Not every encounter an inquisitor has with the supernatural is necessarily hostile. On some rare occasions, the Soldiers of Christ and the minions of the Enemy may very well find themselves at least allies of convenience, if not comrades in arms. Greater
darkness threatens the lesser creatures of the night, after all, and an inquisitor can make a fine shield or weapon to use against those forces. Similarly, a lesser monster can often be used to lead a canny inquisitor cell to its master. No formal agreements of any type exist between the Inquisition and any soul-devour- ing Enemy, singular or collective; more often than not, any arrangements that arise are short-lived, tactical, and destined to end badly for one or more of the involved parties.
Vampires
The Inquisition has had more regular aggres- sive contact with the children of Caine than any other supernatural menace abroad in the night. In general, inquisitors tend to have a sound grasp on the weaknesses of the undead and the most effec- tive weapons for dispatching them. Many of the more senior inquisitors also know how to go about capturing one of the nighthunters for questioning; experience has taught the inquisition that where one blood-drinker appears, there’s almost invari- ably a nest of the vermin.
On those (rare) occasions that the inquisition is not interested in immediately creating a pile of ashes, the philosophical bent of the Cainite heavily colors the interaction. Cainites walking the Road of Heaven, in particular, tend to generate a tremen- dously conflicted reaction among inquisitors. The pure piety that resides in many of these vampires can sometimes drive even the von Murnau sense for evil haywire — is a creature truly damned if he still fears God, bends knee to Jesus Christ as the source of his soul’s salvation, and requests confession and the Last Rites before he’s destroyed? Even the less humane followers of this road at least exude an aura of profound holiness, of near-divinity in some cases, that can cause them to be mistaken for angels long enough to effect an escape or confuse a group of inexperienced inquisitors into aiding some plot.
Similarly, Cainites following the Road of Sin often tend to have a decidedly mind-altering effect on even experienced inquisitors, much less neo- phytes. The walkers on the Paths of Desire possess an exquisitely refined understanding of want, the deep needs of heart and mind, soul and flesh, that drive both men and monsters. Canny Sinners avoid con- tact with the Inquisition when they can, but they do not necessarily fear to cross blades with the Soldiers of Christ when other options fail. Everyone has a deep-held, unfulfilled need, after all, and that is a weapon of terrible power.
Those Cainites who cling to their humanity often have the hardest row to hoe when it comes to dealing with the Inquisition. The mere appear- ance of humanity, the tendency to dwell closely among mortals and ape their behavior as though still human, and even genuinely humane actions are often insufficient to really recommend a vam- pire to an inquisitor. No matter how humane a vampire might appear, in the final analysis she is still a blood-drinking monster. It often behooves a Prodigal Cainite to simply keep her head down and hope to be overlooked.
Similarly, the over-proud Scions often find all their power and wealth availing them little when faced with an inquisitor who knows what they are and how they can die. If there’s anything an inquisi- tor despises more than a vampire who pretends to be human, it’s a vampire who expects their flock to bend knee and offer homage.
Perhaps predictably, the followers of the Road of the Beast and the Inquisition have thus far had very little real contact with one another. What little has occurred is mostly individual Ferals crossing the paths of traveling cells, with both sides jumping back and yelping, “What was that?!” Feral vampires, to most inquisitors, are functionally indistinguishable from werewolves and other shape-changing minions of the Enemy; conversation is not often a strong point between them, though bloodshed often is.
Werewolves
The Inquisition possesses little practical knowl- edge about the complexities of Garou culture. Some Theodosians who have spent time in the field re- searching the phenomena of nature, as well as supernature, have postulated that werewolves may behave in a manner similar to the ordinary beasts they so closely resemble. Certain Theodosian schol- ars, operating mostly in the vicinity of the Schwarzwald, have put forth the notion that werewolves run in packs rather than existing as the solitary predators so many inquisitors seem to en- counter. They theorize that the wolfmen may mate with a variety of different breeding stock (a horrify- ing notion in and of itself) in order to produce young separate from any supernatural rites, and are possibly immortal as a result of being part-beast and part- man. While this flies in the face of the standard belief that were-beasts have sold their souls for the gift of shape-shifting, it’s also not the strangest theory that the Red Brethren have ever floated. It has therefore received a minor amount of attention
from more intellectually inclined inquisitors. Even the Red Order assumes that most werewolves are possessed at best, active and malicious demoniacs at worst, but the thought that such creatures have a sort of observable social interaction intrigues many natu- ralist inquisitors.
