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Post by Ashurr on Jun 1, 2008 19:20:44 GMT -5
A Dragon who firmly grasps the Ordo Dracul’s philosophy of change and embraces both its practical and metaphysical principles is prepared to embark upon the covenant’s most important undertaking: transcending the Kindred condition. Most often referred to as the Great Work in order to distinguish it from less portentous investigations or Lesser Works, the Dragons’ quest for transcendence has much in common with the aim of the medieval alchemists. The common man of that period believed the alchemists sought to turn base metals into pure gold via something known as the Philosopher’s Stone, a kind of universal solvent. Alchemical experiments were not only incomprehensible to the uninitiated, but they were also deemed to be borderline blasphemy. Critics believed that God had not intended for man to be able to transform the basic materials of Creation for selfish purposes and, therefore, any mestruum universale, if discovered, was perceived to be the work of the Devil.
The alchemists saw their efforts in an entirely different light. To them, the Philosopher’s Stone was not simply a precious metal of economic import but a substance capable of curing illness, restoring youth and even prolonging life indefinitely. While they had no proof that the Philosopher’s Stone existed, they were convinced that it did. In fact, they were certain that God had hidden it so that only those truly worthy to possess it might do so. As might be expected, the alchemists felt that by dint of their rare knowledge of natural philosophy and their disciplined methodology, they were the only people worthy of discovering and using the grail they sought. Through effort and unwavering dedication, they were sure that the Philosopher’s Stone and all it promised would be theirs.
The Dragons, too, have their Philosopher’s Stone, but outside the Ordo Dracul its true nature is rarely understood. Most Kindred believe that the Dragons seek merely to transcend the curses of the Kindred condition: hunger, frenzy and the agonies of flame and daylight. By doing so, the Dragons will be able to enjoy the benefits of undeath without the suffering. From the perspective of most vampires, this seems purpose enough. Of course, because the Dragons do not share their discoveries with outsiders, they are also seen as selfish and notably dangerous. Freed of the pains and limitations of undeath, they would make formidable opponents. This kind of reasoning leads some to suspect that the Ordo Dracul’s true goal is political in nature — that one night the Dragons will make their move in the Danse Macabre and thereby seize power for themselves in a way that the most cunning Prince cannot foresee. Those who still crave Vitae, fall to frenzy and are forced to flee the touch of sunlight would stand little chance against such conquerors. Other, more religious Kindred are concerned not so much with the political implications of the Dragon’s activities as with the theological ones. Many Sanctified see the Coils as proof that the Ordo Dracul is nothing less than a nest of witches and foul sorcerers whose real intent is to defy God’s judgment. The Almighty did not intend d**nation to be an easy thing to bear; every attempt the Dragons make to lessen or eliminate one of the telltale banes of the d**ned is another slap in the face of God.
The Great Work is about more than vampires inoculating themselves against the drawbacks that come with their accursed condition. It is about unlocking the very door of undeath itself, wrenching it wide open and plunging beyond into another state of existence. The covenant’s philosophies, its organization and methodologies, and even the Coils are but the tools and products of this unprecedented quest. To complete the Great Work, to transcend the Kindred condition, is to become a veritable god among all creatures that walk the earth, living or unliving. Precisely what the Dragons will become when that happens remains a thing of great debate within the Order, but all are convinced that they will become something that is superior in every regard to animals, mortals and Kindred alike.
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Post by Ashurr on Jun 1, 2008 19:21:19 GMT -5
Before one can set out on a journey, two things must first be known: where does the journey begin and where does it end. The Ordo Dracul’s Great Work ends when the Dragons have transcended the curse of vampirism and passed beyond the suffering that defines the Requiem. However, until they understand where they are to begin, the journey cannot take place. The beginning for the Dragons is vampirism itself, from the moment of the Embrace, when mortality slips away and undeath settles in to take its place. More to the point, no Dragon can progress along the path leading through the Coils to transcendence unless she first has a solid conception of the Kindred condition. Certainly, vampires are quite different from the kine in many ways, but it is not enough to just say so. A Dragon must become fully conversant with her condition, knowing her strengths and, even more importantly, her weaknesses. She must examine herself, test herself, and determine with exacting certitude what she is and what she is not. Each flaw she identifies must be studied both in isolation and again as a part of the whole if it is to be surmounted. To ignore these things, to not recognize the importance of this, is to ensure that greater achievement will forever be beyond the Dragon’s reach. If the Great Work is a sturdy door, then it is secured with locks that must be defeated before it can be opened. Dracula himself identified these locks, classifying all the banes of Kindred existence into three fundamental curses in order that they might be more easily understood and vanquished.
