The Sanguineous Catechism
The Sanguineous Catechism was purportedly written by the Monachus himself, apparently several centuries after The Testament of Longinus. The text clearly acknowledges that Longinus is no longer actively involved with the Black Abbey, but his final fate (whether torpor, Final Death or something else) is never explained. Consequently, the place of the Catechism in Sanctified theology has always been problematic. While the Monachus may have been the first childe of Longinus, he was not cursed directly by God nor was he visited by the Archangel Vahishtael. Indeed, many speculate that he wasn’t even Longinus’ true childe. As such, the Catechism, while profoundly influential to the Lancea Sanctum, is not generally considered to be divinely inspired, and while virtually all Sanctified Priests rely on it to some extent, many parts are routinely rewritten or abandoned according to local custom and personal beliefs.
The Catechism begins with a preamble containing the Monachal Creed, which sums up the Dark Faith, or at least the Faith as the Monachus saw it. After this preamble, the Catechism is broken up into 13 chapters referred to as “canons,” each containing an extended explication of one aspect of vampiric existence. Some of the later sections, especially those pertaining to how vampirism should be adapted to monastic life, have not stood the test of time very well and have little relevance to modern Sanctified. The first nine, however, are relied upon almost verbatim to the present night even by factions that are profoundly non-Catholic and even non-Christian in outlook. Many of these canons are so integral to the Lancea Sanctum that a vampire who rejects them cannot truly be considered a member of the covenant.
“The First Canon, regarding the purpose of our damnation”
The Catechism’s first chapter addresses the purpose of vampirism as a part of God’s plan. In order to understand this purpose, a Sanctified must first accept the fundamental nature of the world, which exists solely as a prison to punish the descendants of Adam and Eve for the Fall. The Catechism accepts wholeheartedly the Catholic doctrine of Original Sin, which states that all mankind is stained with the sin of Adam and Eve and is incapable of being inherently “good” absent divine intervention. The First Mortals were expelled from Paradise for their sin, and thus, the world in which they and their descendants came to live must rightly be considered their “jail” — a place of pain and torment from which death is the only release. Continuing this analogy, vampires are, if not mankind’s jailors, then at least trustees, mortals raised above their fellow men to guard over them and help maintain the prison that is the world.
Prior to a vampire’s Embrace, she is no more or less Damned than any other mortal. The act of the Embrace, however, cuts the neonate off from God’s Grace entirely, for such divine intercession can only interfere with the vampire’s duties: feeding on the kine and helping to make their world into the purgatory it was always meant to be. Vampires were created by God and set among the kine like wolves among the sheep, whose only hope is to place all of their faith in God. According to the Lancea Sanctum, this divine purpose is reflected in the fact that the Damned, for all their power, cannot feed on the truly devout. Exactly which hallmarks distinguish “the truly devout” remains controversial to this night — can the Kindred truly not feed upon them? Does she feel no thirst when confronted with them? Does she not see them at all? Hypotheses and apocryphal stories abound.
If one of the Damned truly seeks to enter the Kindgom of Heaven, then to get there, she must walk the path set for her by God. She must play the part of the vampire, one of the Damned, an undead predator of the human race. By accepting this nature, the vampire fulfills a divinely appointed role, even as Judas Iscariot, through the foulest of betrayals, performed a part without which the Passion could not have occurred. The vampire’s purpose is to drive the kine to reject the material world in pursuit of the spiritual, for it is only through the intercession of God that mortals may live without fear of the Damned.
“The Second Canon, regarding the inalienable wisdom of the Masquerade”
Many vampires who accept God’s commandment that the Damned prey upon humanity are nevertheless baffled by the necessity of doing so discreetly. If God truly created the Damned to rule over a Hell on Earth, then surely it would be easier for the vampires to do so openly by totally dominating the kine. The Second Canon answers this question. While the Damned are innately superior to the kine and are set over them by divine right, the vampires themselves must also guard against the sin of hubris. If the vampires openly set themselves up as lords of humanity, some of the Damned would inevitably place their own self-aggrandizement above their divine purpose, and the vampires’ role in separating the wheat from the chaff would be frustrated.
To prevent that possibility, God placed weaknesses upon the vampires that make their discretion essential. Vampires have difficulty in siring new childer, thereby preventing them from achieving numerical superiority over the kine. Vampires function poorly during the day and suffer greatly from both fire and sunlight, two potent advantages for a mortal hunter aware of his quarry’s nature. Most importantly, the vampire’s true nature as a distorted corruption of humanity is plainly visible in his reflection, and while an astute and strong-willed vampire can usually prevent discovery by way of the Lost Visage, the wily hunter can still identify the vampire and catch him unawares if he realizes that one of the Damned is nearby.
All of these weaknesses were set in place by God, not so that Humanity could destroy the Damned, but so that the Damned would be forced to strike at Humanity from the shadows. To the Monachus, God’s reason for this strategy was clear. Yes, vampires exist to punish the mortals for their sin, but if the vampires ruled openly, then the mortals would hate and fear their vampiric overlords. Instead, God wishes the mortals to hate and fear the very world around them, a World of Darkness in which faith in God is the only shield against misery. Above all else, mortals hate and fear what they do not understand. They must never truly understand the Damned. They must know only that hunters lurk in the darkness, waiting to devour.
In practice, the Second Canon causes most Sanctified to elevate the Masquerade from a necessity for survival to the level of heavenly mandate. Sanctified who breach the Masquerade have sinned mightily, and are often shunned by their peers unless they confess their sins and submit to a punishment meted out by a Bishop or other spiritual authority. Often, such a punishment is in addition to (and usually in excess of) any punishments meted out by the local Prince, and in domains ruled by the Sanctified, members of rival covenants learn to prize the Masquerade as much as the local Archbishop, for they face the lash as well for any mistakes. Minor breaches are usually punished with, while more serious breaches often carry local traditional punishments that could make an Inquisitor blanch.
