Mage the Awakening - Chronicler_s Guide.pdf - Mage the Awakening - FatumTech

Reality is glass, is gingerbread and sugar, is chalk. We break pieces away.

We take pieces apart. We reassemble them to suit ourselves.

The seams are there for those with the eyes to see.

The laws are there for those with the hands to split them.

The conigurations are born from those with the minds and wills to create them.

This is how it has always been. This is how it will aways be.

— Virbius, King Under the Branches, Thyrsus seer

This book includes:

• A variety of different

approaches to the Mage

chronicle, from genres such

as noir and action to the

concept of tiers of power

• Variant interpretations of the

magic system, such as Weird

Science or psychic powers

• Enhancing the player-focused

facets of the game, sample

chronicles, and more

For use with The World of Darkness and

Mage: The Awakening rulebooks.

53199

9 781588 463869

PRINTED IN CANADA

WWW.WORLDOFDARKNESS.COM

ISBN 978-1-58846-386-9 WW40325 $31.99 US

By Dave Brookshaw, Bethany Culp,

Howard Ingham, Danielle Lauzon, Matthew McFarland, Mark Simmons,

Chuck Wendig, Filamena Young, Eric Zawadzki

INITIATION

Estelle blearily opened her eyes. She was lying on the floor. Unable to see

in the dim light, she called upon her magic, blinking as her new eyes adjusted.

Everything was brighter now. Her older brother, Jack, was sprawled out on a

faded, moth-eaten rug next to her, sandy-blonde hair a typical mess, and snoring

lightly. Suddenly alert, Estelle pulled herself upright and shook him.

“Jack! Wake up!”

“’s Saturday, Squirt, leemie ‘lone…” he muttered, rolling over.

“Jack, I’m serious. I don’t know where we are!”

“Okay, okay, jeez.” He said. Estelle was inches from his face, her wide, golden

cat’s eyes shining eerily in the darkness. “It really freaks me out when you do

that, you know.” Sitting up, Jack surveyed the room. “Whoa, you weren’t kidding.

What is this place?”

“I’ll try the door.” Skidding across the dusty loor-

boards to the ornately carved double doors of the foyer,

Estelle jiggled the tarnished bronze doorknob. “It won’t

open!”

“Let me try,” Jack said, getting to his feet and approach-

ing the doors. “Yeah, they’re good and stuck there, aren’t

they? Weird.”

“I told you that already. The windows won’t open,

either. And why do you always have to double-check

everything I do, you dork?”

“Do you even know what a dork is? It’s a whale penis.

You just called me a whale penis.”

Glaring at Jack, Estelle pivoted on her heels, ponytail

whipping around behind her, and stormed into the

adjacent living room.

“Hey, don’t spaz on me, ‘Stelle. It’s not going to help

anything,” said Jack, rummaging through his backpack.

“Worst case scenario, we call somebody on my cell to

come and get us out of this dump.”

Jack lipped open the cellular phone and punched

the keypad, “Huh, that’s strange, there’s no signal. Hey!

What are you —?”

Estelle returned to the window with a wrought iron

ire poker. She lifted it over her shoulder and swung,

hard, at the grimy glass. When the poker hit the pane,

it glanced off with a loud, metallic clank and a shower

of orange sparks. There was no damage at all — not

even the smallest of cracks. Estelle lifted the poker and

swung again. Again, sparks fell from the impact, leaving

the glass intact. A sharp pang of panic jolted through

Estelle. Trapped. She swung at the obstinate pane again

and again, until her petite form was lost in a blazing

cascade of brilliant sparks and the hallways of the old

house reverberated with the cacophony. Out of breath

and arms shaking with fatigue, she let the iron rod drop

to the loor. The poker struck the dusty, hardwood loor

without a sound.

“What the — ?” Estelle mouthed in confusion, but

no sound issued from her lips. All was deathly still. She

felt magic behind her. Spinning around noiselessly, Es-

telle saw two other kids standing in the dingy hallway

behind her.

One was a boy, pale, dark-haired, and handsome in

an awkward sort of way. He was older than Estelle and

her brother, maybe 16 or 17, with a hard expression. He

surveyed them both with an unsettling intensity in the

utter silence.

Estelle recognized the pudgy, cherub-kneed girl shift-

ing nervously behind the pale boy. Her name was Blaire

Baker. She was in the same grade as Estelle at Austin-

town Middle School. She never said very much in class,

and most of the kids made fun of her, calling her “Big

Blaire.” But Blaire never defended herself or spoke back.

She always sat rigidly at her desk, eyes cast downward,

pudgy face sweaty and red with shame, biting her lip in

a deiant attempt not to cry. Estelle had never joined in

teasing Blaire, but some of her clique did, so she didn’t

want to get involved. Maybe she felt a little guilty about

it, but what was she supposed to do? Standing up for

Blaire would have been social suicide.

Casting a nervous, sideways glance at her brother, Es-

telle saw that Jack had ixed his eyes upon the intruders.

The pale boy looked taken aback for a second, and then

turned to face Jack.

Estelle heard her brother’s familiar voice echo through

her mind, “He says it’s dangerous to make loud noises in

this house, but he’ll drop the silencing spell if we both

promise to keep it down.”

Estelle nodded at the pale boy, indicating that she

understood, and after a long moment, he dropped the

spell and spoke in an urgent whisper.

“Keep your voices low. If Jonathan hears you, it’ll just

piss him off. Besides, banging at those windows won’t

do any good anyway. I was brought here three days ago,

and still haven’t found any way out of this house.” Jack

was still studying the boy intently as he spoke.

“Where are we?” asked Estelle. “How did we get here?

Who’s Jonathan?” Estelle thought about asking about

the magic, about whether Blaire could do it, too, but

then she shook the thought off. It didn’t seem to mat-

ter, not here.

“I’m not sure how we got here. The last thing I remember

was walking by the park on the way home from school.

I had to stay late because Principal Brice is a douchebag

with no sense of humor. Anyway, I think I might have

seen some people moving around through the trees, but

then something happened and I blacked out. When I

woke up, I was here, just like you. And Jonathan, that’s

what the ghost calls himself —“

“A ghost?” exclaimed Estelle. “Like, rattling chains

and—“

“A r e y o u R i l e y S h a r p ’s o l d e r b r o t h e r? ” J a c k i n t e r r u p t e d ,

staring hard at the older boy. “He’s in my grade, and you

look a lot like him.”

“I am Riley Sharp,” the boy said. Behind him, Blaire

tugged at his sleeve.

“Explain it later, Riley,” she said in an anxious whisper,

“I can feel him coming. We need to move!” Eyes wide

with fear, Blaire bolted from the room.

An abrupt wave of intense heat gusted through the

living room, throwing dust, cobwebs, and tattered

scraps of peeling wallpaper into a wild whirlwind. “Run!

Hide!” Riley shouted through the deafening roar of the

wind, “ Now !”

Mage the Awakening - Chronicler_s Guide.pdf

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