CHAPTER FIVE:

 

 SOLITARY TEMPLATES

Again, the dream.

Lama jaguar running through the forest. My heart is pounding;

with may paus and legs, Inimbly leap from ground to tree branch back

to the ground, racing along the jungle with my belly low to the floor.

 

What am 1 hunting?

 

This time, the dream is clearer. 1 can see now the foliage that

was simply a murky green shadow before: here a cohune tree,

there gumbolimbo, there palm. Is it my dream that has become so

clear, or have 1 simply learned that much more?

 

Ahead in the path: a fer-de-lance, its immense serpentine body

coiled in a deadly loop. This time | see it, though. In the first dream

T was struck, blind to the serpent's presence, its venom pierced my

heart and threw me into fatal spasms. The second dream, 1 saw it,

but too late to avoid its fatal strike. This time, 1 avoid it and fly past.

 

And there, ahead of me in the path, another serpent. But this one

looms before me, and 1 hear my mentor's voice: 'To become one awith

the spirit world is to become one «with the natural world. They are no

different; those who are blind to one world cannot see the other.”

Praise the spirits, 1 am no longer blind.

 

The first and most important effect of a living mythological

symbol is to wwaken and give guidance to the energies of life.

— Joseph Campbell, Myths to Live By

 

ASOLITARY ROAD

 

Many sorcerers practice alone. Most join a society at

some point. After all, it's hard to learn how to drive when no

one's around to teach you. Given the treacherous nature of

occult societies, however, many magicians (and Awakened

mages for that matter) go off to follow a solitary path for a

time, Without the freedom to drive on the open road, it's

pretty difficult to leam how to handle yourself — especially

if the teacher keeps yanking the wheel out of your hands.

 

The following character templates depict young aspir-

ing magicians, travelers without a craft, armed with

confidence, vision and lots of attitude, With some slight

modifications (changing the Paths to Sphere ratings and

Arete), these characters work equally well as Awakened

Orphan-solitaries. Take them where you will.

 ANTIQUARIAN

 The last and greatest art is to limit and isolate oneself.

— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

 Quote: Unless you have something to trade, go away. 1 don't have time for the likes of you.

 Prelude: Books... so many books. Fascinating, really, when you consider the permutations of the human imagination and experience. So many things to read, So many facts to discover. You read them all as soon as you could. Soon, you discovered that facts were power. Considering what happened with your socalled peers in school, you needed all the power you could get.

 They beat you up, the Philistines. Tore your books to pieces, blackened your eyes, left your glasses shattered on the curbsides and went away laughing. More times than you could count, they shut you out for your love of learning. The teachers saw nothing, did nothing. They who should have fostered you shielded your tormentors instead.

Until you discovered magic.

It is real, you know. Wrapped in dusty books, disguised in ancient riddles, epitomized in a thousand symbols. With practice, you learned the subtle arts and walked the shadowed path. Let the others laugh — you learned secrets that would send them screaming into the night, and you were glad.

 Ás your age and fortunes matured, a lifelong obsession with learning birthed a library of your own, and a collection of ancient oddities as well. Through shrewd machinations, you established a network of sources and allies to acquire new and interesting items. When those methods fail, you prowl the night like a thief. There are astonishing things to be learned in the hidden corners when you've got the soul of a collector and the mind of a magician....

 Concept: An obsessive connoisseur of knowledge, especially of the forbidden kind. Delving into darkness has given you an edge more-squeamish collectors lack, and you exploit it (and your contacts) for all they're worth. If any other person has ever shared an intimate moment in your life, you don't recall. Such nonsense is for those less learned than yourself.

 Roleplaying Hints: Never fight when you can deceive. Never steal what you can purchase — at good rates. Speak eloquently yet hurriedly, as if the thoughts were bubbling so quickly from your mouth that a moment's hesitation would cause inspiration to escape, Note all details; look for an advantage, and impress everyone with the fact that you know too much for their own good.

 Magic: Though the books at your fingertips reveal a host of magical theory, you understand classical magic best. It's reliable, precise — a mark of distinction. Not just anyone can master such arcane formulae. To command the elements as you do displays true discipline and art.

 Equipment: Notebook; several pens and pencils; pocket tape recorder; large roll of cash; reading glasses; conservative, sensible clothing.

 

SECRET AGENT SADRINA

 There are two great pleasures of gambling: that of winning and thaz of losing.

— French Proverb

 Quote: (James Bond theme song softly whistled,)

 Prelude: From infancy, your life's been one dare after another. From the boys, you learned to climb trees and fight. From the girls, you learned to pass notes and put on makeup, Both “sides” had their double-dares-yous, and you went for 1 every time. Some stunts damn near got you killed, but it was worth it. 

 It all went to hell when you turned 16. Mom died and Dad didn't want to be bothered. He called you a problem child and sent you off to rehab. Two years later, you had an open door, an attitude problem and a set of skills that qualified you for all sorts of “extralegal” pursuits. So what were you gonna do, join a typing pool? It wasn't long before you got caught again, and this time you were of age — shit.

