The Circle of the Crone - The Danse Macabre

Joining the Covenant

The Circle of the Crone is not one unified covenant. It has no universal holy book, no laws or writs that bind all members. Therefore, the Circle fails to lay bare any canonical rules regarding how new members come into the covenant. Acolytes belong to various cults founded upon nearly limitless mythological traditions and religious syncretisms. Because of this, each cult does things differently from the next. And yet, one can find various themes and actions running common through many of the cults and the way they bring new members into their particular brands of belief.
At first, this might seem to be because the cults have certain “tent-pole” beliefs: the concepts of creation and sacrifice, the disavowal of the Judeo-Christian mold and an adherence to pagan ideals. Up to a point, this is true. What truly binds all cults of The Crone, however, is their insidious blood magic, Crúac. For some, Crúac does not serve the covenant. Quite the opposite: Acolytes serve Crúac. For others, Crúac is a dangerous tool, but one made like any tool or weapon. Blood sorcery is either a remnant of the old gods, providing a connection to them from beyond the veil, or allows a vampire to become one of these gods.
No matter what one’s opinion of what Crúac is or is not, it remains clear that this blood magic does not belong in the hands of the unworthy. Those who are unwilling to commit to the ways and precepts of the cults are undeserving of the secret powers of the Bloody Crescent. As such, the covenant does what it must to protect its secrets. Yes, it wants new members; surely the sects of The Crone will be exiled or crushed if the Circle’s adherents dwindle in number. But Crúac makes joining the covenant a dangerous proposition, both for the new vampire and the local cult.
For the new vampire, it means he must prove himself beyond the shadow of a doubt. If he wants to truly be a part of The Crone and learn her rituals, he must show the Acolytes over and over again that he is worthy and will not betray them. His trials will be bloody, and once upon that road, he may not turn back without potentially ending his Requiem.
For the Acolytes, new adherents represent a dizzying conundrum. Yes, the Circle needs new blood, but will the new convert betrays the covenant? Is his belief worthy, or does he simply want to taste the power of the old gods without truly giving them their due? The Acolytes must test him again and again to ensure his devotion — but are the tests too severe? For Crúac and the old gods, can any test be too severe?

The Untried Chorus

To alleviate these concerns and to allow a period of testing and trust-building, most Crone cults allow new members to join The Chorus. Most Acolytes find that this is the best way to keep old secrets out of new hands — at least, until those initiates have proven their readiness and devotion. It’s worth noting that while most cults use The Chorus in some form or another, cults don’t always refer to the group of new members as such. Some cults call new members “harlequins” or “jacklegs” to make clear an initiate’s low position as an untrained fool.
Vampires in the covenant’s Chorus are never privy to the secrets of the cult. This is meant to predominantly protect Crúac, though blood magic is not the only secret that a cult may possess. It likely wants to keep all its rituals and practices secret and thus sacred. Many sects are already subject to persecution; it is foolish to offer up their vulnerabilities on a Silver platter for the others to exploit.
Entering the covenant as a member of The Chorus is the most common way for most Acolytes to join the Circle. It can be a long and hard road, with night after night of one’s Requiem being downright punishing. The question remains, how does one become a member of The Chorus in the first place?

The Chorus and Crúac

Smart cults avoid teaching their jacklegs about blood magic. Such an act is on par with handing a toddler a straight razor — somebody is going to get cut.
Just because it is unwise, however, doesn’t mean it cannot happen. The covenant has no ruling council. Nobody will come down from on high and punish the Acolytes for such an indiscretion. Those who begin teaching Crúac immediately do so for various reasons — perhaps they feel overly mistreated or under attack and feel that dark magic can give them an edge. Or, maybe the cult is small enough that it misjudges a new member and trusts her prematurely. Sometimes, this is fine. Often, though, such a misjudgment ends in spilled blood, lost secrets and much misery.

Craving and Conversion

Few cults proselytize or recruit. In general, Acolytes do not feel they are building an army or a powerbase. Leave that, they say, to the First and Second Estate. The Sanctified in particular are often willing to open their doors to the barely faithful: laypeople who may have a well-worn copy of the catechism and might show up at Midnight Mass once a year but with no greater faith than that. Most Acolytes come to their belief on their own.
The gaze of the old gods and one’s mastery of Crúac do not come with limp devotion and toothless faith. Recruiting tends to bring onboard the lowest common denominator. Recruiting is, some say, like skimming the top of the water for gold, when the true treasures lie deep.
Often enough, Acolytes suspiciously regard those who come seeking enlightenment. Is the vampire the pawn (aware or not) of the cult’s enemies? Does he only wish for power without the faith, looking to steal fire from the gods without paying the cost? The most common concern is that the vampire is simply unready.
Many harlequins find their dedication to the primeval powers is not nearly as zealous as they had imagined, and it burns out hot and fast and leaves them a haggard wreck. Few are truly prepared for what a Circle cult demands of its faithful.
Usually, determining this initial worth before the vampire is allowed into The Chorus is difficult, but the Acolytes have likely gone through it before. Sometimes, it comes down to a simple question-and-answer period, one that may take many nights to complete. Has the Damned had dreams that led him to the covenant? Has he renounced his faith in other things, removing the fetters that bind him to other Kindred and their ways?
The Acolytes may ask about the vampire’s mortal life, going as far back as the individual’s childhood. The Acolytes often look for crucial signs or portentous triggers in the subject’s life and Requiem, things that illustrate the vampire’s willingness to sacrifice and her understanding of the cycles of life and death, creation and destruction. It’s far better for an initiate to already have a grasp of these larger ideas than to be utterly ignorant of the world around her. (Some Acolytes liberally use the Auspex Discipline to help them gauge a subject’s personality, both through examining auras and capturing surface thoughts.)
Some Acolytes cannot get a proper “read” through this method, and resort to scrutinizing the vampire’s behavior from afar. By spying on the Kindred — whether for a few nights or a whole year — the Acolytes gain a better grasp of the subject through her actions. If they see her duck into Midnight Mass, that becomes worrisome. If she goes out of her way to avoid trouble and persecution, or exhibits weakness, then perhaps her blood does not belong with the old gods.
Other cults prefer more extreme methods when asking a vampire to prove his initial worth. Worse, they don’t always make clear the ways to obtain this proof. Ultimately, the Acolytes either expect creativity from the aspirants, or hope that they will somehow discover how other vampires have come to the cult before them. Creativity should be expressed through immediate sacrifice: perhaps the vampire severs his own hand and gifts it to the Hierophant.
Alternately, maybe the vampire offers herself as a sacrifice, meaning that she subjects herself to one or all the steps of The Vinculum. Surrender is key to this proof. If the vampire murders a loved one (possibly the last remnant of her mortal attachments) or instead Embraces him, then that might reveal the mad spark the cult seeks.Every cult will seek different things. An eager aspirant must know how to appease them, even if such appeasement seems alien or otherwise unknowable.
Not all Acolytes come groveling to the covenant. On rare occasions, the cult will extend an invitation to a singular Kindred. This is different from open proselytizing: the cult does not present broad propaganda in the hopes of catching many fish with a single net. No, an invitation is precise. The Acolytes extend the hand of brotherhood only to those they feel are truly worth it, and moreover to those whom the Acolytes expect to actually join. Extending the invite and receiving a snub in return can be humiliating. Such embarrassment has repercussions in and out of Elysium.
Different cults have different criteria in regards to who deserves specific solicitation. Some Acolytes look for fortuitous omens and events surrounding particular vampires. If the old gods have chosen someone, they will let the cult know in subtle yet observable ways.
While tattoos, jewelry and other symbolic adornments may give small hints, Acolytes seek more superstitious elements woven into a vampire’s Requiem. Did he find a snake sneaking into his Haven? Does his flesh feature unusual birthmarks? Who are his victims, and have they said or done anything odd when under the spell of the Kiss? No handbook of symbology guides an Acolyte when looking for such curious portents. She must rely solely upon her dry gut and dead heart to convince her.
Those Damned brought to the cult in this manner, sponsored by an Acolyte already out of The Chorus, tend to have an easier time getting into The Chorus. They still have to jump through some requisite hoops, of course — the cultists must be certain that this individual truly belongs in the Circle. They will watch him, testing him in little ways (less painful ways). They may push him to complete small tasks — fetching fake reagents, mumbling an offhand and socially damaging comment to a local Bishop or Invictus crony, perhaps extending the blood and the will to make a bloody crescent tattoo visible and permanent. The vampire will not only have an easier time getting into The Chorus, but he is likely to spend less time as a harshly tested jackleg. If he is invited tojoin, it was for a reason, and the cult doesn’t wish for such an individual to languish in ignorance.
One important note is that within most cults, a vampire’s age does not matter when joining the covenant. Whether the Kindred was Embraced three days or 300 years ago, a new initiate is a new initiate. All must go through some steps to prove their worth to the Circle, whether neonate, ancilla or elder.
Yes, some Acolytes will offer leniency toward an elder out of respect. Other Acolytes, however, will do quite the opposite. An elder learning the coveted blood magic and then turning treacherous is infinitely worse than a neonate doing the same. Elders can be duplicitous, even mad. Their worthmust be estimated and proven more than any other.

Born Into Blood

Some vampires receive automatic — even involuntary — entrance into the covenant’s Chorus via the Embrace. If an Acolyte chooses to drag a mortal into this existence, for the most part it is because the Acolyte wishes for him to join the Circle. (Admittedly, some Embrace in the throes of passion, madnessor vengeance. Those who do are still encouraged to find a place for their new childe among the other cultists.)The neonate generally receives little or none of the testing waged against other Kindred; he was likelytested pre-Embrace. His reception into The Chorus is done without question, whether he likes it or not. As a member of The Chorus, the initiate remains incapableof learning the covenant’s rituals and cult secrets.
Should the neonate wish to leave the cult, he may find his exit difficult. Admittedly, some Acolytes won’t hold their childer to a forced belief. Some Acolytes feel that the old gods cannot be satisfied by compulsory reverence (false worship may even anger the gods). Alternately, many Acolytes feel that belief and faith are secondary to rote compliance and sacrifice. The gods care little about faith, some say. It doesn’t matter if the vampire sacrificing his blood and whispering prayer truly believes — it only matters that the god receives his gift and gets his due.
A neonate looking to escape the covenant therefore diminishes the sacrifices made to the powers that be, and, by leaving, further insults the gods. Since the childe’s blood is that of the sire, it is then a kind of a twofold insult, an insult that the sire will not easily allow. If the sire forces the neonate to stay, then that is what must be done. Acolytes accept that they are slaves to something: the old gods,blood, even Crúac. Slavery is not abhorrent.
Some neonates are able to escape through the aid of other Kindred. If the childe is able to get word to vampires outside the Circle, one might intervene on the neonate’s behalf. The Sanctified in particular are often more than willing to lead another Kindred out of the darkness and into the purported light of Heaven. Stealing a childe from the heathens and showing her God can be advantageous and pleasurable. Of course, many neonates who think they’re escaping the Circle find that they have only traded masters instead of securing freedom. At least the Acolytes tend to treat their childer with a modicum of love and respect (however false or hollow). Other masters may be less gracious and doubly cruel.
The Embrace is an important part of covenant teachings. For some cults, the Embrace embodies the act of ultimate creation for a vampire. No other act of will is as significant as granting a mortal endless life by placing him beneath the gaze of the old gods.
Others see the Embrace not as the ultimate act of creation, but the pinnacle of tribulation. The Requiem is hard and painful, requiring night after night of sacrifice. Whether the cult teaches that the Embrace is blessed conception or a sacred object lesson, it still stands that the act itself is critical.Most cults support the Embrace, despite how it is viewed by other covenants. That’s not to say that all cults openly Embrace, only that they contend to do so is a vampire’s right.
If an Acolyte finally does Embrace, she does not undertake the action lightly. She does not pick the chosen mortal out of a crowd — unless, of course, the Acolyte relies upon portents from the gods, in which case she might see a red blouse, green eyes and a crow pendant and feel that the Morrigan have chosen a childe for her. An Acolyte generally watches the target for a significant period of time: months, if not years.
Every cult, and each Acolyte within the cult, looks for something different. Does the vampire seek an artist? Does her Hierophant entreat her to find a human with a great deal to lose, so that the mortal may humbly learn the power of sacrifice and rise consequently from the ashes of a self-destroyed life? Should the mortal already possess pagan leanings, or would the gods prefer one who can be dragged to the well and made to drink?
Choosing a childe — one who will be both childe of blood and brother in faith — is a long and arduous process. For this reason, many Acolytes prefer to make a potential childe a ghoul first (called a “votary” in the Circle). In this way, the subject can be examined from every angle, and put through many of the same rigorous trials through which new Kindred converts suffer.

Proof in Pain

For a few cults, entrance is as easy as asking. These cults tend to be small, somewhat relaxed and ultimately lenient. (They also tend to have little or no understanding of Crúac.) The Acolytes are simply happy to have Allies accompanying them through the limitless nights of the Requiem. These lax cults are few and far between. More importantly, bigger and more powerful cults tend to dismiss such naïveté as little more than posturing. Some powerful cults seek to “teach” such lesser cults greater lessons. Some powerful cults simply ignore such lax cults.
Most cults, however, demand sacrifice of those seeking to enter The Chorus, as well as those Chorus members hoping to become full members of the covenant. Therefore, Kindred put their prospective Acolytes through various rituals and practices whose primary purpose is to see how far the vampires will go in service of the Circle.
These rites may have secondary benefits, as well. Not only might these rituals teach The Chorus about the ways of the covenant (and how the power of creation must come after the enlightenment gleaned through tribulation), but the subjects of the rituals may reveal a great deal about themselves through these often awful acts.
Below are a number of ritual types that Acolytes might put their Chorus (or potential Chorus members) through to test them. Because The Circle of the Crone comprises many cults with many core doctrines, these rituals are by no means complete or universal. They are only a handful of options out of the infinite yield of misery that Acolytes can offer its initiates.

