VII - RoseRed

one else. Arcane rituals thought lost to the world, maps to
the resting places of torpid ancients, the key to deciphering
a wizard’s grimoire and bloodcurdling revelations that
would rock Kindred society to its accursed foundations are
far better suited to an Ordo Dracul chronicle.
Just as discovery brings its rewards, it should always be
fraught with difficulty and outright danger. The path taken
by the players to reach their goal ought to be labyrinthine,
with various dead-ends and pitfalls confronting
them throughout the course of their journey. The end
itself, whether it is the discovery of a new Coil or a fuller
understanding of the weaknesses of the Lupines, should
also be something of a crap shoot. This doesn’t mean a
Storyteller should serve up lemons to the players after all
the hard work on the part of their characters just to teach
them this harsh lesson, but it does mean that not every
significant discovery will be without its drawbacks. For
example, the true motives behind werewolf activities in
the city would make for a valuable discovery, but that
discovery might also mean that a werewolf has picked up
the player’s scent and may, some night, come calling.
Another theme that is best embodied by the Ordo
Dracul is skepticism. The Dragons take nothing on faith
alone, accepting as fact only those things of which they
can have direct proof. Empiricists all, the Dragons need
to be able to see, hear, taste, touch or feel something to
know it is real. Even this is often not enough to satisfy
them. Sometimes, unless a thing can be demonstrated
again and again without deviation it will remain purely
theoretical and, therefore, of little consequence to a
Dragon. This refusal to accept what other Kindred may
already conclude is fact is a distinguishing trait that can
lead to all sorts of trouble. Religious Kindred will find it
difficult to get along with, let alone understand, a stalwart
skeptic, and they might even see such stubbornness
as verging on heresy. Politically minded Kindred
might discover that a certain, essential Dragon will not
go along with a carefully laid-out scheme because the
Dragon remains unconvinced that the plan will work as
envisioned. Smart Storytellers should be wary of Dragon
players who become lazy, too readily allowing their characters
to accept things not thoroughly tested. Allow such
characters to learn the hard way that there is a reason
for healthy skepticism. On the other hand, also let the
players dig their own graves by swinging too far in the
other direction, their characters becoming so unbending
that their progress is slowed or even set back.
✴✶✶✫
If a chronicle about vampires is already replete with
gothic imagery of a modern world gone dark, a chronicle
that highlights the mysterious Ordo Dracul is one that
is additionally permeated with an unsettling miasma of
fear that speaks in hushed tones of things even the
Damned are not comfortable with: obscene sorceries
ordo dracul
wrested from forbidden tomes, blasphemous oaths incanted
during bizarre ceremonies, pseudo-scientific experimentation
conducted with an alien disregard for any
semblance of morality and Kindred for whom even God
is no more than a temporary obstacle to their selfish and
inscrutable ambitions. Every dark alley, every dilapidated
tenement, every boarded-up storefront and every secluded
mansion harbors a foul secret that awaits the bold
and the foolish. Beneath the concealed sniping of the
Harpies in Elysium, beneath the bird-like chatter of the
kine in their coffeehouses, beneath the shuddering moan
of the woman whose slim frame convulses as her blood
is drained away, there drones a subliminal whisper of
hideous revelation that beckons to those whose perceptions
are keen enough to hear. This faint, discordant
susurration is ever-present, even if the characters refuse
to hear its call, a maddening disturbance that promises
things even the undead would be wise to shun.
In a chronicle that features the Ordo Dracul, an
individual’s demeanor masks another, often far more sinister
side, à la Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. An example might be
the gracious Dragon who displays impeccable etiquette to
his guests each Tuesday in his fashionable parlor, but later
conducts fiendish experiments on the surviving members
of his own mortal family in a secret sub-basement, ignoring
their whimpering pleas for mercy and the wretched screams
that accompany his dispassionate investigations.
But this duality is not limited to the covenant. As
Victorian alienists posited, everyone has a dark side. Even
the smiling waitress who works in the restaurant a block
from the characters’ haven has her “evil twin,” the one
who leaves her infant unattended in her rat-plagued
basement apartment while across town she ghoulishly
sups on the intoxicating Vitae of the Primogen’s eldest
childe. Madness, too, is always lurking over the shoulders
of the characters. Some of the secret truths that
may be discovered are simply too much for all but the
most disciplined mind to accept without breaking. Surreal
encounters with individuals that cannot be, lurid
visions of nightmarish vistas, spectral occurrences that
defy explanation and other Fortean phenomena lie in
the shadows, waiting to intrude upon the relatively comprehendible
world the characters are familiar with and
challenge the very foundation of their beliefs.
Finally, because the Ordo Dracul is an anachronistic
organization, outmoded social conventions and values
creep in wherever the Dragons are found. Victorian views
of sexuality — public repression, private licentiousness
and clinical Freudian explanations — may color the attitudes
of a Dragon’s feeding habits, causing her to only
feed from kine who are clothed in an especially prudish
fashion. That same Dragon may also cling to the period’s
almost obscenely rigid rules of visitation and correspondence,
so that if another character stops by her haven
while she is out but fails to leave the obligatory calling
card announcing his visit, he could later find himself
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introduction
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