Blame this.
Order of Saint Andrew – Google Docs
The Order of Saint Andrew
Lycanthropes — and other were-species, to be sure — have always been a difficult issue for the Church. Penitent vampires generally have been a self-correcting problem; intelligent artificial constructs have been cleared for the last two centuries by a secret Papal bull noting that the Almighty was just as capable of ensouling a created life-form as He was of a natural-born child; and if a non-human could survive the baptismal process, well, that was that. But werewolves were problematical. The cursed ones could be cured, of course; but the ones born into the condition were often harder to treat. At the same time, many of these people were genuinely good sorts who happened to turn into wild beasts during the full moon. They were ill, not evil.
The Order of Saint Andrew exists to help these poor unfortunates. Full membership is restricted to actual communicants in the Church, of course (other religions have their own organizations), but even a hypothetical atheist werewolf would be helped, albeit under the most stringent restrictions. The Order has lay and clerical members, of both sexes; monks and nuns of the Order are expected to take the usual vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience. All members of the Order are also enjoined to live reflective lives of calmness and simplicity, on the Dominican monastic model.
The Order teaches two things: they teach the Man to keep the Beast mastered, and the Beast to heed the laws of the Man. In practical terms, the Order of Saint Andrew shows its members how to control their transformations, despite the most difficult temptations and provocations. And when a transformation is nonetheless inevitable, the Order also shows its members how to keep from becoming ravening monsters.
Not everybody can do it. Some monks and nuns have to be locked up on certain nights, to their regret. But many can master themselves and their impulses, in either form. They’re never, say, dogs: the Beast within them is neither tamed, nor domesticated. But the Beast can learn to understand not to harm people who are not harming it. Combine that with a few large cellar rooms full of pillows and bones; a discreet enclosed place in which to run, howl at the moon, and chase squirrels; and of course a trough or two of meat to gnaw, and everything is fine. Or at least under control.
Just don’t ever try to rob an Order-house. The Order of Saint Andrew’s monks, nuns, and lay members are — well, ‘territorial’ is a human word, and it doesn’t quite fit the way that they feel about the organization that is keeping them both sane and safe. And it’s an open question whether a Member of the Order is more dangerous to attackers in his human form, or beast. Best not to find out, hey?