Foiling Time Magick

Foiling time Magick

By Rev.K.

Often times, it seems like it's impossible to build up any mystery in a Mage game what with having Mages who can read the future and the past. It has occurred to me that there are ways that this ability can be co-opted or subverted.

Arcane: Subtracts dice from ALL perception rolls. Mages with high arcane are hard to learn about and impossible to predict.(there's a reason why they haven't been able to find Secret Agent John Courage.This guy is so arcane he can't even find his socks.) Even if the Mage in question is scrying an area that the Mage wandered into he might find himself confounded by the problem that no matter where he is sensing the area from, for some reason he can't seem to get a close look at the other Mage's face. Some clues might be gained while the overall identity is still obscured.

Warding: In Mage 2nd Ed. it is now possible to ward an area against temporal scrying.Middling to high-level Mages can do this.All the Mage has to do is to think of doing it before committing whatever act he wants hidden.Powerful Mages can immunize themselves from scrying altogether. This form of "locking out" has a fairly distinctive feel to it. Most Mages can feel the background prime running through the time ward. It's usually not a mystery to any Mage who encounters it more than once.

Sensory obscurement: While this applies to Kithain and obfuscated Vampires, it also applies to trying to listen to two Mages screaming at one another while a semi-truck passes by.Just because you can cast your sensorium backward or forwards in time doesn't mean you can actually sense anything.

Disturbances: Large amounts of released prime, such as a large battle, a paradox storm, the awakening of a node, or a large Time effect going off can have a sort of blurring effect on scrying.

Metaphorical visions: Not all traditions view time in the same way. Most techno-magickal versions of temporal scrying involve probability models and simulations designed to virtually re-create the event. this then is stored and replayed at leisure.often changing the angles of viewing. Some simply cast their minds back or forward into time and see what they see. But some paradigms are difficult insofar as they might not give a literal translation of future or past events. Dreamspeakers, for example, must often petition the spirits for their time-sight. They might ask the rock to share his sight (thus filtering the events through the rock perceptual filter.) or he might ask the fates or maybe a time elemental to show him the events to come. Even this might be unclear or cryptic. and in all cases, there is the question of Chiminage. Cultists sometimes have problems with needing to reach an altered state in order to see the timelines and then having difficulties with interpreting the outcome.("Well...All I saw was this big flounder eating Bob's soul...I'm not sure what to make of that.")

Divinatory methods: Often whenever I can I try to work real-world divinatory methods into a story.some can tell you much more than others and can occasionally send you in a new direction. but they never ever give you a completely straight answer.

Too much information: Scrying the past is fairly straightforward. The past has become concrete, whereas the future still remains abstract. Thus when looking ahead Time Mages often speak of Paths, or Threads, or Frames. (" in six out ten frames I see you getting killed if you break from cover.") The further that a Mage looks, the more branches in the timeline are seen until he inevitably suffers information overload.(I.E. a blinding headache and possibly a bout of quiet.) In some cases, depending on the individual or destiny in question, scanning an area of time ahead one hour is sufficient for this kind of breakdown.(just try it on a Marauder if you're feeling froggy) Even a simple reading for 10 minutes ahead can be misleading. Just because you see something happening in 6 out of ten frames doesn't mean that's what's going to happen. Likely?yes. Probable? Sure. Written in stone? Not on your life. Those Mages with a Destiny score are often harder to read than others.sometimes there are so many threads tied up in one period of time it becomes a veritable Gordian knot.

Personal transformations: Often, Time Mages have some difficulty reading themselves. Often the Avatar intentionally keeps information from the Mage. Especially in the case of some types of learning experiences. There might be clues and hints but your avatar refuses to spoon feed the future to you.

Use a few of these tips and you can put the Mystery back into your game and add a bit of flavor at the same time.

All Part of the Service (Werewolf: The Forsaken)

I got a call from a fella who calls himself “Dirty Ed”.  
I don’t know. Maybe he thinks it’s cool or something.

Dirty Ed is a Bail Bondsman. What he does, is put up 10 percent of a criminals bond, allowing that fellow to be released on parole until his court date. It’s a decent gig because many criminals, especially professionals will keep a bail bondsman on retainer like they might do for a lawyer. it’s like insurance in a way.

