The Roaring Age (nWoD)

Page 60: The Bitter Dregs of Life, Part 3

"Spirits are not animals, or pests. Too many people assume that, the idjits," Anant said, firmly, gesturing to the spirit-filled animals. "They aren't something that you can just sweet-talk with a few kind words and a headpat. But there are similarities to animals."

"Like what?" Miriam asked, kneeling cross-legged on the ground. She ran her hands again and again through the dust and the dirt, which felt wrong to her, oddly grainy and lumpy, as if it were just the memory of dirt, rather than the actuality.

Everything in this world wasn't real, at least in a physical sense, but it felt real… except for the ground itself.

The trees all smelled faintly of decay, barely kept alive by the soil, but he was clearly used to it, and focused in on the instruction.

"Instinct, they are driven by instinct. And if you don't understand that, you don't see them right. It's not that a dog cannot care for his master, but he cares for his belly as well. And dogs are far smarter than most of the animals of the natural world." Anant gave a shake of his head, "But it doesn't matter. There's a Rote that allows you to speak and see spirits that are on this side of the world, who have in some sense put themselves within nature. It requires taking a breath, and then slowly letting it out…"

He held out a hand, cupped. "And then cupping your hand as if you're offering something to an animal, without taking in another breath. You have to be calm, and you have to control yourself if you want to manage to do it, because what you're trying to do is create common grounds with the spirit. You can actually fill your hands with valuable seed to strengthen the spell, the tie that allows you to see spirits itself, so long as none of that seed is ever planted, and is instead cast down to the ground to root or not as it will."

"Huh," MIriam said, thinking through the symbolism of that.

"You can also, in a different way, cup your hand to your ear while imagining the Spirits, which is the truly difficult thing for one such as you. It's to imagine it, it's to be able to reach out and feel them, to know what they are." Anant sighed. "And you're young, which hurts it. In our kingdom, the druids knew the secrets of viewing ghosts and spirits, and taught and learned it over many trials, and many challenges. These were designed to push them beyond Sleep, and into supernatural power of a lesser sort."

He waved his hand. "When it is said that it took twenty years to learn, it was in part because it wasn't merely the knowledge of a thousand verses and the many Gods and Goddess that was being learned, but a way of seeing things, and understanding them. Even so, many didn't know it. Many of them were, as you might say in your modern tongue, failures. Losers. People without worth and value who nonetheless held the title of Druid. Every religion has priests who are less than… wise."

Miriam frowned, but despite her friend's religion, her mind went back to the corrupt Popes, who had tyrannized people, trading salvation for money. Or other figures, who had preached that God loved slavery. There were people who disgraced the name of Christianity and its message.

"Yes," Miriam said.

"It was as that. But you are young, and hasty. You can learn a lot now, but there are things you might not know for a decade or two. You need to view the world in the right way." Anant shook his head. "What am I doing, talking to some child."

Miriam bristled, though she took a breath before she spoke. "I can't choose my age. I Awakened now, not twenty years from now. I'm asking you now, rather than waiting twenty years. If I offend you by doing so, I apologize." Miriam said it quietly, and she saw Anant stiffen, and then shrug.

"Fine, girl. Well, here's one I learned from a visitor. There's another way to do it, but I suppose that maybe this one will make sense to you. You place your hand over your eye like so…"

He reached his hand out and put it over his eye, with the fingers looking as if they were digging into his brow, covering it, as if his nails were about to go further.

"Like this?" Miriam asked, imitating it, and then looking back at him with one eye.

"Exactly. Like you were about to pluck out your eye. Then you think of the Gauntlet, and your desire to see beyond it. To pierce the veil and gain knowledge. Then you move your fingers like this…"

He pushed them down, as if he had gripped the eyeball, and then held up his hand, wrapped around empty air, as if he were holding his own eye.

"Huh," Miriam said. "That seems…"

"There's a norse God, Odin. But the concept is familiar as well. To sacrifice for something greater. To give up something that you might profit. Or that others might. Sacrifice is at the heart of faith."