Reconciling the existence of God with the tale of how Dracula was d**ned for his sins by the skepticism that is a hallmark of an academic is not an easy thing. An academic’s mindset demands evidentiary phenomena, which flies in the face of raw faith. However, Dracula claimed he was specifically d**ned by God for his sins against the Almighty. Denying God and His role in the creation of vampires would all but declare the First Dragon a liar. As a consequence, most Dragons at least pay lip service to God, acknowledging that He is at least complicit in their d**nation and therefore deserves a modicum of due respect. This is not to suggest that the Dragons adore or worship God, but only that they generally recognize His power and treat it with the same caution they would a fiery brand. They study God and His works, but more for the sake of curiosity than reverence.
Acknowledging the existence of the biblical God suits many Dragons. Dracula’s own words bear out just such a notion, and it succinctly solves the riddle of the Kindred condition: they are the d**ned, cursed by God for the sins of the individual and of humanity as a whole. Dragons who accept this definition of God don’t typically buy into Longinian philosophy, of course, but they do maintain a particular reverence for the divine. God may have turned His back on them, but He’s still there and He sees all.
An even more popular conception of God among the Order is the Gnostic approach, in which God is somewhat more abstract, albeit no less central. Knowledge is seen as the supreme spark of divinity, and, with it, one can literally transcend one sphere of existence and enter another, higher one. However, denied this divine gnosis on account of some spiritual failing, the Kindred are unable to die and, therefore, d**ned to remain in this sphere forever, never passing on to the next. Gnostic types value knowledge over everything else and see that the only escape from the Requiem lies in learning all they can.
The Theosophical Movement influenced a number of prominent Dragon scholars and continues to color the thinking of the Order tonight. To the theosophists,God is transformed into something wholly abstract and becomes the Universal Spirit or Prime Mover. d**nation is a form of karmic justice that is not caused by God in a direct sense, but is more the necessary consequence of the cosmic Law of Retribution.
While these are the most widespread beliefs, numerous less common views are also held, from the esoteric and numerological to the more freakish and even sinister. Officially, the covenant takes no position, except to point to the Rites of the Dragon and the words of their founder recorded therein. Knowing the true origin of the Kindred may be interesting, but the practical nature of the Ordo Dracul also makes it less than essential to the Great Work. So long as the Dragons can transcend their condition, the matter is just as valuable as an eternal, driving mystery as it might be if answered. From the moment of the Embrace, every Kindred becomes plagued with an unceasing desire for blood that grows only more difficult to satisfy with age. The weak blood of a dog or ox may quench this hunger at first, but soon only the lifeblood stolen from the kine becomes palatable. With the passage of years, even this becomes unsuitable and only the rich Vitae of other vampires is able to quell the all-consuming craving — but only for a time. With each sunset and with every significant exertion, the demands of the addiction call out for satiation once again. Only the most disciplined Kindred can resist submitting to this terrible thirst for more than a brief time; however, in the end, all eventually give in, no matter how strong-willed.
Dracula theorized that this craving for blood was indicative of the incomplete state of undeath. A complete being would not suffer in this piteous fashion. Such a being might take blood if it so desired — to enhance its capabilities or for the sheer joy of the sensation — but it would not need to do so to survive. However, the Kindred are subordinate to their blood-thirst, so they must be missing some essential component required to be complete.
Those Dragons who pursue the Coil of Blood focus their attention on this imperfection. They seek to replace the need for blood with something else, filling the gnawing void with something that is far less demanding than blood — practically and psychologically. Some Dragons experiment with narcotics, powerful medicines and all manner of potions and elixirs of their own manufacture. Others see that path as a circular one that will only replace one addiction with another. Instead, they take a more holistic view and seek to use intellectual pursuits, meditation and even self-hypnosis to quell their bloodlust. A few turn to even more esoteric solutions, hopeful that their incompleteness can be resolved by enacting a restorative ritual or concluding a complex procedure. Whatever the modus operandi, success will make the Dragon complete, removing her dependenceupon external things and freeing her from perhaps the strongest of the chains that prohibits her from transcending the Kindred condition.