Of course, if a guy has his bail bondsman put up his percentage and then the guy decides maybe he’s allergic to court...Well, then the Bondsman is on the hook for the entire Bail.  Which is likely considerable.  Which is where I come in.

Bail Bondsman services either have their own bounty hunters, or they’ll sub-contract out. Technically. I’m a bail bondsman too.  I have a business license. I’ve got an investor and seed capital.  I just don’t have a storefront yet.   No Storefront means no clientele of your own.

I like the bounty hunting though. You could say it’s in my blood. That is if you don’t mind being a bit on the nose.

I was working on Francesca’s car. I’d told her that I was souping it up a bit. But I had been waiting for a part, that didn’t turn up in the mail until after Christmas. It was kind of embarrassing. But now I was working on installing the blower and putting a new exhaust package on her wheels. When I’m done, no one will believe it will go this fast. I also put on fresh brake pads.

“I got a tough one. Only you can do it, Butch.” Ed huffled into the phone. Ed had a reputation for somehow not being able to pay hunters who had saved his considerable bacon. He was perhaps one of those few individuals that you literally cannot intimidate. I know a number of guys threatened his life in some very creative ways.  He was 400+ pounds and maybe that had something to do with it.

The first time I had done some work for him, he tried to give me some song and dance about “Expenses” until I lifted him off the ground.

He looked surprised. Which is as close to scared as anyone has ever seen him.  I had my check in an hour.

Consequently, of course, he stopped calling me for work he could farm out to anyone he could actually screw. It occurred to me that he might actually be desperate.

“Stop rubbing my ego, Ed. It’s going to get all swole and then my pants won’t fit. What’s the gig?”

He huffed a bit as if I was being rude for not being flattered. “Aw don’t be like that. You’re getting a rep on the street for being able to dig out some of Oregon’s most dug in scumbags.”

“So I’m guessing this guy is like that?”

“Does the name John Freeland mean anything to you.”

Oh yes.

John was suspected to be one of the big wheels in the Aryan Brotherhood. I’d heard that Oregon State police had finally caught him and his merry pranksters transporting long arms and had jumped up and down on them until they were almost a fine red paste. If they could get any of the charges to stick, then John was looking at gumming his food before breathing free air again...That is unless he could roll over on his higher-ups.

“How in the FUCK did he end up getting bailed out.”

“Aryan Brotherhood pulled some strings and got him a serious lawyer. Prosecutor didn’t know what hit him.”

“And you put up his bond. Are you mental?  Dude like that isn’t going to roll and he isn’t going to swing either.  He’ll go to ground.”

“Which is just what I thought...But then his lawyer got me to change my mind.”

Either John’s lawyer is supernatural or just THAT good. I’ll ask Rusty to go round and look at him later.

“So let me guess. His court date is coming and you’re fucked.”

“I’m offering 1,500”

That gave me pause. Usually, a Bounty Hunter’s take on a job is a tiny percentage of the original bail.  This was double the take of any gig I’d done so far.

“ Wow. Ed, you must be seriously fucked. I’m kind of enjoying it over here. Karma isn’t a bitch, but she always remembers...”

“Look. I need him back in custody before end of business on Friday or my whole store is shut.”

“ Aw. Couldn’t happen to a more delightful fellow.”

“I’ll give you half down!”

I had to stop. I don’t like Ed much. But half down for a con not in custody yet, was seriously unheard of. I could practically see his upper lip sweating in my mind’s eye.

“I am going to regret this. I just know it.”

Within an hour, I was already regretting it. Ed had given me a check (Post-dated, and probably as bouncy as Tigger.) and his lean intelligence file on John Freeland. (Due diligence mother-fucker. Do you speak it?)

I went home, got myself a thorough shower, put on my one and only suit. (Yes sir, your honor.) and drove to the mailing address listed. I was greeted at the front door by a near-toothless woman in a shapeless kaftan and the smell of meth cooking somewhere inside.

“Wat?”

“Hello miss.” She could be anywhere between 17 and 45 with Meth mileage on her. I was just being safe.

“If you come to take the car, I don’ got it no mo.”

“No Ma’am. I’m with Holmes, Baker, Savage, Gillis, North, and Dean.”

“Huh?” 

“It’s a law firm.”

“I knowd THAT! What you want? I done got a continuance on my...