Miriam didn't agree, but didn't want to respond. Sacrifice was at the heart of the redemption of Jesus Christ, but that wasn't the same as everyday faith, which came from different sources, in different ways.

"Foundation of anything. You sacrifice time, you study and learn, and in doing so, there are so many other things you could do. Those hours you repeated the ancient stories, you might have been riding a horse, or running through the fields, or talking with friends." He waved his arms. "Instead I learned, and gained knowledge, and sacrificed for my faith again and again. But what happens when a man sacrifices for nothing? What if your Christ had offered up his life to no effect? What if it's not just a…"

Miriam knew what he was talking about, and it wasn't religion. He'd given up so much, and gained nothing from it. "But he didn't. And you… I promise I'll find a way to help you. I'm not sure how, but I'm going to start looking."

"Where?"

"There's this Mysterium library…"

"An Athenaeum," Anant said, with perfect pronunciation. "If you're looking, you won't find some easy answer, because if a Mage could fix it with a single easy spell, Life or Matter or Mind or even Spirit, they would have already. But if you want to start there, I'd realize that it's not all Mages. We're wise, but we're not all there is."

He shook his head. "I wouldn'ta agreed with that before. Things have changed."

Miriam frowned at him, but what could she say? They were divided, by their religion and by the fact that he was clearly without hope, without optimism. Whereas to be a Christian was to live in hope and faith, for the good news had come.

But she could hardly preach to him that he join her faith, and expect to be listened to, expect not to offend him. If God willed it, then in the fullness of time he'd be saved, and until then, Miriam couldn't and shouldn't act too hastily in judging him, nor in speaking against his beliefs.

"The Athenaeum?" Miriam asked.

"They existed even then. Storing lore, hiding lore. Judging who deserved it or not. Censoring hidden artifacts, teaching Mages how to use their power. They did and were many things, friends among them, at times." Anant laughed. "Some of them. But what did friendship mean, then? Each such place has its special secrets, and its specializations. You add what you find, and yet some of them always found… that they drew more. Like met like." He shrugged. "It is the duty of Mystagogues to add to and protect this knowledge. If they're willing to share it with others, that's how it is. They won't show you more than you ask for. And if you ask them for something they don't have much of, what will it get you?"

"Oh?" Miriam asked.

"So ask them what they do. If they don't tell you, they aren't one anyways."

Miriam nodded. "Thank you for the advice. I'm not sure how much longer I can stay here. My… Shadow. Shadow needs me back before too long, and if I don't wake up on time, my parents would comment."

"Ah, right. Those." Anant shook his head. "Then you may leave."

Miriam didn't know how she was supposed to respond to the dismissal, as well as the permission to leave, when she was merely trying to be polite and hinting that perhaps in the next few dozen minutes they could finish up. But he'd told her a little about Spirits, at least enough to be thinking about it, considering what he'd said.

Twenty years? That seemed like a call to consider what she was trying to do more. To see and talk to a spirit; to see beyond the Gauntlet. Both were acts of understanding, and that required thinking the right way.

It took time.

But she had that.

*******

Miriam blinked, looking around the small room. She was seated at a table, and there was a man leaning over it. He was dressed in tweed, white with a handlebar mustache, his features fine but withered with age.

The last thing she'd remembered had been the trip back to the college. Her uncle wasn't there this time, she went on her own, and had felt out of place. People had turned to look at her, both for her age and her race, and she'd hurried along, trying not to hear the whispers, trying not to mind or respect the incredulity when she came to the library.

She wasn't sure when she went up to the desk in the library, coughing at the dust and trying to take it all in. It was a huge library, and full of empty space for that matter. She'd leaned in and said, "Flowers bloom."

It had been a code word, and now she was here.