As far as most Garou are concerned, the Red Brethren and their fellow inquisitors know just enough to be dangerous — and what they know implies a great deal of ignorance. Loose lips from someone’s disgruntled kin in the Schwarzwald are currently being blamed for the sudden spike of in- quisitorial interest in the affairs of the Ten Tribes. Currently, no consensus exists among the tribes as to what to do about the inquisitors or if, indeed, any- thing should be done at all; the inquisitors, after all, are as fond of making war on the Leeches and the other minions of the Wyrm as the Garou themselves. For humans, they appear to be rather good at it.
The Warders of Men and those members of the Ten Tribes who still incline toward their Christian faith seem to believe that the Inquisition can be a useful tool, if guided against the traditional foes of the Garou. Those tribes who still bear a grudge against the Church for its part in the taming of the world’s wild places and the destruction of its older faiths consider it their duty to put down individual inquisitors and even whole cells when the opportu- nity to do so presents itself. Rarely, if ever, do naturalist inquisitors hoping to learn more about the were-beasts manage to return from their research jaunts completely unscathed.
Mages
The practice of magic is anathema in the eyes of the Inquisition — even its own arcane scholars, the Red Order, do not claim to “practice magic” so much as call down the glory of the Lord in extremely tangible, potentially destructive form. It is the stan- dard belief of inquisitors in general that sorcerers, witches, wizards, and all the diverse breed of en- chanters and magicians are either frauds, deranged, or the servants of Hell, having sold their immortal souls for the power to twist the world to suit their whims.
The mages are in a dreadful position when it comes to interacting with the agents of the Inquisi- tion. While some mages — particularly the Messianic Voices, whose membership is deeply entrenched within the structure of the Church — find the inquisitors relatively simple to work around due to certain shared beliefs, other Fellowships seem to run
afoul of them at every juncture. In particular, the Valdaermen, the Old Faith, and the Spirit-Talkers have all enjoyed particularly unpleasant encounters with suspiciously well-informed inquisitorial cells in the recent past, a circumstance that leads them to suspect Messianic Voice collusion in the formation and leadership of the Inquisition. These fears may have some level of validity, but if they do, even the Inquisition itself hasn’t fully uncovered that truth.
The Order of Hermes has done a fairly decent job of drawing unfriendly attention to itself thanks to the collateral damage of its long-running feud with the vampire wizards of House Tremere and the fallout from its own internal struggles. Amusingly enough, only the Batini have thus far avoided feeling any trace of the Inquisitorial lash; that is principally because the Inquisition has only the most nominal presence in the centers of Batini power. Only the Poor Knights of the Cross of the Passion of Acre possess genuine holdings in the Holy Land, in the form of the Fortress of the Cross on Cyprus, and the gradually failing health of Grandmaster Gauthier de Dampiere is consuming much of that outpost’s at- tention at present. If the Batini continue as they always have, subtly, there is every chance that they and the Inquisition will continue coexisting peace- fully in mutual ignorance until Hell freezes over.
Fae
Opinion is divided among most inquisitors with regard to the fae. The average inquisitor isn’t en- tirely certain that such things exist; even the average von Murnau, whose awareness of such things is generally much more acute, is not entirely certain that the Fair Folk aren’t just genuine creatures of legend. The entire notion of the fae as a threat to humanity is something that is taken less than seri- ously by all but the most paranoid or credulous inquisitors. After all, many of the ills for which the fae can be blamed can also be the product of pure bad fortune: a child running away from an unwelcoming home, a babe dying in the cradle, a million homely and natural things. On cold winter nights in the chapter-houses, though, gathered safe around the braziers and the hearth-fires, some inquisitors tell dark tales from their homelands about the pwca and the baobhan sith, the rusalka and the veela, the svartalfar and the Little Washer By the Ford. It is almost a relief to them to believe that some things are just stories.
This is the way the Fair Folk like it.
The fae have their own concerns, most of which are so arcane and inimical to the Inquisition that the organization wouldn’t even try to understand them. The fae have only recently begun taking an interest in human affairs as whole again after several centu- ries of reticence (ironically, it was a member of the Red Order that attracted their attention; see Dark
Ages: Fae for more information). Now that the fae
are looking to humans and wondering why many of the old oaths aren’t being followed, conflict between the Fair Folk and the Inquisition will almost assur- edly become more common to the detriment of both.
Antagonists
The servants of Hell come in many forms, both fair and foul. Many have sold their souls for power, or at least give every appearance of having done so. Many possess the ability to twist the minds and souls of men to do their bidding. Below is a selection of the more infamous (and unknown) enemies that the Inquisition has faced.
