Though they guard the information well, the Order of the Dracon was born out of the Byzantine city of Constantinople where its founder, the Dracon, childe of the Tzimisce Antediluvian made its home until the cities sacking by Frankish knights in the early 13^th century. Between the walls of Constantine and those of Theodosius once lay the secluded monastery of the Akoimetai, the ‘sleepless’ monks. The Dracon came to admire and respect the monastic lifestyle of the Obertus Order with its rigorous and strict regime, their veneration of prayer and meditation and above all else their interest in knowledge.

The Dracon set out to create his own order within his own clan, in its image. Its ultimate goal was to find the Divinity Within. These Gesudian Monks, as they came to be known after their patron Saint, the Dracon’s childe, Gesu began to see Vicissitude as the manifestation of the Within and the key to attaining transcendence. Whereas other Tzimisce see it in a detached, utilitarian way, Gesu and his followers consider the Discipline to have sacred significance. Seen as the Touch of God, no follower of Gesu may voluntary use the Discipline-only through prayer, fasting or torture can the Within be manifested onto the flesh. This ritualised use of Vicissitude, called the Communion Within, was the most sacred tenet of the Order. To Gesu, the human body is fragmented and incomplete He believed that the only manner in which transcendence can be achieved is by making the human whole and pure. God made eve from one of Adam’s ribs and this derision was what led to humanity’s fall. To unlock the Within, the human race must be reunited as one, the so called Immaculate Union.

The orders greatest accomplishment as a family was the creation and founding of the Library of the Forgotten which is guarded by the ancient Keeper of Secrets which was the most extensive collection of arcane texts in the known world. With the sacking of Constantinople the Order was in chaos, Saint Gesu had met Final Death in the flames and the Dracon was no where to be found, the Library and its Keeper destroyed, or so people thought….

The Greek island of Delos, residing in the group of Islands called the Cyclades in the Aegean Sea is one of the most important mythological, historical and archaeological sites in Greece. The so called birth place of Artemis and Apollo and the Cult of Dionysus is barren and lifeless with no one allowed to spend the night on its empty land.

Homer once said of Delos.

Delos, if you would be willing to be the abode of my son Phoebus Apollo and make him a rich temple --; for no other will touch you, as you will find: and I think you will never be rich in oxen and sheep, nor bear vintage nor yet produce plants abundantly. But if you have the temple of far-shooting Apollo, all men will bring you hecatombs and gather here, and incessant savour of rich sacrifice will always arise, and you will feed those who dwell in you from the hand of strangers; for truly your own soil is not rich.

After the fall of Constantinople, the Keeper of Secrets retreated to the island and their, sheltered from the world dug deep into the earth with the help of his Obertus followers and stored away the remnants of the Library of the Forgotten. As Homer predicted, the island was barren and they thirsted for vitae and they starved and meditaited and over time the people of nearby Mykonos Naxos and Ios came to them with offerings, with sacrifice of life and blood. The Divinity Within was made manifest on their flesh and their branch of the Order thrived, drawing in followers and family’s of the local Greek islanders who became part of the Obertus family through interbreeding and blood.

No one has lived on this island for centuries and only the French School of Athens and the holidaymakers and their guides from tourist boats from nearby Santirini ever set foot on the island, though the last ferry leaves before nightfall. When the sun goes down over the Aegean the Keeper and her Watchers go through their prayers and mediation, only those called to the blood are allowed into this sacred and secret place with sister monasteries on the nearby islands, there the Order of the Dracon was born and its Knights where drawn into the Jihad between the Sabbat and the Camarilla through connection with ports such as Venice and Cairo and marauding pirates across the Mediterranean crewed by Nomadic Sabbat.

Why the Order of the Dracon saw fit to join the Sabbat is anyone’s guess and they keep their secrets and their home on Delos to those inducted into the order, though none but the Keeper and her Watchers are aware of the new Library of the Forgotten and now the Order have spread far and wide.

