider creating bloodlines a proper course of action. To become a Crone — or, at least, to catch her eye and become a gifted student — changing one’s soul and blood in the cauldron of faith is necessary.
But every rule has its exception, of course. Some Acolytes feel that because sacrifice is present, the gods are appeased. It doesn’t matter that the Acolyte herself isn’t really sacrificing anything — the symbol of sacrificing another is enough. They equate Diablerie roughly to the ritual bull-slaying or human sacrifice intrinsic to many old ceremonies.
(What these Acolytes don’t understand is that, in many of those rituals, the sacrificed animal is not eaten — the creature is meant to be the food of the gods, not food for the servants. One should not take a bite from an apple before handing it to the goddess.)
If the Circle discovers such criminals, the covenant usually punishes them in due course. Generally speaking, though, the covenant will not offer up a diablerist to the city powers. The Acolytes prefer to handle the punishment of their children. It rarely ends in the diablerist’s Final Death, but that doesn’t mean the criminal will not suffer. The vampires do what they must to show the gods that they are sorry for the offense. If that means the diablerist loses his tongue and must become bound to the Hierophant, so be it. If the diablerist is sent to Torpor and laid in a tub squirming with ghouled maggots — then that is what the dire gods demand.
Love-Lies-Bleeding The Amaranth, or Amaranthus, is a beautiful flower with rich crimson petals. This word is also a term for the act of Diablerie — an ironic term because the flower was one sacred to the goddess Artemis, representing a symbol of “unwithering immortality.” One of the flower’s nicknames is “Love-Lies-Bleeding,” because the way its flowers droop almost like blood dripping to the ground.
Most Kindred, Acolytes included, consider Diablerie an unforgivable crime. Some, however, secretly hold the act in high esteem. One sect of Acolytes in particular — a secret society of sorts, whose membership is kept hidden from even those in their own cults — believes that the Amaranth is a beautiful and necessary thing. This sect, calling itself the Lovers of Artemis, believes that the act of Diablerie is the truest form of love and protection one can offer another Kindred. By consuming the soul, the soul lives on separate from the Beast. The soul becomes healed. And so, once a year, the members of this sect go out and commit Diablerie on those closest to them.
Somehow, they’ve concocted a Crúac ritual to keep the black veins from showing in their auras. Some say this ritual was taken from Aztec vampires long ago, and it requires a mixture of blood, honey and the actual Amaranthus flower. (Others say that the ritual requires far worse things, including the sacrifice of mortal children.) Whatever the case, to see the black veins in the diablerists’ auras, a vampire must gain an exceptional success on his Aura Reading roll. The Lovers of Artemis also seem to cultivate high Composure scores to help keep up the perceptions of their innocence.
Some are willing to ascribe The Vinculum particular meaning, however. Acolytes, unlike members of other covenants, seem to hold a candle for the concept of “true love.” Perhaps it’s a mystery left over from mythology or simply one possibility of creation (or tribulation) that other vampires ignore. Regardless of the reasoning, some in the Circle value love, even though it often rings hollow and ends up far worse than it started.
This interest in love often leads two or more Acolytes to bond together — first as a pair of lovers or in a coterie, but later through a Vinculum. Some accept the Vow of Marriage (p. 67), though in doing so, one must concede to a certain permanence as divorce and Final Death are one and the same. The Vinculum is a tool in this marriage (though some others eschew the actual vows and simply bond one another under the moon somewhere, so that the gods may bear witness). The ritual handfasting (often with a blood-soaked ribbon or cord) is symbolic. The Vinculum takes that symbol and makes it quite real.
To some, Torpor is a period of death and rebirth. Many gods die and become reborn — Cernunnos, Tammuz, Persephone. The dark sleep for vampires becomes a kind of journey to the Underworld. While slumbering, a vampire may experience strange visions or odd memories. These are not to be rejected, but remembered and examined. Some believe that in these visions are hidden secrets that can be drawn free from the metaphor like a draught of blood from a hard-to-reach vein. Others suggest that these visions are not metaphors at all, and that the Acolyte has literally glimpsed a place beyond this realm. Perhaps the vampire gazed into the actual Underworld, or was granted scenes from the birth or demise of the world. The torpid creature may even have received a visit from one of the gods, and was given instructions to pass along to the cult.
One sect holds elaborate rituals when one of the sect’s own enters Torpor (and at times, the cult inflicts Torpor purposefully upon members). They gather up the slumbering vampire and let her rest upon a sacred Altar. The participants in the ritual (called musteriai) surround the torpid Acolyte during the first night of her rest. They fill her with pomegranate seeds (sometimes even cutting her open and placing them within her dead flesh) and sacrifice a number of piglets over her supine body. Once that is done, they shout vicious obscenities — a game to appease Demeter the Mother — and dance.
The goal of this ritual (sometimes called “Abduction to the Underworld” or “The Appeasement of Demeter”) is twofold. First, the rite supposedly halves the time in which a vampire sleeps (as determined by her Humanity on p. 175 of Vampire: The Requiem). Second, the ritual allows her to recall more prominently the strange visions experienced during slumber. With a successful Intelligence + Composure roll (adding in a +3 bonus for the ritual), the waking vampire can recall the dreams and memories from her Torpor. This also allows her to sort through any trouble in differentiating real memories from false ones. To the vampires of this particular sect, Torpor is not only natural, but an eventual necessity.
Transcendence is supposed to defeat the Beast and mitigate a Kindred’s hungers, but the Acolytes don’t believe that such things are necessary. Yes, many search for balance, but that doesn’t mean questing to eradicate those things altogether. Thus, to these cultists, Golconda represents an idiot’s fairy tale. Let the unenlightened chase their tails; the Acolytes are better for their acceptance.
The second camp believes that Golconda is very much real — it’s just not what a lot of the stories make it out to be. To them, transcendence is about becoming something bigger, better, more powerful. Frankly, transcendence is about becoming a Crone. A real Crone, not a devotee. Vampires subscribing to this idea think that they can literally become gods, Throwing off the shackles of the Requiem and walking the earth as a truly divine power. What the Kindred possess now is a taste, nothing more. True power is a thousand times that.
This view on Golconda differs significantly with what other vampires may assert. For one, this view doesn’t defeat or pacify the Beast: instead, the Beast merges seamlessly with the vampire’s soul. Two, this view doesn’t defeat the hunger for other vampires; no, this view simply makes eating other Kindred easier by dismissing the costs associated with such an act.
The road to transcendence is also unique according to these Acolytes. Aspiring to be paragons of Humanity is a fool’s errand. No, becoming a god means acting like one. Moreover, the road itself is marked with a number of unique mythological signposts and trials (each different depending on which vampire one talks to, or which story one believes). Some posit that the vampire must again die and be reborn. Some infer a kind of shamanic journey, finding a way to the spirit world and crossing various bridges made of blood, razors, slivers of moonlight and other unusual Materials.
The stories vary wildly. Does judgment come from some deity of the Underworld? Must a vampire be able to stand in the sun and survive the encounter? Should he search the world for one of the hidden Crones who may be sleeping in a mountain cave or at the bottom of a fast-moving river? Quests for transcendence are mad adventures of pain and enlightenment. A few Acolytes have tried to commit to such adventures. Many return having lost their sanity. Others never return, which may be a testament to their success — or a sign of ultimate failure.
Rumors of Transcendence A favorite game among many cultists seems to be to tell tales of Golconda and how to reach it. While some elders in the covenant frown upon such storytelling, it seems a persistent hobby nevertheless. Below are a few rumors that may make it into such tales. Have they been distorted so much, à la the “Whisper Down the Lane Game?” Or are there nuggets of truth contained within?