Mortification

Rituals of mortification — wherein the flesh is mutilated, marked or altogether destroyed — serve different purposes within different Circle cults. One cult, following a bloody syncretism of various Native American gods and legends, might teach that mortification proves that one’s body is one’s own.
The gods have gifted a vampire with a body that can endure great suffering. By bringing suffering upon the body, the suffering frees the body and proves to the sufferer that his flesh is his own and he should do with it as he wishes.
An Underworld cult, however, which worships death and a pantheon of lawyerly “judge” gods, might use bodily mutilation to teach that flesh is just meat, nothing more. Meat is useless in this physical world, or, instead, belongs to the gods of judgment and mortality. The final purpose — one generally intended by most cults that employ these painful rituals — is that mutilation reveals a potential’s mettle. If she cries out too soon for comfort, then she is not strong enough to serve the gods and master the dangerous blood sorceries of the covenant.
The “Moon Dance” is one such ritual, undertaken by several covenant cults in the American West. This ritual, borrowed from various Sioux tribes (Lakota, Oglala, Teton), is a modification of the “Sun Dance.” In this rite, Acolytes fasten hooks to chains and ropes. The hooks vary in size from meat hooks to fish hooks. Some Acolytes prepare the hooks with chemicals that foster pain or itching (some even use secret Crúac rituals to prepare their own blood to smear on the hooks). They then suspend the hooks from a tree, light pole, gallows orsome other tall object. The Acolytes hang the neophyte, piercing his flesh with the barbs and let him dangle all night under a full or new moon. (One Circle cult outside of Denver prefers to let the hooks pierce only the head and face. One meat hook in particular goes in through the mouth and pierces downward, coming out through the soft part beneath the lower jaw.)
The Acolytes gather and pray over the hanging vampire. The goal is that, during this time, the vampire will lose enough blood and endure just enough pain so that his mind will go blank. During that state of tabula rasa, the initiate should discover who his patron god or spirit will be, for that entity will come to him and claim him as a mount.
Other cults, such as some with Norse leanings, utilize a similar ritual with an entirely different purpose. The ritual, called the “Search for Wisdom,” involves suspending the harlequin upside down from a tree. While he is hanging, other Acolytes come and mortify his flesh. Some stick him with skewers, others cut away bits of skin and snip off extremities (fingers, nose, genitals). One must always thrust a Spear into him — preferably through him, and into the tree behind. An eye may be taken. Hungry ravens, often Ghouls, may come to pick at his flesh to draw his dead blood.
That is only the first night. On the second night, the vampire is brought back to the tree and made to hang by his neck (right-side up). Vampires nesting in the trees pour tainted blood into his mouth and make him drink. (The blood is from mortals sickened or killed by some kind of poison: bug-killer, rat poison, plant or animal toxins.)
This two-night ritual is meant to teach an important lesson about wisdom — and, by proxy, Crúac. The first night symbolizes Odin’s sacrifice for wisdom. The All Father hung upside down from the World Tree to gain insight into magic. For his suffering, he was rewarded. The second night, on the other hand, is the flip-side of this, and represents the eternal punishment of the trickster, Loki. Loki wanted wisdom but did not want to sacrifice. He overextended himself and went too far, and he paid the price for his selfishness. Crúac is this way. If one gives of oneself, then one may take from the gods in the form of blood magic. If one learns the magic without sacrifice — then the gods will make one the sacrifice, perhaps forever.

Altered States

Sometimes, it is not the body that needs to be broken, but the mind. What the covenant asks an initiate to believe seems easy on the surface. The Chorus member can nod and smile all he likes; even the smart ones can, in depth, explain their revelations regardless of what they truly believe. That isn’t enough by covenant standards.
Many cults prefer some kind of proof that the doors of the mind have been kicked open — this isn’t done with permission from the vampire, one cannot choose enlightenment or what form it will take. It must be brought to bear against an individual, crashing down upon him like a violent wave. This can be done by forcing the victim into an altered state of consciousness.
The predominant method by which Acolytes achieve this is through drugs and toxins. Some cults keep close a number of drugs that they consider quite sacred. Most of these are natural psychoactives: psilocybin, mescaline, peyote and ayahuasca. The term “magic mushrooms” is no joke — some cults literally revere them as akin to something magical. The Acolytes believe that these drugs don’t merely cause hallucinations, but actually give the user a glimpse into the many worlds of the many gods. Proof of this is in the fact that a Kindred can ingest the drugs and still benefit from their effects, even though he is dead and should be able to do no such thing.
Decades ago, the barrio cults of California and Texas brought with them one such ritual. Brazilian Kindred, mystics and criminals from the favelas, came to America and hid within the slums of the cities (Los Angeles, San Francisco, Dallas, Houston). They brought with them a reverence for the ayahuasca vine, also known as the “vine of the dead.” These Acolytes initiated new gang members by forcing upon them a potent draught of the crushed vine. This ritual, called the purgatorio, is meant to “hollow out” the initiate and fill him with the magic of the gods. During this period of altered consciousness (lasting six to eight hours), the initiate experiences wild visions. He often suffers glossolalia, babbling in some made-up Language.
Stranger still, the victim receives odd visitations by strange beings. He may see women who are half-jaguar, or he might instead witness any number of “little people” — all of whom are purportedly the emissaries of the old gods. Of course, only he can see them, but the other Acolytes do not believe that this implies such things are mere hallucinations.
No, it only suggests that the initiate is glimpsing the invisible landscape of the spirits and gods — the magic vine has granted the dead man a vision beyond that of life or death. Only from there may he be allowed into the gang. (Curiously, some initiates experience a greater understanding of their own Disciplines after the fact. They may gain a dot in a Discipline such as Auspex, Obfuscate or Nightmare.) The purgatorio ritual is no longer unique to the barrio gangs — it has since bled into other covenant cults and has begun to see wider use.
Another ritual is somewhat less religious despite its name (“Food of the Gods”). This ritual, popular among less-faithful Acolytes, is meant to “shock the system” of a harlequin. In this ritual, he is given a concoction of various psychoactive toxins. These poisons needn’t be natural, and the brew is often a mixture of various awful chemicals — anything from LSD to drain cleaner might find its way into the cup. The Acolytes force the drink upon him. Ifthe initiate is unwilling to absorb it, then they will first run the grotesque infusion through a mortal and then force the victim’s blood into the vampire’s mouth.
The results are rarely kind. The initiate often suffers physical effects (damage to her insides, vomiting up Vitae, stumbling dizzily about) as well as mental trauma (derangements both temporary and permanent, monstrous hallucinations, total confusion). The effects are only heightened when the gathered Acolytes assault the initiate with Disciplines. Assailing the vampire’s senses with Majesty, Nightmare or the shapeshifting strangeness of Protean can all compound the deleterious effects upon The Chorus member’s psyche.
It is uncommon for the vampire to emerge from this ritual without some manner of emotional scarring. Particularly religious Acolytes frown upon this brutal ritual as being crude and purposeless. The resultant cultists tend to be too broken to be useful. Though, some Acolytes must admit that those who do come out of the experience without shattered psyches tend to be very powerful ritualists.

Withdrawal

For vampires — creatures who are already dead in many ways — blood represents a taste of life. Without blood, a vampire is as good as completely dead. Acolytes often accept that vampires never truly die, and thus never obtain a full picture of the cosmic circle that informs their very purpose. The interplay between the living and the dying can be alien to a vampire, who is effectively taken out of the cycle.
Many Acolytes thus seek to instill an understanding of death in their initiates. Avoiding death and mistaking the Requiem as death are anathema — errors that must be corrected. Vampires are children of life and death. As mortals, they have already lived, but as vampires, they cannot die. Giving them a taste of death is therefore critical.
Withdrawal from Vitae is one way to invoke a kind of death in a potential Acolyte. Temporarily withdrawal certainly brings a vampire closer to death, but that is rarely enough. Far better to deny a Kindred that which moves his bones and muscles and which sates his hungers. The dead cannot move. The dead cannot feed their hungers. Hence, total withdrawal is key. Two rituals in particular achieve this.
The first is the Rite of Winter’s Embrace. In this Rite, the harlequin is not given the choice to abstain from Vitae. In fact, Acolytes often surprise The Chorus member by ambushing him and driving a stake through his chest. From there, the victim is literally frozen. Sometimes the cult puts him in some kind of water-bearing container (a claw-foot bathtub does the trick) and refrigerates the water in an industrial freezer (or outside in a dark, cold place) so that the water turns to solid ice. Other Acolytes prefer nature to be involved, sometimes going so far as to sink the vampire in a deep, nearly frozen lake — where, of course, the rays of the sun cannot touch him.
During this time, Torpor is expected. The vampire cannot move, and his blood burns off. He is left to contemplate hunger and misery. Some return from this sudden exile quite mad, but hopefully not so broken that they cannot still serve the Circle in some capacity. Others attain a kind of enlightenment about death, blood andlife. (This ritual usually takes place on one of the winter observances — Samhain perhaps, or the Solstice.)
The second ritual is sometimes called “Rite of the Dead Womb” or simply, “The Tomb.” This one is less about enlightenment and more about the vampire’s willingness to sacrifice. The subject is made to enter a dark and isolated place. This is often literally a crypt or a gravesite, though sometimes it must be a place (like a cellar) that represents the tomb. The vampire isn’t sealed away or prevented from leaving — in fact, the option of ending the ritual prematurely is crucial to her success or failure. (One variation is that the vampire is handcuffed to something. She is given the key, or made to swallow the key.) She must then stay in the tomb for an unmentioned amount of time, withdrawing from blood and human contact. She must come close to death, sacrificing her own desires for the desires of the cult. This ritual requires no set amount of time.
Every cult has different watermarks for what it considers fair sacrifice, representative of devotion. Some cults hope for a week. Other cults aim to see that the vampire will get to the point of frenzy and either resist it and sink into Torpor — or will give in to frenzy, and seek that which the old gods provide (blood and life).

Bloody Enticement

A novitiate’s first days joining the Circle are often sublimely difficult. Few cults make joining easy, and as noted above, incur a great deal of pain upon potential Acolytes. While this level of difficulty isn’t universal — not all Crone cults are so interested in breaking down neophytes — it is common. So what keeps a neonate from escaping the process?
Well, many do escape, and the Circle accepts that. If a vampire isn’t ready for sacrifice, she doesn’t belong. If the neophyte is somehow prized or the Acolytes want her reverence as much as she wants to give it, then they may make the trials easier on her than they would others (though some cults refuse to diminish the tests demanded by faith).
What keeps a Kindred and steadfast through the pain is adherence to the exact idea that fuels the trials in the first place: enlightenment through suffering. If the vampire is willing to suffer, he will receive enlightenment as his reward. He will then have access to gifts both real and imagined. He will gain access to the covenant’s magic. He will be part of the “truth” about the dire gods. He will have a set of Allies unlike any other and be privy to secrets that the Kindred of other covenants are not. Ultimately, the Acolytes point to alight at the end of the tunnel. If he is willing to traverse the long darkness, he will one day find that bright and shining light.
Of course, some rewards are immediate. After passing the trials and leaving The Chorus, the cult likely fetes any new Acolytes with a celebration that might last a night or a week. The group hunts together, they shower the new Acolyte with blood and gifts and they likely even teach him his first ritual. The cult usually makes quite clear that, once the novitiate leaves The Chorus, they are his Allies in faith. The gods have allowed them to be together, and for that the vampire deserves unending reward.