"Well, well. We have a seeker of knowledge here," the man said, shaking his head with a smile. "You may call me Bookie. Yes, you may laugh at that. I was younger once." He reached a hand up to feel his mustache in a way that felt almost like he was trying to stroke it like a cat.

The room itself was small and drab, with wooden walls and a green carpet floor.

"I wouldn't laugh," she said. "How did I get here?"

"A spell, a simple one. We walked you here, and then eliminated the memory. I didn't, I'm not a Mastigos."

"This archive… can you tell me about it?"

"It's existed since just after the great fire in one way or another. I've been its Curator for almost a decade. In that time it's grown a lot, though there have been disagreements about how. We don't weed as normal libraries might, and we have many avenues…" He shrugged, grandly. "Does that answer your question? I could tell you a little more about how it was founded, Ruth, but that's a long story of little consequence."

"I was more interested in what is studied here. I know you said there were many avenues, but I've been told that most Athaenea are focused."

"We study the history of Chicago, as well as America in general, and the roots tracing back across it all. Along those same lines, we have a modest collection of material on Space magic, especially regarding travel, and a lot of material on the ancient magical practices before Chicago. We have a few very fine Grimoires of spirit-lore, and quite a lot on Indian religion." He frowned, as if running down a list. "There is a lot of study about the Oneiros and the Temenos, and collective psychology and sociology, and similarly we have quite a lot on the nature of the mind and its magical qualities." He coughed. "Besides that, we have odds and ends, a little bit of Prime, and recently we've gained… uh. Ah. Yes. A lot of works studying voodoo, hodoo, and Southern mysticism in general."

"Ah," Miriam said. "Well, I assume I won't see the actual archive?"

"Not yet. If you go through initiation, we sometimes let you see a little more of it, and once it's obvious you've more fully committed, since you can still leave… then we open it up for you… with my permission. You gain based on merit, and the proper trade of information, or contribution to the whole. Right Scholarship is important, or else it becomes a system of buying and selling merit, or giving away dangerous weapons to those not ready to use them."

"I understand," Miriam said, thoughtfully, as she considered her options.

I want to read about… (Choose 2)

[] The occult history of Chicago.
[] Occult America.
[] The Temenos.
[] The Oneiros.
[] Spirit "Bestiaries"...
[] Supernal Summoning (Mastigos)
[] Mind Magic
[] The nature of time.
[] Southern mysticism.
[] Voodoo and Hoodoo.
[] The civil war in occult lore.
[] Though it wasn't mentioned as a major topic: Ghost Mages.
[] Demon-Spawn.
[] Indians.
[] Space.
[] Wriite-in. No seriously, as the big list implies…!

******



A/N: So it goes! A library! Again, I'm sorry that it's so short, but I do hope that speed of updating makes up for it slightly.

Page 61: Ancient Wisdom and Modern Contrivance

It was a beautiful book. It looked old, from the dark purple cover and the strange glyphs that adorned the cover, but as Bookie looked on, she had the feeling that perhaps it wasn't as old as it seemed. She opened it up.

The title page on the inside read, 'The Spirit Choirs of Chicago.'

"Spirit Choirs?" Miriam asked, frowning.

"They're also called courts," Bookie pointed out helpfully. "Some spirits vaguely divide themselves and rule over each other by these distinctions. The spirits of hoofed creatures, for instance, might be led by a powerful spirit, some sort of mythological horse-God, that reigns over all of his kind."

"Ah?" Miriam asked, thinking it through.

"It's the law of the jungle, from what I've told, so don't assume that they are governments, though there is connection. There isn't a King, a Queen, and a nobility." Bookie nodded to himself, and seemed to fade a little in the background, as if he was just there to answer questions.

She started with the introduction, which explained that this book was published in 1902, against her expectation, and was the result of deep exploration within the Spirit in an attempt to gain some understanding. Thus she had divided the spirits into groups, groups that tied to choirs, but also to their location and kind.