“The Third Canon, regarding the shameful necessity of the Embrace”
God, in His infinite wisdom, chose to give the Damned the power to spread their curse, but He placed limitations on their procreative powers. All vampires realize that the act of the Embrace diminishes some aspect of the self. The Third Canon claims that it does more, by actively consuming part of the sire’s soul to enact the childe’s damnation. All vampires are limited in how often they can sire and how many childer they can create over time. The Monachus reasoned from these facts that God did not intend for the Damned to be incapable of increasing their numbers, but simply that vampires must choose their childer wisely. Furthermore, a vampire could be counted upon to choose wisely only when she had achieved a degree of enlightenment and understanding of God’s purpose for her. Naturally, this places most Sanctified in a recursively exclusive situation: Only a “wise” vampire is free to sire, but knowing that one is not ready to Embrace is the greatest sign of wisdom. In any case, while the Catechism views the Embrace as evil, it is also considered a necessary one. If the Lancea Sanctum never allowed its members to sire childer, then the covenant would surely become hopelessly outnumbered by the apostate vampires who held to no such proscription. Thus, the Embrace, instead of being abolished, is merely heavily regulated. The Catechism bluntly acknowledges the hypocrisy of this position, but argues that the moral blame for each Embrace falls squarely on the individual sire, rather than the vampiric society as a whole that allowed it.
Having established the Embrace as a necessary evil, the Third Canon places four limitations on the act. First, no Sanctified should ever sire outside the religious strictures of the domain in which he resides. Generally, this means that any Embrace must take place as part of a Creation Rite, however that rite is observed in the sire’s domain. As a practical matter, this often gives figureheads of the Lancea Sanctum within each domain veto power over a local Sanctified’s choice for an Embrace, since the Bishop or Archbishop can always refuse to perform the rite. On the other hand, in some domains, particularly those where the Lancea Sanctum is at a political disadvantage, the local bishop will grudgingly perform the Creation Rite if the sire has been given permission to sire by the local Prince. Naturally, Bishops have no temporal power to allow their parishioners to sire absent the Prince’s permission, though saying that it never happens is more than a bit naïve. The Church has historically been a sanctuary in addition to its other roles, after all.
The second limitation comes into play before the Creation Rite can even begin. As Longinus gave the Monachus a choice between death and the Embrace, so must each sire allow his putative childe to choose damnation for herself. Prior to the Embrace, the childe must have all the relevant aspects of vampiric existence explained to her by a Sanctified (usually the prospective sire). Most often, this is a token gesture. In some domains, however, a Priest or other respected figure makes the effort. She is then given a choice: Either she accepts the Embrace or she will be killed. When the Monachus was given this option, he chose the Embrace, believing that the second option was tantamount to suicide and that he was damned either way. However, the Catechism itself attaches no stigma to either choice. Indeed, it acknowledges that for some individuals, particularly for moral persons who do not believe that they could maintain their humanity post-Embrace, death may actually be the correct moral choice. Thus, when a would-be sire chooses his childe, he must realize that he will be forced to slay her if she rejects the Embrace, and over the centuries, a number of mortals have done just that. In many domains, the Sanctified accord much status to those who choose death over the Embrace, and while their lives are not spared, the local bishop will often grant minor last requests, such as looking after the doomed mortal’s family or ensuring that certain areas or persons are declared off-limits to the Kindred.
The third limitation comes from the nature of the Creation Rite itself. Regardless of the circumstances of the Embrace, both the Sanctified who has sired and his childe must participate in such a rite (and usually other local customs as well) before the childe will be considered a true member of the covenant, much as a mortal must be baptized to signify his acceptance of the Lord. The exact nature of the Creation Rite varies from domain to domain, but almost uniformly, it is extremely painful for the sire, who must purify himself before the Embrace. One common purification ceremony requires that both the sire and the still-mortal childe must be scourged with a whip a number of times equal to their respective ages. Of course, mortals typically will not survive a lashing at the hands of a vampire. Consequently, the sire often chooses to take the childe’s lashes for himself and usually loses considerable face if he fails to do so. Other local purification ceremonies may require the sire to walk across hot coals to reach the childe; to allow himself to be crucified and left to hang for three nights prior to the Embrace; or, after draining the childe of blood, to feed the childe the first drops of vitae from one of the sire’s eyes, which the sire must pluck out with his own hand. A Sanctified who has Embraced outside the Creation Rites or over the childe’s objections has offended one of the core precepts of the covenant and faces serious punishment if his sin is discovered, possibly including excommunication from the Lancea Sanctum. Ironically, the actual Embrace itself is rarely part of a Creation Rite. The Priest and sometimes the whole congregation are necessary for rituals of purification beforehand and rituals of acceptance afterward, but the actual Embrace is a stain on the sire’s soul that no right-thinking Sanctified wishes to witness. Occasionally, some vampires will be asked to assist the sire just in case the childe frenzies after the Embrace, but this is considered an unpleasant afterthought.
The fourth limitation is a proscription of Embracing “the pure.” The text does not define “pure,” but this ambiguous term is usually thought to refer to two groups. First, the Damned should not seek to Embrace mortals of demonstrable divine favor, as if it were an easy thing to Embrace a mortal with the power to sear a vampire with the strength of his belief. As a practical matter, however, few mortals have the faithnecessary to deter a vampire, and by definition, if it is possible to Embrace a particular mortal, then that mortal must not pure. All have sinned and come short of the Glory of God, after all, and except for the rare few who warrant divine protection, there is no difference between a sequestered, virginal nun and a serial rapist where the Embrace is concerned. More commonly, this limitation is interpreted to forbid the Embrace of those considered to be “without sin” by the church. In the Monachus’s time, this typically means Catholic children who have not yet been through a Confirmation ceremony, but Protestant faiths also recognize that children below a certain “age of accountability” are not responsible for their sins and will automatically go to Heaven if they die. The Embrace of a child prior to this point damned the child at a time when he was still free from sin, metaphysically speaking, and was considered deeply immoral by the Monachus. In modern times, however, the exact age of accountability varies according to the mortal denomination, and in any case, the Lancea Sanctum generally discourages the Embrace of any child because of the potential breach of the Masquerade as much as for the child’s perceived “purity” or notions of mortal cruelty. For similar reasons, the Third Canon also forbids the Embrace of the mentally handicapped or the insane.