A few cults and coteries within the covenant embody this idea. They accept that they are the servants — even the pets — of the gods. The gods chose them because they are literal monsters. Their job is to stand as sentinels protecting hidden power and truth (Crúac is only one possibility) and make others sacrifice to achieve these gifts.
What this often amounts to is, by believing themselves monsters, the Acolytes act as monsters. Their connection to any kind of human side burns away quickly. They accept that all parts of a vampiric existence are natural and normal, and they refuse to moderate any of the powers common to the Kindred. They flagrantly use Disciplines, Embrace wildly, even attempt to rile the Beast within and provoke it to frenzy. They are mad vampires, anathema to the rest of Damned society (even to other Acolytes) — except these vampires know it.
That said, some Acolytes do bring unique elements to their havens. Some of these elements are discussed below.
Sharing a Haven is not without its downside. Vampires can be cruel, provocative and certainly unpredictable. While Acolytes may share a kind of kinship, the Beast cares little for such community. Several Kindred dwelling in close quarters can go on for years without concern — but in a single night, that solace and unity can be shattered by a single frenzied Kindred. It is not entirely impossible for one Acolyte to destroy her brethren and be left, weeping into the blood and ash of her lost companions.
One unusual side effect (that has been deemed by many as pure myth) is that communal Kindred tend to share more than just living space. They seem capable of sharing head space as well. Some find that reading one another’s minds (such as through the Auspex power of Telepathy) becomes eerily easy. Others say that mental conditions can be contagious in such tight quarters. If one of the Acolytes develops madness temporary or permanent, the others may begin to exhibit the same madness regardless of their experiences.
Isolated: Some Acolytes do not keep their religion quiet. Worship may be clamorous. They may need to bring in animals — or other creatures — for sacrifice. Having neighbors capable of peering in a window (or breaking through it) and witnessing a bloody ritual is unacceptable. Thus, many Acolytes choose out-of-theway locations for their havens. To keep on the periphery of both vampire and human society, an Acolyte might choose an abandoned building, a fire-gutted housing project, a water tower, even an old derelict church.
Subterranean: A significant portion of the covenant lends credence, if not full-blown worship, to the various divinities of the Underworld. It is the place of death in myth, and many Acolytes perceive the Underworld to be the land in which they walk. Therefore, many choose havens underground to represent this chthonic connection. This may mean sewer tunnels, cave systems, basement apartments, tombs or mine tunnels. Some — particularly Nosferatu Acolytes — even build their own catacombs.
Nature: Many cultists prefer to be close to nature, as many recognize it as a connection to the Crone or other goddesses. Many vampires dwell in cities, and residing near nature is difficult. Some manage to live in or near large city parks. A few Acolytes are wealthy enough to manage and grow large indoor gardens (or greenhouses atop buildings). Most, though, must live outside the cities, often the suburbs or other rural burgs. This isn’t altogether horrible, though, for living in the suburbs allows an Acolyte to remain remote.
Weird: The Acolyte worldview accepts the mysterious as a part of nature. In fact, weird occurrences and places may be connectors to the old gods. Covenant members may seek havens in unusual locations: haunted houses, graveyards, gravity hills, places where strange beasts or entities have been sighted, odd ruins, boggling Rock formations, even abandoned asylums. To the Acolytes, these places represent a coalescing of dark energies — energies assumed to come from (or go to) the gods and spirits. Building a Haven (or, see below, a temple) on such a place is considered good fortune. That is, provided such a place doesn’t draw the attention of other characters, as well.
One of the unique features of some Acolyte havens is the inclusion of a pagan Altar. The vampire likely prays at the Altar and performs any minor rituals (not necessarily Crúac) demanded by her faith. Of course, the Altar may be purely cosmetic, intended to impress upon visitors the illusion of reverence. Regardless of the Altar’s purpose, an Altar may have many features. Feel free to look at the elements below and “build” a character’s Altar from these pieces:
Deity Representation: If the Acolyte believes in a god or goddess (or even a whole pantheon of deities), those divine figures likely have representation upon the Altar. Feel free to choose appropriate imagery to represent individual deities. Cernunnos the Antlered One (of Celtic myth) might be represented by an elk skull. The Acolyte might represent Artemis the Greek huntress with arrows, arrowheads or simply a clay idol representing her. Some traditional pagans represent a generic “god” with a Silver candle, and the “goddess” with a gold one.
Elemental Representation: The four elements are significant to many cults within the covenant. Water may appear in a bowl or chalice, or may instead be in the form of wine or blood. Earth often shows up as clay statues, clumps of dirt or salt. For Air, an Acolyte might light incense, or instead include a white-handled athame — a dagger used in cutting herbs or other ritual reagents. Fire, finally, is represented by burning candles or incense, though some Acolytes use wands to represent the dynamic nature of flame (the “Red Fear” does little good during times of veneration).
Sacrifice: The concepts of pain and surrender are key to many Acolyte beliefs, and the Altar likely offers some representation of this. Some Acolytes prefer simple, small sacrifices such as locks of hair, fingernails, even teeth. Blood is an obvious sacrificial symbol, and ties closely in with the covenant’s magic. Some Acolytes also have elements of other sacrifices not entirely their own: bones (animal or human), strips of dried skin, valuable goods stolen (such as necklaces or rings) stolen from victims.
Ritual Tools: As mentioned, daggers or athames are common ritual tools. Acolytes use white-handled daggers to cut herbs or other ingredients. Black-handled athames are used for cutting flesh and drawing blood. Many Acolytes also possess antique phlebotomy (bloodletting) tools to help them during sacrifices. Other tools might include mortar and pestles, vials, jars or boxes.
Ritual Reagents: The vampire likely keeps various ceremonial ingredients handy. She may have herbs to mix or burn (such as sage). She may possess phials of biological fluids (blood, tears, semen, amniotic fluid, vomit). Some use various crystals, gems and non-precious stones.
Miscellaneous: An Acolyte can include just about anything she wants upon her Altar. She may want to include symbols (pentagrams, astrological symbols, icons of fertility) or simple decoration (red Altar cloths, decorative swords, mirrors). Some Acolytes prefer to lay out personal objects (an old locket, a diary, a photograph), whereas others decorate with the downright bizarre (jars of fetal pigs or humans, weird taxidermy, pornography).
Generally, such discovery is imprecise and instinctual. The Acolytes know whom they worship, and look for a spot that suits the deity. Celtic gods thrived in the wild, and the druids built the majority of their sacred places out in the open (often in groves or upon hills). The Greeks and Romans believed that their deities lived inside buildings and objects — would Hephaestus thrive inside a burnt-out factory? Two-faced Janus might live in a place with many doors, or perhaps a place of wild dichotomies (a greenhouse whose plants live off buried corpses, for example). Mesopotamian ziggurats often were a nexus point between the Earth and the Underworld, and so demanded access to both above ground and below; a museum with a collapsed floor leading into a hidden sub-basement might make for a place to serve the old Sumerian gods, then.
Discovering such sacred places isn’t always instinctual. Sometimes, a cult will seek out places that seem to possess unusual, even supernatural, qualities. Examples might include a place where animals of all kinds seem to go and die; locations haunted by ghosts or other mad spirits; an old house where the clocks run backward, milk curdles instantly and electronic devices fail as often as they work and even an old Christian church whose icons and statues bleed and wail, or spontaneously manifest pagan or occult symbols. Such locations represent uncontained celestial power. To put a Temple there is to help control and harness the madness of the place, appeasing the powers that dwell there. Some Acolytes claim unique ways in divining the proper location for a Temple. By using “The Spirit’s Touch” (Auspex •••), a vampire can touch the walls, trees or floors to see if any of the images gleaned suggest the presence of primordial powers. Others claim to feel a kind of “Blood Sympathy” with a location — a seemingly impossible thing, yet some Acolytes swear by it (see sidebar, below).