Agathe came from this Greek branch of the Obertus, born on the island of Mykonos, her father was a priest and gave her her first taste of vitae at the age of her first communion preparing her for the time of her into the Order of the Dracon. Her Uncles taught her above her brothers seeing strength in her body and mind. She gave offerings to the Watchers and for the first time saw the Divinity Within made flesh on their divine cold skin. Two of them dressed in robes, not even their faces revealed to those Obertus Candidates to preach the Commandments of Saint Gesu and showed it in practise, dropping their robes to the floor. All her life she and her family has worshipped them, in their churches, praying, training and fasting until they came of age and was taken to the deserted island of Delos during the ancient Greek festival, The Liberalia, celebrated by the Cult of Dionysus in which the celebration on March 17th was meant to honour Liber Pater and Libera, an ancient god of fertility and wine in which offerings and sacrifice where made on their behalf to celebrate the maturation and prosperity of the Obertus family and the Order of the Dracon through harvesting and procreation.

Agathe, having spent all of her life on Mykonos died on that night as did all of those selected and was reborn into Clan Tzimisce. She was shown the Temple of the Forgotten and her Sire, Bion taught her in the history of the order. She was not a nun but a warrior, a warrior of the Dracon and the protector of the Forgotten. A year passed, then two, fasting and meditating, making a few minor changes to her form when inspiration came to her. She had been sheltered all her life and she wished to escape, rebelliousness started to build in her, resentment to not being allowed to leave the island and to only feed when it was given to her, cold in a bowl or cup. She yearned to see the night, the world beyond the Aegean. She came to her Sire and the Watchers and demanded in a thirsty rage to be allowed to leave, almost to frenzy she attacked her Sire. He just laughed and backhanded her to the floor and told her she was ready and the Sabbat would suit her well, he then thrust a sword to her throat and reminded her of her real loyalties and the Watchers gathered and they shared blood in a ritual that she was to come to know as the Vauldurie and joined the ranks of the Sabbat going aboard one of the Ships that sail the Mediterranean at night.

The ship was lead by Lasombra, though they seemed to serve no master or higher power, the crew made up mainly of clan less pander, Ravnos and Brujah antitribu and Gangrel Mariners. Blood thirsty monsters everyone; who fall on their prey with wanton abandon and bathe in their victims blood and pain, relishing the terror and death they harbour. She was disgusted at first and she followed her Orders Commandments of fasting and prayer and often thought to wonder why the elders of the Order had seen fit to join this rabble. Did Saint Gesu see this as their future or is The Keeper of the Forgotten leading us down her own enigmatic path. Most had never seen her in that first year on Delos if at all throughout their unlives and Agathe was no exception. The Watchers seemed to be brother and sister though neither spoke, their whispers where often in her mind speaking in a strange lost tongue. At the time it had driven her insane with the constant chatter that she couldn’t understand but now, left alone amongst lesser spiritually enlightened beings she misses its reassurance and felt cast adrift from her mentors and longed to share blood with them again and have them torture her into further enlightenment. She tried in the bawl of the boat. To speak to the Within, to feel it coursing through her blood and flesh, wished it would take hold of her body and direct it, to give her a sign, a sign that would be made manifest on her own undead skin. But nothing came and she slowly slipped from the Commandments.

They mostly ignored her in her superiority at first, all except the captain of the ship a Lasombra from the Croatian coast. He told her to pay them no heed that they where low blooded cannon fodder, only the Lasombra and Tzimisce are high born and fit to lead. But even he, lost to the red mist revelled in the blood lust and murder and soon the temptation was just too much for her and as they fell upon another cargo vessel coming out of the Suez canal and she dropped onto the metallic deck, her sect mates howling and whooping, her thirst and beast took control for the first time. The man fell into her arms and her fangs pressed down and she felt the hot pulsing blood at the back of her throat and felt peace, heaven, rapture. And in her mind her elders were mistaken to deny them selves the one pleasure that they got out of unlife. Then the red haze dropped away and she lay amongst the bodies, some of her own crew mates lay beneath her, her face and fingers dripping with gore and Vedran her Captain grinning from ear to ear as he stood over her. He laughed and said that she was now one of them, a Marauder and a True member of the crew.