“The Fourth Canon, regarding the abomination of the Amaranth”
Somewhat surprisingly, considering the horror with which diablerie is generally viewed by the Kindred community, the Catechism mainly sets forth only pragmatic objections to the act. According to the Monachus, diablerie is a sin because by consuming the soul of another vampire, the diablerist prevents the victim from either being judged by God or seeking absolution from the Returned Jesus Christ during the Second Coming. Strangely, though, most of his discussion of the act condemns it for its effect on the diablerist rather than the victim. When one commits diablerie, he degrades his own soul, thereby inhibiting his ability to function in a moral manner. He increases the potency of his blood, a benefit which would have come anyway within a short time (for vampires), but in exchange, he hastens his descent into torpor, a period of time possibly lasting for centuries during which he cannot fulfill his divine role.
In some places, the Fourth Canon even comes close to suggesting that diablerie would be morally acceptable if it were limited to vampires who were not Sanctified and carried no negative effects on the diablerist. Ultimately, however, the Monachus concludes that the Amaranth, on the whole, is a sin and a distraction from moral unlife, and that those who engage in it suffer from corrupted souls and should be put down for the benefit of the entire race. The Monachus does not advocate Final Death for the diablerist, however, though he does say that killing a diablerist will not weigh on the killer’s soul. Instead, the Monachus asserts that diablerists should be placed permanently into torpor to ensure that they are preserved until the Day of Judgment, so that God Himself may decide their fate. One seaside domain provides an example of how this works in practice. There, convicted diablerists are drained of blood, tortured into frenzy, sealed into blocks of concrete, and finally dropped into the ocean to spend an eternity in darkness and rage while awaiting the Second Coming.
“The Fifth Canon, regarding the revelation of the Testament of Longinus”
The fifth chapter of the Catechism places upon the Lancea Sanctum the burden of spreading its teachings to all Kindred. Prior to the damnation of Longinus and his subsequent revelation of God’s holy plan for all of the Damned, most vampires wandered the world as solitary beasts. While many did fulfill their purpose of testing the faith of the kine, it was more through circumstance than any comprehension of their role. Many others choose instead to set themselves up as masters over the kine, using the power of the Blood to lord over mortals and lead them away from piety. Even worse, many vampires actually hated their own undead condition and shamefully sought to maintain their humanitas by feeding only on animals or criminals. Such deluded Kindred occasionally even turned on their fellow Damned out of a naïve desire to protect the kine from their natural predators in violation of God’s order.
To rectify this, The Testament of Longinus commands that the Lancea Sanctum pursue evangelism, asserting the proper role of the vampire to all who will listen, and, where necessary, bringing Final Death to the heretics and apostates who will not. In the earliest nights of the covenant, the Sanctum relied exclusively on persuasion to achieve its evangelical goals, as it lacked the raw power to force conversion. Over time, the covenant’s numbers grew until its political significance could not be ignored by other Kindred, and by coincidence, both its religious precepts and attitude toward temporal power made the Lancea Sanctum quite compatible with the Invictus, its simultaneous ally and rival in the Middle Ages.
Tonight, centuries of experience in spreading the word of Longinus have made the covenant highly efficient at winning converts. In domains totally under the sway of the covenant, Archbishops brazenly forbid the practice of any other faiths within the city, while requiring all vampires to participate in Sanctified rituals and ceremonies. In parishes attended by a Bishop but not totally dominated by the Sanctified, the Bishop subtly (or blatantly) favors Sanctified over non-Sanctified unless it is impossible to ignore a particular non-Sanctified’s power. Members of other covenants quickly realize that their fortunes will improve greatly if they convert, or at least feign conversion. In cities ruled by another covenant, the Bishop may support the status quo if the ruler’s policies are compatible with holy law (all the while seeking to swell the ranks of his supporters with new converts), or he may constantly strive to overthrow the existing authority if the dominant paradigm is impious or corrupt.
The covenant has many recruitment tools at its disposal. First and foremost is simply the belief structure of the covenant itself. For a member of the Lancea Sanctum, the Sanctified faith steels the vampire’s soul against the strain of undead existence, and a Kindred will find that she can do many things in support of her faith that would shatter the Humanity of non-Sanctified. More pragmatically, membership in the covenant has many material advantages. In a Sanctified domain, political advancement is easier. Members of the Lancea Sanctum, as a rule, stick together more than many of the other covenants, especially those like the Invictus or the Ordo Dracul, which often stress individual achievement at the expense of fellow covenant members. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, membership in the Lancea Sanctum carries with it the right to participate in the sacraments, many of which involve the drinking of copious amounts of Vitae, and the covenant is adroit winning converts with ceremonies like the Gran Ballo, during which church leaders provide Vitae for members, eliminating their need for a hunt.
Finally, the Fifth Canon addresses the religious significance of The Testament of Longinus itself, stating that the wisdom contained within its five books is truly the word of Longinus, who stabbed the Savior’s side. The chapter ends with the statement that the Testament is the inerrant word of God as delivered by His earthly agent, Longinus. As such, it is divinely inspired and, as with the Holy Bible, “let no man add to or take away from this Word.” Ironically, this passage is more important to Sanctified theologians for what it implies about the Catechism than for what it says about the Testament. After all, nothing in the Catechism states that the Catechism itself is divinely inspired, and thus, the Monachus can be said to have implied consent to later readers amending the Catechism to fit their own beliefs so long as they recognize the inerrancy of the Testament. Whether the Monachus intended it or not, this passage of the Fifth Canon paved the way for numerous mortal faiths to later fit under the umbrella of the Lancea Sanctum’s mandate.
“The Sixth Canon, regarding the efficaciousness of the sacred rites”
In this chapter, the Monachus discusses the various rites to be practiced by followers of the faith. Most of the specific rituals mentioned in this chapter are still practiced to the present night by Sanctified around the world, though many of the names are changed. Some of the rituals, however, are practiced only by followers of the Monachal Creed, while members of the other creeds practice rituals not contained in the Sixth Canon. This variation is in keeping with the spirit of the Sixth Canon, which states that the purpose of the holy sacraments is not to fulfill some talismanic repetition of ceremony to demonstrate the Sanctified’s belief. No, the Lancea Sanctum leaves such paganism to the Circle of the Crone. Instead, the Apostolica and Ecclesia are purely symbolic opportunities for the Sanctified to join together, whether en masse, in coteries or individually to demonstrate their piety and devotion to their holy purpose.