Acolytes can sometimes feel where the gods presumably reside (or, at least, would like to reside). This requires concerted effort by the vampire; rarely does it happen spontaneously.
The player rolls Wits + Occult. Dramatic failure results in a painful headache and a –1 penalty to all rolls for the rest of the night. Failure yields no intuition. Success, however, reveals flashes of insight inside the vampire’s mind. Quick visions might show a momentary image of the god’s face upon the wall or reveal a floor thick with rotting blood and flies. Images gleaned should reflect the cult’s own style of worship. Of course, success only grants these visions if the Storyteller deems the place suitable for the gods. The Morrigan would not care for a bank or a nursing home — she would only be pleased with the fields of war (or, perhaps, the ground beneath an old veterans’ hospital).
Provided the location is suitable, an exceptional success not only grants the appropriate visions, but also fills the vampire with a sense of elation — and possibly the refreshment of a spent Willpower point.
A cult makes do with what it can find. If the gods demand a Temple upon the spot of an old apartment building, so be it. The Acolytes cannot raze the building to the ground — though resourceful Kindred might be able to ensure that the city inspectors note the structure isn’t up to code and must be abandoned. Whether the Temple’s location is a water tower, an elementary school or a gutter maze of sewer tunnels, the vampires must adapt to what is available.
In giving a Temple depth and character, consider the following questions:
Similar to cancer, they represent an abnormal growth that — in a healthy world — would not or could not exist. Their anomalous existence seemingly extends to all spheres. Physically, vampires are biological oddities. Socially, they cannot share space with the rest of the living world and are hence kept to its shadowy edges. Spiritually, the Sanctified suggest that vampires are the result of a curse levied against a Roman centurion for a callous — and yes, aberrant — act. It becomes easy to assume that vampires are creatures who were not meant to be. They will never belong to the world, for they are ineluctably Damned.
The Acolytes of The Circle of the Crone do not share in that easy assumption. Quite the opposite, actually. The Circle generally accepts that vampires are natural and as much a part of the world as trees, wolves and people. The Kindred are not “Damned” — such a term implies judgment. To the contrary, the Kindred simply are. They exist, and that is proof enough that they belong to this world.
These Dark Places
Acolytes typically have little problem accepting the idea that the Kindred have been around since the very beginning. Other covenants seem hell-bent on concocting origin stories for vampirism, often ascribing the condition’s beginnings with some kind of curse or castigation. In these stories, the Kindred are often an affront to God or some other power, and through sin, they are born. The Acolytes, however, refuse to be saddled with such a half-baked assessment. They take exception to that idea and claim that vampires have always existed. God was not offended, because “God” doesn’t really exist. Nobody committed grievous sins — sins don’t exist, either. For the Circle, the Kindred have been around as long as Humanity, if not longer.The Acolytes don’t use biology to explain this, though. While some Acolytes are certainly capable of being scientific (the covenant’s various worldviews sometimes lend credence to the need for ecological balance, after all), science is only a tool. Science is not the proof. The proof lies in mythology. For the cults of the Crone, mythology is just as good as — if not better than — history. While some might offer that mythology is clearly “just” a pattern of metaphorical stories that cannot be true, the Acolytes point to the fact that vampires would, to an enlightened skeptic, be metaphorical creatures that cannot be real. Disbelief doesn’t make something false (and alternately, belief can make something real). And so, the Acolytes accept that mythology is just as real, or at least just as important, as history.
Mythology across many cultures is clear on a number of significant points. The Acolytes point to various creation myths (those before the advent of the Judeo-Christian mindset). In many such myths, the world begins out of darkness and chaos. In the Hindu scripture, “darkness was hidden by darkness,” and there existed no life or death. In countless mythologies (Greek, Norse, Zoroastrian), the world begins first out of a sunless abyss. In the chaos of the abyss, only eternity reigns. Among Polynesian genesis stories, the myths note that “things of darkness gave birth to things of darkness” while “things of light gave birth to those of light.”
Many creation myths also involve the spilling of blood: Greek myth speaks of painful birth and bloody castration. Stories from the Sioux Indians suggest that Great Spirit sat on a ledge before humans were created, drinking buffaloes dry of their blood (and the spill-off is what helps create humankind). In Japanese myth, the first thing that the two gods Izanagi and Izanami create is the blood-sucking leech.
To the Acolytes, this all demonstrates clearly that vampires have been around since the beginning. No sun? Spilled blood? Darkness, chaos, monsters and leeches? The cultists don’t understand how others don’t see the connection. Are they daft? How hard it must be to ignore the fundamental truths when they are laid out so plainly!
Moreover, mythology continues to support the existence of vampires through the countless millennia. The Underworld — sometimes called the “Land of Night” — is populated with monsters, many of whom are hungry for blood and flesh. Wise gods and goddesses often require sacrifices: Kali, Cailleach, Morrigan, Moloch, even Artemis (who had a crescent emblazoned upon her forehead). Vampire myths in particular are present in nearly every culture the world around. From Africa to Romania, from India to Mesoamerica — vampires have been present in stories since time immemorial. How other Kindred suggest that their kind is somehow a phenomenon dating after Christ is unfathomable to most Acolytes.
One View: Twilight of the Gods
One East Coast cult uses mythology to justify close to everything the cult does. This cult of Acolytes believes that the blood of the slain Giant Ymir is what made the oceans and rivers. Therefore, the vampires stick to the shorelines, with their havens being a series of connected houseboats out beyond the docks. These cultists also believe that the End Times are coming — certainly not the Last Days posited in the Christian Apocalypse, but those of the Norse Ragnarok. As followers of Nordic myth, this group believes that signs of the impending war of the gods have begun. Climate change will lead to hard winters. Natural disasters (hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis) have increased in frequency. Loki has freed himself from his chains and is causing this chaos. Soon, the werewolves will see the escape of their own progenitor. The vampires believe themselves the children of the Great Serpent Jormungandr, the snake that bites its own tail to maintain infinity.The Acolytes know the stories, and they recognize that they will perish alongside all the rest of the world. That is regrettable, but must be accepted because there is nowhere to flee. They’ll play their part and spit venom at all those who oppose them in the final war.
Predator and Prey
It is human nature to believe that unpleasant things are also unnatural things. Humans balk at a wolf tearing out the underbelly of a young fawn. Humans shudder at the thought of disease, and wonder what kind of universe would allow such a biological deviation to occur. Famine is abhorrent. Global disasters are vicious. Except in reality, none of these things are abnormal. Such events do not go against nature — these events are nature. The Acolytes, unlike others, accept that they play a part in nature however repellent they may seem.Most break it down into the predator-prey dichotomy. All things consume other things. Humans are not chided for eating the vegetables that grow in the ground or the livestock that they raise. Why should the Kindred be open to scorn? They are simply continuing the food chain. Drinking blood and gaining both sustenance and power from it isn’t strange — the act is merely an extension of nature. Some Acolytes believe that the function they perform isn’t so much predatory. Instead, they accept that they are parasites and Humanity is the host. The Kindred are simply more advanced versions of the world’s parasites: leeches, mosquitoes, viruses, bacteria.