There was a glossary, which had Vermin-spirits, Pet spirits, Technology spirits, Emotion spirits, Vice spirits and spirits of a place. There was then a miscellaneous category, and that alone made her realize that most likely the author hadn't entirely succeeded in nailing things down.

But perhaps that just wasn't possible. The author went on to explain their classification method and the format of each entry. It was to state a description of the most common appearance, and the ways that they can use their powers depending on how highly ranked they were, and a common list of bans, as well as the nature of the 'essence' that they could safely devour. It would then end with interaction notes that she had taken, as well as potential ways that such beings could be of service to a Mage, or a threat to a mage, including any particular strange habits or characteristics.

It seemed pretty clearly meant to be simple, informative, and yet detailed.

So she dove in, aware that it also seemed as if it were also meant to not be a first introduction, since it didn't explain a number of simple matters. For instance, she had to infer that Gafflings were stronger than motes, but weaker than Jafflings, who themselves were weaker than Incarana.

But it was still relatively clear and understandable, at least.

******

Rat Spirit (Pest Choir)

Description: It is a common occurrence, to meet a rat in a city, and this is no different in the Shadow. Most rat spirits are Gafflings, weak and not all that dangerous alone, and they are a little bigger, and a little meaner, than an ordinary rat, but no more. However, some Rat spirits manage to grow far larger, or in some other way far more powerful, on essence of a rather different sort.

In my time, I've seen a strange, twisted rat-spirit that seemed to grow and feast upon pollution, as well as a rat spirit, called Plague-Bringer, to translate the tongue of the spirit into the tongue of the mortal, who was merely large for a rat, and yet had an entire army of weaker Gaffling rats that brought and fed it essence from those who died of disease, as it grew twisted and strange indeed.

Most rat spirits can merely push and pull the small minds of rats in order that they gather in an area, or cause trouble that creates the essence that they feed upon. They also possess a sense for the spirits in their area, and an understanding of the dark corners in which they prowl.

Common bans include being unable to leave an area, such as a sewer, or being so cowardly that they cannot fight if they can instead flee.

They can safely feed on trash essence, or the essence of food that matches a rat's diet, but plague essence and other such dangerous things can often warp a rat towards dangerous abilities.

Personal Notes: They eat anything. They are strange beings, cowardly and never even remotely trusthworthy, and they have pact and allegiance, sometimes, to very dangerous spirits indeed. On the other hand, as long as you understand their innate nature, they can make decent spies, and agents for infiltrating an area. My cabal-mate informed me of the extensive use of rats, controlled using both Spirits and Life directly, to spy on houses. By slipping but a single rat in, fewer notice it than through more obvious methods of surveillance.

*****

Mongrel Dog Spirit

Description: There are as many kinds of Dog Spirit as they are types of dogs, but the ones that I was most familiar with in my journeys were alley dogs, less tame than some of them. They appeared not as a single breed, but of a scruffy set of scarred dogs that stuck together and were exceptionally difficult to take down. Dog spirits tend to take size and strength as one. While there are powerful cat spirits, and rat spirits, that are at most slightly large, the most powerful dog spirits tend to be the size of small ponies, and they are vicious to their enemies.

Dog spirits only rarely travel alone for extended periods of time, and so expect a pact.

Most dog spirits have influence, of course, over dogs, but it is common that emotions such as loyalty, or sometimes fear, get mixed in with their powers, and the strongest dog spirits I've seen could control dogs en masse. Almost all dog spirits are capable of tracking others by scent, or by psychic impression, and many have a piercing howl that sends shivers down the spine of even the brave-hearted, an effect that is supernatural in nature.

Dog spirits care about the hierarchy, and thus anyone they've lost a fight to, they often struggle to go up against when faced with the trouble again. Many are compelled to roll around in any filth presented to them, and their hatred of cats is both more inflexible and more universal than that of ordinary dogs, who can be taught to get along with cats.

Setting out clean essence for them, of meat or tinged with loyalty, is an effective and safe way to manage the local population.