There is no shame in loosing yourself to the beast; all states of mind and state must be experienced. Her Gesudian mentor and teacher of the Path of Metamorphosis once said. Still she felt a pang of shame as the feeling of acceptance washed over her as her priest, a wide eyed malkavain, performed her Creation Rite after plunging her, weighted down to the bottom if the Atlantic having sailed down the coast of Africa, gallons of animal blood and parts thrown down in its wake. Sharks followed drawn by the smell of blood in the water and a rather fishy looking Mariner bared his shark like teeth at her as she plunged, tied up with torn limbs, and rocks tied to her with thick chains She had hit the bottom and after she had adjusted to the feeling of not drowning she looked up and saw the sharks circling the bow of the boat. She called on her reserves of blood and pulled it from the pit of her stomach through her veins to her arms and legs. She moved off the bottom of the ocean towards the surface and the sea of sharks who came for her one by one as she swam to the surface her stamina making her resolute in her desire. Their jaws came for her struggling form, their pointed bodies moving swiftly through the surf, their beady eyes meeting her own before one’s jaws took hold.

She finally came to the surface bloody and drawn and flailing in the water. They pulled her from the ocean laughing and cheering as she was dumped on the deck holding a hole in her side. She had partaken of the Vauldrie gladly and had guzzled the mixture of her pack mates vitae and had to be restrained and given a mortal to quench her thirst.

Within the week they came into the Greek port of Thessaloniki and though she had never been to the capital city of Macedon she felt like she was coming home. After performing their first Fire Dance in a run down part of the Port they descended on the city proper with glee and peeled off into groups to hunt and enjoy the cities sights. Soon she was alone and found herself amongst Byzantine churches and Ottoman temples and buildings. That’s when she heard the whispers in her head. She stopped with a jolt in a darkened alley and turned on herself. The Order was here, the Watchers where here. She looked about her in paranoia but saw nothing and heard nothing other than the ancient language of the eldest of her Order. Moving down the streets at a quickened pace, shame, guilt and excitement flooding through her, following the increasing noise in her head.

The sound of their chatter filling her skull draw her to an open plaza, it started off as a low whisper but now as she draws near the voices reach a crescendo and mix with the cries of battle. Some of her pack mate’s voices are there, in amongst the din and a sudden feeling of dread fills her as she steps closer, their broken bodies laying discarded on the cobbles.

She had peered through the low hanging trees and saw the dark tendrils coiled around the grossly tall robed figure. Her Ductus was on the verge of Final Death, locked in a death grip, held tight by tentacles not of his own making but made of flesh. The Watcher’s tentacles come from under his robes its hood thrown back to display a face full of pointed jutting teeth locked together with her Ductus’s deathmask.

Agathe barely dared to move as they stared at each other, The Lasombra’s arms from the abyss pulling at the Tzimisce and the Watcher’s tentacles doing the same. For what seemed like an age, nothing happened, no words where spoken except the ones in her head and then suddenly Vedran’s face changed, instead of a cry of anger, he screamed in pain as he was suddenly torn in two, gore shooting out of his blood as his torso and legs went separate ways.

Agathe’s fangs extended and she stood there still frozen as her Elder turned to face her. She isn’t afraid to admit that she trembled and she felt its acusing gaze on her, that she quaked in fear and as it finally spoke to her, with actual spoken words she fell to her knees.

“Do you wish to take my rich blood like these fools, Whelp or have you tasted enough rebellion?”

She was unable to speak, her mouth open but her lips and tongue unable to formulate words.

“Recite the Prayer, Whelp before I reclaim my blood”

The words slowly come, ejected out of her mouth by terror.

