Mage the Awakening - Sanctum and Sigil.pdf - Mage - The Awakening - RPG

Since the times of the Exile and dispersion from that great polis

have the Awakened formed together in unity and purpose.

These cabals are the cornerstones of our society,

the blocks from which shall be built a new city.

Each sanctum is a part of this shining, dispersed city,

each Hallow a jewel in its treasury.

spirit or creature

shall violate such sanctity.

At the price of death.

— Simon Magnus, Silver Ladder warlock,

illuminator of the Lex Magica

This book includes:

• Details on the Protocols and Great

Rights of mage cabals, and the

laws of the Lex Magica presided

over by the Consilium.

• Expanded rules for the sanctum,

Hallows and ley lines, including

new Merits and spells.

• Information on Seers of the

Throne pylons and Banisher cults,

including sample groups.

ISBN 1-58846-420-2 WW40201 $26.99 US

www.worldofdarkness.com

Since the times of the Exile and dispersion from that great polis

Let it be known that no man,

spirit or creature

— Simon Magnus, Silver Ladder warlock,

PRINTED IN CANADA

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Ian could feel the Realm of the Celestial Spheres ﬂ ow

through him. Angelic symbols, the Imago of what he

wished to cast, scrawled themselves in front of his eyes,

preparing to unleash divine fury against Ian’s attacker.

Then he felt the ﬂ at slap of a ﬁ st on his stomach,

stealing away needed breath. Ian vomited up bile onto

the sidewalk. He tried to whisper a prayer to ﬁ nish

the rote and set it in motion; a raspy voice responded,

“Don’t try it, pendejo. You are far away from home.”

Ian choked back a sob as he felt the other willworker’s

power tense and react to the still-forming curse. Ian

knew his magic would fail him. He was beaten.

“Take his sigil,” suggested a voice behind Ian, a woman’s

voice, soft and out of place amid the violence. “Bring

it to Xjilé and let her decide what to do.”

The raspy voice grunted in assent. Ian saw a steel blade

appear, and a knife slashed down, cutting the thong

carrying the sigil that represented Ian’s cabal. While Ian

was forced at gunpoint toward a beat-up old van, the

man jumped onto a motorcycle and sped off.

Hope vanished into the dying light.

The heat of the place was overwhelming.

Ian dreamed of cool New England summers while

sitting on a ratty, off-green couch. White paint peeled

slowly off the walls. Outside the dirt-smeared window

was the hellhole of suburban Los Angeles. Even at night,

the temperature was high enough to wring sweat off

the body. The streets were devoid of life, save a trickle

of cars with air-conditioners cranked to the max. Inside

the cars, Sleepers chattered mindlessly on cell phones.

Ian hated this place.

But Rachel had loved it — when she needed help,

she came here, to the Jaguar’s Paw cabal instead of to

her own people. And even after she died — no, worse

than dying, for how else does one describe the desecra-

tion of one’s mind, body and soul? — even after she

ceased to be a person, her ﬁ nal wishes were the ones

that brought Ian here.

Ian shifted uneasily on the couch and felt the box

next to him. At least the local Doorwarden hadn’t

taken it from him; theoretically, it was the warden’s

right to “examine” enchanted items brought into his

sanctum. Thankfully, few mages followed that part of

the code anymore.

Ian heard the crack of a cane on ﬂ esh and turned

around. A profoundly odd, old woman was beating the

Doorwarden Ian had fought with earlier.

“Didn’t I tell you he was coming?” she screeched, her

terse anger shredding the mage’s dignity.

“But, Xjilé, you said he was supposed to arrive during

House-Skull-Reed, not in the time of Vulture.” The man

received another whack with the cane.

“Reed, Vulture, who cares?!” she responded. “ You’ve

still got eyes, don’t you?” With a ﬁ nal smack to drive

him off, the old lady turned her attention to Ian. As

she looked him over with white, blank eyes, Ian noted

that she was blind.

She tossed Ian’s sigil to him with uncanny accuracy.

Ian caught it.

“So Bright Wing went to your cabal,” she murmured.

“It seems our little bird did well for herself.”

Ian felt a sharp pang. The woman was talking about

Rachel.

“Come with me,” Xjilé said. Then she turned around

and left. Ian snatched up the box and scrambled after

her. She led him out back, ducking through a dilapidated

fence to enter a large vacant lot behind the house.

“Can’t believe no one remembers Hospitality anymore.

You’re a théarch, yes?” she asked.

Ian nodded. “ Yes.”

“I’ve been blind since birth,” the old lady commented. “I

never saw no damned Watchtower, even when I Awak-

ened. Wouldn’t know what it looked like anyway.”

“Then what did you see?”

The old lady grinned, showing off a gap-toothed

mouth. She pointed up. The stars overhead spun bril-

liantly, brighter than they had a right to be in this partly

lit suburban enclave.

“I can feel them moving,” the old lady whispered. “I

hear them sing.”

Ian ﬂ inched as he felt her cane whistle over his head,

missing him by inches. The cane spun around once, twice,

three times, and Ian was suddenly plunged through a

portal into darkness.

A sonorous voice spoke. “The Assembly will see you

now.”

“In the beginning was Aztlán, and all was Aztlán.

La Raza, the Race, lived within its bounds and were

content. But Queztalcoatl ascended Heaven’s ladder

too soon, and the world has fallen into darkness. So

it was and so it must be in this time, the Fifth Age of

Motion.”

Ian looked around in astonishment. He was in the

depths of a pyramid, a Mayan one if he remembered his

only anthropology class in college. The deep voice inton-

ing the history echoed from an indistinct source.

“Now we are a light in the dark. We follow his star

until he returns.”

“Until he returns . . .” responded a chorus of other

voices.

“Where am I?” Ian asked.

Xjilé appeared by his side. “In the ghost of a building,

one that was or perhaps will be. Listen carefully. The

Assembly approaches.”

A stream of about a dozen people ﬁ led into the

room. Dressed in white robes, they were a strange lot

— thin, fat, tall, short, with a mix of skin colors that

went from bone-pale to rich chocolate. On their faces

were richly adorned masks, decorated with animal and

human features, mixed so that you could barely deter-

mine what species was represented, let alone who was

behind the mask.

“We now convene the Assembly of la Ciudad de Nues-

tra Señora la Reyna de Los Angeles. Before we proceed

with the business of the Five Suns, we recognize the

member of the cabal of the White Rose, Herald of the

Consilium of the Therion Annex. Brother, what brings

you here?”

iII

Mage the Awakening - Sanctum and Sigil.pdf

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