Again, this isn’t all purely biological. Few Acolytes cling to a solely scientific view. No, all of this is informed by a vast mythological underpinning. The gods have created this balance. They are the ones that created the world from blood and darkness. They themselves operate in a kind of food chain — some gods are always above other gods. Gods murder gods. They eat parts from one another and gain wisdom from doing so. They establish hierarchies and great chains of existence. Vampires are a part of that chain. (Some cults see themselves as the servitors of these gods, others see themselves as the natural heirs of divine power.)
One View: The Hunger of Tantalus
Even The Circle of the Crone has its heresies, and the philosophy called the Hunger of Tantalus is one of them. In the Greek myth, King Tantalus was a child of both divine and mortal parentage. He was a wicked glutton, and, as a favorite of the gods, was allowed to dine on all the sweet treats of Olympus. He gorged himself time and again on nectar and ambrosia. But Tantalus could not contain his hungers. He invited the gods to dinner at his home, but decided that he did not have enough food. To ameliorate the situation, he murdered his own son and cooked him in a stew, thinking the gods would believe it to be goat’s meat. One cannot fool the gods, however, and they punished Tantalus. They threw him to the Underworld, where he sits beneath a fruit tree and by a pool of the sweetest waters. When he reaches for fruit, it moves out of reach. When he bends to take a drink, the waters recede. The punishment is eternal.One philosophy that has spread through some Acolyte cults claims that vampires are (metaphorically or literally) the heirs of Tantalus. They feast as gluttons but can never be full. Because of their insatiable thirst (leading sometimes to diablerie), all Kindred are punished. This goes against much of what the covenant believes regarding sin and castigation. That is why most Acolytes will not teach these heretics Crúac. It is also why most of the believers of this philosophy share membership with other covenants. Followers of these ideas are quite unpopular amidst most Crone devotees.
Innate Properties
Vampires possess a number of inbuilt abilities above and beyond what mortals possess. Many assume these abilities to be “supernatural,” that is to say, above and beyond the normal. The Acolytes don’t agree. Because a wolf can run faster than a human, does that make the wolf supernatural? Because a human can use tools and the wolf can’t, is that supernatural? For the Kindred of the Circle, it’s all a matter of perspective.Disciplines
A creature is a fool to ignore the tools it has been given. The hero Siegfried, when he lets his foe’s blood drip down his blade and fall upon his lips, becomes capable of many strange things. He can speak to animals, walk through flames unharmed and split beasts in twain with his magic sword. Would he have accomplished all that he did — slaying dragons, raising sleeping maidens, rising from the dead — without his unusual abilities? Would the Morrigan, that goddess of war, have turned the tides of many a battle if she had not sent her ravens to cast curses upon those below? If she had not consumed the heart’s blood of her enemies, would her power be the same?For most Acolytes, the answers are simple. They are gifted with godly powers, and so they must use them. Disciplines are tools, and abstaining from their use would offend the gods. The Acolytes teach that Disciplines are simply another aspect of a vampire’s existence, as natural as a mortal’s breath and heartbeat. The Circle urges its members to use their Disciplines as regularly as they care to do so. Flexing one of those god-given powers is as normal as drinking blood, whispering a prayer or resting during the day.
Crúac
One curious item sticks out amidst the Acolytes’ naturalist worldview of vampires and their powers: many cultists do not believe that the Circle’s own blood magic is natural. It may still serve the organic whole — Crúac involves much of what fuels the cycles of life and death in this world, particularly the elements of blood and sacrifice. And yet, possessing and understanding Crúac remains potentially unnatural. Why?The first point is that not all Kindred are capable of using blood mage. Crúac, in the eyes of its servitors, is not merely the fulfillment of an occult recipe. Blood magic requires genuine belief. One cannot perform blood magic without a true veneration of the old gods, of blood or of vampires themselves. (Whether this is actually true or just what most Acolytes hope their comrades will believe is forever unclear.)
Acolytes who work the sorcery recognize that it is not exactly natural. The other Disciplines come relatively easy — expend a portion of one’s will and blood, and the innate magic comes. It requires small sacrifice and no devotion. Crúac, on the other hand, is complicated. Blood magic cannot be brought to bear with a hand wave and a sprinkling of blood. No, blood must be poured and flesh cut. The more the practitioner understands of this magic, the more of his soul he must give to it. As his powers grow, the Beast within grows, too. The ritualist becomes more easily debased. Madness creeps in at the edges and begins to slowly subsume the Acolyte’s rationality.
Essentially, Crúac helps to eradicate balance inside the vampire. Many Acolytes are devoted to balance — this idea, after all, is what helps to include them in the natural order. All things must be balanced: human and Beast, life and death, creation and destruction, suffering and reward. The dark rituals of the Circle exist, in a way, outside the cycle. They allow the vampire to violate the natural ways and to disrupt the balance. And, as she does so, her own internal balances are similarly disordered.
Is this a bad thing? Some cults say yes — and this is why they treat Crúac with the proper fear and respect. One may practice the rituals and do what one must with the dire powers, but to become slave to it is anathema. Blood magic is a gift from the gods, to be sure, but one should not overuse such a potent endowment for fear of insulting the powers that be. Some cults, however rare, eschew Crúac completely. Perhaps they were once practitioners, but found that the chains it placed upon their souls (or the chains it removed from the monsters within) were unwelcome.
Other cults, also rare, give into Crúac with mad abandon. They practice blood magic constantly, practically addicted to the power Crúac promises. Such Acolytes become wildly imbalanced and dangerous creatures, ending up as the subjects of many a bogeyman tale. They spill blood as if it was water. They give into their basest urges: rending infants into pieces like split pomegranates, consuming the souls of their Kindred brothers and Embracing mortals unreservedly. All of this done in the name of the hungry magic that nurses at a vampire’s soul.
Theban Sorcery and The Coils of the Dragon
The other covenant-specific powers represent a trifling conundrum to the Acolytes. If Disciplines are natural, then the intrinsic abilities of The Lancea Sanctum and The Ordo Dracul must be natural as well, right? Not necessarily. Whether out of basic jealousy or an honest disregard and distrust of such powers, the Acolytes generally consider both Theban Sorcery and the Coils to be aberrant developments. Many Acolytes subscribe to one of the following three views regarding these covenant powers:- The others stole Crúac. Much as many of the old ways were stolen throughout the millennia by bullying patriarchs and Judeo-Christian butchers, the two covenants are simply using modified versions of the Circle’s own blood magic. Those who accept this theory feel so violently toward the other covenants and their magic that their feelings can easily disrupt relations between the groups. (This can also lead to some Acolytes attempting to steal the sorcery of the others, as those Acolytes assume that they have the proprietary right to do so.)
- The other covenants have actually developed their own rituals and sorcery. While the development is legitimate, such magic represents a breach of the natural order. But since the Acolytes accept that Crúac is not only older, but also more powerful, who cares? Most Acolytes accepting this theory dismiss the enchantments of the other groups. Such powers are surely weak and certainly trivial.
- The others’ magic is not real. Their magic is nothing more than a deceptive pastiche of parlor tricks, fancy illusions and well-perpetuated rumor. The covenants want to pretend that they have all the power and secrets. The Acolytes represent the ideal that the other covenants try to match. They cannot, of course, but the rest of the Kindred don’t know that. Most of the poor souls have been snowed by their respective covenants. Acolytes who believe this theory tend to work counterpropaganda (often as attention-getting agitprop) against the other covenants in the attempt to strengthen the Acolytes’ own position and power.