 That's where you met Marion, a slinky chick with connections, charm and some interesting talents ofher own. She introduced you to the goddess and showed you how to break all the rules. More importantly, she gave you focus, family and a sense of purpose. After your parole, Marion took you around to meet some friends. They seemed impressed. One claimed he could set you up with the ultimate dare if you were interested. You were. He did.  

The academy was hard. They trained you for years — disguise, languages, explosives and more. They taught you to lie, steal and kill for your country, and you loved every minute ofit. The thrill didn't come from patriotism, but from the high-octane rush of another challenge. Now you play the grown-up versions of those kids' games, but the stakes are higher. You play for keeps, my friend, and you love the game.

 Marion's still close, and it's a good thing, too. It's easy to lose your head when you're Jane Fucking Bond. The rituals she taught you come in handy every now and then, but you'd never call yourself a magician. Still, it's nice to have a few extra tricks. Every once in a while, you chill out and take a little time with Mother Moon. Maybe someday you'll mellow out and leave the agency behind. For now, though, life is a game and survival is the jackpot. So far, you've been a winner. ,

 Concept: A thrillsecker with a mission. Although the seriousness of this job isn't lost on you, the real payoff is bucking the odds. You're determined to be the best in the business — a treacherous business — and you leamed long ago to watch your back and take nothing for granted.

 Roleplaying Hints: Death on two legs, baby. Under the attitude, you're kinda scared, but that fear never shows through. When you can, get away and focus yourself.  Magic has taught you discipline, and it's given you a place to run when your persona gets too thick to let you breathe.

 Magic: Your Wiccan practices emphasize small, subtle spells channeled through incantations and simple herbs. Healing helps you come through shitstorms more or less intact, while Weathercraft keeps the wind blowing your way.

 Equipment: Stiletro, disguises, forged IDs, Walter PPK, lockpicking set, mini-camera, hidden pouch of herbs, lots of tiny gadgets, phrase book for some new language,

 

STREET PROPHET

 

Know ye, then, that the Soul which has found God in the Ineffable Light is at last freed from death and rebirth, grief and old age of spirit. Such Souls have drunk deep of the water of Immortality.

 — R. Swinburne Clymer, M.D., A Compendium of Occult Laws

 Quote: 1 know what it is to sin, and I understand what it is to be saved!

 Prelude: Jesus came to see you on your 25th birthday.  

Before that, you'd been a badass. A literal hellraiser with beer on your breath and blood on your fists. It wore you down quick, though. By 25, you were like a whitewashed shack, pretty on the outside but termiteridden on the inside. When Billy Ray shot your dumb ass outside Skillets, he was just putting the finishing touches on what you'd already done to yourself.

 Jesus did not ler you die. Oh, yeah, you wanted to, it hurt so bad. Layin' there sucking air through a plastic tube while nurses held their noses. Happy birthday to me, you thought as you nodded off, ready tofeel the Devil's pitchfork in your butt. That thought scared you. À lot. For the first time in a long time, you started to pray.

 Hey, it worked. The Lord God walked right out of a cluster of doctors, took your hand and taught you The Word. You cried all night while He held your sorry-ass sinner's paw and spoke to you in low, loving tones. For the next few weeks, He told you His plans for the world. When the docs kicked your ass out of bed, Jesus guided you out the front door and back into the garden of sinners.

 No one liked you anymore. Seeing the way you had acted before, you could kinda understand why. Like that guy who made fun of Jesus on the way to the cross, you've gotta walk forever without resting. That's okay, though. When you get used to it, living outside ain't that bad. It gives you lots of time to spread The Word, that sweet Gospel that brought you back ftom the edge of death. Jesus gave you the gift of prophecy before He left, and you use it to bring other sinners closer to God before it's too late for them.

Praise God, you've been saved. Do His good work.  

Concept: A wandering madman with the lighr of God in his eyes. By most folk's standards, you talk crazy and act real weird. That doesn't matter. You've got a mission and the gifts you need to carry it out — holy miracles and skills honed by the Devil but tamed by the Lord's hands. Once a sinner, you've found redemption through The Word.

 Roleplaying Hints: Stare. Talk loudly. Gaze into each sinner's eyes and tell him your story. When you see a soul in need, pitch in to help — preach, fight, step in front of a semi, whatever it takes. Jesus charged you to protect the weak. His Will be done.

 Magic: The Word is your focus and prayer is your guide. Without those blessings, you are nothing; with them, you can see the future, speak with authority and help folks who need a bit of healing.

 Equipment: Dirty clothes, tattered Bible, broken toys, salvation pamphlets lifted from phone booths and tables (you can't afford to buy your own). 

 “BABY WITCH”

 I sing true

And I can see right through you

— Faith & the Muse, “Hand of Man”

Quote: Don't ever speak to me that way again. You might not like what will happen.