Personal Note: I have some affection for dog spirits, as they were perhaps the first spirits that I befriended and tamed to some small extent. That said, this same nature means that many Incarna and other powerful spirits have a pack of spirit-dogs on a leash, ready to act as attack dogs in exchange for sources of essence.

But if you can use your control of essence and your own strength--it helps to legitimately best them in a contest--to gain their loyalty, then it will prove hard for them to turn against you. On the other hand, if you are journeying through the Shadow, dog-spirits can be very dangerous, especially those that are fed by the fear of rabid dogs, and other such panic.

*****

Take-Another-Loan, Greed Spirit

Description: There are other spirits, of course, of something like Greed, but Take-Another-Loan is special. Most greed spirits appear as chinking coins, but Take-Another-Loan is a mass of papers, all written on in red-ink. Tall, and sometimes in a human form of paper mache, the spirit is powerful and dangerous, and has been around for several decades at this point.

Preying on and creating greed, and then exploiting it, it has aspects of misery and desperation to it as well, and its powers are so great that it can control and shape a person's greed. It specializes in preying on the weak and vulnerable whose desire for a loan is stretched into greed, and is in charge of a local group of spirits that try to corrupt and use humans to gain essence.

I've tried to act against it in some way, but there are those who… support it. And not all of them are among our enemies. In a fight, it is not all that dangerous, but that isn't the primary or sole method of judging it.

It must accept all deals that are offered it if they are offered in the proper form, and this has been some boon against it, but I suspect that he has allies on the wrong side of things.

You must understand, this is a serious danger, and shows what Vice Spirits can do...

*****

Death-of-Knives

Miriam looked at the picture attached to it, of the knife going through a man, and stared as she realized that this was in fact a weapon. A weapon that people used, that liked killing.

She flipped the page. Hastily.

******

A playground spirit, a spirit of lightning, a spirit of steel… the list went on and on, but what drew her eyes was what came after that.

'I know the truth, and that is that this last account has already been told. But my mentor transmitted the memory to me.

When the Great Fire happened, he fled into the Shadow, near the south side. The fire spread on and on, and he was tired by the time he got there. The Mages were unable to stop it, and its cause was never known.

If it were just accident, then how did all of these Mages fail to see the truth? And yet our divinations show it to be merely accident. But I think it is more.

For he came upon a being, a blazing bonfire, a molten creature that strode about setting all of the Shadow on fire.

He came with a woman, a powerful Thyrsus, and she died, trying to stop it. It swiped her aside as if she were nothing, so great was its magic.

But he survived, badly burned, and what he saw was this fact, this one singular fact amid the burns and the terror:

It was a powerful Celestine, beyond the control of even the strongest normal Mage, but its nature was not fire.

No.

It was arson.'

Miriam looked up, closing the book, her hands a little shaky. "Arson?"

"There's no evidence. But something happened," Bookie said. "If you were reading what I thought you were. We have examined it in more depth, but… you are not a Mystagogue. We have some information, and a few theories, but we keep them carefully locked up. The Guardians probably know the truth if anyone does, but…"

Bookie looked at her archly, and then leaned in. "It's a mystery, most of all."

Miriam wanted to know more, because she had just been dropped into a secret, a rumor of the Great Fire of '71 from a magical perspective, and now she didn't know what came next.

"I see the curiosity. It is fitting. There are many people who don't get that far. You're a very fast reader, and very astute, I'm guessing," Bookie said.

"Divinations turned up no proof that it was sabotage?"

"Yes, we've looked back in time and found nothing." Bookie shrugged. "But there are ways to fool anything and everything." Bookie smiled. "Young lady, I can't give you more specifics than you're reading here, but it's an important question to ask. Though the issue of 'Why' is just as important."

"Reasons do matter," Miriam said, quietly. She frowned and rubbed her hands together, glancing around the room. She didn't know how long had passed, and she didn't care, specifically. What mattered was that she was on the scent of yet another question, albeit one that had apparently baffled people for decades.