Creating Ghouls
Many Circle cults expect their Acolytes to create Ghouls. Ghouls — often called “votaries” of the Circle — represent a unique opportunity for many Acolytes. Ghouls may represent a link to the living, for one. Vampires are largely kept separate from the mortal world, and while some accept this, others say that such separation leads to an imbalance in a Kindred’s soul. Ghouls can help mitigate this balance.Also, Ghouls allow for a form of creation deemed “legal” by other Kindred. While technically a breach of the Masquerade, ghoul creation is generally allowed in most cities (although it’s not always as unregulated as the Circle might like).
Finally, votaries represent the power of faith. The dark gods demand things, be they prayer, blood or some other sacrifice. Votaries can, just as their Acolyte masters, help to deliver on the covenant’s promises to the dire powers. While certainly no votary is allowed to even glimpse the nature of Crúac, votaries are expected to take part in other basic rituals. They are even encouraged to serve the gods (and the vampires) by using the votaries’ own limited Disciplines through the Vitae that has been given to them.
All of this leads to the fact that, in most cults, Ghouls are not only a natural part of the process, but practically a requirement for Acolytes of impressive Status.
Blood Beasts and Death Vines
The Acolytes often make Ghouls of animals and plants (called mandragora), probably more than the Kindred of any other covenant. Animal Ghouls may represent elements of creation, physical representations of totemic entities, or just favored pets. “Ghoulish” plants find use in many rituals and ceremonies, but many Acolytes also include them in their durable (and weird) gardens.(If you want them, more information and game mechanics for mandragora and animal Ghouls can be found in the Ghouls supplement for Vampire.)
The Embrace
The birth of a new vampire — and that is how many Acolytes see it, as a kind of “second nativity” — represents an obvious quandary for all Damned. On one hand, the Embrace is a violation of the Masquerade, a deviation from The Traditions that bind Kindred society and keep it safe and sacred. On the other hand, one merely has to visit Elysium to see that vampires not only continue to exist, but new ones continue to show up over time as neonates. The very presence of neonates — those sad embodiments of broken rules and poor judgment — shows that the laws against the Embrace are only as strong as the chains shackling a vampire’s Beast.Regardless of how often The Traditions are flouted, in the Danse Macabre most accept that the Embrace is not natural. Vampires are abnormalities, and so it goes that their method of procreation must be as well. Yet again, few Acolytes agree.
The Embrace represents many possible things to the members of the Circle. The Embrace may represent veneration of the gods. If the vampires are children of the gods or even small gods themselves, then it is only proper to have children who can carry on worship and perhaps later even become gods themselves. On a simpler note, the Embrace represents just one of many divinely given rights. The Carthians think they have cornered the market on freedom, but the Acolytes believe that they are the true arbiters of autonomy. (By serving the gods, the Acolytes know that they become free.) By denying the Embrace, one denies the power of the gods and their blood that transubstantiates inside the crucible of an Acolyte’s body.
Of course, this is tricky. The Embrace remains a violation, and so the Acolytes cannot go around wantonly siring neonates. Ultimately, the Embrace tends to balance. Most cultists accept the Embrace as a natural but sacred. When siring a vampire, one is choosing a childe to carry on the ways of worship, blood magic and the sire’s own Expectations. This is not done lightly. And so, when the time finally comes to Embrace, it is a rare enough event that it can often occur with minimal punishment (provided of course that the Acolytes have not offended the ruling body of vampires).
Much as the creation of Ghouls is expected, so, too, is the Embrace. Most cults expect their adherents to — at some point in their long Requiem — Embrace a mortal and bring her into the fold. While pragmatism sometimes stops this from being a reality, the cults’ acceptance of the Embrace still represents a vocal difference between this covenant and the others.
Conditions of the Soul
Vampires, throughout their Requiems, experience a number of unusual conditions that may seem strange, awful or otherwise anomalous. For the most part, the Acolytes consider all parts of the equation to be normal — or, in some cases, downright expected. Other vampires may frown at some of these conditions, or gaze at them in wonder. While the Acolytes have no dearth of wonder to give, by and large they look at most of these conditions as part of the organic whole — as common as a mortal’s breath.Bloodlines
The refinement of one’s blood into a potent new lineage is, for the most part, a sacred gift given to the Acolytes. The creation of a bloodline is either a powerful reward handed down by the old gods or the way that a vampire can finally become one of those gods.For many, bloodlines represent more than just a social division. Forming a new lineage is literally a moment in which a vampire changes her soul (for the Acolytes have little problem believing that they, despite their deaths, still maintain living souls). This “soul-crafting” often exemplifies exactly what the vampire believes about the old gods and their effect on the cosmos. A Kindred who believes in the powers of the Underworld may gain powers over darkness and death, but suffer a weakness that deepens his sensitivity to the light or sleeping above ground. (Weakness is an accepted part of this soul-crafting process. Reward comes only through sacrifice, remember.) An Acolyte who worships one of the many mad sky gods may be able to draw down the weather against her foes, but may also be hobbled with the need to sleep outdoors beneath the stars.
The refinement of the vampire’s blood often embodies the characteristics of her faith. She may then go among others of her kind and belief, and act as the Avus to allow others to learn the gifts that she has been given from the dire powers.
Some suggest that, within the Circle, the ratio of bloodlines is abnormally high. This may be the case because the Acolytes consider creating bloodlines a proper course of action. To become a Crone — or, at least, to catch her eye and become a gifted student — changing one’s soul and blood in the cauldron of faith is necessary.
Diablerie
The act of Diablerie is a crime for most Acolytes. The covenant, by and large, does not accept the consumption of another vampire’s soul to be in any way natural. Diablerie is not predation. Diablerie is not sanctioned by the gods. Diablerie is an ugly betrayal of another divine being as well as a cheat to gain power that is undeserved.But every rule has its exception, of course. Some Acolytes feel that because sacrifice is present, the gods are appeased. It doesn’t matter that the Acolyte herself isn’t really sacrificing anything — the symbol of sacrificing another is enough. They equate Diablerie roughly to the ritual bull-slaying or human sacrifice intrinsic to many old ceremonies.
(What these Acolytes don’t understand is that, in many of those rituals, the sacrificed animal is not eaten — the creature is meant to be the food of the gods, not food for the servants. One should not take a bite from an apple before handing it to the goddess.)
If the Circle discovers such criminals, the covenant usually punishes them in due course. Generally speaking, though, the covenant will not offer up a diablerist to the city powers. The Acolytes prefer to handle the punishment of their children. It rarely ends in the diablerist’s Final Death, but that doesn’t mean the criminal will not suffer. The vampires do what they must to show the gods that they are sorry for the offense. If that means the diablerist loses his tongue and must become bound to the Hierophant, so be it. If the diablerist is sent to Torpor and laid in a tub squirming with ghouled maggots — then that is what the dire gods demand.
Love-Lies-Bleeding The Amaranth, or Amaranthus, is a beautiful flower with rich crimson petals. This word is also a term for the act of Diablerie — an ironic term because the flower was one sacred to the goddess Artemis, representing a symbol of “unwithering immortality.” One of the flower’s nicknames is “Love-Lies-Bleeding,” because the way its flowers droop almost like blood dripping to the ground.
Most Kindred, Acolytes included, consider Diablerie an unforgivable crime. Some, however, secretly hold the act in high esteem. One sect of Acolytes in particular — a secret society of sorts, whose membership is kept hidden from even those in their own cults — believes that the Amaranth is a beautiful and necessary thing. This sect, calling itself the Lovers of Artemis, believes that the act of Diablerie is the truest form of love and protection one can offer another Kindred. By consuming the soul, the soul lives on separate from the Beast. The soul becomes healed. And so, once a year, the members of this sect go out and commit Diablerie on those closest to them.