“The Seventh Canon, regarding the miraculous arts of our Theban brethren”
The Seventh Canon discusses the history and role of Theban Sorcery within the covenant. The chapter’s chief theological role is to refute those who suggest that Theban Sorcery is a kind of witchcraft comparable to the Acolytes’ blasphemous art of Crúac. The Monachus expounds at length on the differences between the two, and particularly on the unholy effect that Crúac has on its practitioners, which demonstrates conclusively (to the Monachus, at least) that it is of unwholesome origin.
“The Eighth Canon, regarding our congress with the Canaille”
In this section, the Monachus discusses how a Sanctified should function within the mortal world. Aside from the need for the Masquerade, all Sanctified should be circumspect in their dealings with the kine, for it is not the wolf’s way to lie down with the sheep. The kine are not friends, companions or lovers. Neither are they toys or puppets to be abused for the sake of entertainment or sport. They are food, and the survival of the Kindred race depends on the vitality of the herd. To that end, the Eighth Canon requires the Sanctified to walk a fine line in relations with the kine. A vampire who comes to truly care for a mortal as he would another of the Damned has failed in his purpose as defined by God. Concern for a ghoul is tolerated, as such a creature represents an investment of the regnant’s time and blood, but a vampire who endangers himself for the benefit of a mortal borders on aberrant and should go henceforth to his confessor. On the other hand, for the Damned to flourish, the kine must do likewise, and the wise Sanctified will seek to make his domain one in which his herd can prosper and grow, even if they will take no pleasure from doing so.
In practice, the Sanctified should pursue policies that will increase the growth of cities and of mortal population. They should work to create feeding grounds within the city where the Damned may slake their thirst easily and without fear of discovery, but they must do so without making the kine so frightened that they flee the domain. Above all, however, a Sanctified must never forget that every mortal he meets is a potential vessel. Emotional attachment to any mortal is unhealthy and, to the Monachus’s mind, irrational. Even the concern a farmer has for livestock is more than a Sanctified should have for the kine, for the farmer has a personal investment in raising the cow. The wolf owes the sheep nothing save for a quick death, for it is not in the wolf’s nature to toy with his prey.
“The Ninth Canon, regarding the recognition of wisdom within our ranks”
In this, the last of the commonly accepted canons, the Monachus establishes the hierarchy to be followed by the Lancea Sanctum, or more accurately, the lack of any hierarchy. Within in any Sanctified parish, the Sanctified are bound by faith to follow the wisest of their number, “he who most perfectly manifests his Damnation.” In theory, this means that within a parish, authority over the covenant is vested within the most powerful Sanctified present who can command the loyalty of his fellows. In practice, of course, it often translates into charisma, popularity or even demagogy. Thus, by design, the Lancea Sanctum has no centralized authority, and within any parish the Sanctified are free to pursue their own understanding of their vampiric condition, so long as they do not lapse into apostasy. Of course, detractors often complain that this passage opened the door for many of the heresies that have plagued the Lancea Sanctum throughout history by implying that local bishops could rewrite the Catechism to suit heir personal whims. Supporters, in turn, point out that the Monachus’s alternative was to set himself up as a universal figurehead, which would have tied the future of the covenant to his cycle of torpor and triggered a schism every time he awoke with altered memories. Worse, had the Monachus established a dogmatic view of the faith, it would have left the covenant dangerously ill-equipped to respond to changes in mortal religious practices such as the Reformation.
The Other Canons
The preceding nine canons are almost universally accepted by Sanctified, regardless of creed, although many of the details are wildly reinterpreted from parish to parish. The Lancea Sanctum as a whole places little emphasis on the remaining four canons (briefly discussed below), all of which address Lancea Sanctum theology from an extremely medieval and Catholic mindset. This isn’t universal, however — in some domains, the old ways still thrive. As Europe, the cradle of the Lancea Sanctum, has grown from a region dominated by Catholicism to one that recognizes many different faiths, so has the Lancea Sanctum grown from a cloistered monastic lifestyle into a dynamic religion capable of incorporating the mortal beliefs of almost any vampire, in large part because of the Monachus’s foresight in drafting the Ninth Canon, though it seems unlikely that he could have predicted all the ways in which the covenant’s faith would grow.
The Tenth Canon discusses the theological implications of the vampire’s thirst for Vitae. The chapter suggests that the act of drinking blood serves as a form of transubstantiation, converting the blood taken from another into the vital energy that fuels the vampire. The Tenth Canon is still observed by the Monachal Creed, but has little relevance to the other creeds. Also, many of its assumptions about the nature of blood have been called into question by modern science.
The Eleventh Canon concerns itself with certain procedures for how a vampiric monastery should be operated without endangering the Masquerade. This chapter is completely irrelevant to modern Sanctified except for a tiny handful of monastic orders, primarily located in Europe, and a few bizarre communes that exist inexplicably away from the scrutiny of cities.
The Twelfth Canon expounds upon the nature of martyrdom for the Sanctified, as well as affirming the propriety of recognizing the sacrifice of the Lancea Sanctum’s saints on their feast days. As with the Tenth Canon, this passage is observed almost exclusively by Monachal Sanctified, and except for a handful of important holy nights recognized mainly out of the desire for festive occasions, most of the other creeds reject any veneration of the saints as a vestige of the covenant’s Catholic roots.
Finally, the Thirteenth Canon is simply subtitled “regarding Undeath,” and is the most difficult part of the Catechism for readers to comprehend. The chapter, which is mystical in nature and seems almost out of place in the Catechism, concerns itself with the relationship between the Damned, who are neither living nor dead, and the final state of death that awaits all of God’s creatures. Its elusive metaphysical conceptions flirt with paganism and address the meaning and means of achieving undeath. Tonight, such ideas are more commonly associated with the Ordo Dracul than the Lancea Sanctum, even though the former covenant did not even exist at the time the Catechism was written. The Thirteenth Canon is controversial even within the Monachal Creed, and some critics have actually raised the possibility that the Monachus wrote this last section after a bout of torpor, so different is it in tone from the rest of the work. Others posit that it truly belongs to the Apocrypha, and might not have been written by the Monachus at all. On the other hand, many Sanctified from different creeds have concluded that it is legitimate, and that, more importantly, it may hold the key to secret knowledge that could more fully explain the Requiem. Such scholars often devote themselves to searching for the lost Black Abbey in hopes that more writings hidden there may help them to unlock these mysteries.