“No Miss. I’m not interested in you I’m looking for John Freeland.”

Her twitchy eyes stopped moving and locked in on me and then she tried to shut the door. I’m not terribly fast, but I was faster than that.

“Fuck you! Get off my door! I’ma get my gun!

“Miss! It’s about his inheritance!”

She stopped trying to close the door on my hand. She put one gimlet eye to the door crack.

“What’re you talking about?”

“His uncle passed away recently. Our firm represents the executor. The assets were liquidated and split among the living relatives at the executor’s direction. His bequest comes to almost 9,000 dollars.”

Fun Fact: When peddling a premise like this, It's tempting to make the uncle super-rich. Don't. I was going with the idea that the Uncle's main asset was a palatial double-wide trailer.

“Bullshit!”

“I assure you, Miss. No Bullshit. I have a cashier’s check in this briefcase for him. “

“Give it to me then!”

“Miss. My instructions are very precise.I must put it in his hands directly. Once he has it, my interest is at an end.”

I stopped talking and put on that face that Rusty does when he invites you to keep talking yourself right into the noose.

‘You some kind of Jew lawyer?”

“No Miss. I am a Quaker.”

Either she was chewing that over or didn’t know what that was. I knew which way I was betting.

“He don’ tell me where he goes alla time.”

I sigh. 

“That’s too bad, I could imagine that if someone WAS to help me locate him and give him this money, he might have enough gratitude to cut them a slice.”

...You got a pencil?

The address I am given is down-country from Mt Hood. Lots of little creeks and tiny lakes all through that area. Ritzy-titzy boat owners cheek by jowl with dudes who live in trailer parks and yet somehow still have a bass boat. Overwhelmingly white and deeply conservative.  The kind of place where I and the rest of the Gallowsbait MC would roll into and drive to apoplexy. 

This would not be a good job for colors nor my trusty bike, Lulu.  I gave the RV a good wash, checked over the regular bags that I kept stowed in there. And then went for a drive.  

One of the things that you learn over a few years of wandering is that Wal-mart LOVES live-in customers.  It’s not unusual to find RV’s parked in Wal-Mart parking lots anywhere.  You can connect up to the really large lamp-posts for power and there are cameras in the parking lot too. So if you skive off for a bit, there is the expectation that you’ll come back and you’ll still have all your stuff. This really only applies to the 24 hour Wal-marts. But most actual cities have at least one open all night. 

I park.

I snack on peanut butter and crackers and the occasional bottle of Watermelon “Juice” from Minute Maid. I cat nap. Dick around on my iPad and wait for it to be past 2 am.  I put on sneakers, sweats, and a sock hat. I put a pack of smokes and a lighter that I gave up almost a decade ago in my pocket. In case someone might see me. (“What’re YEW doing out in THIS weather?”) ... I say a short prayer to the higher powers for a distinct lack of sleet. I lock up the RV and head off across the parking lot toward a small patch of wood in between the Wal-mart and another section of the strip mall. I shift to Urhan and I am already warmer.  I move through a tiny section of suburbs like a ghost and then into fuller woods. I spend some of my carefully hoarded Essence for one of my gifts and I pick up speed beyond what an ordinary wolf could manage.

I had plotted my course with Google maps, Google earth, and the US topographical survey website.

And because I am eidetic. I have this map in my head.

About a mile before I make it to the trailer park. I am crushed by a deadfall.

Or at least I would have been, were I not already very very tough. A change of form enables me to shift the stupid thing off me and a few minutes of lying there catching my breath enables me to knit some of my bones back together. 
I seem to have this thing with traps.  When I can walk again without pain, I set a slower pace. Open my senses more and avoid a few more booby traps. Pit traps with Pungi spikes. The occasional home-made mine.  An antique claymore, which could probably still detonate.  I don’t take a chance with that guy. That shit is NOT what they pay me for.  I do turn him around just in case I have to cover a hasty retreat.

I crest the rise and get a good look at the place. I can see why none of the other bounty hunters got farther than this.  The trailer park itself is nestled in a natural valley. It’s like a figure 8. Plenty of trees and so on. Some industrious soul had brought in some kind of back-hoe and enhanced the already natural structure with some additional material making it into a full-on palisade. The back side of the park butts up against the lowest parts of Mt. Hood. Looks like there are septic tanks all the way around the park. Naturally, there isn't going to be much more than electric service out this way.