Tribulation in the Halls of Power

Very, very few Kindred live in a political vacuum. No matter how preferable it might seem to be, no vampire can expect that every one of his neighbors are all members of the same covenant, operating with a single shared purpose and a unified faith. When different viewpoints come together in shared territory, politicking is both inevitable and necessary. All too often, even when forced to confront this truism, the temptation for the Acolytes of the Circle is to distance themselves from matters of domain government.
The naturalist, dedicated faith of the covenant provides little time and inspires little urge to involve one’s self in secular affairs of state. Effort is better directed to the pursuits of creation and tribulation, to bettering one’s self and highlighting the glory of the natural world. Government is best left to those who concern themselves with mundane affairs, seeking material power instead ofcoming to terms with the truth and glory of The Crone and her creation.
This temptation marks the path to unmitigated disaster. In Kindred society, power goes to the one who claims it, and everyone else is forced to accept the terms dictated to him or her. Withdrawing from the decision-making authority of a domain means claiming a marginal position of weakness, wherein a vampire is incapable of making the deals and issuing the public declarations that solidify alliances and earn the respect of outsider Kindred.
Marginalized vampires are restricted to inferior feeding grounds, subject to the whims of the officials of the city and, worst of all, completely unprotected from the occasionally violent agenda of their better-connected counterparts. Marginalized vampires have little capacity to affect the tides of opinion in Elysium, and no warning when those tides turn against them. Such vampires are, in short, utterly at the mercy of their neighbors.
To best serve the Circle, some Acolytes must step into the halls of power and make their presence known. To defend the practice of their fellow adherents, some Kindred must lessen their worship and spend time at the tables of debate, making sure that the covenant is well represented. Subjecting themselves to the souring pettiness of the Danse Macabre, they sacrifice of themselves so that others may be safe and free. They are soldiers of The Crone, facing enemies on a battlefield more insidious and riskier than any of the back-alley warfare of modern nights: the Elysium salon.
Many Hierophants realize the threat presented by political lassitude and make an effort to incorporate public work into the requirements of Acolyte training. They will encourage the members of their Circle to make appearances at domain gatherings to demonstrate their fierce loyalty and their willingness to involve themselves in the affairs of fellow Kindred, if necessary. Persecution and prejudice are especially to be met with a fearless public presence, if possible.
The Kindred of The Circle of the Crone don’t shy away from conflict, social or otherwise, and must be willing to subject themselves to the trying circumstances of officious Elysium gatherings just as readily as any spiritual quest. In some domains, spiritualism and politics are deeply intertwined. Whether by careful design or a more organic evolution, modern participation in these cults marries ritual and public achievement in a functional syncretism. One cult in Eastern Europe will not allow members to be initiated as full Acolytes until they fill official positions in the city’s government, demonstrating their ability to protect the ongoing operation of the covenant alongside their capacity for sincere worship.
Inevitably, serious Acolytes will clash with outsider viewpoints in the Elysium forum, especially if discussions turn toward faith and virtue. Fear and prejudice are a rule among the outsiders, and Kindred of the Circle must understand that they will be targeted whether or not their activities are aggressive.
The formation of law may be influenced (or, in some systems, entirely constructed) by the strength of argument presented on both sides in these cases. Acolytes of the Circle should be prepared to defend their views before the decision-makers of Kindred society at any given moment if the Acolytes wish to remain free of unnecessary, and occasionally unendurable, official stricture.
Those Acolytes who are politically inclined face potential conflict on more than one front, though. While fighting to preserve the rights and needs of their fellow Kindred, they must also struggle to maintain an image of humble loyalty in the Circle. The covenant’s more isolationist members may interpret any compromise offered to outsiders as treasonous weakness. The Hierophant may become concerned that the politician is spending too much time at Elysium, no matter how real the needfor attendance, and not enough at ritual.
One’s own practice of worship may interfere with political necessities, forcing a difficult choice: to fight for others’ right to practice while sacrificing one’s own or vice-versa. What’s worse, many outsiders are very much aware of the Circle’s time-consuming demands, and will often plan long, drawn-out sessions of discussion and debate precisely because they know that a faithful Acolyte cannot attend without giving up precious time in sacred pursuits.
Once enmeshed in politics, Kindred of the Circle are among the most tenacious spokespeople in vampire society. If there’s a single word that best encapsulates the public tactics of the covenant, that word is “defiance.” Acolytes will openly challenge prejudice in most cases, and rarely hesitate to point out presumptive or otherwise ill-informed rulings. Acolytes often earn a reputation for shameless partisanship, but at least that’s a sincere, open approach — something many officials come to appreciate, if not admire. It’s rare for an Acolyte to attempt an underhanded approach to lawmaking if he’s already in public view, because everybody knows he’s only really there to support and defend his covenant’s needs.
The best among the Acolyte politicians don’t allow themselves to be blinded by the necessity of protecting their own, though, and will consistently act on principles. This is how a skillful vampire will tend to shatter the stereotype of the uncivilized pagan and earn the respect of a Prince or Sheriff. Dedication to honor, duty and the preservation of the natural world are the finest attributes of a good politician in the Circle. Kowtowing and toadying might earn the temporary favor of a vain elder, but such activities won’t go far toward keeping the covenant in a powerful position.
The benefits of weak servitude are not only flimsy: the very act of abandoning one’s ideology in order to secure a position of relative safety is anathema to the philosophy of the covenant. When faced with a problematic superior in city government, one must accept the tribulation she represents with a strong will and a keen mind.
It’s true that maintaining a stand on principle can cause trouble for Acolyte politicians. A corrupt superior will consider an honorable vampire to be a threat. An ambitious rival will enjoy relative tactical freedom in any conflict, since he is not restricted to ethical choices. It’s no surprise that the Circle suffers in many domains, falling behind (or, in many cases, completely out of) the line of power-brokers and policymakers who Dominate Elysium. But when the staunch determination of the Acolyte paysoff, it does so with a great dividend.
A principled victory over unethical foes strengthens the covenant in the eyes of all observers. A determined stance earns the awe and esteem of outsiders, many of whom learn to shed their prejudices and some of whom may even convert to the Circle’s cause.
The one belief that most often marks the position of the Circle in domain politics involves the clash between “natural law” and “government law.” The former, considered sacred and implicit in the operation of the natural world by the Acolytes of the covenant, is always obeyed as interpreted in the teachings of the litany and the translations of the Hierophant. Government law, determined by the conscious manipulations of a Prince, is to be obeyed only insofar as it does not contradict the former, no matter how vehemently that Prince attempts to enforce it. Acolytes simply will not obey a decree that contravenes their observation of the natural law of the living world, even unto Final Death.
The ideal politicians of the covenant are just as determined to adhere to this principle as every other member, even though they’re on the front lines, often standing directly in the physical presence of the Prince on a regular basis.
This, more than any other operation of the covenant, is what leads to the pogroms and turf wars that it suffers in domains around the world. But how could it be otherwise? To ignore the clear wishes of The Crone and the rules of her creation would be to discard everything the Acolytes hold dear. One vampire’s decree is the expressionof a single voice, powerful or not, in the midst of a chorus of millions. The Circle is concerned with the whole of the song, regardless of circumstance.
Total war among covenants has broken out again and again because of adherence to this guiding principle. One domain in the Caribbean saw the near extermination of the Circle when the Sanctified Prince placed restrictions on hunting mortal children. The local Hierophant had long taught his Acolytes that the blood of children was sacred to The Crone, and that each mortal was to be “blessed” by the taking of a small amount on the anniversary of the date of her birth, from the first onwards.
The ritual feeding was performed as an honest prayer, and the Acolytes believed that a child who gave none of her blood would lose her place in the natural world and grow sickly. The adamant refusal to halt feeding on these young mortals led to a series of violent clashes with The Lancea Sanctum, and attempts to explain the need to continue the practice fell on deaf ears. All but two of the Acolytes of the Circle met with Final Death in the months that followed, and those who remained were forced into Torpor, from which they have yet to emerge.
Acolyte politicians who buckle under the pressures of domain policymakers and suggest contravention of natural law must be aware that they will utterly disappoint their Circle. A loss of Status is likely, and actual physical conflict with one’s own covenant is a possibility. A few political activists in the covenant have found the support of their compatriots withdrawn after making what seemed to be a prudent decision. Here, the clash between religion and diplomacy shows itself with the most adamant seriousness. But if a vampire is not willing to hold absolutely to the ways of The Crone and her creation in the operation of night-to-night affairs, publicly or not, how can he consider himself a respectful representative of the Circle?
The priority is clear: defend the covenant with concession and diplomacy when necessary. Maintain loyalty to the truth of The Crone under all circumstances. When the two become mutually exclusive, an honest Acolyte always gives precedence to the latter choice.
Even dishonest Acolytes stand to benefit from the traditional stubbornness of the covenant, assuming they know where to expend their energies. Defying the rule of an outsider Prince will win the adulation of any persecuted vampire, whether within the covenant or without. Furthermore, those Kindred who create difficult situations for themselves and then pointedly endure them are often seen as crusaders of faith, enduring the tribulation of discrimination on behalf of their fellows.
Careful application of manipulative techniques can ensure that a Prince will make a declaration antithetical to the Circle, laying the groundwork for a heroic stance among the covenant’s representation. It’s easy to lose control of even the most carefully scripted conflict, though, and a fair number of Acolytes looking to make a name for themselves end up ashes on the hands of their Prince.

The Pressures of Politics

Because the ideal of Acolyte worship involves most or all of a vampire’s waking Requiem, politicking can be difficult to integrate without losing valuable time in spiritual pursuit. A Storyteller running characters through a political story from the point of view of The Circle of the Crone might want to highlight the conflict by making it clear that time is of the essence. Meetings should be scheduled to overlap with Circle ritual. A number of crucial debates could be held in the same week that a character has committed to creating a major work of art in honor of The Crone.
There are two ways a Storyteller can underscore these time constraints mechanically. First, she could impose a limit on all extended rolls undertaken during the period, basing the limit on a calculation of the amount of actual time each activity represents. Second, she could place a stacking penalty on each project the character takes on at once, making the rolls on every project more difficult.
This isn’t to say that Storytellers should punish Acolyte characters simply because they choose to take part in politics. Some domains don’t put much of a strain on their politically active Kindred, and some vampires in the Circle do manage to figure out how to juggle their responsibilities. If a player is especially clever in her approachor if the environment allows for it, a Storyteller may wish to forgo these penalties.
Example: Dario, a new Acolyte, has spread himself too thin. He’s agreed to represent the Circle at Elysium in his Carthian-ruled domain, not realizing that discussions of policy are held every night for at least two hours. In addition, he’s committed to sculpting an image for the Circle’s sacred space, he’s trying to practice meditative techniques assigned by his Hierophant and he has to hunt every so often. The Storyteller decides that Dario could perform any two of these actions on a regular basis without difficulty, but four is just two too many. She imposes a –2 penalty (because of the two extra actions) on every roll representing his work until he decides to give something up. In addition, she decides that so much of his time is taken up by other pursuits that no more than two rolls a week can be made on the extended action of creating the sculpture, when normally she would allow three.

Politics and Pain

With all of these contradictory urges and influences in play, it’s amazing that any Acolyte can put together a coherent political agenda, much less achieve it. The truth of the matter is that it’s only possible when a particular vampire sets a goal for himself and keeps his eye on the prize, no matter what happens. Typically, the trial-hardened Kindred of the Circle actually manage to get their way sooner or later, provided that they’re steadfast enough to survive the journey.
Elysium is one more harsh environment for the Acolytes to weather — it just doesn’t look like it. The intricacies of the Dance Macabre are played out in its halls, and only those with a clear and unwavering vision of themselves and their intentions are able to emerge free of distortion.
It is interesting to note that certain Acolytes have made a connection between the method of social and legal sparring and the mystical procedures of ritual. These Kindred point out that the formulation of intent, direction of will and necessity for sacrifice are equivalent in both, and that Elysium maneuvers may just be another form of hidden magick. The glory of creation reveals itself in all things, vampires included. For these members of the Circle, a journey in the halls of power is no less spiritual than any other quest, and requires the same level of concentration, preparation and confidence.
And politics is not all pain and loss. Those Acolytes who learn to balance their needs, to avoid the distractions of petty squabbling and resist the temptation of martyrhood may find themselves actually achieving the goals they set out for themselves. The spoils of victory, when they come, are undeniably magnificent. Justification, empowerment and freedom await the successful politician. The conditions for spiritual advancement, not just for one’s self, but for all vampires in a domain, become achievable. The will of The Crone can be channeled through the Acolyte, for the betterment of all.
In the best of all possible cases, the Acolyte politician may win exclusive territory for The Circle of the Crone, allowing for unimpeded worship within and severely curtailing the powers of the enemies of the covenant. Populous areas can fall entirely under the purview of the Circle, allowing for the imposition of natural law and the realization of a litany’s prophecies and requirements. In extreme cases, the politician may seize control of an entire domain, turning the rule of its Kindred and mortal populations over to the Hierophant in a great victory for the covenant. The conditions for recruitment of outsiders vastly improve in this circumstance, and the Acolytes are free to set the limits of their own tribulation.
In recent nights, several domains have fallen back into the hands of the Hierophants of the Circle through the favor of The Crone’s fortune and the efforts of her dedicated servants. Tales are told of sporadic elevations of the covenant around the globe: long-time Princes stepping aside or collapsing before the fierce faith of the Circle, making way for an Acolyte replacement. Outsider Kindred are being taken utterly by surprise, watching with amazement and dread as their “primitive” brethren seize the reins of power with a level of skill and guile to match that of their most entrenched, civilized opponents.
When the Acolytes do take control of a domain, placing the mantle of Prince on one of their own, the limits on their practice are lifted completely. Left to dictate the rule of territory, members of the Circle must choose whether to purge opposing elements (often in response to their own attempts to purge the Circle of the Crone) from a city or show a magnanimous tolerance that may or may not be returned by the outsiders. An Acolyte Prince must decide whether her domain will officially mix government with religion or operate on the undeclared principles of her faith, allowing outsiders to function as officials without requiring their indoctrination.
In ruling a domain, an Acolyte Prince enjoys the opportunity to display the enlightened harmonies of the Circle to the entire Kindred population. Insightful efficiency, mystic ecstasies and tranquil gatherings reflect the best that the covenant has to offer outsiders in Elysium. The progressive rule of a Prince inspired and directed by the will of The Crone is truly something to be admired. In a city dominated by The Circle of the Crone, art and beauty flourish. Life is sacred and upheld in its varied forms with surpassing regard. The natural frustrations of a vampire are given outlet in officially organized events. The mortal population is fairly portioned to the Kindred, and disputes are settled with wisdom and finality. Divergent beliefs are tolerated, and open discussion is encouraged.
In ruling a domain, the Circle may also bring its darkest and most fearsome attributes to bear, crushing and terrifying opposition without exception. Predatory power, horrifying sorcery and undimmed emotion are facets of the covenant that exist in no smaller proportion than those more pleasant, and are no less likely to appear. In the searing grip of a righteous Acolyte Prince, whipped into fury by the demanding force of The Crone, modern freedoms vanish. Natural law comes into precedence in all its bloody, unforgiving glory. The rapacious needs of the vampire are satisfied or denied at the whim of the divine Prince. No creature escapes the influence of theCircle’s magicks, and none can deny the voice of creation as spoken through the Acolytes. Opposition to the natural will of The Crone is eliminated.
Can one be deemed preferential over the other? Not without the blessing of The Crone — and to find that, the Acolytes must look to their faith. If ascension to the seat of power presents itself to The Circle of the Crone, its members must seek guidance from the divinities they so ardently worship, begging an omen of intent. If a peaceful, verdant paradise is dictated, so be it. If abloodstained ruin is demanded, the Acolytes must be no less eager to satisfy the need of creation.

The Blood Coup

One story of Acolyte ascension has become something of an urban legend among the Kindred. Everyone seems to know someone who met a nomad with a firsthand account, but nobody can verify the actual time or location of the events discussed. As the story goes: one domain powerfully maintained in the grip of The Lancea Sanctum was recently overthrown in a shocking reversal of power, falling to a dark and violent cult of the Circle.
They say that a small cult of near-outlaw Acolytes, banished to the periphery of their domain, somehow managed to unearth an insidious ritual that allowed them to physically manipulate the Vitae in the bodies of their victims. Slowly, over a course of years, they exerted periodic control, testing and prodding the outsiders. Meanwhile, the Acolytes made every attempt to appear willing to deal peacefully with their Kindred counterparts. Perhaps the ritual required proximity, or perhaps the Acolytes simply wanted to secure a vantage point from which to observe their victims. Some say that the cryptic, bizarre negotiations the Acolytes engaged in were actually incantations crucial to their sorcery. Whatever the reason for the apparent attempts at diplomacy, one terrible night put an end to it.
No one is sure how it began. All they know is that one night at Elysium, every member of The Lancea Sanctum went utterly mad. Some broke into frenzy without cause while others screamed obscene insults against their own God and the Kindred around them with equal abandon. One vampire, completely calm, simply grabbed the throat of his own childe, tearing it out with his teeth in the plain view of the others. In the total collapse of order, other outside Kindred were drawn into conflict by slight, injury or presentation of opportunity. The Prince fell before the envious claws of a Carthian Gangrel, and that Gangrel fell in turn to the blade of an Acolyte of the Circle. At the passing of the storm of violence, only the Circle of The Crone stood unharmed. The Acolytes quietly seized power, unopposed, and have ruled ever since. None dare defy them there ever again. Some who survive still claim that they were mere puppets on that night, watching in horror as their own bodies betrayed them and committed acts of brutal violence beyond belief.

Domain Politics

The Circle of the Crone maintains a tenuous position in the domains of the modern world. The outlook of the covenant is foreign to many Kindred, and outright offensive to some. Communications are rarely easy to maintain, and the outsiders are often eager to spotlight the unusual outlook of the Acolytes, isolating them from the rest of the domain wherever possible. Mockery and derision are the tools of the outsiders in Elysium, and while most of the members of the Circle would be content to ignore them and focus on their faith, it falls to the Hierophant and her Acolyte politicians to minimize their impact.
Contrary to the ill-informed expectation of most outsiders, the political technique of the Circle tends to be refined and contemporary. The instructions of the Acolytes’ faith may be primal, but the Acolytes are Embraced from modern human stock and are no less willing or capable to engage in complicated tactics of inter-covenant relations than their secular counterparts. The operation of any politically active Circle is a four-pronged one, attacking the problem of Elysium opposition from several angles at once.