"And there we go. So, the other books…"

He gestured to them, and she'd looked at them, if not read through them. "They don't say much that you probably don't know. Ghost Mages are an interesting phenomenon, and so perhaps you'd like to specify?"

"Well, what are the types of Ghost Mages?"

Bookie considered this. "Types?"

"What about one that's found in the Astral?"

"Ah. We know less about those, oddly. Those that die while they're in the Spire often find themselves trapped as residents. Their magic is an interesting point of study, one that can be found here, in the 'Ponderings on the Dead.' But the basics are simple. The dead cannot do magic as the living can. It should lose all hint and spark of Awakened might, and yet… while Ghost Mages lack the sheer power of the living, they can invoke Paradox."

"They can? Then how can it be different magic?" Miriam asked.

"That question is addressed over about fifty pages in this book, and the basic answer is that they usually know only the Rotes they knew in life, and nothing else. But they can remember quite a bit elsewise. But ghosts are not the living, and aren't people, and so there is less study of them than there might be."

"They feel emotions," Miriam argued.

"Reflections. The ghosts of emotions," Bookie said, rather confidently. "It's well to respect them, just as you respect spirits despite their inhumanity, or at least are aware that spirits shouldn't be idly toyed with. Astral Ghost Mages seem to be the same in the essentials, but confined to only a single area. In both cases, there are ways you can intentionally become one, but most exist because of accident."

Miriam bit her lip. "Does anyone know a way to change their nature? Or to change the Astral environment long-term?"

"Perhaps Matter?" Bookie frowned. "Long term in what way?"

"I know a man, a Mage named Anant," Miriam admitted. "The ground in his domain, his prison, seems barely able to support life. It's bitter, dead ground. Or almost dead. I promised I would work on healing it."

"Besides what I've suggested?" Bookie asked. "I'm surprised you haven't thought of the fact that it might be psychological. Some aspect of his nature that leads to the ruined ground. The ghost effects his area, or so I've been told." Bookie smiled, and gave a polite nod. "I try to keep up on all of the major academic areas and controversies, though Ghost Mages are somewhat out of the ordinary."

Miriam nodded. "Oh," she said. She'd learned a lot, and that was an interesting thought, though perhaps not one with a simple answer. Because if it was as easy as some sort of spell to fix a mind, then wouldn't someone have done it already?

Perhaps not, but she couldn't be sure whether it was worth it to try, especially if it failed. "What are some reasons why this might not work?"

"If he's a ghost, then his mindset might be set. A ghost cannot change, except to grow worse and fall apart. It is very rare for them to regain sanity at all, and only then… well, there are some things that Orpheans do that we cannot entirely replicate, at least with the practices that an ordinary Mage can use."

"The Orpheans?"

"Strange beings that died and yet live again, that travel between the Underworld and the living world, and do business with ghosts. Studying them is quite a topic, one full of contention. Many topics are." Bookie smiled. "If you want to discuss the nature of the world with others who are just as fascinated and willing to learn… then there are few better places than the Mysterium. We believe in academic rigor, and welcome new viewpoints. If you wanted to study how to help this Anant…"

Miriam smiled, aware of when someone was trying to sell something. Yet the truth was, it did seem very tempting. And Bookie was at least being straightforward.

"I'll think about it."

"Very well. I hope this is not seen as pressuring you, you may of course read the sources yourself. It is best to get information from as many places as you can, in order to understand its limitations."

Miriam nodded, and glanced at the stack of books. "I think I will."

*******

Miriam goes to a ball game with friends: what goes wrong? (Pick 1… I mean, you'd have to be crazy to pick more than one.)

[] Two of the players start fighting.
[] One of her friends is suddenly called away at an inopportune moment.
[] There is a rainstorm.
[] Miriam meets someone unexpected, and new.
[] A meddler interferes with the game.
[] Write-in something moderately innocuous sounding.

*******


A/N: Short, but sweet.