The front of the Trailer park looks like a great big concrete arch that blocks off the entry. You drive right in the front.  I think I can see a tiny lit sign on the left half of the arch proclaiming that it is the office and the emergency maintenance guy’s number.

This place is seriously fortified. Like they’re expecting a siege. Not at some point down the road, like Tuesday... I start paying attention to the details.  I mean, it’s not like they’ve got Wehrmacht bumper stickers or anything like that. But they’ve ALL got pick-up trucks.  You won’t find a Prius up here.  A lot of Dish up here.  This place is self-contained to the point, where I suspect that there’s an actual working well and a stockpile of Mail Order Meals-Ready-To Eat. I count 14 trailers I suspect one or more men per trailer. Then I see the thing that makes my blood run cold.

I see the tricycle.

I roll over onto my back and shut my poor angry eyes. I want to howl in frustration.

I had been looking at this like some military operation designed to stomp John Freeland and anybody who cut eyes at me while I was doing it.  I’m expecting him and his cronies. I’m not expecting their women. I’m not expecting their kids.  Leave aside any possibility that they aren’t also infected with that Aryan Brotherhood madness. It’s not likely. But I don’t kill families.

Not only that but I couldn’t see how I could wade in their without going full Gauru. And the herd can’t know. I’d have to kill them ALL.

There might be some Uratha that might consider that a small price to pay. I’m not one of them.

I look up at Mother. Fulsome and bright like a Mercury dime.  Nearly my auspice moon... I can’t infiltrate. Everybody would know everybody in that little enclosure. I can’t hit it head on without it becoming an utter bloodbath. I don’t have TIME for anything else really. I’m not the sort of Blood Talon who has that knack for looking at things and seeing all the weaknesses.  What am I going to do?

And then Mother smiles at me... And I see a way. 

I make my way back to my RV and I bed down.  Tomorrow will be a big day and the weather is calling for sleet again.

The next day, I walk into the Wal-mart. I cash my stupid post-dated check. Which fortunately for Ed, does NOT bounce, and I go shopping.

I buy a case of unlubricated condoms and a case of crystal Drano. The old school granular kind. I buy a crate of bottled water.  I also go over to the sportswear section and get myself a set of ear plugs and nose plugs. I buy a wetsuit.

I begin making my preparations, and then when I’ve got a moment. I call my daughter and ask her if she’s having a good day.  I then call Celene, (Straight to voice-mail, she may be trying to sleep, poor thing.)  and then I text Frankie (Who may be trying to doctor.) I let them know what I’m up to. Just in case this thing goes completely off the rails and I need doctoring, bailing out, or full on pack rescue.

It starts to rain then I can hear little peck-peck-peck sounds on the roof of the RV. Yesterday, I would have cursed this weather. Tonight it will work to my advantage.

I haul out a tiny black ruck-sack and put most of my materials into it. I wait until it’s almost 2 am again, and then I make my way back. I fill my body with my speed and my unnatural strength. And then before I am in sight of the compound, I sharpen my ability to do harm. It’s weird. It reminds me of those scenes in the Sherlock Holmes movies where Robert Downey Junior is mentally rattling off how he’s going to take some dude out.  Where Frankie might see ways to heal...I see ways to hurt.

It’s late. Few lights are on. Most folks are buttoned up for the night. With my gifts that I have working, It is relatively easy to leap over the palisades and land inside the ring. I choose to enter at the center of the figure eight.  

Each of the water bottles has been half filled with Gasoline. I have taken the crystal Drano and dumped it into the unlubricated condoms. and tied them off. Three layers of condoms on each.  See, gasoline will eat through a single layer of condom in about 45 seconds to a minute. This is an educated guess, but three layers ought to give me enough to place these. 

I move about in Urhan form to stay low and move fast. I come upon my first target. One of the septic tanks that collect the wastewater from the park.  I reach over and using my strength, start undoing a bolt on the top that would ordinarily require an enormous monkey wrench for torque.

I pop open the top, the smell of the effluent would normally have me on my knees and dry heaving, but that’s what the nose plugs are for. I drop the condom into the water bottle, cap it, drop it into the septic tank pop the lid back on and re-tighten the bolt. Total elapsed time. 24 seconds.