Undermining the Enemy

The Circle’s primary avenue of attack in most domains, when dealing with outsider covenants, is a passive one. Most Acolytes believe that the outsiders are mistaken in their faith (or worse, faithlessness), and thus conclude that the best way to play politics with them is to gently allow them to blunder into the poor decisions of the uninformed. Disconnected from the world around them, they cannot help but miss the cues so readily apparent to the Circle, and will often undermine and destroy themselves without much help from the Kindred of the covenant.
Some Acolytes take this view further, though, and pay close attention to both their enemies and the oft-ignored features of the landscape, figuring out where the outsiders’ faults lie and then ensuring that their own behavior will help trigger those faults. The Acolytes never directly attack or influence the enemy, just help create the conditions that lead to a vampire’s mental or political disintegration. Many an Invictus Prince too proud to understand that he is teetering on the edge of rebellion has encountered an outspoken Acolyte who folds in the Prince’s mighty presence, convincing him that none can dare to oppose him.
This tactic of passive attack is a surprisingly effective one. Vampires tend to be vice-ridden creatures, so encouraging their collapse is relatively easy, if one is observant enough. The Circle of the Crone is stereotyped in most domains as a primitive, inward-gazing culture, and the Acolytes know that they can use this misconception to their advantage. Those who fail to hide behind the apparent intellectual absorption of their faith can play up their so-called outmoded beliefs, making themselves seem incapable of complex political warfare. Meanwhile, they carefully sculpt themselves and script their actions, ensuring that the enemy is led down a tempting and ultimately devastating road.
Even those Kindred who catch an Acolyte out and accuse her of subtle manipulation can be undermined with passive tactics. One need only behave in a manner that encourages the enemy to make a statement that seems to demonstrate an ingrained prejudice against The Circle of the Crone, and an accusation can easily be reversed. The words of the accuser are twisted, making him seem irrational, while the “peaceful primitive” of the Circle transmutes herself from alleged criminal to obvious victim.
The greatest weakness of this tactic becomes obvious when it is applied against too many Kindred all at once. If the intended targets of passive manipulation are allowed to confer and corroborate their suspicions, they will band together and force the conflict with the Circle into open warfare. Once the attack on an outsider begins, it is best to carry it through until the enemy either destroys himself or is forced to leave the domain. Otherwise, he remains to assist any other who might become the target of Acolyte attentions.
There is another passive weapon available to The Circle of the Crone, and it is one that requires neither a specific target nor any real strenuous activity, for the most part. It is simply this: most Acolytes who are free to practice their faith and commune with their domain are genuinely satisfied creatures. They tend to find a sort of harmony with their surroundings, dwelling in relative peace and managing a Requiem relatively free of doubt and shame. Whenever possible, a good Acolyte will seek equilibrium in his environment, creating the conditions for just such a fulfilling existence.
This is, of course, painfully intolerable to many outsider Kindred, and a source of envy for the rest. When presented with a perfectly satisfied Acolyte, some observers will eventually explode into a rage, and the rest will rise to the defense of the faithful one, creating and closing a conflict that never directly involves The Circle of the Crone at all. Simply by residing peacefully and, if possible, blissfully in the milieu of nature and the truth of The Crone, Acolytes can tear a domain of outsiders to pieces.
Furthermore, the true satisfaction of the faithful Acolyte will attract the curiosity of those Kindred (young or old) who come to understand that spiritless material wealth or crushing, anti-natural dogma are failing to make them happy. Outsider Kindred will seek first to expose the “truth” behind an Acolyte’s happiness, and when they inevitably discover that it’s genuine, they look to befriend one of The Crone’s faithful, hoping to learn the “secret.” In that moment, the outsiders open themselves to the potential of conversion, drawing power away from their own covenants and giving it freely to The Circle of the Crone.
This powerful political weapon can only be maintained if the Acolytes in a domain withdraw from all conflict, involving themselves only in peaceful matters and creating a sheltered calm to dwell within. Only then can they achieve the blissful tranquility that so disturbs outsiders, and only then can they ensure that their display of satisfaction and harmonious confidence is genuine. The tactic (if it is a tactic at all) fails utterly if the Acolyte is not truly happy, because their good cheer collapses under scrutiny and the observer is left reassured in his own current state of being, no matter how wretched it is.
When conflict is unavoidable and passive assault is too unreliable or too slow, the Acolytes of the Circle are capable of warfare that is both fierce and subtle, taking their enemies by surprise and misdirecting their attentions all at once.
Outsiders tend to take rumors of the dark powers of The Circle of the Crone more or less seriously depending on type, but many outsiders will quickly succumb to fear and superstition when targeted by strategically applied terror tactics. Many ritual accoutrements, real or manufactured, will badly frighten a vampire who believes that he has become the target of the Acolytes’ bloody sorcery. Sacrifices and trinkets are often left on or in the Haven or vehicle of an enemy of the covenant, demonstrating the weakness of his defenses and presenting evidence of magickal attack all at once.
Meanwhile, the strategic application of Crúac can go far toward beating a foe into submission. Rituals that disrupt one’s sense of calm or self-control are relatively basic and often applied by less experienced Acolytes in support of an attack. Those that do more direct harm are timed to coincide with physical assault and ensure a swift victory.
Open conflict with the Circle tends to be short and ugly. Experienced Acolytes will plan carefully to ensure that the full force of their powers and ritual magicks can be brought to bear all at once, utterly destroying the confidence and actual combat effectiveness of an enemy in one sudden strike. Not only does this strategy allow the Acolytes to conduct battle on their own terms, but it serves to enhancetheir reputation as Kindred better left alone.
In the rare circumstances that an attack completely surprises the Circle, well-led Acolytes will quickly withdraw and find a time and place to meet, where they can reschedule the battle. Ritual time is crucial to their efforts, so it’s never good to face an enemy without adequate preparation.

Drawing Out the Vice

Discovering the vice of an enemy is simple enough, so long as one is willing to observe her carefully enough and long enough to discern patterns in her behavior. Most Kindred cannot resist satisfying their worse parts for long, and even the most refined vampire will find a secret outlet for her dark urges. If a cautious Acolyte follows a simple two-stage system, he can often expose and exacerbate anenemy’s vice with relatively little effort. While the process is best played out in full, some stories may get bogged down by the details of long-term observation. In order to keep the pace of a game up, a Storyteller may choose to make use of this optional mechanic to represent this process of discovery and manipulation.
First, the Acolyte must examine the actions and expressions of the target over a period of weeks (or months), learning to understand her base motivations through the veneer of civilized behavior. An extended Intelligence + Empathy (+ Auspex, if active) roll is required, subtracting the target’s Composure (+ Obfuscate, if active) each time. Each roll represents a week of casual observation, and the occasions of observation should be documented or role-played as appropriate. A bonus or penalty may be applied based on how overt the target is about satisfying herself. When the observer reaches 20 successes, he can discern the true nature of his target’s Vice.
During that time, the target may notice her observer. Each time an observation roll is made, the target’s player makes an awareness roll: Wits + Composure (+ Auspex, if active) subtracting the observer’s Composure (+ Obfuscate,if active) each time. If the target accumulates 15 successes before the observer breaks off, the target will be aware that she is being spied on, and may change her behavior or try to set a trap for the spy. Even if the target realizes that she’s being watched, she may not necessarily realize who iswatching her unless she can catch him in the act.
Once an enemy’s Vice is uncovered, it must be drawn out. To do so in an apparently passive manner, a vampire must make arrange a situation in which she (or a well-chosen provocateur) is witnessed by the target. The player rolls Manipulation + Expression against thetarget’s Resolve + Composure. A success indicates that the target feels some temptation related to the provocateur, and may or may not act on it.
This is a very dangerous game to play with any vampire. If applied correctly, the effect may be devastating. If the game is miscalculated, one may expose oneself to the powerful depravity of the victim’s Beast, resulting in violence, trauma or even Final Death.

The Effect of Happiness

Certain Kindred will be more vulnerable to the potentially devastating effect of encountering a truly contented vampire. Any with the Vice of Envy will be particularly susceptible to the influence of the happy Acolyte, but anyone who is low in confidence is likely to be affected. On the other hand, those with the Virtue of Fortitude are likely to be resistant, as are those who are feeling generally high in confidence. If the Storyteller wishes to represent the passive influence of the Acolyte, the Storyteller may wish to make use of this optional mechanic.
When first encountering evidence of the Acolyte’s satisfying Requiem, an unhappy vampire must resist being affected adversely. A Resolve + Composure roll is made, with the following cumulative modifiers applied:
Condition | Modifier
Vice is Envy: –2
Virtue is Fortitude: +2
Current Willpower is less than half of maximum: –1
Current Willpower is zero: –1
Current Willpower is more than half of maximum: +1
Current Willpower is maximum: +1
Failure on the roll indicates that the character is truly disturbed by the Acolyte’s state of being, and will dwell on it at length. Success means that the character may or may not be bothered (depending on the character’s personality), but he won’t be significantly affected in the long term.
Example: Balthazar, a particularly morose Nosferatu, has just witnessed a perfectly happy Acolyte at work in her garden. He’s been watching her for some time, and has begun to realize that her contentment is sincere. Balthazar’s Vice is Envy, and his Willpower is down to 2, of a maximum of 5. The Storyteller asks the Nosferatu’s player to make a Resolve + Composure roll with a –2 modifier for the Vice and an additional –1 for the low Willpower. That leaves him with two dice. He rolls and achieves one success. So, for now, Balthazar is disturbed but not shaken.

Empowering the Ally

There are two sides to the political arrangement of any Kindred domain. While the enemies of the covenant are to be tempted, subverted and ultimately destroyed, no Circle can survive without Allies. The politics of the Acolytes includes strategy for dealing with Allies and empowering them wherever possible, demonstrating that friendship with The Circle of the Crone is eminently preferable to the alternative.
If there is a crucial night-to-night tactic most often neglected by the Acolytes of the Circle, it is this encouragement and maintenance of friendly relations with powerful outsiders. Many Acolytes will tend to become absorbed in their worship, to the exclusion of all else. Rather than build a relatively simple system to cushion the prejudices of the other covenants, the Acolytes remain isolated. Arguably, they are only fulfilling their priority: demonstrating devotion to The Crone and behaving as appropriate for their place in the natural world. However, failing to engender friendly relations with outsiders leaves a Circle vulnerable. The enemies of the covenant will be all too eager to befriend the same powers and encourage a purge of the sorcerers at the first opportunity.
First and foremost, the Acolytes of the Circle are able to bring the power of Kindred superstition to bear. The same powers and trappings that inspire fear within the hearts of the enemy can encourage confidence in one’s Allies. Acolytes often craft fetishes and assorted ornaments for their friends, going to great length to describe the beneficial magickal effects of their gifts. Whether they are empowered with real Crúac rituals or not, these trinkets tend to please credulous vampires, acting as a valuable demonstration of friendship for relatively little effort. Sometimes it’s enough to let an outsider know that the favor of the Acolytes is with him; he will feel indebted for any good luck he experiences, and will bear a reminder of who he can depend on when times are rough.
The directed application of Crúac sorcery can be brought to bear in support of a political ally, though the Acolytes should be careful with how freely they make themselves available for this sort of work. For one thing, these magicks are costly and time-consuming, and may not always be accessible on short notice. More importantly, though, an Acolyte must not allow mundane political gain to overtake his faithful worship. The rites of Crúac are not simple currency; they are powerful conduits of Vitae and devotion, drawn down to enforce the will of the natural world. Safety and power should never be more important than the veneration of The Crone in all her varied forms. Better to make subtler use of sorcery, to supplement advice and enforce promises to an ally. The Circle of the Crone has much to offer in the way of wisdom without having to resort to the covenant’s most sacred rites in open court.
The creative tendencies of the covenant are also unique in Kindred society, and can be brought to bear in support of an ally. Many an Elysium site is decorated with Acolyte works designed to aggrandize friends of the Circle and intimidate enemies. Sculptures, paintings, gardens and music are common contributions, and their timely donation can win all the friendshipthe covenant needs. While some Acolytes argue that to place their works in the hands of an outsider or allowthem to add to the pomp of Kindred politicking is no less demeaning than the public performance of a Crúac ritual, other Acolytes believe that there’s relatively little harm in the creation of art to beautify an Elysium site. Most of the members of the covenant are creative artists of one kind or another (or eventually become so), and are happy to display their talent in public whether doing so “cheapens” their art or not.
Some Acolytes prefer to spend their time at tasks that enrich the Kindred community, weaving their worship into meticulous practice. Performing certain official duties, serving as a humble advisor or stoic guard, even constructing and maintaining the structures of Elysium — all are potential occupations for meditative Acolytes.Dedicated service can earn the respect and goodwill of fellow vampires and make the members of the covenant indispensable to a domain. Some Hierophants understand this, and assign community-building duties as tribulation for most of their Acolytes, ensuring the positive visibility of the Circle and preventing isolationist tendencies from taking root.
A further advantage arises from this commitment to community building. In some domains, the creative talents and devoted work of the Circle have so impressed the Kindred that Acolytes are essentially given the run of Elysium sites. With years (or even decades) of careful, subtle work, a public Elysium can be transformed into a veritable Temple of the natural world, providing Acolytes with a great opportunity to display their reverence of The Crone and exposing the Kindred community to the beauty and Majesty of her works. Creating a calming and elegant environment will please the power elite in any domain, and those Kindred who feel the benefits of their surroundings will be more open to allowing the Acolytes to worship in the Kindred’s territories. This may even lead to the conversion of some vampires, adding to the ranks of the covenant and further strengthening its Allies.

Promoting the Values of the Circle

Subversion and tactical support are both important and demanding facets of political work in a domain, but they are both supported by a directed and unyielding commitment to the virtues of The Circle of the Crone. The covenant is, after all, a religious organization, and its adherents must exemplify it in every public appearance: both to inspire the friends of the organization and to cast doubts upon its enemies.
First and foremost, politicians among the Acolytes exist, night-to-night, as diplomats for their faith. As such, they should make every effort to make their best qualities, and the best qualities of the covenant, visible at all times. The virtues of faithful practice, including inspired creativity, confidence in one’s self and fellow worshippers, and a harmonious interface with the living features of the domain are paramount in public representation. The close ties of a practicing Circle translate well to Elysium appearance, as the Acolytes present a sincerely unified, familial front to the often-fractious outsiders. A genuine appreciation for the infinite details of the living world creates an air of positive outlook that is rarely demonstrated by other Kindred organizations.
An astute Hierophant will take pains to understand the psychological dynamic of the outsider Kindred in a city as well, making sure to observe their virtues and ensure that her own Acolytes demonstrate their own devotion to the same values. A charitable Prince will understand and appreciate a cult that makes an effort to encourage generosity in its members. A Bishop who concerns himself with matters of justice cannot help but respect an Acolyte who dedicates himself to the same cause.
In highlighting the Merits of the covenant, Acolytes not only build a sound tactical foundation for domain politics, they also improve their own worship. The open demonstration of virtue may lead to behavior that some consider sanctimonious or transparently manipulative — but if the actions are sincere, an adverse reaction paints the observer in unfavorable tones, not the Acolytes.
Second, Acolytes are survivors. Many domains force The Circle of the Crone into untenable positions by virtue of competitive politics. Time and again, when presented with a choice between the tenets of their faith and a materially advantageous policy, Acolyte politicians will take the spiritual path. The manipulation of negotiations to force a choice like this is well practiced by outsiders, and the results are suffered time and again by the Acolytes. Still, the Circle abides. The pillars of belief buttress thestructure of the covenant in conditions that would lead to the assured collapse of most others.
At first, to outsiders, this quiet endurance of hardship seems to be a great weakness. Acolytes are mocked for their apparent willingness to undercut themselves and allow favor to fall upon their enemies. But time passes, and as it does, the Acolytes survive. The longer they remain strong, the fainter the deriding voices become, falling away into a silence that first indicates worry, and eventually awe. Outsiders realize, sooner or later, that devotion to The Crone and her creation lends a strength to the Kindred that cannot be found elsewhere. Vampires who continue in their Requiem, undaunted by the worst conditions, undimmed in their practice of their faith, are creatures of admirable tenacity and power. If they can live on under oppressive circumstances, observers know that such Kindred would flourish in environments most Kindred consider ordinary.
It is an observable fact: the domains in which the Circle has endured a long period of hardship and retains all of its members throughout boast the highest rates of recruitment from outsider covenants. Kindred of all sorts are inspired by the capacity of the Acolytes to hold their personal beliefs in higher regard than material gains, and by the clear and repeated evidence of their everlasting stamina that those beliefs provide. Enemies are frustrated and cowed by the stubborn refusal of the Acolytes to surrender or die.
There is one more tactic The Circle of the Crone employs in the political arena, and it’s a surprisingly effective one. Acolyte politicians around the world have a tendency to aggressively encourage mystical or religious beliefs in other Kindred, regardless of the nature of those beliefs. These politicians don’t really care what a vampire believes in, so long as it’s something greater than her self.
When a vampire is awakened to her faith, she is likely to find an understanding of the Circle that she lacked before, even if her beliefs are different from, even antithetical to those of the Acolytes. She’ll understand their Language, in effect, and their motives. As the Acolytes demonstrate their willingness to tolerate the vampire’s faith, whether they agree with it or not, she comes to appreciate their attitude, and may learn to tolerate them in return. She may begin to see similarities between her own beliefs and those espoused by the Circle and choose to open a dialog with the Acolytes that leads to her induction in the covenant.
Those Kindred who don’t join the covenant can be encouraged to adopt unpopular or unlawful beliefs are sure to experience the oppressive wrath of their fellow vampires — wrath that may have been directed at the Circle otherwise. The new targets of prejudice come to understand the social burden that the Acolytes bear and will often throw in with the Circle out of sympathy, if not necessity.
Many Acolytes feel a strong distaste for the practice of encouraging outsider faiths for their strategic value. These Acolytes argue that worship of The Crone and her creation is sacred in all its forms, and that no vampire should encourage that worship for purely tactical reasons. To awaken Kindred to the ecstasy of faith just so that they can serve a political purpose is a profane abuse, these Acolytes argue, and it demonstrates a failure of principle in the practitioner. Recruiting new Acolytes is a good cause. Creating new ones and failing to provide the support of the Circle is a crime.

