Path of the Archangel

The Nephilim are the primary devotees on the Path of the Archangel, but not the only ones. Other Toreador who have so far avoided the cult’s baptism nonetheless remember their godlike patron and quietly strive to emulate him still. Foreign Vanitas come to Constantinople and find the tragic romance of the Archangel irresistible, falling into step out of fascination. Cainites of other Clans who were loyal to Michael or one of his scion families, or those strongly dedicated to the Church but seeking vampiric inspiration in it, follow this Path when they reach the end of their rope and seek an example to uphold for themselves. The Nephilim’s aggressive proselytizing snares others with their ability to appear as truly divine messengers.

Following in Michael’s footsteps means acting as muse and shepherd to all, and as martyr when need be. As adherents to the Road of Heaven, the Archangel’s Faithful view Michael as the risen Christ of the Damned and believe vampires must act the part of angels to the mortal herd. Some even believe all the angels were vampires, with Michael as their greatest example.

**Virtues:** Conscience and Self-Control

**Aura:** Melancholia. A Childe of the Archangel applies modifiers whenever her great loss and longing would engender a reaction, or when being seen as a martyr is relevant.

## Constantine Reverie

*My childe, I assure you that all the tales you have heard of this mesmerizing city are absolutely true. Last night I took in the sights at the Grand Bazaar and there I found a small den hung with tapestries, where one of our Clan entreated me to join in what she called the “Constantine Reverie.” A Milanese, you know, not one of the natives. I’m told the Greek Toreador here labor under a terrible curse of madness! I regret not to have seen them yet*

*The den was lit with blue lanterns and incense smoke rose like a thick mist. My host invited me to enjoy the company of carefully-selected kine who partook of every pleasing substance imaginable — the servants brought opium, khat, hashish, belladonna, mandragora, and creations of their own unfamiliar to me. Beautiful boys danced for our pleasure and an oud player performed exquisite music to tantalize the ear. At midnight, a series of chimes signaled us to begin the feeding, and you cannot imagine the euphoria. Such seduction of the senses I have never before found, nor I fear will I ever find again. No mere vitae, this, but a sublime nectar that utterly hypnotized me. It was then that I first saw the true Constantinople, the paradise touched by the hand of God that you hear of in the verses of the Hellenes, and I wept.*

*Once we all had fed, the chimes sounded again and our host led us on a tour of the city’s most captivating corners. I swear to you, the curtain of time parted for us. I saw the Dream they mourn painted in gold and silver before my eyes. We watched the gladiators fight for our amusement, we rode with the charioteers and felt the wind lash our faces, and we heard the haunting eventide hymns of the ghouls at the Hagia Sophia. We basked in the beauty of vibrant statues and mosaics, and sampled the Bazaar’s most forbidden wares. We dallied in the private pleasure gardens of the Roman villas and marveled at the hues of Syrian silks. As the night wore on and we saw the past fade, we sought comfort in each other’s arms at the great loss we suffered. I have walked the night for centuries, and in all that time I have never felt such an emptiness.*

*My host opens her doors every night, choosing with a discerning eye from among those mor-tals and Cainites who flock to the Bazaar. Amidst our kind were those of many Clans — I never thought to see a Gangrel brute sobbing in the embrace of a Tremere sorcerer, but such is the power of the Constantine Dream. I pray you find your way here someday, and I pray you stumble across the hidden jewel of the Grand Bazaar as I did.*