The Catechism begins with a preamble containing the Monachal Creed, which sums up the Dark Faith, or at least the Faith as the Monachus saw it. After this preamble, the Catechism is broken up into 13 chapters referred to as “canons,” each containing an extended explication of one aspect of vampiric existence. Some of the later sections, especially those pertaining to how vampirism should be adapted to monastic life, have not stood the test of time very well and have little relevance to modern Sanctified. The first nine, however, are relied upon almost verbatim to the present night even by factions that are profoundly non-Catholic and even non-Christian in outlook. Many of these canons are so integral to the Lancea Sanctum that a vampire who rejects them cannot truly be considered a member of the covenant.
“The First Canon, regarding the purpose of our damnation”
The Catechism’s first chapter addresses the purpose of vampirism as a part of God’s plan. In order to understand this purpose, a Sanctified must first accept the fundamental nature of the world, which exists solely as a prison to punish the descendants of Adam and Eve for the Fall. The Catechism accepts wholeheartedly the Catholic doctrine of Original Sin, which states that all mankind is stained with the sin of Adam and Eve and is incapable of being inherently “good” absent divine intervention. The First Mortals were expelled from Paradise for their sin, and thus, the world in which they and their descendants came to live must rightly be considered their “jail” — a place of pain and torment from which death is the only release. Continuing this analogy, vampires are, if not mankind’s jailors, then at least trustees, mortals raised above their fellow men to guard over them and help maintain the prison that is the world.
Prior to a vampire’s Embrace, she is no more or less Damned than any other mortal. The act of the Embrace, however, cuts the neonate off from God’s Grace entirely, for such divine intercession can only interfere with the vampire’s duties: feeding on the kine and helping to make their world into the purgatory it was always meant to be. Vampires were created by God and set among the kine like wolves among the sheep, whose only hope is to place all of their faith in God. According to the Lancea Sanctum, this divine purpose is reflected in the fact that the Damned, for all their power, cannot feed on the truly devout. Exactly which hallmarks distinguish “the truly devout” remains controversial to this night — can the Kindred truly not feed upon them? Does she feel no thirst when confronted with them? Does she not see them at all? Hypotheses and apocryphal stories abound.
If one of the Damned truly seeks to enter the Kindgom of Heaven, then to get there, she must walk the path set for her by God. She must play the part of the vampire, one of the Damned, an undead predator of the human race. By accepting this nature, the vampire fulfills a divinely appointed role, even as Judas Iscariot, through the foulest of betrayals, performed a part without which the Passion could not have occurred. The vampire’s purpose is to drive the kine to reject the material world in pursuit of the spiritual, for it is only through the intercession of God that mortals may live without fear of the Damned.
“The Second Canon, regarding the inalienable wisdom of the Masquerade”
Many vampires who accept God’s commandment that the Damned prey upon humanity are nevertheless baffled by the necessity of doing so discreetly. If God truly created the Damned to rule over a Hell on Earth, then surely it would be easier for the vampires to do so openly by totally dominating the kine. The Second Canon answers this question. While the Damned are innately superior to the kine and are set over them by divine right, the vampires themselves must also guard against the sin of hubris. If the vampires openly set themselves up as lords of humanity, some of the Damned would inevitably place their own self-aggrandizement above their divine purpose, and the vampires’ role in separating the wheat from the chaff would be frustrated.
To prevent that possibility, God placed weaknesses upon the vampires that make their discretion essential. Vampires have difficulty in siring new childer, thereby preventing them from achieving numerical superiority over the kine. Vampires function poorly during the day and suffer greatly from both fire and sunlight, two potent advantages for a mortal hunter aware of his quarry’s nature. Most importantly, the vampire’s true nature as a distorted corruption of humanity is plainly visible in his reflection, and while an astute and strong-willed vampire can usually prevent discovery by way of the Lost Visage, the wily hunter can still identify the vampire and catch him unawares if he realizes that one of the Damned is nearby.
All of these weaknesses were set in place by God, not so that Humanity could destroy the Damned, but so that the Damned would be forced to strike at Humanity from the shadows. To the Monachus, God’s reason for this strategy was clear. Yes, vampires exist to punish the mortals for their sin, but if the vampires ruled openly, then the mortals would hate and fear their vampiric overlords. Instead, God wishes the mortals to hate and fear the very world around them, a World of Darkness in which faith in God is the only shield against misery. Above all else, mortals hate and fear what they do not understand. They must never truly understand the Damned. They must know only that hunters lurk in the darkness, waiting to devour.
In practice, the Second Canon causes most Sanctified to elevate the Masquerade from a necessity for survival to the level of heavenly mandate. Sanctified who breach the Masquerade have sinned mightily, and are often shunned by their peers unless they confess their sins and submit to a punishment meted out by a Bishop or other spiritual authority. Often, such a punishment is in addition to (and usually in excess of) any punishments meted out by the local Prince, and in domains ruled by the Sanctified, members of rival covenants learn to prize the Masquerade as much as the local Archbishop, for they face the lash as well for any mistakes. Minor breaches are usually punished with, while more serious breaches often carry local traditional punishments that could make an Inquisitor blanch.
“The Third Canon, regarding the shameful necessity of the Embrace”
God, in His infinite wisdom, chose to give the Damned the power to spread their curse, but He placed limitations on their procreative powers. All vampires realize that the act of the Embrace diminishes some aspect of the self. The Third Canon claims that it does more, by actively consuming part of the sire’s soul to enact the childe’s damnation. All vampires are limited in how often they can sire and how many childer they can create over time. The Monachus reasoned from these facts that God did not intend for the Damned to be incapable of increasing their numbers, but simply that vampires must choose their childer wisely. Furthermore, a vampire could be counted upon to choose wisely only when she had achieved a degree of enlightenment and understanding of God’s purpose for her. Naturally, this places most Sanctified in a recursively exclusive situation: Only a “wise” vampire is free to sire, but knowing that one is not ready to Embrace is the greatest sign of wisdom. In any case, while the Catechism views the Embrace as evil, it is also considered a necessary one. If the Lancea Sanctum never allowed its members to sire childer, then the covenant would surely become hopelessly outnumbered by the apostate vampires who held to no such proscription. Thus, the Embrace, instead of being abolished, is merely heavily regulated. The Catechism bluntly acknowledges the hypocrisy of this position, but argues that the moral blame for each Embrace falls squarely on the individual sire, rather than the vampiric society as a whole that allowed it.