The Breaking Point

A story in which Acolyte characters are subjected to prolonged unfavorable conditions can be difficult to run and difficult to participate in. Players can become discouraged if their characters seem to be forced into humiliating or painful circumstances without an apparent escape option. Storytellers can be caught between the urge to maintain suspense and the integrity of the story and the urge to keep the players’ spirits up. The following tips can help mitigate these problems:

• Make sure the characters have a support structure in place. Sympathetic outsider Kindred, devoted Retainers and friendly mortal Allies can bolster a character’s mood and provide a player with a moment of relief whenever it seems appropriate.
• Let the characters sense a rough timeline. Even if they don’t know exactly when circumstances will improve for them, a prolonged strain can seem conquerable if it’s clearly not going to last too long. Characters may know that they will only have to impress the powers that be for a month or two, for example, or they may hear that a wager has been placed in Elysium predicting that they will last no longer than six weeks.
• Storytellers: One of the tenets of The Circle of the Crone is that Tribulation Brings Enlightenment. Take a moment, every so often, to make it clear that the Storyteller characters that seem to have it easy are actually suffering in other ways. Let the players know that their Acolytes are actually doing the right thing.
• Storytellers: Make sure that the distinction between pressuring the characters and pressuring the players is very clearly drawn. The spiteful Lancea Sanctum Sheriff can tell the Acolytes that they’re doomed fools as much as he likes, but never let the players believe that you’re voicing your personal opinion of their choices through the Sheriff.
• Players: Make sure the distinction between character complaints and player concerns is equally clearly drawn. Your Acolytes can go on and on about how awful they feel, but make sure the Storyteller understands when you’re not having fun.

None of these suggestions ought to make the story itself any easier — the characters involved will still have to resist the pressures of adherence to principle — but these suggestions should help make it more entertaining to play through it.

Baring the Fangs of The Crone

Rarely does any Kindred domain remain perpetually at peace. Even the most capable politicians must admit that diplomacy has a breaking point, and must be prepared to recognize its approach. The Circle of the Crone is not exempt from inter-covenant conflict, and the Circle’s policymakers often find themselves undergoing an unwilling metamorphosis from ambassadors to generals. Subtle inspiration and passive entrapment give way to the tactics of open warfare. The Circle needs its negotiators just as badly as every other covenant, though, and Acolyte politicians are absolutely crucial in times of war. Unfortunately, Acolyte politicians must often sever themselves from the continued function of their cults in order to perform their required tasks.
In most modern domains, The Circle of the Crone represents an ideological minority, and the Circle’s members tend to form a relatively small unit. As a result, the tendency in times of violent dispute is to withdraw from public relations and pull into a tight, isolated, easily defended group. The Hierophant issues decrees restricting the Acolytes’ contact with outsider Kindred, and the mortal followers and assistants of the Circle are drawn inwards, falling into protective patterns of behavior. The sacred space of the Circle is integrated into a Haven, which is shared for additional security and facilitation of long rituals. More often than not, the covenant strategy simply involves weathering the violence — especially when the Circle is not a primary participant in the conflict. There is no allowance in this tactic for individual Elysium appearances, though, and the Acolytes must rely upon outsiders to communicate the Acolytes’ will to the Kindred of a domain, if contact is maintained at all.
The virtues of the covenant remain on display under the conditions of war. The Resilience of the Acolytes and their dogged refusal to deny their beliefs or disrupt their worship continue undimmed even in the face of direct aggression. The Acolytes display a unified front when the soldiers and ambassadors of the outsider covenants come to them, and the Acolytes fight, pray, endure and die together. Some Kindred fail to understand this operating strategy, pointing out that pulling together into a single unit provides the enemies of the covenant with a single, convenient target and makes wiping the whole group out in one assault easier. These onlookers fail to understand the purpose of The Circle of the Crone, assuming that the survival of individual vampires is more important than the fulfillment of their purpose in The Crone’s creation. If it is their place to die, then the Acolytes of the Circle die with dignity. They know that their ideals will live on even if they are exterminated, for the Requiem of a truly faithful vampire is an inspiration to all Kindred.
But the needs of The Crone do not always allow for defensive unity or stationary defiance. Sometimes, the Acolytes themselves act as aggressors, and sometimes the focus of worship involves the active destruction of enemies of the covenant. Warriors of the Circle can be just as vicious as the outsiders, and those Acolytes empowered by the rituals of Crúac are a truly fearsome force. Stalking the city streets, armed with the primal magicks of the Circle and the bloody energies of their faith, these Acolytes spring upon their foes with terrifying, fanatic abandon.
Warriors of The Circle of the Crone have perfected guerrilla warfare in the urban setting, applying their ancient instincts and the furious power of creation to modern hit-and-run deployment and lone gun assassination techniques. Often willing to suffer Final Death for their cause, Acolyte soldiers will engage in tactics that no other vampire would consider: raiding an opponent’s Haven moments before dawn, dragging an enemy into a burning building or carrying powerful explosives directly into Elysium. The resilient Gangrel of the covenant are particularly fearsome, taking the same punishment they deal to their foes, knowing full well that the Acolytes will survive when the enemy falls. If a soldier’s role in creation is not yet fulfilled, she will survive. If she suffers Final Death while eliminating the adversary, the Hierophant will praise the soldier for realizing her destiny.
Politically speaking, the tactics of guerilla warfare are a magnificent tool. An Acolyte representative at Elysium can play the suicidal tactics of the warriors for full effect, making it clear that enemies of the covenant are facing a foe that is willing to take the battle to extremes that many may not be willing to participate in. There is no possibility of threat of escalation to a representative of The Circle of the Crone: if war is declared, the warriors of the covenant will treat it as a final war. In addition, the guerilla tactics of the Circle allow the Acolyte representatives to serve as a bottleneck for terrifyingly obscure information: where and when the forces of the covenant may choose to strike next, and how many of them remain. Until the outsiders know for sure, they are forced to operate on the assumption that conflict is not over, and must be ready to expect further attacks upon any or all of their Kindred. Often, the politicians are not privy to this information themselves, but they do know how to contact the Circle and convey the pledges and proposals of the outsiders in exchange for warnings of impending strike or promises of truce.
Surprisingly, the territories of the Circle tend to grow in times of conflict. Because of the staggering success of individual Acolytes in frightening uninformed outsiders, a single vampire can encourage the withdrawal of several Kindred from a normally well-defended feeding ground, allowing the Circle to expand into the vacuum. Since the Acolytes rarely attack in formation, figuring out how many of them are occupying a space at once is often difficult, as well as understanding how secure their newly claimed territories are. An outsider scout who meets his Final Death provides little information to fearful Kindred on the retreat, so the soldiers of the Circle make an extra effort to locate and destroy their enemy’s spies. Acolyte politicians will almost always claim that territory abandoned by the outsiders is ceded to the covenant, using this as leverage in further negotiations. Even when the conflict is called to an end, surviving Acolytes will maintain a claim to these grounds, even if they remain empty.

The Immortal Prayer

Some cults achieve a power in destruction that none of the cult’s members could ever inspire in their nights on earth. There is a story told of a small cult of Acolytes who spent their nights at the periphery of a domain on the Italian Riviera for quite some time, quietly avoiding contact with their Kindred counterparts whenever possible. Late in the 18th century, a Sanctified Archbishop took control of the territory and declared the Circle anathema, ordering its destruction.
Instead of fleeing the domain, as most Kindred expected, the Acolytes of the Circle drew together in their sacred Temple and continued their worship. Ignoring the warnings of an ally, they initiated a long, complicated rite honoring the creation of the world and the glory of their goddess. The blood-fueled fists of the Sanctified Crusaders shattered the doors of the Acolytes’ Temple, but they sang unperturbed. They say that each member continued in his song even as the others fell into Final Death. The Hierophant faced her enemies without breaking in her prayer. Bathed in the ashes of her fellow believers, she held her head high and sang loud before the advancing blades. They say that her voice echoed throughout the Temple for hours after her Final Death— a strange effect of the magicks of the Circle, perhaps, or a simple trick of acoustics.
Witnesses say that the Sanctified Crusader who struck the killing blow was moved to tears by the defiant faith of the Hierophant, and that the Crusader’s dreaming days presented the image to him again and again. He spoke often of the audacity of his fallen foes, defying a ban imposed by the Prince and risking the Crusader’s own future to relate the last moments of the Circle. His story was picked up by Carthian Kindred in the domain, and was empowered in the retelling by a talented orator, who used it often in speeches condemning the tyrannous rule of the Archbishop.
The simple tale grew into a legend. Several Carthian Kindred began to adopt the fashions of the fallen Circle as a demonstration of defiance, and some went so far as to unearth and read from the mystic litanies of the vanquished Hierophant. A Carthian uprising eventually deposed the Archbishop, and the Circle is now reformed, composed largely of rebellious vampires eager to display their opposition to the Sanctified rule. The ranks of the Circle swell in modern nights, and the teachings of the Hierophant live on.

Philosophy in Action

The Crone herself gained wisdom through adversity, and used that wisdom to create beautiful things. This myth, central to the covenant, inspires the two central pillars of its philosophy: Creation Is Power and Tribulation Brings Enlightenment. Any chronicle involving Acolyte characters should draw on these two themes, and they should inform the way that an Acolyte is roleplayed.
This section deals with a number of different ways to involve the philosophy of The Crone in actual play. First is a general discussion of how the two points of the philosophy might influence the way an Acolyte is roleplayed during the course of typical stories. The bulk of the section, however, is concerned with specific types of creation that are both popular within the covenant and suitable for playing out as one or more stories.

Tribulation Brings Enlightenment

This principle is easy to include in a chronicle. Most stories involve difficulties for the characters, tribulation, and at the end they get experience points, enlightenment. Thus, cosmetic changes in presentation are enough to tie this to the philosophy of the Acolytes.
First, an Acolyte should look at events slightly differently from other Kindred. Other Kindred might see obstacles that should be overcome with as little effort as possible, maybe by sending in minions, so that the Kindred can get the prize. Acolytes see value in struggling to overcome the obstacles, and sometimes see more value in that than in the prize.
This can be valuable in a chronicle, as Acolytes should often be willing to go along on the dangerous journey that interests one of their Allies precisely because it is dangerous; even if the final prize cannot be shared, the Acolyte expects to reap rewards by facing tribulation.
Similarly, an Acolyte will often choose to attempt something in a difficult way, in order to face the hazards. This might create opportunities for stories, or create additional tension when the Acolyte refuses to use a ritual that would solve things quickly so that she can learn more by investigating through mundane means.
Fundamentally, an Acolyte should not look to avoid troubles or difficulties but to face them and overcome them. This is a matter of attitude more than anything else.
On the other side, Storytellers can infuse mystic symbolism and mythological parallels into their stories. At a superficial level, an opponent who is a member of The Ordo Dracul is a Dragon to be overcome. With more planning, the structure of a story can be made to mirror a mythological tale. Maybe the tasks set by an elder mimic the labors of Hercules, or the search for a treasure takes on aspects of a Grail quest.
Alternatively, Storytellers can devise stories in which the main rewards are the things that the characters learn by overcoming the obstacles. These rewards should be more concrete than experience points: maybe the characters learn the weakness of a bloodline with significant presence in the city, or perhaps they learn an important truth about werewolves. There is no, or very little, concrete reward at the end, but the characters have become significantly more wise. This may disappoint some players, however, so Storytellers need to know their groups.
Finally, stories can simply be quests for enlightenment on the part of Acolyte characters, deliberately facing particular perils in search of a particular kind of wisdom. This is a very literal rendering of the philosophy, and therefore a good thing to do at least occasionally.