This might be tight.

I nearly get seen by a sentry, but thankfully I’m already in motion and he’s not sure what he saw. Maybe a neighbor’s dog out for a poo. I do hear the occasional dog bark. Most of them big dogs. Nearly always, their owner shouts at them to shut up.

I plant my Aryan Brotherhood “Christmas Presents” and then find myself a safe vantage point. I’ve only got one earplug in before the first one goes off.

There is a low whump. A column of flame reaching high into the sky, and then about a heartbeat later, screams coming from inside the trailer park homes as the explosions cause the toilets inside to explosively back up.

Then there is another. and another.

Something about this just makes me smile. These people are pretty shitty already. 

Shit and flames and screaming terrified people are everywhere and many of them come running outside half dressed and slip on the ice for good measure. I’ve chosen one of the many trees that would make this place a nightmare for a sniper and keep my head on a swivel. Finally, I see what I was hoping to see. John Freeland, clad only in jeans, and slippers and covered in shit slamming out through his front door and starting to yell orders.

Nope. Can’t have them getting their feet under them.

So I whistle as loudly as possible. And when I see him look at me. I yell. “JOHN FREELAND! ANTIFA SENDS IT’S REGARDS.  Then I drop to the roof of the trailer below. (Slick, but thankfully flat) and then I run and leap over the palisade wall.

Sue me. It seemed appropriate at the time and they reacted the way I wanted them to. Like I had drop-kicked the hornet's nest

When no one can see me, I ditch my earplugs, shift to Urhan, and then find a spot to stay low. Everyone is trying to get out but the shit and ice slurry is turning it into keystone cops out there. The menfolk are trying to get organized and dressed in something warm that doesn’t reek and grab ALL of the guns. There are, as I estimated around 17 dudes. Every one of them has some AR15 or shotgun. lots of knives. Bows and crossbows and shit like that.

The women-folk are just trying to load the terrified kids into the trucks and fuck off for the high cotton. 

I leave them a trail that a blind redneck could follow. I might as well. I’m not super stealthy like some.  But I can jack up a tracker something fierce by dint of simply leaping up into the trees and doubling back.

Again. I’m not super stealthy. I don’t get cute and try to take them out one at a time. But when the force gets spread out enough that the men are three man teams. I might leap up and scare the fuck out of them in Dalu form.  Fun fact: When you conk two guys heads together they don’t actually make that coconut sound.  I feel as if the Stooges lied to me. Do that to two guys and the third goes running screaming about the huge freak he saw.

I feel like I’m living the last half of Rambo: First Blood. I don’t necessarily want to kill these guys but I can NOT let them gang up on me. So a lot of this is psych-ops. 

I catch one guy alone. He tries to yell, but I slap a cobra clutch on him. Just like I learned from Sergeant Slaughter so many Saturday mornings ago.  He goes down like a sack of bricks.

I see one of John’s “Sortie groups” coming. Well...I smell them first. Each man has a long arm. and they could still technically put me on the deck with them. But before they know it I have leaped into their midst and I am laying about myself with Butchery.

I do get shot twice, but in seconds the rest of them are down on the ground and holding some part of themselves in agony.

I take a breather. shift to Urhan. Heal a bit. keep an eye out.

Freeland has been directing this little battle from a jack-leg command and control post but since I’ve put more than half of his soldier on the deck, he’s come out to see for himself.

From my vantage, I can see that he’s got some tracking chops, and maybe a little military experience too.  He’s got three guys in tow. Each of them armed to the teeth. From my vantage point, I peg a rock at the head of the guy in the center. >pok!<  Down like a bag of wet cement.

The other two guys look at each and start firing wildly in what they think is my direction. It takes a good 20 second of Freeland yelling at them to stop before they hear him and can try to calm down.

I take a moment and reach down for the Dalu bass in my voice. “Children. I have no interest in you. But John Freeland will be mine this night. Run and I’ll forget all about you.”  

And then before they can pinpoint my voice. I dummy up.

John surprises me. “ Go ahead, boys. I’ve got this. “

They look at one another wordlessly and then turn back up the path.

John walks out into the clearing. “OK Antifa. You’re about to see what the master race is all about.