Having established the Embrace as a necessary evil, the Third Canon places four limitations on the act. First, no Sanctified should ever sire outside the religious strictures of the domain in which he resides. Generally, this means that any Embrace must take place as part of a Creation Rite, however that rite is observed in the sire’s domain. As a practical matter, this often gives figureheads of the Lancea Sanctum within each domain veto power over a local Sanctified’s choice for an Embrace, since the Bishop or Archbishop can always refuse to perform the rite. On the other hand, in some domains, particularly those where the Lancea Sanctum is at a political disadvantage, the local bishop will grudgingly perform the Creation Rite if the sire has been given permission to sire by the local Prince. Naturally, Bishops have no temporal power to allow their parishioners to sire absent the Prince’s permission, though saying that it never happens is more than a bit naïve. The Church has historically been a sanctuary in addition to its other roles, after all.
The second limitation comes into play before the Creation Rite can even begin. As Longinus gave the Monachus a choice between death and the Embrace, so must each sire allow his putative childe to choose damnation for herself. Prior to the Embrace, the childe must have all the relevant aspects of vampiric existence explained to her by a Sanctified (usually the prospective sire). Most often, this is a token gesture. In some domains, however, a Priest or other respected figure makes the effort. She is then given a choice: Either she accepts the Embrace or she will be killed. When the Monachus was given this option, he chose the Embrace, believing that the second option was tantamount to suicide and that he was damned either way. However, the Catechism itself attaches no stigma to either choice. Indeed, it acknowledges that for some individuals, particularly for moral persons who do not believe that they could maintain their humanity post-Embrace, death may actually be the correct moral choice. Thus, when a would-be sire chooses his childe, he must realize that he will be forced to slay her if she rejects the Embrace, and over the centuries, a number of mortals have done just that. In many domains, the Sanctified accord much status to those who choose death over the Embrace, and while their lives are not spared, the local bishop will often grant minor last requests, such as looking after the doomed mortal’s family or ensuring that certain areas or persons are declared off-limits to the Kindred.
The third limitation comes from the nature of the Creation Rite itself. Regardless of the circumstances of the Embrace, both the Sanctified who has sired and his childe must participate in such a rite (and usually other local customs as well) before the childe will be considered a true member of the covenant, much as a mortal must be baptized to signify his acceptance of the Lord. The exact nature of the Creation Rite varies from domain to domain, but almost uniformly, it is extremely painful for the sire, who must purify himself before the Embrace. One common purification ceremony requires that both the sire and the still-mortal childe must be scourged with a whip a number of times equal to their respective ages. Of course, mortals typically will not survive a lashing at the hands of a vampire. Consequently, the sire often chooses to take the childe’s lashes for himself and usually loses considerable face if he fails to do so. Other local purification ceremonies may require the sire to walk across hot coals to reach the childe; to allow himself to be crucified and left to hang for three nights prior to the Embrace; or, after draining the childe of blood, to feed the childe the first drops of vitae from one of the sire’s eyes, which the sire must pluck out with his own hand. A Sanctified who has Embraced outside the Creation Rites or over the childe’s objections has offended one of the core precepts of the covenant and faces serious punishment if his sin is discovered, possibly including excommunication from the Lancea Sanctum. Ironically, the actual Embrace itself is rarely part of a Creation Rite. The Priest and sometimes the whole congregation are necessary for rituals of purification beforehand and rituals of acceptance afterward, but the actual Embrace is a stain on the sire’s soul that no right-thinking Sanctified wishes to witness. Occasionally, some vampires will be asked to assist the sire just in case the childe frenzies after the Embrace, but this is considered an unpleasant afterthought.
The fourth limitation is a proscription of Embracing “the pure.” The text does not define “pure,” but this ambiguous term is usually thought to refer to two groups. First, the Damned should not seek to Embrace mortals of demonstrable divine favor, as if it were an easy thing to Embrace a mortal with the power to sear a vampire with the strength of his belief. As a practical matter, however, few mortals have the faithnecessary to deter a vampire, and by definition, if it is possible to Embrace a particular mortal, then that mortal must not pure. All have sinned and come short of the Glory of God, after all, and except for the rare few who warrant divine protection, there is no difference between a sequestered, virginal nun and a serial rapist where the Embrace is concerned. More commonly, this limitation is interpreted to forbid the Embrace of those considered to be “without sin” by the church. In the Monachus’s time, this typically means Catholic children who have not yet been through a Confirmation ceremony, but Protestant faiths also recognize that children below a certain “age of accountability” are not responsible for their sins and will automatically go to Heaven if they die. The Embrace of a child prior to this point damned the child at a time when he was still free from sin, metaphysically speaking, and was considered deeply immoral by the Monachus. In modern times, however, the exact age of accountability varies according to the mortal denomination, and in any case, the Lancea Sanctum generally discourages the Embrace of any child because of the potential breach of the Masquerade as much as for the child’s perceived “purity” or notions of mortal cruelty. For similar reasons, the Third Canon also forbids the Embrace of the mentally handicapped or the insane.
“The Fourth Canon, regarding the abomination of the Amaranth”
Somewhat surprisingly, considering the horror with which diablerie is generally viewed by the Kindred community, the Catechism mainly sets forth only pragmatic objections to the act. According to the Monachus, diablerie is a sin because by consuming the soul of another vampire, the diablerist prevents the victim from either being judged by God or seeking absolution from the Returned Jesus Christ during the Second Coming. Strangely, though, most of his discussion of the act condemns it for its effect on the diablerist rather than the victim. When one commits diablerie, he degrades his own soul, thereby inhibiting his ability to function in a moral manner. He increases the potency of his blood, a benefit which would have come anyway within a short time (for vampires), but in exchange, he hastens his descent into torpor, a period of time possibly lasting for centuries during which he cannot fulfill his divine role.