Creation Is Power

Many things that an Acolyte might create are discussed in detail in “The Ecstasy of Worship,” elsewhere in this book. The question of how to use this creation in stories remains, however. An Acolyte who spends her time on watercolor painting is unlikely to be drawn into thrilling events when she runs out of green, after all. This is, however, a central part of Acolyte philosophy, and so should not be neglected.
Players can consider using creation as background color to help define their characters. An Acolyte who sculpts in marble is rather different from one who tends a garden, and different again from one who writes free software. On the simplest level, one player can just tell the others what his character does, as part of the initial “what you know about me” introduction. However, it is more effective if worked into play.
First, creation is something that the character can be doing when contacted by another character. An Acolyte who always wants to wash out her paint brushes before an urgent meeting has a memorable character tic, but one that does not interfere with play. (Of course, the character shouldn’t always be creating when contacted.)
Second, the Acolyte might want to show her creations off, at least to her coterie. The way that the other coterie members react helps to define them, and the relationships within the coterie, in a pure roleplaying environment.
Third, someone who paints is almost always interested in paintings. A painter might look at the paintings hung in a room, even when it is a murder site. Occasionally, this might yield useful information, but normally it is just a reminder of the characters’ interests.
A player who effectively works his Acolyte’s creative endeavors into the background of a story probably deserves a roleplaying experience point at the end of the chapter.
If creation is established as part of a character’s background, the Storyteller can then use creation to enhance or introduce stories. A fight set in the Acolyte’s atelier, with dozens of vulnerable marble statues scattered around the place, has more impact than one in a warehouse somewhere. Similarly, if the Acolyte risks hunger frenzy near the animals she has been carefully breeding for decades, she has a strong reason not to feed on them, even if the alternative is killing a human being. The choices made in such situations have resonance, and seem more real if the statues or animals have figured as color in previous stories.
Similarly, the character’s creations can be the reason for meeting someone who becomes important later. This might be a mortal painter who turns out to have high-level military connections, or a reclusive elder who collects pedigree dogs (best not to ask what for). In this case, it can even be helpful that the creation has not come out of the background, as the new character can then be introduced as someone the Acolyte has known for some time, but who has not yet been important to a story. The realities of being a Storyteller mean that it isn’t always possible to introduce an important acquaintance in advance of the story in which he figures.
The character might also have ambitions for her art, ambitions that can be used to drive as story, or as a reward. Thus, a Harpy might convince an Acolyte to undertake a dangerous task by offering to stage and praise an exhibition of her prints in some part of the Elysium. On the darker side, a threat to the Acolyte’s creations might be just the lever needed to control her.

Process and Product

The process of creation and the things produced are both important to Acolytes, but the relative weight varies among individuals. The main benefit of creation is the effect that it has on the Acolyte, and thus derives as much from the process as from the product. An Acolyte who is creating cannot fall into the trap of believing that there is nothing left but destruction.
On the other hand, creation is only successful if something is created, and endures for at least a little time. Repeatedly failing to create is not what the Circle endorses. Thus, the threat to utterly annihilate an Acolyte’s works, maybe even using Disciplines to erase the memories of those who saw them, would have weight with almost all Acolytes.
Some Acolytes become obsessed with their productions, determined to preserve them for eternity, at any cost. As a derangement, this fits well with the covenant’s philosophy, as the vampire relies heavily on the products of her creation to prove that she is not a blot on existence, despite her actions. If the derangement became serious, the vampire might become so obsessed with preserving what she has already made that she stops creating anything new.

The Crucible

While some Acolytes content themselves with painting night scenes (or sunrises, in a few disturbing cases), others believe that the best way to emulate The Crone is to combine creation and tribulation. This has led to a strong tradition within the covenant that crosses city, faction and clan lines. All Acolytes know about it, even if they themselves have never participated. Most do at some point in their Requiem, however.
This tradition is the Crucible.
The basic concept is simple. The Acolyte chooses a target, and puts him through hell so that he can learn from the experience. Hence the name: metal is put through a furnace to refine it. The practice is rather more complex than that, however.
The Acolyte must create something of artistic worth that results in struggle, and potential enlightenment, for one or more individuals caught up in it. This means that simply chasing a mortal around using Nightmare does not count. Using Disciplines, Research, acting and props to create an elaborate scenario in which a corporate executive is harassed by personifications of every environmental disaster his company has caused, on the other hand, would certainly count. Some Acolytes spend years crafting the ultimate test for an individual who seems, and may well be, completely inconsequential. In these days of cheap video cameras, Acolytes often make some effort to record the results.
The second vital point is that the aim is to provide an opportunity for enlightenment. The subject is never simply killed. Often, the trials are so dangerous that death is a likely result, but the Acolyte always intends the subject to have a chance to survive. Sometimes the Acolytes misjudge, of course, and a few low-Humanity Acolytes slip over the line into simply producing elaborate, hopeless torments. In addition, some Acolyte elders regard such activities as blasphemous, and hunt their perpetrators down.

Innocent Bystanders

One question that Acolytes must answer for themselves is how they treat people other than their subject when setting up the Crucible. The covenant as a whole has no view on this.
One position is that mortals are kine, and what happens to them is unimportant. If the best way to test and temper a subject is to make him watch the mutilation and murder of his wife, then that’s what you should do. Kindred with this attitude often commit murder and worse in pursuit of their creations, and find themselves falling to the Beast.
The other position is that innocent bystanders should not be harmed, or at least not harmed significantly, by the trials posed for the subject. If close ties, such as those within many families, make treating a subject in isolation impossible, then either each member of the family should be treated as a subject or that person should be left alone. In particular, other people should not be harmed purely to pose problems for the subject. Any harm suffered by others must be incidental, and the Acolyte should take steps to minimize it.
This position is based on the belief that everyone else has the same rights as the subject, and that if the subject deserves a personally crafted Crucible, then everyone else does, as well. Torturing a man to torment his wife neglects the man’s potential to learn from tribulation.
Acolytes who adhere to the latter view gain a significant benefit. Nothing that they do during the course of the Crucible requires a roll for degeneration if the vampire’s Humanity has already fallen to 5. Any injury inflicted on others is accidental, and thus not a serious sin, and the injuries inflicted on the subject are for his own good, in the long term.
Upholding such standards naturally makes it harder to test the subject. Acolytes welcome that; the difficulties create tribulations for them, and that raises the possibility of enlightenment.

In the Crucible

The subjects of an Acolyte’s attentions never enjoy the experience. That is, after all, the point: the subject must suffer in order to grow. Indeed, most likely die, proving unable to overcome the challenges that are posed to them. Someone chosen as the subject of a Crucible finds that horrible things happen to him, repeatedly, for no apparent reason. What is worse, the events form into a pattern, which may make mortals fear for their sanity. Such a fear could well be a planned part of the Crucible, of course.
Those mortals who have survived a Crucible almost invariably come out stronger; if the subject breaks under the strain, the Acolyte crafts another obstacle, and the broken wreck of Humanity dies before it. Rumors suggest that some of the most determined and dangerous vampire-hunters are the survivors of a Crucible. Tales told to frighten Acolytes warn that some mortals Awaken as mages in the face of the trials, and destroy their tormentors.
Mortals are not the only possible subjects for a Crucible. Other vampires are popular choices, and in certain cities the Acolyte elders deliberately put the neonates and ancillae through Crucibles to see whether they are worthy of advancement. Kindred are much more likely to survive a Crucible than mortals, but many vampires still face Final Death. The Circle in such places tends to be small, but feared. Some Kindred choose werewolves, mages or stranger supernatural creatures as subjects. In these cases, it is almost as common for the Acolyte to be destroyed as for the subject to die.
Occasionally, a mortal is Embraced as part of his Crucible, so that the Requiem becomes part of his trial. An Acolyte-controlled city in Central Europe only permits the Embrace under such circumstances.

The Labyrinth

The Labyrinth is the most typical Crucible. That is not to say that it is the most common; a Labyrinth requires a great deal of effort from an Acolyte, or a whole coterie of Acolytes. A Labyrinth is, however, what most Acolytes think of immediately when the Crucible is mentioned.
The subject of a Labyrinth is made into the central character in a tale of hardship, struggle and, just possibly, triumph. The possibility of triumph is central to the Crucible. Normally, however, the story becomes a tale of horror, pain and death.
Stories in which the subject is the victim of a hunting vampire are surprisingly rare. In such a case, victory for the subject would normally mean Final Death for the vampire, and few Acolytes want to take that risk. In addition, a subject who survived the Crucible would know something about the Kindred, and thus be a threat. There is also a feeling that this story is too easy for an Acolyte to engineer — the Acolyte should have to work harder to create the Crucible.
Some Acolytes take pride in crafting Crucibles that seem entirely mundane. An apparently chance encounter throws the subject in with organized crime, and the thugs harass him, placing him in ever-more difficult situations until he must commit terrible crimes or face death himself. A subject who has a secret, such as an affair or a cocaine habit, has that secret revealed, and his life unravels around him. A remorseless assassin stalks the subject, out of nothing more than twisted boredom.
Others prefer stories with an element of the supernatural, although, as noted above, this element is rarely provided by the Acolyte herself. The subject might buy a farmhouse, and be plagued by mysterious wolf attacks, guided by some evil intelligence. A dream apartment turns out to be haunted. A place haunts the subject’s dreams until he goes to investigate it, at which point the horror begins.
The most difficult part of designing a Labyrinth is devising the plot. This is a favorite topic of complaint among Acolytes who create them Labyrinths: the play must have a good narrative structure, while still allowing for the free choices of the subject at the heart of it. Acolytes who were into roleplaying games as mortals find the resemblance to writing a scenario uncanny, and they are right. Thus, extensive advice on this aspect is provided elsewhere, and need not be repeated here.
Unlike a Storyteller, however, an Acolyte cannot simply decide that a group of thugs with guns bursts into the room. She must find the thugs, make sure they have guns and organize them to burst into the room at an appropriate moment. Things are even more difficult if she needs a ghost.
Acolytes creating Labyrinths thus draw on all their Resources and abilities to set the Labyrinths up. This includes asking Allies and Contacts for favors, using Disciplines to push actors into their roles and even dressing up and playing certain parts themselves. Generalizing about methods is impossible, as no two Acolytes are the same, and no two Labyrinths, even by the same Acolyte, require identical preparation. The preparations are, however, almost all playable as part of a Vampire game session.
In this case, the plot for a story is determined by one player, who decides on the Labyrinth his Acolyte wants to create. The Acolyte needs to convince the other members of his coterie to help, and the player needs to convince the other players that a story centered on his character will be fun. In this context, it is very important that the Acolyte’s player make sure that the other player characters have plenty to do in setting up the Labyrinth.
The players make their plans, and then tell the Storyteller what they want to do. Ideally, the Storyteller needs a bit of notice, so that she can prepare the necessary antagonists, although experienced Storytellers may be able to make it up as they go. In some cases, the tasks may be difficult enough without adding complications; Acolytes should really be choosing tasks that test them. If not, the Storyteller adds the necessary tribulation, making things that bit harder.
The subject of the Labyrinth needs to be fully detailed, in as much detail as any player character. The subject’s emotional reactions are as important to the work that the Acolyte is crafting as the subject’s practical responses.
The only real difference between a Labyrinth story and a normal story is that, in a Labyrinth, the initiative is entirely with the player characters. Things happen because the Acolyte wants them to; he is not reacting to anything outside. This gives the Storyteller a bit of a break, as she only needs to react to the players’ schemes, rather than set up plots herself. Also, as the Labyrinth is deliberately self-contained, the Storyteller can get away with not worrying about the implications for the wider world, at least unless things get completely out of control.
Acolytes setting up a Labyrinth often have to use people other than the subject to set it up. If the Acolyte is attempting to avoid harm to innocent bystanders, there is an extra condition on this. The other people involved must either agree to play their part, or be pushed into doing the sort of thing that they normally do.
Agreement need not be fully informed (people certainly need not be told that they are part of a Labyrinth, for example), and may be obtained by bribery, but agreement must not be obtained by coercion. The Acolyte should also keep any deals made.
If a person normally does something, Disciplines and similar powers may be used to make him do something specific without violating the requirement not to harm innocents. For example, using Dominate to make a habitual burglar burgle a particular house is fine. Using Dominate to make a law-abiding person commit burglary is not. This is not limited to criminal acts; convincing an IRS inspector to audit a particular individual also falls within this exemption.
Kindred helping the Acolyte do not get the Humanity safety net, unless they are also Acolytes. That benefit is a product of Circle philosophy, and thus limited to those who subscribe to it.

Treasure Hunt

The Treasure Hunt is a form of Crucible popular with ancillae and older vampires, in part because it continues to work even while the Kindred who created it is in Torpor. The Acolyte creates a series of clues and tests leading to some great prize, and then waits for people to try to follow the clues.
The simplest Treasure Hunts have a literal treasure at the end: piles of gold and jewels, typically, as they do not rot or lose their value if governments fall. While money is not really enlightenment, most Acolytes feel that money constitutes a worthwhile prize, and that the lessons learned along the way can count as enlightenment.
More creative Acolytes try to make the prize a form of enlightenment itself. Thus, a Treasure Hunt might end at a place and time where spirits can freely enter the material world, and so grant those who follow the Treasure Hunt insight into the nature of reality, as well as a difficult final challenge. Sometimes, the goal brings the seeker into the presence of the Kindred who designed the Crucible, there to be Embraced and face the truth of the night.
A Treasure Hunt may be contained in a single book. Cryptic comments and marginal notes create a trail of clues that can be followed through the book itself to reveal the truth of some mystery. However, putting the necessary tribulation in is very hard unless something outside the book is required.
Most Treasure Hunts involve traveling to unravel the true meaning of various clues. At each site, another potentially deadly puzzle waits, and each puzzle provides a bit more truth and the route to the next puzzle. While Kindred are normally reluctant to travel, Acolytes building Treasure Hunts often feel that the difficulties involved in setting up a puzzle in a remote location are an important part of the Acolytes’ own tribulation.
As with Labyrinths, Treasure Hunts vary immensely depending on the Acolyte involved. Treasure Hunts also involve stories in setting them up, and these stories can involve the whole coterie.
There is an important choice to be made about the way that the content of the Treasure Hunt will be handled in the game. It is possible to be vague about the details, and still get enjoyable stories. The player characters are not following the clues or solving the puzzles, so there is no need to specify exactly what they are. On the other hand, the players might get a lot of fun out of designing the details, and the details can certainly lead to good ideas for stories surrounding the construction.
The broad outline of the puzzle, at least, must be fixed, and the Acolyte needs to decide what, and where, the clues will be. Stories then involve getting access to locations (which may be difficult if they are in the wilderness, in werewolf territory), collecting the necessary Materials and maybe dealing with curious individuals who have seen the vampires constructing the final piece of the puzzle, and thus might be able to skip all the earlier stages.
Acolytes who wish to avoid hurting innocents have an easier time with Treasure Hunts than with Labyrinths. Anyone making a deliberate effort to unravel the mystery is a subject, so the troubles the subject faces are part of a Crucible. The Acolytes thus simply need to make it almost impossible to stumble on the dangerous parts of the Treasure Hunt by accident. Since part of the point is to make people follow the clues, this requires no extra effort.
The creator of a Treasure Hunt does need to give some thought as to how people should be made aware of the existence of the treasure, and of the first clues. Getting this information out into the world without breaking the Masquerade or having it completely ignored can be a story in itself.

