Mage the Awakening - Mage Noir.pdf - Mage the Awakening - FatumTech

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A Sourcebook for Mage: The Awakening

“I’ll look out for her. I know what she’s going through.” Rosie had heard the story and volun-

teered at the first sign the Widow Merchant was in physical danger. Now she sat in her husband’s

farm truck and held on to the steering wheel with white knuckles. Girl like this didn’t belong in

a quiet middle-class neighborhood. Of course, neither did the black coupe parked across from

the Merchant’s address. She slid out of the truck and moved lightly to the coupe, peeking in the

window. The license mounted on the steering column told her everything she needed to know

about the registered owner: Malone. Howard M. Malone. His filthy resonance was all over the car.

She gripped her husband’s dog tags, slipping them off of her neck and kept them clutched in her

fist as she crept up to the house. The slimy goons hadn’t even bothered to close the door behind

them. They couldn’t hear her walk into the house; she muffled the sound as she went.

“Mr. Malone told you just what would happen if you went looking for help, Mrs. Merchant. And

he’s a man of his word.” One of the heavies slapped the widow hard enough that she staggered

backward, red staining her cheek immediately. One hand went to steady herself; the other rose

to her cheek. The second man grabbed her by the shoulders.

“ That’s no way to treat a lady, boys. Why don’t you two pick on someone your own size?” The

men turned on short, steady Rosie. They both looked her over, from her smart short hair to the

pants she’d never gotten over wearing from her factory days.

“You wanna dress like a man, cupcake? Well that’s just how I’ll treat you.” The more aggressive of

the two hauled back for a haymaker and tried to slug her. When he hit her in the jaw, he recoiled

like he’d tried to punch a brick wall.

“ That’s not how you throw a punch, Bruno. This is how you throw a punch.” She tightened her

little fist around the tags and slammed the guy hard enough in the gut that blood trickled out of

his nose. That was about when thug number two entered the scrap, with similar results.

Less than three minutes later both men were rushing each other out the door. Rosie wiped blood

from the corner of her mouth and slid the dogtags back around her neck. When she turned, she

found herself nose to nose with the widow.

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you.” Before Rosie could answer, they were kissing, and

neither of them could be sure who started it.

A hot second later, the widow broke away, panting. “I, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I mean, it’s

just, what would my family say?”

“Nothing, if you don’t tell them.” Rosie reached up to the widow’s lips and wiped the blood off

of them. “You don’t have to be alone tonight.”

Nightingale hung up the phone behind the bar and

leaned heavily on it. “ That was Rosie,” she told the rest of

the cabal. “It’s Malone’s boys alright. She cleared two of

them out, but she’s going to sit on the widow tonight in

case they bring back reinforcements. Options?” She pushed

off the bar and clicked on a radio. Glen Miller started to

swing, and she tapped her foot along in time.

“Malone’s not afraid to use dirty tricks; he’s even got some

nasty spirits working for him. He’s out and proud and happy

to abuse people with his power as well as his magic. He’s

not going to back down easy.” Malone was the worst sort

to Clown’s way of thinking: an Awakened Objectivist with

a small criminal enterprise at his fingertips. He started

sketching on a bar napkin what his mind’s eye told him

the spirits in cahoots with Malone would look like. Jung

would have been proud.

Rick smirked without humor and poured himself another

snoot of whiskey from the bottle Nightingale left on the

bar for him. “If he’s not going to go easy, he’s going to have

to go hard.”

“So where’s he vulnerable? He’s hurting a lot of people−

he’s got to have enemies, and he’s got to have soft spots.”

Nightingale took the bottle away and set it on the bar

back, lightly dancing along to the tinny big band coming

through the radio.

“A man doesn’t step over the dead that often without mak-

ing a few dead of his own. I guess I’ll go shake up some of

the fellas on the other side and see what they have to say.”

Ferryman hadn’t sat down, but loomed behind the other

two men across from Nightingale. His squared shoulders,

meant to make him look taller, only made him look un-

comfortably stiff. Even the sweetheart’s gentle movements

behind the bar didn’t soften his expression. He turned on

point and marched out of the Chats with purpose.

“What’s got his head so full of steam?” Clown asked Rick.

Rick shrugged. “ Taking money from dead soldiers?”

“What doesn’t give him a head full of steam?” Nightingale

asked sadly. As she watched the door shut behind him, she

stopped dancing.

After another phone call, Nightingale had grabbed her coat and left the Chats in a hurry.

“I’m going to find Clown. This is going down tonight! Meet me by the pier in two hours.” She

threw on her wrap as she hurried to the door. “And Rick, try not to drink me out of house and

home while I’m gone?”

Rick shook his head and wobbled a little on the bar stool, staring down at his empty shot glass.