Somehow, they’ve concocted a Crúac ritual to keep the black veins from showing in their auras. Some say this ritual was taken from Aztec vampires long ago, and it requires a mixture of blood, honey and the actual Amaranthus flower. (Others say that the ritual requires far worse things, including the sacrifice of mortal children.) Whatever the case, to see the black veins in the diablerists’ auras, a vampire must gain an exceptional success on his Aura Reading roll. The Lovers of Artemis also seem to cultivate high Composure scores to help keep up the perceptions of their innocence.
The Vinculum
For most covenant members, The Vinculum represents simply one more essential facet of vampiric existence. The Acolytes do more than tolerate The Vinculum — they accept it as yet another part of the Requiem. That said, few believe The Vinculum holds any greater spiritual meaning and is more a tool of pragmatism, not a sacred bond.Some are willing to ascribe The Vinculum particular meaning, however. Acolytes, unlike members of other covenants, seem to hold a candle for the concept of “true love.” Perhaps it’s a mystery left over from mythology or simply one possibility of creation (or tribulation) that other vampires ignore. Regardless of the reasoning, some in the Circle value love, even though it often rings hollow and ends up far worse than it started.
This interest in love often leads two or more Acolytes to bond together — first as a pair of lovers or in a coterie, but later through a Vinculum. Some accept the Vow of Marriage (p. 67), though in doing so, one must concede to a certain permanence as divorce and Final Death are one and the same. The Vinculum is a tool in this marriage (though some others eschew the actual vows and simply bond one another under the moon somewhere, so that the gods may bear witness). The ritual handfasting (often with a blood-soaked ribbon or cord) is symbolic. The Vinculum takes that symbol and makes it quite real.
Torpor
Most Acolytes accept Torpor as an unfortunate stage of undeath, but not necessarily unnatural. In certain cults, Torpor takes on special meaning.To some, Torpor is a period of death and rebirth. Many gods die and become reborn — Cernunnos, Tammuz, Persephone. The dark sleep for vampires becomes a kind of journey to the Underworld. While slumbering, a vampire may experience strange visions or odd memories. These are not to be rejected, but remembered and examined. Some believe that in these visions are hidden secrets that can be drawn free from the metaphor like a draught of blood from a hard-to-reach vein. Others suggest that these visions are not metaphors at all, and that the Acolyte has literally glimpsed a place beyond this realm. Perhaps the vampire gazed into the actual Underworld, or was granted scenes from the birth or demise of the world. The torpid creature may even have received a visit from one of the gods, and was given instructions to pass along to the cult.
One sect holds elaborate rituals when one of the sect’s own enters Torpor (and at times, the cult inflicts Torpor purposefully upon members). They gather up the slumbering vampire and let her rest upon a sacred Altar. The participants in the ritual (called musteriai) surround the torpid Acolyte during the first night of her rest. They fill her with pomegranate seeds (sometimes even cutting her open and placing them within her dead flesh) and sacrifice a number of piglets over her supine body. Once that is done, they shout vicious obscenities — a game to appease Demeter the Mother — and dance.
The goal of this ritual (sometimes called “Abduction to the Underworld” or “The Appeasement of Demeter”) is twofold. First, the rite supposedly halves the time in which a vampire sleeps (as determined by her Humanity on p. 175 of Vampire: The Requiem). Second, the ritual allows her to recall more prominently the strange visions experienced during slumber. With a successful Intelligence + Composure roll (adding in a +3 bonus for the ritual), the waking vampire can recall the dreams and memories from her Torpor. This also allows her to sort through any trouble in differentiating real memories from false ones. To the vampires of this particular sect, Torpor is not only natural, but an eventual necessity.
Golconda
Acolytes tend to fall into one of two camps when it comes to considering Golconda. The first camp — arguably the majority — feels that Golconda is a foolish story of wish fulfillment. Those who follow the endless trail of breadcrumbs are as unwise as the human who wants to become a bird or a god that wants to become a human. Why transcend? The Acolytes may not always like what they are, but they accept it. Vampires are a part of the world. Believing in some wild salvation in which an Acolyte ceases to be what she is is desperation, madness or hubris.Transcendence is supposed to defeat the Beast and mitigate a Kindred’s hungers, but the Acolytes don’t believe that such things are necessary. Yes, many search for balance, but that doesn’t mean questing to eradicate those things altogether. Thus, to these cultists, Golconda represents an idiot’s fairy tale. Let the unenlightened chase their tails; the Acolytes are better for their acceptance.
The second camp believes that Golconda is very much real — it’s just not what a lot of the stories make it out to be. To them, transcendence is about becoming something bigger, better, more powerful. Frankly, transcendence is about becoming a Crone. A real Crone, not a devotee. Vampires subscribing to this idea think that they can literally become gods, Throwing off the shackles of the Requiem and walking the earth as a truly divine power. What the Kindred possess now is a taste, nothing more. True power is a thousand times that.
This view on Golconda differs significantly with what other vampires may assert. For one, this view doesn’t defeat or pacify the Beast: instead, the Beast merges seamlessly with the vampire’s soul. Two, this view doesn’t defeat the hunger for other vampires; no, this view simply makes eating other Kindred easier by dismissing the costs associated with such an act.
The road to transcendence is also unique according to these Acolytes. Aspiring to be paragons of Humanity is a fool’s errand. No, becoming a god means acting like one. Moreover, the road itself is marked with a number of unique mythological signposts and trials (each different depending on which vampire one talks to, or which story one believes). Some posit that the vampire must again die and be reborn. Some infer a kind of shamanic journey, finding a way to the spirit world and crossing various bridges made of blood, razors, slivers of moonlight and other unusual Materials.
The stories vary wildly. Does judgment come from some deity of the Underworld? Must a vampire be able to stand in the sun and survive the encounter? Should he search the world for one of the hidden Crones who may be sleeping in a mountain cave or at the bottom of a fast-moving river? Quests for transcendence are mad adventures of pain and enlightenment. A few Acolytes have tried to commit to such adventures. Many return having lost their sanity. Others never return, which may be a testament to their success — or a sign of ultimate failure.
Rumors of Transcendence A favorite game among many cultists seems to be to tell tales of Golconda and how to reach it. While some elders in the covenant frown upon such storytelling, it seems a persistent hobby nevertheless. Below are a few rumors that may make it into such tales. Have they been distorted so much, à la the “Whisper Down the Lane Game?” Or are there nuggets of truth contained within?
- One Crone has reached transcendence and now walks the forests of North America. She can become any creature big or small. A cult of Lupine zealots attends to her needs, believing her to be a powerful spirit queen from beyond the veil.
- To achieve Golconda, one must invite a god or a spirit to dwell inside one’s body. Once the Beast has merged with this ephemeral being, the vampire can then begin her quest for true enlightenment and power.
- Vampires cannot gain transcendence on their own. They must bond with two other vampires and approach the quest as a coterie of three. Three is a sacred number.
- To become a Crone, one must eat a Crone — soul and all.
- The secrets of Golconda were hidden in a secret vault in the Library of Alexandria before it burned down. Further legend suggests that a Nosferatu Acolyte (an adherent of Isis) was able to abscond with some of those secrets. If he can be found, those Materials can be purchased.
- Only a neonate is innocent and balanced enough to begin the quest for transcendence.