Secret Societies

In Crucibles that take the form of secret societies, the subjects inflict the tribulations on themselves. These might be initiation rituals, or simply mortifications that must be undergone. As long as the group is not encouraged to hurt others, there is no problem with harming innocent bystanders; all members of the society are subjects of the Crucible.
The most popular form of secret society is a cult worshiping the Acolyte as a deity. This has several advantages, many of which are discussed elsewhere. As a Crucible, the secret society allows the Acolyte to monitor its development, and make adjustments easily if they become necessary.
A significant minority of Acolytes believe that the cult form makes things too easy for the creating vampire. They prefer to make societies with no overt link to themselves, and then manipulate the societies subtly as required.
The big advantage of secret societies is that, if started successfully, they become self-sustaining. New members are recruited and put through the tribulation, attaining wisdom or dying along the way. The big danger is that they might get out of control. Indeed, one Acolyte elder claims to have founded Buddhism, which then got utterly beyond him. No-one believes him, of course.
The most difficult problem with secret societies is recruitment. Why would people put themselves through misery? The standard answer is to achieve some higher reward, and that is what most Acolytes settle on. The nature of the reward varies, but is usually some sort of wisdom. A few people can be convinced to make themselves miserable to cleanse themselves of previous sins. In this case, the aim of the Crucible is for the subjects to realize that they can simply leave, having punished themselves enough.
Acolytes always put a great deal of effort into creating a society, seeking out and recruiting suitable subjects. This recruitment is typically suitable for roleplaying, and it is possible to involve the other members of the coterie. The first stage is to find people looking for something more in their lives; such people are common in the World of Darkness. The Acolyte then has to introduce the ideals of the society. If the society is to be a cult worshiping the Acolyte, this can be quite direct. On the other hand, if the Acolyte does not want to be constantly associated with the group, things need to be more subtle.
The easiest, and thus most popular, method is to arrange for the targets to find pamphlets and books detailing the rites and promises of the society. Sometimes a single individual is encouraged to set himself up as leader, and further recruits are directed to him. An alternative method is to have clues that send a number of potential recruits to the same place at the same time, allowing them to form the society when they meet. Such a meeting often has a strong psychological impact: it could not possibly be coincidence, and so suggests that there is something to the society’s doctrine.
The suffering created by the society must be designed with some care by the Acolyte, but this can be glossed over in the game if desired. Typically, members must sacrifice desirable things, such as money, social Contacts or types of food, and then undergo difficult trials. Some societies require their members to Scourge themselves, other societies require their members to survive in the wilderness without Equipment, while others drive toward the acquisition of elite abilities, which require unforgiving training.
Once an Acolyte has created the society, stories arise when it gets out of hand, and has to be brought under control or destroyed. This is more dangerous if the society encourages its members to strive for some peak of attainment, of course. Some Acolytes also organize small Labyrinths to drive individuals into the embrace of the society, where the Crucible can continue.

Challenging Art

Challenging art is the simplest form of Crucible. This consists of a single work of art, such as a painting, sculpture or installation, that is intended to provoke psychological conflict in a particular individual or group. Some Acolytes specialize in producing such works, and keep them after they have served their purpose as mementos.
These Crucibles normally have three stages. First, the Acolyte researches the subject, looking for things in his past that cause him psychological trauma. Ideally, he should be avoiding facing up to them. During the course of this Research, the Acolyte also tries to learn as much about the way the subject reacts to art as possible, to learn the best way to get to him. Many Acolytes ask their coteries to help with this stage.
The second step is the creation of the work of art. This is an extended Intelligence + Crafts action. The interval between rolls depends on the medium, but is typically one night. The artist never knows how many successes she needs, but just keeps working until she thinks she has enough. Typically, approximately 10 successes are required. The quality of Research carried out during the first stage may modify this number, or apply a bonus or penalty to the dice pool.
Finally, the work of art must be presented to the subject. Sometimes this is as simple as mailing it to him. More often, however, the Acolyte breaks into a significant location and sets the work up there, ready to surprise the subject. Again, the Acolyte’s coterie may be asked to help with the final stage.
If the creation rolls were a success, the art work has a profound effect on the target. The Acolyte has no control over the precise nature of the effect, but such art often triggers a nervous breakdown. Suicide, homicide, confession to the police and religious conversion have also all been observed.
If the Acolyte wants to preserve the artwork, it must be recovered after it has had its effect, and that can also be played out.
Some Acolytes work on campaigns, with a whole series of artworks used to obtain a desired effect. The basic process is the same, but it is repeated many times over. The subjects might be defined as “the local police department,” “the employees of that company,” “everyone who uses this subway station” or “all black people in the city.” Again, the purpose of the Research is to find out what bothers most people in the group, and the art forces them to confront it.
The immediate effect is normally less extreme, as the issues raised are less deep and personal, but the cumulative effect can be massive. Commuters might entirely abandon a particular station, forcing the company to close it, or a company might shut down as all its staff quit. On the other hand, if people face up to and overcome the things they are shown, the company might become a great success, or the subway station cleaned up as a model for the rest of the city.
Politically canny Acolytes ensure that, whatever the result, it benefits them and hinders their enemies. Thus, if a rival hunts at the subway station, he suffers whether it closes or becomes too secure for him to use. Similarly, the art in a company could force it to look at what an Invictus coterie is forcing the company to do, so that it either closes or throws off the First Estate’s control; either way, the rival group is weakened. Still, this is a side effect. The purpose, as with any other Crucible, is to make the subjects suffer, with the possibility of learning from the suffering.
A few Acolytes know Crúac rituals that allow them to create works of art that affect the psyche of anyone who views them, regardless of background. These form small Crucibles by themselves, but the Acolytes with this knowledge generally use it to make other Crucibles even more effective.

Other Forms

While the four kinds of Crucible listed above are the most common, possible forms are limited only by the imagination of the creating Acolyte. Some members of the Circle claim that items and practices ubiquitous in modern society were created as Crucibles, often when deeply frustrated in dealing with them.
While call centers are almost certainly nothing to do with the Kindred, there is some evidence that one or more Acolytes is behind the way that asylum seekers are treated in many countries. After suffering a hellish journey to escape imprisonment and torture, they are imprisoned again, and made to deal with a bureaucracy that does not speak their Language (literally), requiring documents that their homeland does not issue, and would not have given them if they had, with the constant threat of sending them back to face torture and execution again. At the very least, there are many Acolytes who would like to claim credit for such exquisite, Kafkaesque torment.
There are no rules for the form a Crucible must take that are enforced across the covenant. There are some cities where the Hierarch has banned one form or another; there is a city in New Mexico where the creation of Treasure Hunts has been forbidden since the early 1950s. In addition, some Acolytes have a strong preference for one form, normally the Labyrinth, and look down on those who take other approaches. Nevertheless, an Acolyte may create Crucibles in whatever form she desires, and most other Acolytes believe that, ultimately, The Crone herself will judge whether something is acceptable.

Living Art

Some Acolytes believe that mortals are the finest material available for works of art, as their free will adds qualities and resonances that the Acolyte could never have imagined by herself. This kind of art generally takes the form of sculpting someone into an ideal representation of a particular striking image.
Some Acolytes take these images from their own mythology. For example, one with Greek inclinations might sculpt someone into a modern analogue of Oedipus, arranging for him to kill his father and marry his mother. Other Acolytes take their images from modern urban myth — the talented forensic scientist in charge of investigating her own serial murders, for example.
In principle, Acolytes could pick characters such as “the perfect husband and father.” In practice, Acolytes almost never do. The vampiric condition itself seems to drive them toward dark figures who inflict pain and suffering on those around them.
Kindred with very high levels of Dominate can do this by brute force, simply forcing someone to act in a certain way. This works, at least in the short term, and is no harder on the Kindred’s Humanity than doing it any other way. On the other hand, this method has disadvantages. The most notable is that a sudden change in personality draws the attention of those around the subject, and that can lead to police investigation and a very short-lived work of art. The other main disadvantage is that other Acolytes regard this method as rather crude; it will not win any plaudits from the Harpies. And, of course, this method requires a lot of Dominate.
Most Acolytes prefer to haunt their subjects, studying their actions and pushing them in the right direction rather more subtly. This might involve the use of Dominate; if someone had just decided not to hit his wife, using Dominate to make him do it anyway pushes him further down the path. However, this needs the vampire to be there and able to make eye contact, which is not always possible, or at least highly impractical.
Organizing the subject’s life in such a way as to make certain actions all but inevitable is a more common approach. This takes more effort, and more time, but time is something that the Kindred have in abundance and effort is the path to wisdom. There are some things, such as a talent for forensic science, that are all but impossible for Kindred to create. Thus, the first stage is finding a suitable canvas: a person, preferably a child, with the right talents for a given role.
Then the vampire prunes certain people from the child’s environment and adds others. Gossip, pressure on Contacts, even off-stage use of Disciplines: these can all help here. The vampire might even enter the child’s world as a Mentor of sorts, moving her toward the goal. A vampire with such a relationship can even use Disciplines to give the subject a nudge in the right direction. There is a small risk of exposure, but it is not that great, and many Acolytes are willing to take the risk.
As the products of this process are normally human monsters of some kind, killing and torturing behind a pleasant façade, the creating Kindred’s Humanity can drop quite low. Doing this to someone’s life is an utter perversion, and thus requires a roll with two dice to avoid Humanity loss, no matter what the Kindred’s current Humanity. On the other hand, the Kindred only does this once per person; the roll should be made when the Storyteller believes that the process is irreversible. Any acts performed as part of corrupting the subject risk Humanity loss as normal; none of the protection granted by the ideology of the Crucible applies here.
While this process can be played out with a player character in the creative role, it is likely to be deeply disturbing. Thus, the practical application of this ideal may be best left to Storyteller characters, with player characters picking up the pieces, or even trying to save a mortal friend targeted by an older vampire.
The subject of this form of art is normally a mortal, but not always. Sometimes, Acolyte elders choose neonates to be the subjects of their creativity. In these cases, the elder normally takes the neonate under her wing, and offers advice and guidance on the course of her Requiem. The other manipulations are explained away as part of the Danse Macabre, and coterie-mates who try to pry the neonate away are discredited.
So far, so standard. However, the elder is not aiming at having a useful tool in the Danse Macabre, but at having an unliving representative of some artistic image. That image normally spells doom for the Kindred in question, whether at the hands of the werewolves she tried to ally with, or by the command of the Prince who took exception to her rabble-rousing.

Breeding Programs

Acolytes often pursue creation through the breeding of animals. Some Acolytes believe that animals are an inferior canvas, and prefer to put their efforts into breeding people. Just as with animal breeders, these Acolytes have varied aims; one breeds for beauty, another for strength, another for obedience and suggestibility.
The main problem for this approach is that human beings generally do not like being told with whom they should breed. Thus, the Kindred involved resort to various methods. A vampire who is just starting often relies on kidnapping and rape. This does, however, rely on having at least one human who is convinced to take part, a condition that can be difficult to fulfill.
A more popular approach is to create a cult around the vampire, and have the controlled breeding as part of the cult’s doctrine. This is more successful than might be expected. Most people expect a cult that controls sexual behavior to enforce sex with the cult leader, and when the cult does not, they are more willing to believe the justifications offered. In some breeding programs, the vampire can even tell the absolute truth; some people are happy to be part of a cult aiming to create a race of warriors to serve their deity.
The biggest problem with the more blatant approaches is the long human generation time. Maintaining a cult for the hundreds of years required is almost impossible; doing the same for an imprisoned breeding stock is probably actually impossible. This does not stop some Kindred from trying, and there is one vampire in New England who has guided a small town since the American Revolution, breeding for adaptation to the sea. He has Embraced two of the most loyal of the cult, to maintain the program while he is in Torpor, and some Acolytes in nearby cities are interested to see if he will be able to pull it off.
The most successful approach to this breeding is the least visible. The vampire keeps track of all the people in his breeding program, but lets them go about their normal lives. If they mate inappropriately, which is almost inevitable, he arranges miscarriages, and pushes them into torrid affairs with appropriate partners. There are rumors of Crúac rituals that allow the vampire to take sperm from a man and transfer it to a woman without the knowledge of either party, but it seems more likely that most such breeders rely on Disciplines such as Dominate and Majesty, along with good, old-fashioned guile.
The biggest problem with this approach, particularly in the modern night, is that people move away, and the breeder must either find a way to follow them, or let them go. An Acolyte in Italy is said to have established a network of childer that covers much of Europe, all communicating with her and maintaining her program in other cities. Some say that half of all European models are descended from this program, but that the founder is still unhappy with the standard of beauty achieved.
However the breeding program is managed, the master must be on the lookout for the deleterious effects of inbreeding. Averting them requires the infusion of new blood, which means finding someone with no connection to the breed who has compatible qualities. Genetic interactions are unpredictable, and so a particular new recruit may prove to be unsuitable. As a result, breeders are constantly on the lookout for suitable candidates, and breeders can be extremely persistent in their attempts to recruit someone. They do not care whether the person is another vampire’s agent, or part of a Herd.
Very few breeders create ghoul families, as the point is to create a human being with the desired characteristics. Breeders may, however, have ghoul Retainers to help the breeders oversee the long-term process. A number of breeders, on the other hand, are trying to create the perfect human to Embrace as their childer. Some breeders may believe that they have succeeded in that aim.
Breeders generally make better antagonists that player characters, because breeders’ plans are disturbing to play in detail and take place over a very long span of time. As antagonists, they are good candidates to interfere with the coterie’s mortal Allies in search of new blood. A player character might even be the product of such a breeding program, a background that could justify an extreme trait.

The Embrace

Some Kindred regard the Embrace as the greatest act of creation possible to them. Indeed, some see the Embrace as the nearest they can come to true creation, in the way that living creatures can create further life. These Acolytes believe that the Tradition of Progeny has been misinterpreted. Vampires must not curse others with undeath. However, vampires must create, and must create other vampires. Thus, they must ensure that the eternal existence they bestow is not a curse.
Acolytes start from a strong position, in that they do not generally believe that Kindred are cursed or Damned. However, virtually all Acolytes believe that there is an important truth in the Tradition of Progeny. It is not enough that the Embrace really be for the childe’s benefit; the new vampire must feel that herself.
A few interpret this as meaning that the mortal must agree to the Embrace, from a position of knowledge. Even these vampires do not believe in fully informed consent, but the mortal must know that she will be a vampire, feeding on blood, confined to the night and at least a little about the nature of the Requiem. This is, of course, a violation of the Masquerade, at least if the mortal is allowed to go free. The normal practice is to kill those who refuse the Embrace; the similarity of this to Lancea Sanctum’s practice has not gone unnoticed, and is used as evidence that consent is not what is required. If it is what the Sanctified do, it must be wrong, after all.
The favored approach is to make the mortal’s life such that the transition to unlife is a welcome change, even seen as a blessing. That generally means inducting mortals into pagan worship before the Embrace, introducing them to ideas that make vampirism sound attractive and cutting the mortals’ links to other living humans. All this must be achieved while leaving the mortal psychologically healthy; if progeny are a vampire’s greatest creation, it would not do for them to be flawed. (Some might argue that wanting to be a vampire is inconsistent with psychological health. The Circle of the Crone does not agree.)
This requires work on the part of the prospective sire. First, a suitable candidate must be found, which involves paying close attention to the personalities of mortals. Older Kindred find this stage the hardest, while neonates often have little problem. The next step is to shape the mortal’s life. Here, matters are reversed; elder vampires find this much easier than neonates, and judicious application of Disciplines can help a lot.
A sire often sets the Embrace up as a grand initiation into a higher mystery. For Acolytes who believe that this is exactly what it is, this is no struggle. A great advantage of a mystery is that secrecy about the details of what will happen is positively expected, and so the Masquerade can be preserved. After the Embrace, the new childe can expect a firm grounding in the basics of the Requiem before being presented to the city.
A few Acolytes try to arrange things so that the childe does not realize that she is a vampire until she has already accepted her new life. This is extremely difficult; no one can fail to realize that something stupendous happened at the moment of the Embrace, and most people quickly notice that they are feeding exclusively on blood. Still, whispered stories tell of a Acolyte in Peru who established a mortal cult of blood drinkers and Embraced the high priestess. The Traditions were already embedded in the doctrines of the cult, and the Prince and his advisers were introduced as higher masters. It is said that it was 10 years before eternal youthfulness made the vampirerealize that she was no longer human.
Ideally, an Acolyte spends years preparing for the Embrace, choosing and grooming the ideal candidate, getting permission, or at least a tacit guarantee of non-interference, from the powers-that-be, and preparing a place in the society of the undead. All of these activities can be roleplayed, and many benefit from the help of a coterie. Of course, some Acolytes are still overcome by passion, memories of mortality or simple whim, and Embrace as thoughtlessly as any other Kindred. But that is never regarded as a manifestation of the covenant’s philosophy. For the creation of progeny to bring power, the creation must be done properly.