“Clown’s wrong about the where and when. Circus isn’t at the pier,” he said to no one. “But

isn’t that always the way.” He got up, picked his hat up off the bar, and wandered out behind

Nightingale but headed in the opposite direction. The Pier would have to wait. He let his feet

point him where he needed to go. “I’m on my way, Mrs. Merchant, just like I told you. I’ll set

this right.” Right place, right time? That was old Rick.

So long as “right” meant trouble.

“But Ferryman says…” Clown cut Nightingale off with a wave of his hand.

“You told me what he said, bird. I heard you. A wave of the dead moving in. Catastrophic.

Impossible show of supernatural violence. I heard you. It’s all about timing.”

She sneered. “Don’t you talk to me like that, Clown. Don’t you get like that with me.” She

put her hands on her hips and cowed him with a look.

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry. It sounded better in my head anyway.” He sat on a wooden

pier and dug a knife into his hand, dripping blood onto the back of the ratty paperback he

always carried. The drops absorbed into the cover and an image of Malone’s Fate manifested

in the air above the book. Like a Dorothy Tanning painting, it was vivid but hard to explain.

“I will be violence of the most ghastly sort.” The concept told Clown, who nodded. “But you

will be wrong about my place in time as well as in space.” The image vanished and Nightingale

looked to the urban shaman with her pretty face twisted up in confusion.

“What in the heck does that mean?” She tapped her foot impatiently, and in time to some

old USO favorite.

“It means we have to hoof it sister. I thought it was here and in two hours. That means

anywhere but here and probably right now.”

You can’t trail ghosts, exactly, but Ferryman knew where they were going after his energetic

exchange with the dead Corporal. Things had been happening on the Other Side: preparations

to give Malone what was coming to him. The fact that the dead overheard the lingering threat

to Merchant’s wife and figured that was where to catch up to him was all the information they

needed. They were on the march, and Ferryman wasn’t inclined to stop them.

Clown and Nightingale were climbing out of her car as Ferryman pulled up. “Has it started

yet?” she asked in a hurry.

“Can’t say. We can’t stop it, so all we can do is try to contain the fallout.” Ferryman replied,

moving to the house with purpose.

“ That poor woman.” Nightingale hurried after.

“Anyone seen Rick?” Clown asked.

The other two shook their heads when a woman screamed.

Three fifths of the Lamppost Cabal pushed into the quite suburban house in time to see Rosie

get splashed with blood. The manifestation of two dozen dead men had flashed into existence

just long enough to pull Malone and his two armed goons in half before they could riddle the

two women full of bullets. Duty done, the ghosts were gone.

“Well that’s a fine ‘how do you do,’” Rosie said, wiping her face. “I killed the lights getting out

of the window. No one could have seen it.”

Ferryman grimly went about gathering the body parts onto a rug to dispose of it. Rosie shrugged

away Nightingale’s fussing and went to get a mop and bucket for the blood on the walls and floor.

“ This is what we are,” Clown said quietly. “A clean-up crew.”

Ferryman gave him a look as he tossed an arm onto the pile. “Quit the philosophy will you,

and grab that foot next to you?”

“Where’s Mrs. Merchant? Did she see all of this?” Nightingale asked Rosie as she stepped back

in from the kitchen.

“I… I don’t know. She was here with me just before it happened.”

“She decided to have a nap in the closet.” Rick said, stepping out of said closet with a white

handkerchief and a bottle in his hand. “She’ll sleep it off and never know what happened.”

“You sure she’s not your sister, Rick?” Clown asked for a second time.

“She’s a war widow, Clown. She’s everybody’s sister.” Rick answered, tucking the handkerchief

away in his jacket.

CREDITS

WRITTEN BY: David Brookshaw, Matthew McFarland,

John Snead, Filamena Young

World of Darkness created by Mark Rein-Hagen

DEVELOPER: Eddy Webb

EDITOR: Genevieve Podleski

ART DIRECTOR: Rich Thomas

BOOK DESIGN: Tiara Lynn Agresta

INTERIOR & COVER ART: Ken Meyer, Jr.

forbidden, except for the purposes of reviews, and for blank character sheets, which may be reproduced for

personal use only. White Wolf and Vampire the Requiem are registered trademarks of CCP hf. All rights

reserved. Vampire the Requiem, Werewolf the Forsaken, Mage the Awakening, Promethean the Created,

Changeling the Lost, Hunter the Vigil and Geist the Sin-Eaters are trademarks of CCP hf.

CCP North America Inc. is a wholly owned subsidiary of CCP hf.

This book uses the supernatural for settings, characters and themes. All mystical and supernatural elements

are iction and intended for entertainment purposes only. This book contains mature content. Reader discre-

tion is advised.

Check out White Wolf online at http://www.white-wolf.com

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Mage the Awakening - Mage Noir.pdf

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