One View: The Nature of Monsters
In mythology, monsters often represent the guardians of secrets and wisdom. They often serve the gods and stand as a test between those who want knowledge and the knowledge itself.A few cults and coteries within the covenant embody this idea. They accept that they are the servants — even the pets — of the gods. The gods chose them because they are literal monsters. Their job is to stand as sentinels protecting hidden power and truth (Crúac is only one possibility) and make others sacrifice to achieve these gifts.
What this often amounts to is, by believing themselves monsters, the Acolytes act as monsters. Their connection to any kind of human side burns away quickly. They accept that all parts of a vampiric existence are natural and normal, and they refuse to moderate any of the powers common to the Kindred. They flagrantly use Disciplines, Embrace wildly, even attempt to rile the Beast within and provoke it to frenzy. They are mad vampires, anathema to the rest of Damned society (even to other Acolytes) — except these vampires know it.
Havens of the Acolytes
Pragmatism is likely the foremost concern for any Haven. Even Acolytes are forced first to consider the practical elements of any Haven. Is it secure? Secret? Does it keep out the cruel rays of the sun during the day? In this way, Acolyte havens are often no different from those of other vampires. The Haven is a place to lay one’s head during the day, with or without comfort — and with or without religious significance.That said, some Acolytes do bring unique elements to their havens. Some of these elements are discussed below.
Shared Havens
Communal havens (that is, those constructed by pooling Merit dots) are common among Acolytes. While some certainly stick to very individual styles of worship, most tend to share their beliefs with others. Dwelling together in a collective location is only natural for these vampires (who may even be bound together in a circular Vinculum). Not only does this allow the vampires to venerate the gods together in relative isolation, but it also helps to assure that the secrets of the covenant (Crúac in particular) can remain in a single location, presided over by a number of local cultists.Sharing a Haven is not without its downside. Vampires can be cruel, provocative and certainly unpredictable. While Acolytes may share a kind of kinship, the Beast cares little for such community. Several Kindred dwelling in close quarters can go on for years without concern — but in a single night, that solace and unity can be shattered by a single frenzied Kindred. It is not entirely impossible for one Acolyte to destroy her brethren and be left, weeping into the blood and ash of her lost companions.
One unusual side effect (that has been deemed by many as pure myth) is that communal Kindred tend to share more than just living space. They seem capable of sharing head space as well. Some find that reading one another’s minds (such as through the Auspex power of Telepathy) becomes eerily easy. Others say that mental conditions can be contagious in such tight quarters. If one of the Acolytes develops madness temporary or permanent, the others may begin to exhibit the same madness regardless of their experiences.
Mysterious Places
At times, Acolytes choose unusual sites to be havens. When considering a site suitable for a cultist’s Haven, consider the following possibilities:Isolated: Some Acolytes do not keep their religion quiet. Worship may be clamorous. They may need to bring in animals — or other creatures — for sacrifice. Having neighbors capable of peering in a window (or breaking through it) and witnessing a bloody ritual is unacceptable. Thus, many Acolytes choose out-of-theway locations for their havens. To keep on the periphery of both vampire and human society, an Acolyte might choose an abandoned building, a fire-gutted housing project, a water tower, even an old derelict church.
Subterranean: A significant portion of the covenant lends credence, if not full-blown worship, to the various divinities of the Underworld. It is the place of death in myth, and many Acolytes perceive the Underworld to be the land in which they walk. Therefore, many choose havens underground to represent this chthonic connection. This may mean sewer tunnels, cave systems, basement apartments, tombs or mine tunnels. Some — particularly Nosferatu Acolytes — even build their own catacombs.
Nature: Many cultists prefer to be close to nature, as many recognize it as a connection to the Crone or other goddesses. Many vampires dwell in cities, and residing near nature is difficult. Some manage to live in or near large city parks. A few Acolytes are wealthy enough to manage and grow large indoor gardens (or greenhouses atop buildings). Most, though, must live outside the cities, often the suburbs or other rural burgs. This isn’t altogether horrible, though, for living in the suburbs allows an Acolyte to remain remote.
Weird: The Acolyte worldview accepts the mysterious as a part of nature. In fact, weird occurrences and places may be connectors to the old gods. Covenant members may seek havens in unusual locations: haunted houses, graveyards, gravity hills, places where strange beasts or entities have been sighted, odd ruins, boggling Rock formations, even abandoned asylums. To the Acolytes, these places represent a coalescing of dark energies — energies assumed to come from (or go to) the gods and spirits. Building a Haven (or, see below, a temple) on such a place is considered good fortune. That is, provided such a place doesn’t draw the attention of other characters, as well.
House Altars
The Circle of the Crone is, obviously, a religious covenant. Unlike the Sanctified, however, an Acolyte’s worship is not necessarily public. Moreover, it needn’t be contained to a church or Temple (though some cults do contain it in this way), or necessarily require some kind of Priest to translate and mediate one’s veneration.One of the unique features of some Acolyte havens is the inclusion of a pagan Altar. The vampire likely prays at the Altar and performs any minor rituals (not necessarily Crúac) demanded by her faith. Of course, the Altar may be purely cosmetic, intended to impress upon visitors the illusion of reverence. Regardless of the Altar’s purpose, an Altar may have many features. Feel free to look at the elements below and “build” a character’s Altar from these pieces:
Deity Representation: If the Acolyte believes in a god or goddess (or even a whole pantheon of deities), those divine figures likely have representation upon the Altar. Feel free to choose appropriate imagery to represent individual deities. Cernunnos the Antlered One (of Celtic myth) might be represented by an elk skull. The Acolyte might represent Artemis the Greek huntress with arrows, arrowheads or simply a clay idol representing her. Some traditional pagans represent a generic “god” with a Silver candle, and the “goddess” with a gold one.
Elemental Representation: The four elements are significant to many cults within the covenant. Water may appear in a bowl or chalice, or may instead be in the form of wine or blood. Earth often shows up as clay statues, clumps of dirt or salt. For Air, an Acolyte might light incense, or instead include a white-handled athame — a dagger used in cutting herbs or other ritual reagents. Fire, finally, is represented by burning candles or incense, though some Acolytes use wands to represent the dynamic nature of flame (the “Red Fear” does little good during times of veneration).
Sacrifice: The concepts of pain and surrender are key to many Acolyte beliefs, and the Altar likely offers some representation of this. Some Acolytes prefer simple, small sacrifices such as locks of hair, fingernails, even teeth. Blood is an obvious sacrificial symbol, and ties closely in with the covenant’s magic. Some Acolytes also have elements of other sacrifices not entirely their own: bones (animal or human), strips of dried skin, valuable goods stolen (such as necklaces or rings) stolen from victims.
Ritual Tools: As mentioned, daggers or athames are common ritual tools. Acolytes use white-handled daggers to cut herbs or other ingredients. Black-handled athames are used for cutting flesh and drawing blood. Many Acolytes also possess antique phlebotomy (bloodletting) tools to help them during sacrifices. Other tools might include mortar and pestles, vials, jars or boxes.
Ritual Reagents: The vampire likely keeps various ceremonial ingredients handy. She may have herbs to mix or burn (such as sage). She may possess phials of biological fluids (blood, tears, semen, amniotic fluid, vomit). Some use various crystals, gems and non-precious stones.
Miscellaneous: An Acolyte can include just about anything she wants upon her Altar. She may want to include symbols (pentagrams, astrological symbols, icons of fertility) or simple decoration (red Altar cloths, decorative swords, mirrors). Some Acolytes prefer to lay out personal objects (an old locket, a diary, a photograph), whereas others decorate with the downright bizarre (jars of fetal pigs or humans, weird taxidermy, pornography).