Founding Mothers

There are few cities where Acolytes can reasonably expect to gain power and influence by Climbing the political ladder in the normal way. The Invictus and Lancea Sanctum combine to shut the Circle out, leaving the Acolytes on the margins. Even when The Circle of the Crone holds praxis, most Acolytes are not primarily interested in working their way up an established hierarchy. There is, they argue, little in the way of creation or tribulation to be found there.
The inclination to political mastery is found among the Acolytes, but often takes a different form. Acolytes prefer to found things. These Kindred argue that creating a political entity is just as valid as creating a painting or dance, and that, if the entity becomes powerful, it will be valuable to other Acolytes as well. Some vampires accuse the Acolytes of rationalizing their desire for power. They prefer to say that they are sublimating it in the service of The Crone.

Coteries

The smallest unit of Kindred politics is the coterie. Coteries are created and destroyed rapidly, even by mortal standards, and so founding a coterie is not, in itself, regarded as particularly challenging or creative. Founding a coterie is, however, a necessary part of almost any political creation; the coterie gathered around the founder forms the inner circle of the wider organization. Furthermore, some coteries do stand out from the rest, whether because of their dedication, longevity or achievements. Founding such a coterie does deserve respect.
For example, there is a coterie in the American Midwest that has been together for more than a century. The coterie’s founder has, with the support of the rest of the coterie, held praxis in two different cities. In each case, the coterie took power with an adroit combination of politics and raw force. On taking control, the Prince encouraged various factions, subtly stoking their hostility for each other, but playing them off against one another to prevent alliances.
If things threatened to get out of hand, the sheer power of the coterie brought them back under control. The Prince, and coterie, vanished from each city while the sun was in the sky, and within a week the cities were in the throes of a vicious struggle for power. While the creation of the coterie is greatly admired, the use of that coterie as a tool for creating tribulation is almost revered. Many American Acolytes whisper that the coterie has recently arrived in their own city, and begun its machinations.
Acolytes forming a coterie in this way have more in mind than simply finding Allies in the early nights of their Requiems. Some Acolytes want to create a tool that allows the creation of great Crucibles, or some other work. Some Acolytes are laying the foundations for a different political creation. Other Acolytes, however, see the coterie as an end in itself.
In these cases, the coterie is supposed to grow into some artistic ideal. This can be anything from a coterie that perfectly balances the clans, or covenants, to a coterie showcasing pure worship of The Crone. The Acolyte does not always want to lead the coterie, but almost always wants credit for creating and shaping it.
Sometimes, Acolyte elders or ancillae decide to create a coterie of neonates in this way. The founder’s aims may not be immediately obvious, and the mix of Kindred in the new coterie is often rather strange. The founder offers advice or commands to the coterie, shaping it to match the image she has in mind. This is often less invasive than the instructions of an elder who creates a coterie for a particular purpose, but is almost invariably more puzzling. One elder required all members of the coterie to wear no color but scarlet, although style was left to individual discretion. Years later, when the reputation of the Red Death meant that no other Kindred in the city dared to wear anything in that color, the younger Kindred began to see what the elder was up to.
The life of such a coterie is no easier than one created to, for example, undermine an elder’s rival. The founder believes that tribulation brings enlightenment for everyone, after all. However, if the coterie gets itself in trouble in appropriate ways, the founder may be willing to let the members shape their own paths to a certain extent. After all, the doctrine of The Crone requires that they be allowed to create, as well.
This may be a good origin for a player coterie. It can justify almost any combination of covenants, clans and backgrounds, and grants the characters a significant degree of freedom. They have a powerful patron who is likely to be somewhat distanced from the power structure of their city, and who occasionally issues almost incomprehensible commands. Time and investigation, however, reveal the method behind the madness, and may open a window on greater horrors in the night.
Some neonates in the Circle also aim at creating a coterie. In large part, this is pure practicality. Neonates generally need a coterie to survive, and neonates do not have the Resources to aim at a larger political creation. Some try to create the coterie as a tool, others as an end in itself.
This is another possible origin for a player coterie, with the Acolyte character recruiting the other members. In this case, it is best if the Acolyte has some symbolic vision in mind for the coterie. If she were creating the coterie as a tool, the whole chronicle would be focused on her goals, which is generally unwise; a single player character should not have that much emphasis.
On the other hand, there are many advantages to creating a coterie with a vision in mind. The Acolyte must recruit like-minded Kindred, and persuade them to do things that build the image. In return, she is deeply committed to the success of the coterie as a group, and is motivated to work the goals of other members into her wider pattern. The call of tribulation means that she also pushes the coterie to test its powers and take on difficult tasks.
One of the most useful consequences of this is that the Acolyte will work hard to stop the coterie from falling apart; if it does, her creation has failed. The existence of such a character means that players can let tensions between characters build, knowing that there is a built-in mechanism to keep them together. When the Acolyte comes to talk The Invictus out of leaving the coterie over an insult, the player has the character persuaded, although he continues to patronize the Carthian. This is important because, while intraparty sniping can be a great deal of fun to play, if the coterie actually splits, it tends to spell the end of the chronicle. The existence of the conciliatory Acolyte provides an in-game excuse to stay together, without requiring a vampire who is just interested in everyone getting along.
Of course, the Acolyte does have her own agenda for the coterie, but as she must rely on persuasion to get the other vampires to conform to her vision, this provides more opportunities for roleplaying rather than letting one character Dominate the chronicle.

Factions

The most common aim of Acolytes who believe in political creation is a faction. This is because a faction is large enough to be impressive, but small enough to be feasible. The field of possible factions is also extremely broad, which increases the freedom to do something new.
There are two main types of faction: covenant factions and city factions. Covenant factions are confined to The Circle of the Crone, but ideally spread across more than one city. City factions, conversely, are confined to one city, but ideally spread across more than one covenant.
A cult for Kindred is one example of a covenant faction. As noted earlier, success here is very difficult, particularly for young vampires. Convincing any other Kindred to recognize her as the voice of The Crone, or as a goddess in her own right, is difficult. However, there are other possibilities. A vampire might set out to found a faction that believes in eschewing (or embracing) modern technology, crossing many different versions of paganism within the covenant. Similarly, she could aim at alliance with theCarthians, in an attempt to counterbalance the unholy duo of Invictus and Lancea Sanctum.
City factions are rarely religiously based, because The Circle of the Crone is. A religiously based faction is little more than a recruiting ground for a covenant faction, and thus falls into the previous category. The typical city faction upholds some ideal that is in sympathy with the Circle’s philosophy, but not opposed to the philosophy of most other covenants. A common philosophy is religious tolerance; such factions can hope to isolate The Lancea Sanctum and buy more freedom for the Circle. Factions interested in preserving parks or wilderness areas in and around the city, or in encouraging the creation and presentation of art in the Elysium, are also popular choices.
While Acolytes with such aims tend to throw themselves wholeheartedly into the politics, they are not primarily interested in achieving the aims of the faction. Their main aim is to create the faction, and have it survive as an important force. A single-issue faction is a good way to start, but lacks staying power; such a faction disintegrates if it succeeds, and repeated failure makes it wither. Thus, many Acolytes try to turn their factions into something like political parties: alliances of Kindred with many views in common, using the faction to put their views to the Prince.
As a result, Acolytes with these interests often find themselves allied to the Carthians and opposed to The Invictus. Since this is a fairly normal state of affairs, it raises few eyebrows. Many such alliances fracture spectacularly when the Carthians realize that the Acolyte is more interested in the appearance and survival of the faction than in achieving any of its ends. Of course, the violent dissolution of the alliance might have been part of the Acolyte’s plan from the beginning: the dissolution brings tribulation, and if the faction survives, it has carved its Fame, and the importance of its founder, more deeply into the bones of the Danse Macabre.

Domains

Some Acolytes aim high: they aim to found new domains, normally with themselves as Prince. This is not the same as acquiring praxis in an existing domain; this requires a city that is unclaimed by any single Prince. The Acolyte then forges a single domain from the chaos.
This would be a difficult goal even if unclaimed cities littered the landscape of the World of Darkness. In fact, they are extremely rare. A few Acolyte politicians are lucky enough to find themselves in one, but most start their Requiems in cities with a Prince. In that case, the first step is to bring the whole structure crashing down. Destroying the structure of a domain is very difficult. Even if the Prince is weak, there are other elders waiting to take his place, or with strong interests in keeping the weak Prince as their puppet. The Acolyte must understand the politics of the city thoroughly, and then deepen divisions, eliminate unifying figures and encourage a war among the Damned.
Once the Acolyte has succeeded, things get even harder. She must reunify all of the factions she worked to create, damping down the passions and enmities she previously stirred up. Shaping the domain to her own desires adds to the complications, since the easiest way to get one faction to rejoin might involve compromisingon something important to her original goal.
A few Acolytes aim to wipe out all the Kindred, other than themselves, in a city, leaving a blank slate on which they can literally create a domain in their own image. One such Acolyte, in Mexico, formed a cult of vampirehunters around himself, directing them against the other Kindred of the city. The hunters were frighteningly effective, armed with far more knowledge than most of their kind, leading one low-ranking Acolyte who stumbled on the truth to flee to a nearby city, and seek help. The coterie sent to dispose of the threat to the Masquerade never returned, and nothing at all has been heard from the city for several years. No one knows whether the Acolyte succeeded, or whether he was killed by his own hunters. Neighboring Kindred are unsure which possibility frightens them more.

An Underworld

Kindred who live underground are not uncommon. The advantages are obvious: secrecy and very little risk of sunlight entering. The underworld also plays a very important role in many versions of the legend of The Crone, whether she is Ereshkigal or Persephone, and Acolytes often need to be secret in cities where the Prince does not recognize their beliefs. As a result, there may be slightly more Acolytes living underground than members of other covenants.
Some Acolytes take this much further than others. These Acolytes want to create an underground realm that inspires wonder, awe or fear in all who enter. In most cases, these Acolytes see themselves as the rulers of this realm, although a few are happy to share, or concede, mastery in return for seeing their vision made real. Similarly, the realm is usually the Acolyte’s Haven, although a few, who want to show their creation off as widely as possible, lair elsewhere.
Much of the process of creating an underworld can happen in downtime. The Kindred must create works of art as decoration, or tend a garden or whatever. However, many of the necessary steps in creating an underworld make good starting points for stories.
The most obvious point comes first. Most of the space below the surface of the Earth is solid, so the Kindred needs to find or create a hole. In many ways, creating the hole is the ideal option. The vampire can decide where to put it, and thus justify dots in Haven Location, and have complete control over the size and layout, which can justify any number of dots in Haven Size and Security.
The problem is that it is not easy. There are three things to be considered: the actual digging, disposal of the removed earth or Rock and structural integrity of the remaining earth. If the digging is to proceed at a reasonable rate, the vampire needs large numbers of workers or heavy machinery. In either case, these need to be brought to the location, and set to work. This all needs to be done without giving away the vampire’s location or intentions. As a result, vampires in the modern nights prefer heavy machinery. They can learn to operate it themselves, or just control one or two operators, which is much less dangerous than trying to control a whole gang of miners. Still, obtaining the machine without rousing suspicions may mean stealing it, or at least coming up with a good cover story. Transporting the machinery secretly to the entry point to the excavation requires similar consideration, and once the Equipment is there, ensuring a continuing supply of fuel can also require a story, and possible short ones later on as events threaten to disrupt it.
Once the Acolyte has her digger, it starts producing waste. Creative underworlds tend to be large, and a pile of earth and Rock the size of several houses is not easily disposed of. The Acolyte needs to find a place to dump the waste, and a way of transporting it that does not draw attention. Again, both of these processes can require stories, and the route to disposing of the waste can be disrupted just as the supply of fuel can.
In general, simply digging holes in the ground and having them stand up is not possible. Enough Rock needs to be left to support the weight of the earth above, or additional supports need to be brought in. If the vampire wants a large chamber, which is common, additional supports are almost bound to be necessary. Once again, the main problem is getting hold of the necessary Materials, and the expertise needed to install them properly, without rousing suspicions.
If the Acolyte wants to create exits in particular places, to allow for easy hunting or to provide a secure escape route, there may well be stories involved in the moment of construction. It is all very well having an exit that is a secret door in a store cupboard in a nightclub, but much harder to keep the door secret while it is being built. Stories can be built around such plans.
Furthermore, the Acolyte is unlikely to be the only creature to ever think of creating secret subterranean chambers under her city. As the others are secret, they do not appear on plans. That raises the risk of breaking into them during excavation. (Of course, if the Acolyte does not take the trouble to get hold of plans of subways or sewage pipes, there is a risk of breaking into them, as well.) Such an encounter is bound to provoke a story, as the vampire must deal with the other inhabitant’s reaction, and cover up the blow to her secrecy.
Almost anything could be encountered underground. Other Kindred, secret government installations, secret mafia installations, headquarters for vampire-hunting cabals, nameless horrors shut away since the dawn of time: these are just the more obvious possibilities. An opening into a truly enormous cave system provides both opportunities for initial exploration, and the persistent risk that something will come through the system to threaten the underworld.
If the Acolyte chooses to look for an already existing hole in the ground, the stories are slightly different. The first, and most obvious, stories involve the process of looking. The vampire must gather clues without tipping any other Kindred off as to the goal of her search. Once the space is found, it is unlikely to be completely unoccupied, and the current denizens need to be defeated or brought under control. The vampire may then want to spend some time creating new exits.
A Nosferatu on the East Coast of the United States (stories differ as the exact city) is said to have created a vast labyrinth deep under the city, with spiral staircases leading up to hidden exits in all the most useful locations. He has sleeping rooms all over the maze, as well as death traps set to catch intruders. There is a spiral stair leading from the depths of the labyrinth to the top of the highest skyscraper in the city, and the owner is currently engaged in carving a mythological frieze along its length.