Dracula believed that the agony vampires experienced at the slightest touch of sunlight or flame was because of the largely unchanging nature of undeath. The Kindred do not age, they do not die, and they do not grow or find it easy to alter their enduring form in any real way. The reason is, Dracula argues in the Rites, that all these things are the province of the living. The sun encourages life and fire destroys, but only to promote renewal. The cycle of the life is one of constant and unstoppable change, but the Kindred are barely able to make progress along that cyclic path; when they do, it is only as the result of great effort. Even the act of procreation is a formidable one that saps the sire physically and mentally. The Dragons recognize that stagnation is a significant impediment to the Great Work, one that can only be defeated by pushing themselves to change as frequently as possible, even if only in small ways. If they push hard enough, they feel they can overcome the friction of undeath and build up enough inertia to eventually keep the cycle of change going of its own accord, without strenuous intervention. When this happens, fire and sunlight will be rendered benign rather than the malignant banes they are now. Dragons tend to be some of the most deviant Kindred not only in terms of their philosophies, but also their appearance and mannerisms. As they study the Coil of Banes and work to wrench themselves from their stagnant condition, they use their own flesh as one means to achieve their end. Tattoos, piercings, scarification and other physical alterations are popular tonight, with many students going to horrific extremes. Self-mutilation followed by rapid healing is not uncommon, a practice believed to “teach” the Kindred’s body how to quickly and repeatedly change. Physical change is often accompanied by a change in wardrobe. If the expression “the clothes make the man” holds any truth, then a radical departure from usual dress can aid the Dragon in modifying her one sense of self-identity. This belief is institutionalized in the garb donned for Order ceremonies. Upon attaining a new title or responsibility within the covenant, a Dragon is sometimes given a new set of clothing to not only symbolize to others the change in status but also to better help the just-promoted Dragon see herself as a truly different individual.
This philosophy extends beyond mere attire. Dragons often purposefully examine their habits, their speech patterns and even their smallest mannerisms, from habitual gestures to gait and posture. Like an actor taking on a role, they then work to eliminate or notably modify some or all of these things, becoming quite different in the process. Other Kindred may find this kind of metamorphosis disturbing, and many suspect it is a symptom of mental instability, not understanding that it is an intentional change manifested for a very specific purpose. Dragons who hold influential and highly visible positions in the domain can cause great stirs when they undertake this kind of makeover, but politics and social gossip are insignificant when compared to the Great Work.
Inside each vampire is a Beast, the monster that makes the Kindred the superlative predators they are and, in times of trouble, ensures their survival and victory over all threats. Primal and instinctual, the Beast is the one who ensures a steady supply of blood and defines the vampire as distinct from the kine. However, the Kindred are not just feral hunters whose entire existence is focused on hunting, feeding, fighting and sleeping. Because every vampire was once a mortal, the Man survives alongside the Beast that arises with the first pangs of the Embrace. All the memories, beliefs, preferences, desires, needs and fears remain and must struggle every single night for supremacy against the bestial urges that frequently oppose them. This mental strife colors every moment of the Requiem, causing a silver-tongued ancilla of one moment to become a snarling fiend the next. The Kindred are condemned to spend eternity engaged in this exhausting battle, knowing that even if the Man is able to claim victory for the most part, the Beast can never be fully destroyed. Time and time again it will surge to the fore, overrunning the Man and doing as it pleases with no regard to the concerns of the vampire’s more human side. Consequently, the Kindred often seem to be unreasoning creatures, sabotaging their own best laid plans. Experience has also shown that as the years pass, this siege takes its toll on the Man, who increasingly collapses under the strain. For some Kindred, the effort becomes entirely too much, and their animal passions finally strike a fatal blow to the last vestiges of the Man. These Kindred become revenants, ghastly reminders of what lurks within the breast of every vampire: a Beast always seeking to claw its bloody way to the surface despite every attempt to push it back into its cage.
To any thinker, the curse of an unreasoning mind is an unwelcome thought — to those who hold scholarship and intellectual achievement to be the highest purpose, it is the height of d**nation. To conduct productive investigations to further the Great Work, a Dragon must be able to think clearly, to rely upon deductive conclusions, and to make keen observations untainted by strong biases and distractions. To overcome the curse of unreason the Beast must be chained at a minimum, but ultimately it must be subjugated entirely to the rational mind. Some suggest it should be eliminated entirely, that what the Dragons one night can become will no longer have any need for “fight or flight” instincts.
Some approaches tend to mimic those used for mastering wildlife. Outright cruelty, Pavlovian techniques and empathetic bonding are commonplace. The Coil of the Beast demonstrates the effectiveness of these procedures, enabling the Dragons to shackle their primitive instincts in a way that gives the Man the greatest amount of control possible, even as it benefits from the presence of the domesticated Beast.
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