In some places, the Fourth Canon even comes close to suggesting that diablerie would be morally acceptable if it were limited to vampires who were not Sanctified and carried no negative effects on the diablerist. Ultimately, however, the Monachus concludes that the Amaranth, on the whole, is a sin and a distraction from moral unlife, and that those who engage in it suffer from corrupted souls and should be put down for the benefit of the entire race. The Monachus does not advocate Final Death for the diablerist, however, though he does say that killing a diablerist will not weigh on the killer’s soul. Instead, the Monachus asserts that diablerists should be placed permanently into torpor to ensure that they are preserved until the Day of Judgment, so that God Himself may decide their fate. One seaside domain provides an example of how this works in practice. There, convicted diablerists are drained of blood, tortured into frenzy, sealed into blocks of concrete, and finally dropped into the ocean to spend an eternity in darkness and rage while awaiting the Second Coming.
“The Fifth Canon, regarding the revelation of the Testament of Longinus”
The fifth chapter of the Catechism places upon the Lancea Sanctum the burden of spreading its teachings to all Kindred. Prior to the damnation of Longinus and his subsequent revelation of God’s holy plan for all of the Damned, most vampires wandered the world as solitary beasts. While many did fulfill their purpose of testing the faith of the kine, it was more through circumstance than any comprehension of their role. Many others choose instead to set themselves up as masters over the kine, using the power of the Blood to lord over mortals and lead them away from piety. Even worse, many vampires actually hated their own undead condition and shamefully sought to maintain their humanitas by feeding only on animals or criminals. Such deluded Kindred occasionally even turned on their fellow Damned out of a naïve desire to protect the kine from their natural predators in violation of God’s order.
To rectify this, The Testament of Longinus commands that the Lancea Sanctum pursue evangelism, asserting the proper role of the vampire to all who will listen, and, where necessary, bringing Final Death to the heretics and apostates who will not. In the earliest nights of the covenant, the Sanctum relied exclusively on persuasion to achieve its evangelical goals, as it lacked the raw power to force conversion. Over time, the covenant’s numbers grew until its political significance could not be ignored by other Kindred, and by coincidence, both its religious precepts and attitude toward temporal power made the Lancea Sanctum quite compatible with the Invictus, its simultaneous ally and rival in the Middle Ages.
Tonight, centuries of experience in spreading the word of Longinus have made the covenant highly efficient at winning converts. In domains totally under the sway of the covenant, Archbishops brazenly forbid the practice of any other faiths within the city, while requiring all vampires to participate in Sanctified rituals and ceremonies. In parishes attended by a Bishop but not totally dominated by the Sanctified, the Bishop subtly (or blatantly) favors Sanctified over non-Sanctified unless it is impossible to ignore a particular non-Sanctified’s power. Members of other covenants quickly realize that their fortunes will improve greatly if they convert, or at least feign conversion. In cities ruled by another covenant, the Bishop may support the status quo if the ruler’s policies are compatible with holy law (all the while seeking to swell the ranks of his supporters with new converts), or he may constantly strive to overthrow the existing authority if the dominant paradigm is impious or corrupt.
The covenant has many recruitment tools at its disposal. First and foremost is simply the belief structure of the covenant itself. For a member of the Lancea Sanctum, the Sanctified faith steels the vampire’s soul against the strain of undead existence, and a Kindred will find that she can do many things in support of her faith that would shatter the Humanity of non-Sanctified. More pragmatically, membership in the covenant has many material advantages. In a Sanctified domain, political advancement is easier. Members of the Lancea Sanctum, as a rule, stick together more than many of the other covenants, especially those like the Invictus or the Ordo Dracul, which often stress individual achievement at the expense of fellow covenant members. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, membership in the Lancea Sanctum carries with it the right to participate in the sacraments, many of which involve the drinking of copious amounts of Vitae, and the covenant is adroit winning converts with ceremonies like the Gran Ballo, during which church leaders provide Vitae for members, eliminating their need for a hunt.
Finally, the Fifth Canon addresses the religious significance of The Testament of Longinus itself, stating that the wisdom contained within its five books is truly the word of Longinus, who stabbed the Savior’s side. The chapter ends with the statement that the Testament is the inerrant word of God as delivered by His earthly agent, Longinus. As such, it is divinely inspired and, as with the Holy Bible, “let no man add to or take away from this Word.” Ironically, this passage is more important to Sanctified theologians for what it implies about the Catechism than for what it says about the Testament. After all, nothing in the Catechism states that the Catechism itself is divinely inspired, and thus, the Monachus can be said to have implied consent to later readers amending the Catechism to fit their own beliefs so long as they recognize the inerrancy of the Testament. Whether the Monachus intended it or not, this passage of the Fifth Canon paved the way for numerous mortal faiths to later fit under the umbrella of the Lancea Sanctum’s mandate.
“The Sixth Canon, regarding the efficaciousness of the sacred rites”
In this chapter, the Monachus discusses the various rites to be practiced by followers of the faith. Most of the specific rituals mentioned in this chapter are still practiced to the present night by Sanctified around the world, though many of the names are changed. Some of the rituals, however, are practiced only by followers of the Monachal Creed, while members of the other creeds practice rituals not contained in the Sixth Canon. This variation is in keeping with the spirit of the Sixth Canon, which states that the purpose of the holy sacraments is not to fulfill some talismanic repetition of ceremony to demonstrate the Sanctified’s belief. No, the Lancea Sanctum leaves such paganism to the Circle of the Crone. Instead, the Apostolica and Ecclesia are purely symbolic opportunities for the Sanctified to join together, whether en masse, in coteries or individually to demonstrate their piety and devotion to their holy purpose.
“The Seventh Canon, regarding the miraculous arts of our Theban brethren”
The Seventh Canon discusses the history and role of Theban Sorcery within the covenant. The chapter’s chief theological role is to refute those who suggest that Theban Sorcery is a kind of witchcraft comparable to the Acolytes’ blasphemous art of Crúac. The Monachus expounds at length on the differences between the two, and particularly on the unholy effect that Crúac has on its practitioners, which demonstrates conclusively (to the Monachus, at least) that it is of unwholesome origin.