Dark Temples
While worship of the dire gods can be individual, most Acolytes prefer to perform their rituals and ceremonies together. In most cases, having an Altar or a communal Haven is enough, but in cities where the Acolytes are in power or simply exist in larger than normal numbers, worship may necessitate a Temple. No single template exists when attempting to picture one of the covenant’s pagan temples — for every splinter belief and variant pantheon exists yet another departure from the normal Temple design. That said, some elements may remain constant, and by asking the proper questions, one can easily design the foundation for an interesting Circle Temple.This Divine Landscape
Most cultists believe that the land is very much populated with primeval powers: spirits, ghosts, fey wisps and minor gods. These beings rule the landscape, and so every square inch is, in its own way, sacred. Still, many Acolytes note that some spots are perhaps more sacred than others, because in these spots the most powerful gods reside. Most cults within the covenant aim to place their temples upon these locations. The question remains: how do they find these supposedly divine dwellings?Generally, such discovery is imprecise and instinctual. The Acolytes know whom they worship, and look for a spot that suits the deity. Celtic gods thrived in the wild, and the druids built the majority of their sacred places out in the open (often in groves or upon hills). The Greeks and Romans believed that their deities lived inside buildings and objects — would Hephaestus thrive inside a burnt-out factory? Two-faced Janus might live in a place with many doors, or perhaps a place of wild dichotomies (a greenhouse whose plants live off buried corpses, for example). Mesopotamian ziggurats often were a nexus point between the Earth and the Underworld, and so demanded access to both above ground and below; a museum with a collapsed floor leading into a hidden sub-basement might make for a place to serve the old Sumerian gods, then.
Discovering such sacred places isn’t always instinctual. Sometimes, a cult will seek out places that seem to possess unusual, even supernatural, qualities. Examples might include a place where animals of all kinds seem to go and die; locations haunted by ghosts or other mad spirits; an old house where the clocks run backward, milk curdles instantly and electronic devices fail as often as they work and even an old Christian church whose icons and statues bleed and wail, or spontaneously manifest pagan or occult symbols. Such locations represent uncontained celestial power. To put a Temple there is to help control and harness the madness of the place, appeasing the powers that dwell there. Some Acolytes claim unique ways in divining the proper location for a Temple. By using “The Spirit’s Touch” (Auspex •••), a vampire can touch the walls, trees or floors to see if any of the images gleaned suggest the presence of primordial powers. Others claim to feel a kind of “Blood Sympathy” with a location — a seemingly impossible thing, yet some Acolytes swear by it (see sidebar, below).
Blood of the Gods
Acolytes can sometimes feel where the gods presumably reside (or, at least, would like to reside). This requires concerted effort by the vampire; rarely does it happen spontaneously.The player rolls Wits + Occult. Dramatic failure results in a painful headache and a –1 penalty to all rolls for the rest of the night. Failure yields no intuition. Success, however, reveals flashes of insight inside the vampire’s mind. Quick visions might show a momentary image of the god’s face upon the wall or reveal a floor thick with rotting blood and flies. Images gleaned should reflect the cult’s own style of worship. Of course, success only grants these visions if the Storyteller deems the place suitable for the gods. The Morrigan would not care for a bank or a nursing home — she would only be pleased with the fields of war (or, perhaps, the ground beneath an old veterans’ hospital).
Provided the location is suitable, an exceptional success not only grants the appropriate visions, but also fills the vampire with a sense of elation — and possibly the refreshment of a spent Willpower point.
Divinity in the Details
In reality, Acolytes don’t have a lot of leeway when designing a Temple. If all were perfect, they could build a grand sanctuary in the middle of the city, as dark and magnificent as the gods themselves. The light of the moon would shine upon pillars of black marble laced with fire-red carnelian. Alas, such a thing is rare. Not only do Acolytes rarely possess the Resources (including the real estate wherewithal) to make that happen, but constructing a rather unorthodox pagan Temple where mortals can see it is an invitation to disaster. (Even though such a disaster might very well please those old deities.)A cult makes do with what it can find. If the gods demand a Temple upon the spot of an old apartment building, so be it. The Acolytes cannot raze the building to the ground — though resourceful Kindred might be able to ensure that the city inspectors note the structure isn’t up to code and must be abandoned. Whether the Temple’s location is a water tower, an elementary school or a gutter maze of sewer tunnels, the vampires must adapt to what is available.
In giving a Temple depth and character, consider the following questions:
- Is it secret? Do only the cultists know of it, or is it open to public worship? Perhaps the Acolytes make the Temple accessible only to those willing to follow a chain of mythic riddles and suffer an arduous journey. Also, are mortals allowed? Some cults share worship with mortals (though never below humans in stature), and some parts of the Temple might be accessible to these humans. Alternately, if the cult masquerades as some kind of self-help group or new age phenomenon, then the Temple might be open to all the public.
- How does it revere the gods? A Temple’s dominant function is to venerate the gods. If the cult worships a storm god (Jupiter, Teshub or pre-netherworld Nergal), perhaps the Temple is in the penthouse of a tall apartment building or hotel, with lightning rods encircling the perimeter of the suite so that the storms seem drawn to the place of worship.
Alternately, giving faith to the powers of the Underworld necessitates a chthonic Temple: deep in the sewers, in a burial mound, in abandoned mine tunnels or at the bottom of a dark canyon. What if the cult worships a vampire? Then the location should reflect the whims and pleasures of that creature. If the Kindred “god” is given to opulence, then perhaps the Temple is in a lavish mansion. If the venerated vampire is a Gangrel “of the earth,” then the Temple is likely outdoors, or at least in an isolated structure (a deserted ranger station, perhaps) in the middle of sacred nature. - How does it represent ritual worship? Most temples have some kind of ritual space. The Temple may offer a traditional Altar upon which small sacrifices and rituals are performed. The cult may not require an Altar, however. Maybe the Temple has a platform upon which Bulls or other creatures are killed (with requisite space below so that the Kindred may stand beneath the shower of blood). Perhaps the Temple provides a contained space allowing for a kind of sweat lodge or massive sensory deprivation. Anything is possible, provided it adheres to the goals and themes of the cult: libraries full of occult knowledge, rooms for torture, gardens to illustrate the glory of the natural goddess, even a sulfurous bath for ceremonial cleansing.
- What vampiric elements are present? These temples are unique because they are the holy places of vampires, and thus often offer unusual benefits specific to the Kindred. Are there tombs for safely keeping torpid Acolytes? Do the gardens offer mandragora (ghoul plants) that can be milked for hallucinogenic lacrima? Are there living quarters for Ghouls or other humans (herd members, cultists, prisoners)? A covenant Temple can — provided it’s secret — provide a number of elements that would normally break the Masquerade. Perhaps the vampires store freezers of blood, or have ritual rooms in which the Acolytes may feed wantonly upon drugged mortals. Anything Kindred may desire in a closed and secret space may find its way into a Circle sanctuary.
Taboo
Many religions proscribe that which shall be prohibited. Every culture labels varying items and practices as taboo. Eating pork, practicing homosexuality or bearing twins as children are all examples of things considered taboo in one society or another.Acolytes, on the other hand, believe themselves free of most taboos. Most religions ascribe a number of taboos as spiritually significant — the Acolytes do this as well, but the only individuals prohibited from certain practices are those who aren’t Acolytes. Those within the covenant have free reign to do as they wish. Of course, pragmatism may stop them from gratuitously engaging in practices that break the mores of the majority Kindred — but that doesn’t mean that, inside the Acolytes’ dark hearts, the Acolytes don’t consider themselves free of such restrictive burdens.