Prelude: They always said you were weird. You decided to prove it.

 That really wasn't much of a stretch. School's dull, peppered with cheerleaders, broadheads, geeks and wannabes. They used to laugh at you, but now they whisper instead, and keep their distance. You know things, and the pathetic losers around you can tell. Now nobody wants to get too close.

 Good.

 Irstarted with the books. Hey, it's notyour fault you could read before most kids could talk. Maybe the Horned God was trying to tell you something. While Mom and Dad fought, you retreated to your room, curling up with Mercedes Lackey, Tolkien and MZB. In time, your tastes grew more sophisticated: Rice. Gardner. Crowley. La Vay. De Sade. The darkness drew you in. Finally, you answered.

 His name was Walter, bur he called himself Ace. Your candlelight fumbles with spellcraft and sex led to a deeper awareness. For him, itwas a lark; you, however, heard the Horned God call from beyond the flickering lights, and you sought him out in sweaty fantasies and moonlight walks. The knowledge burned like a molten silver thread, and you chased it through the night, away from the hollow crucifix in Mom's bedroom and into a place where good and evil are chess pieces moved by the same hand. Stefand the other coven members met you there and initiated you into truths that Ace could only brag about. 

 Yeah, you're still in school. Why cause trouble for yourself by dropping out early? Ina year or two, you'll be free. Free of Mom and her constant bitching. Free of Ace and his stupid games. The coven has prepared a place for you; when the shit gets too thick, you can seek solace there.

 Time is on your side.  

Blessed be. Or else.  

Concept: À teenager who knows more than most people do, but less than she believes she does. While most of your “occult wisdom” comes from the New Age section of your local bookstore, you do possess a bit of real insight. Unknowingly, you've entered a crucible; the next few years will shape you in ways younever expected. Raw and fullofattitude, you believe you're something that you really aren't. Still, you do have power. Pray it doesn't destroy you.

 Roleplaying Hints: Young, arrogant and deadly serious. Aside from your coven, the world is full of clueless fucks. Initiation into the mysteries has given you a real attitude, and that's just fine with you. Mutter darkly about the wisdom you possess. Stare at people with a mixture of threat and contempt. The darkness is your playground. Remember that as it enfolds you.

 Magic: Modern darkpagan store-bought craft. You recite the spells in self-help magick books and weave minor workings with invocations to the Horned God. 

 Equipment: Athame, well-thumbed Witch's Bible, black clothing, pentacle necklace, clove cigarettes, copies of Blue Blood, Con-Tours, Green Egg and Permission.  

HITCHHIKER

Rolling me down the highway

Moving ahead so life

Don't pass me by

— Jim Croche, “Pve Got a Name”

Quote: Don't fence me in!

Prelude: From the start, you were drawn to the music of the open road. Legends of hikers' freedom drowned out the boredom of suburbia, and you longed to wander the countryside. Never mind that those highway tales were older than your mom. You wanted to go out on your own. And one night, you did.

 With a backpack of possessions, you put your thumb to the wind and your feet to the asphalt. Young and pretty, you found plenty of willing rides. Soon, you learned to be more discriminating about which offers to accept. Stillin all, things weren't that bad. When you got hungry, people were always ready to buy you a meal, and they didn't ask that much in return. The Cat saw to thar.

 TheCathas been a part of yousince your first period.  

A secret from your parents, she's part of that wandering spirit that led you away from home in the first place. After a series of, um, mistakes, you learned to control The Cat;

now she comes when you call her and stays put otherwise — well, usually. The hiker's life satisfies you both.  

There's a price, of course. There always is. You've become one of those urban legends, one of those reasons so many others fear the open road. The Cat is never far from the surface, and every so often, she needs to be fed. For the most part, the corpses belonged to assholes who didn't deserveto live. Youdon't like to think about the bystanders who were in the wrong place when...

Well, ler'sjustsay the road isa wonderful place to be, especially for a girl with your talents. So many things to see, so many people to meet!

 Concept: À flighty kid who turns into a cat — a big, dangerous cat. You're young enough not to care about the big picture, and have all the time in the world. Someday, a real crisis may get you to change your careless ways. But for now, the wild life is the only one worth living.

 Roleplaying Hints: Like a kitten at play, you swatat everything in view. Your only concerns are immediate ones — food, shelter, survival, and fun, and not necessarily in that order. Your attention skitters from one shiny object to the next without much forethought. Live for the moment and let the world take care of itself. 

 Magic: What's magic? You're a weird prodigy with some slumbering powers and no idea what to do with them. (See the Path Natural Merit.) Despite appearances, you're not a member of the Changing Breeds, nor do you know anything about them. As far as you're concerned, you're a freak of nature. Maybe the right mentor could teach you how to focus those talents, but for now you're on your own.

 Equipment: Backpack full of odds and ends, the clothes on your back.