“The Eighth Canon, regarding our congress with the Canaille”
In this section, the Monachus discusses how a Sanctified should function within the mortal world. Aside from the need for the Masquerade, all Sanctified should be circumspect in their dealings with the kine, for it is not the wolf’s way to lie down with the sheep. The kine are not friends, companions or lovers. Neither are they toys or puppets to be abused for the sake of entertainment or sport. They are food, and the survival of the Kindred race depends on the vitality of the herd. To that end, the Eighth Canon requires the Sanctified to walk a fine line in relations with the kine. A vampire who comes to truly care for a mortal as he would another of the Damned has failed in his purpose as defined by God. Concern for a ghoul is tolerated, as such a creature represents an investment of the regnant’s time and blood, but a vampire who endangers himself for the benefit of a mortal borders on aberrant and should go henceforth to his confessor. On the other hand, for the Damned to flourish, the kine must do likewise, and the wise Sanctified will seek to make his domain one in which his herd can prosper and grow, even if they will take no pleasure from doing so.
In practice, the Sanctified should pursue policies that will increase the growth of cities and of mortal population. They should work to create feeding grounds within the city where the Damned may slake their thirst easily and without fear of discovery, but they must do so without making the kine so frightened that they flee the domain. Above all, however, a Sanctified must never forget that every mortal he meets is a potential vessel. Emotional attachment to any mortal is unhealthy and, to the Monachus’s mind, irrational. Even the concern a farmer has for livestock is more than a Sanctified should have for the kine, for the farmer has a personal investment in raising the cow. The wolf owes the sheep nothing save for a quick death, for it is not in the wolf’s nature to toy with his prey.
“The Ninth Canon, regarding the recognition of wisdom within our ranks”
In this, the last of the commonly accepted canons, the Monachus establishes the hierarchy to be followed by the Lancea Sanctum, or more accurately, the lack of any hierarchy. Within in any Sanctified parish, the Sanctified are bound by faith to follow the wisest of their number, “he who most perfectly manifests his Damnation.” In theory, this means that within a parish, authority over the covenant is vested within the most powerful Sanctified present who can command the loyalty of his fellows. In practice, of course, it often translates into charisma, popularity or even demagogy. Thus, by design, the Lancea Sanctum has no centralized authority, and within any parish the Sanctified are free to pursue their own understanding of their vampiric condition, so long as they do not lapse into apostasy. Of course, detractors often complain that this passage opened the door for many of the heresies that have plagued the Lancea Sanctum throughout history by implying that local bishops could rewrite the Catechism to suit heir personal whims. Supporters, in turn, point out that the Monachus’s alternative was to set himself up as a universal figurehead, which would have tied the future of the covenant to his cycle of torpor and triggered a schism every time he awoke with altered memories. Worse, had the Monachus established a dogmatic view of the faith, it would have left the covenant dangerously ill-equipped to respond to changes in mortal religious practices such as the Reformation.
The Other Canons
The preceding nine canons are almost universally accepted by Sanctified, regardless of creed, although many of the details are wildly reinterpreted from parish to parish. The Lancea Sanctum as a whole places little emphasis on the remaining four canons (briefly discussed below), all of which address Lancea Sanctum theology from an extremely medieval and Catholic mindset. This isn’t universal, however — in some domains, the old ways still thrive. As Europe, the cradle of the Lancea Sanctum, has grown from a region dominated by Catholicism to one that recognizes many different faiths, so has the Lancea Sanctum grown from a cloistered monastic lifestyle into a dynamic religion capable of incorporating the mortal beliefs of almost any vampire, in large part because of the Monachus’s foresight in drafting the Ninth Canon, though it seems unlikely that he could have predicted all the ways in which the covenant’s faith would grow.
The Tenth Canon discusses the theological implications of the vampire’s thirst for Vitae. The chapter suggests that the act of drinking blood serves as a form of transubstantiation, converting the blood taken from another into the vital energy that fuels the vampire. The Tenth Canon is still observed by the Monachal Creed, but has little relevance to the other creeds. Also, many of its assumptions about the nature of blood have been called into question by modern science.
The Eleventh Canon concerns itself with certain procedures for how a vampiric monastery should be operated without endangering the Masquerade. This chapter is completely irrelevant to modern Sanctified except for a tiny handful of monastic orders, primarily located in Europe, and a few bizarre communes that exist inexplicably away from the scrutiny of cities.
The Twelfth Canon expounds upon the nature of martyrdom for the Sanctified, as well as affirming the propriety of recognizing the sacrifice of the Lancea Sanctum’s saints on their feast days. As with the Tenth Canon, this passage is observed almost exclusively by Monachal Sanctified, and except for a handful of important holy nights recognized mainly out of the desire for festive occasions, most of the other creeds reject any veneration of the saints as a vestige of the covenant’s Catholic roots.
Finally, the Thirteenth Canon is simply subtitled “regarding Undeath,” and is the most difficult part of the Catechism for readers to comprehend. The chapter, which is mystical in nature and seems almost out of place in the Catechism, concerns itself with the relationship between the Damned, who are neither living nor dead, and the final state of death that awaits all of God’s creatures. Its elusive metaphysical conceptions flirt with paganism and address the meaning and means of achieving undeath. Tonight, such ideas are more commonly associated with the Ordo Dracul than the Lancea Sanctum, even though the former covenant did not even exist at the time the Catechism was written. The Thirteenth Canon is controversial even within the Monachal Creed, and some critics have actually raised the possibility that the Monachus wrote this last section after a bout of torpor, so different is it in tone from the rest of the work. Others posit that it truly belongs to the Apocrypha, and might not have been written by the Monachus at all. On the other hand, many Sanctified from different creeds have concluded that it is legitimate, and that, more importantly, it may hold the key to secret knowledge that could more fully explain the Requiem. Such scholars often devote themselves to searching for the lost Black Abbey in hopes that more writings hidden there may help them to unlock these mysteries.
Type
Text, Religious
Signatories (Organizations)
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