“From the Savior of Caine, I learned the Divinity Within. For Gesu, I uphold the honor of Lillian and testify to the divinity of the Immaculate Union. For Symeon, I shall be my Brother's Keeper. I have read the books of the Library of the Forgotten and fear the Keeper of the Faith and her Watchers. I am protector of the Family Obertus. I shall keep the idols of the Akoimetai. The Codex of Legacies is the law. Until Gehenna and Armageddon, I shall fight for Heaven on Earth. In opposition, the murder of Gaul's Antonius wil be redeemed. This is my pledge to the Dracon, the First Childe, the Holy Ghost, my grandfather. And unto Caine all blessings. Confirm me for the Dracon. Amen.”

“Do you fear me?”

“yes”

“Do you believe in the Comandments or do you wish to bathe in blood and ignorance for the rest of your unlife like your packmates, or do you wish to atone for your sins for you have been sin full, you have corrupted your mind through gluttony and immorality or do you wish to die now, here with the rest of these ravenous animals

“Confess me father”

“You must feel pain to bring you closer to God, you must abase yourself before him, before Gesu and you must pray and beg! For his forgiveness! Are you ready?”

“Yes Father”

“hopefully the Within will not turn you inside out….”

So she left the remnants of her shattered pack to their fate. Less than half of their number had perished that night under the Watcher’s claws. Agathe was sure that those that were left sailed away in the next few nights having taken new childer and assumed her dead along with their captain. She wished she had when the pain finally came.

“Through pain comes enlightenment, through suffering, clarity. Jesus Christ on the hill at gomarrah had never felt closer to his father, Elohim, the one above when they nailed him to his cross” Her mentor had said as he placed her bound and tied to the chair with a metal spike in its centre, which pierced her rectum, uterus and bladder.

Histro was his name, meaning barer of Christ, a Gesudian monk and an albino Obertus of Bulgarian descent. Half his face was horribly deformed from birth and his iris’s as well as his skin and hair were devoid of pigment. He looked pale and drawn in his monks habit and his eye’s burned with a fanatic’s zeal as he charred her flesh over and over before peeling it away, refusing her blood so that it would not grow back healed.

“Strip away the sinful flesh and purify the soul through the flames of Judgement as Archangel Michael, had judged Caine with his flaming sword.”

She prayer to the Divinity Within her for what seemed like day’s and she was in agony at first but either through prayer, meditation or lack of blood she reached a trance like state and a feeling of great calm and reflection came over her over taking the sensation of pain.

Histro laid her down, without her flesh on the stone floor and uttered a prayer over her in latin and though she was weak through the trails of the Communion her hands moved over her body. Her eyes rolled up into her skull and the Watchers ancient language come rapidly out of her lipless mouth in an endless chant, willing her to move. She sat up with a jerk, like a puppet having pulled at her strings and her fingers went to her burnt and peeled skin and began reworking flesh and bone, remoulding it, reshaping it. Her fingers eventually came to her face and that too was remade.

“You have passed through adolescence, your sins have been purged from your flesh, you are reborn Agathe of Thessalonika and unto Caine all blessings. I Confirm you for the Dracon. Amen. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

He had passed her a goblet of blood and she received the blood of Christ and his icy fingers touched her forehead as he made the sign of the cross.

Her fingers had gone to her face as she had stared at herself in the mirror long after the Communion had finished and did not recognise the person she now was. To what purpose had the Within remade her features in this image? To what goal? Did it serve the Order in some esoteric way, only the Keeper and her Watchers surely knew.

The Watcher came to her some weeks after, the cowl of his hood hiding his monstrous features. He said nothing this time and as before the jabbering chatter filled her head and she found it impossible to look at him. A thick tentacle slithered out of the arm of his robe and lifted her chin and her pulled back the hood. His eyes seemed like they where on fire for they burned into her mind and she was now unable to look away. What he planted into her mind, only he knows, why he sent her from Europe to the New World in the Order she trusts. She has a purpose; a way to serve the Dracon and her family and one day, through prayer it will be revealed.