Byleth
Before his Fall from Grace, the demon now known as Byleth was a creature of wave and water, the embodiment of the ocean’s caress of the shore, the endless motion of joining and retreat, constantly repeated. He was a being of joy and passion, of exultation and pleasure, and his greatest ecstasy came from flitting unseen around those who did not fear the sea’s pounding waves but went fearlessly among them, swimming and bathing in his waters, dancing and loving at the junction of sea and land where he made his home. Why he chose to Fall is a mystery known only to himself; in the end, he was cast down with the third of the Host that chose to defy their Maker, and, along with them made war against Heaven.
Byleth, however, was fortunate. When the War in Heaven ended, he was not cast into the Pit with the rest of his forsaken kind. He escaped the wrath of the Most High and fled into the world, taking sanctuary within the living substance of a tiny seed, wrapping himself in somnolence and hiding himself from the vengeful gaze of the Creator and the loyal Hosts of Heaven. The seed was carried far from the site of the last desperate battle of the War, carried in the fur of one beast, eaten by another, buried in the body of the earth by yet a third. Byleth slept on through the changing ages of the Earth, until the memory of the War faded from mankind and the
knowledge of angels and demons became a rare thing, harbored by priests and scholars and sorcerers. Only then did he wake and stir the sleeping life of the seed in which he rested, and cause that seed to sprout and grow into a great tree, a silver birch of unsurpassed size and beauty, which bore the image of the fallen angel in its bark. It was then that Byleth realized he could not free himself from his self-made prison, but would require the aid of another to set him loose. He found that assistance in the form of a foolish and venal young man who did his bidding and whose flesh he stole. Then Byleth-called-James walked once more among men, like a wolf among sheep.
During the long and cruel War, Byleth’s nature had twisted and deformed, transforming him from a creature of joy and pleasure to a thing made entirely of hatred and lust. His first act, upon taking physical shape, was to murder his host’s father and rape his mother to death. Before he could continue that rampage, however, he was forced from the flesh he wore by the powerful faith of that host’s brother. He fled and found a new form, a young man recently killed in a senseless brawl, whose young betrothed mourned him fiercely. Byleth-called-Geoffrey bat- tened upon the life and soul of the woman his host had loved; he would have devoured her utterly, but once again he was driven forth. Red Sister Vittoria Santini di Parma and Red Brother Giordano Nicola d’Arzenta faced him down, broke his power over his victim and forced him to flee, the rotting remains of his host body crumbling to carrion around him. Sorely wounded and enraged beyond reason by the continuous resistance of the human meat that was his prey, Byleth sought and found a third host, then went hunting for his tormentors.
Byleth-called-Christof found Brother Giordano, the weaker of the two inquisitors he had faced, accompanying a band of pilgrims to Santiago de Compostela. He joined that pilgrim- age as well, with the intent of tearing off the meddler’s head. This plan also failed. When Byleth revealed himself, Brother Giordano and the rest of the pilgrims drove him away, unable to face the united power of their faith and will. He sought and found another host and is now lying low, licking his wounds and contemplating what this string of failures has taught him. Mostly, he has learned that the direct approach does not always work, particularly when the enemy he faces is prepared for him and sometimes even when the enemy isn’t. He has also learned that mortal faith, turned
against him, is an agonizing and soul-flaying weapon that he has no desire to taste ever again. It’s much sweeter and far more satisfying to turn that weapon against his enemies when he can, and drink deeply of it himself when he can’t. To that order, he is building around himself a small cult of worshippers who are willing to yield anything he desires of them — their bodies to satisfy his incan- descent lusts, their faith to satisfy his endless aching hunger for love — in return for relatively modest favors.
The most important of these worshippers is a French nobleman, whose deep purse has endowed several Theodosian monasteries in an effort to soothe the conscience-pangs his unclean desires rouse in him. Byleth is using this connection to learn more about the Red Order while he considers his next move. He plans to make a lasting project of the defilement and destruction of Red Brother Giordano Nicola d’Arzenta, who had the bad judgment to defeat him twice. At the moment, however, the inquisitor is out of his immediate reach. This is of little matter, though, as Byleth knows where Brother Giordano is and has a nearly endless supply of monks on which to practice his revenges in the meanwhile. It is only a matter of time and a bit of planning on Byleth’s part before they meet again; when that blessed day arrives, the demon plans to make the most of it.