I should describe the motherfucker shouldn’t I?  6’10” if he’s an inch. Broadly framed and heavily muscled. Like me, his body is covered in ink that tells a few stories of bad judgment and the prison time that followed.  He is stripping off his reeking shirt. He cleans off his torso and his face with the clean bits. He doesn’t seem to feel the cold at all. Maybe he’s trying to work himself up into some kind of berserker rage or some crap.

I step into the clearing.  “MR. Freeland. I am a bonded authority and I am here to take you in. I am going to assume you aren’t coming peaceably.

He gets a good look at me. “Shit...Don’t I know you?”

“Yes sir you do. La Jolla Penitentiary. Sometime around 2002”

“I seem to recall wiping the floor with you.”

“You did.  You’re still coming with me.”  Then I show him my silver eyes. You know pure psych-ops rattle him with the lunacy some. He’s actually a hard combatant. I could use the edge at this point.

Only...he doesn’t even blink.

Uh oh.

“He reaches behind him and pulls out a blade about two handspans long. It is silver and it catches Mother’s light.

So...You’re one of THOSE huh.  My dad was one of those. I fucking hated my dad.

He lunges.

Ok. So this is a quandary. I can NOT let him stab me with his big silver knife

*I pivot the high part of my torso. As his arm comes in. I slip underneath and smash the nerve cluster under his armpit with my balled up fist. He does not drop the knife.*

If he hurts me significantly, I’ll death rage and considering he has a silver knife. I might be the one going down if I lose my head. 

*He shifts his weight then drives his elbow into my face right around the orbital ridge of my eye. and then he draws a line of white fire down my face and torso with a shallow slashing cut. unthinkingly I shove him. I still have the strength advantage and he sprawls a bit before recovering his feet.*

Also: I won’t get paid. and after this, I feel I should get paid.

* He flips the knife around Spetsnaz style and comes in high looking to slash me or maybe nick my hands and forearms. unaccountably he leaves his jaw open. I shatter it*

He makes a kind of “fuffguggling” noise when I do this. Only, I am horrified to see that his jaw is already starting to re-knit itself. Taking advantage of his momentary discomfiture. I grab ahold of his knife wrist. We struggle. He’s strong. At the moment I’m stronger but also more wounded. He gets a loose hand and digs a thumb directly into my eye. It really hurts. His own eyes are a seething maelstrom of hatred and madness. Neither of us has good footing. A slip in either side could mean it’s all over.

Then I remember, and just in time too...That I am smarter than him.

I shift my weight by throwing my feet out from me and then effectively Power-slam him

I snap his wrist. His big silver knife drops nervelessly from his hand and lands in the snow. 

From this point onward, it’s just me breaking bones. HIS bones.

Then at some point, I throw his insensate body over my shoulder. And walk back to the RV.

I do pick up the big silver knife and put it in my rucksack. Not a tool...more like a trophy.

When Mr. Freeland regains consciousness. He is handcuffed and his thumbs have been zip-tied. Also,  he has about 14 bungee cords securing him. He is largely healed from our conflict but has nothing to say as I have placed a gag in his mouth. He stays more or less in this particular configuration until I remand him to the custody of the State Prosecutors office.  Fun fact: John Freeland, noted domestic terrorist is not a fan of the Spice Girls, nor, is he a fan of my singing the many many hits of the relentless juggernaut of Power-Pop that is, the Spice Girls.  If you need any other proof of his low character. Look no further.

The fire at the trailer park made the local news. The Aryan Brotherhood is taking up some collection or something to rebuild from ANTIFA terrorists or some dumb shit like that.

Ed is so overjoyed, He pays me on time.

The Elegy (Vampire: The Requiem)

Every once in a great while someone has an idea in the world of the Kindred that is just so good that it’s undeniable. 
Take  Lawrence Van Doren for example. He was Embraced Ventrue because his family was rich and they expected he had what it took to make it among the Invictus. 

   He didn’t. Not at first. Not really.  He was actually too full of the milk of human kindness and his political and religious leanings were progressive and agnostic. Sure, he was bright and certainly personable but he kept screwing up.

    What they did not count on was this. Many of his screw ups were somewhat calculated. Obviously, there were things like Diablerie that were beyond the pale, of course, but the kind of screw up that would have to be cleaned up in-house were the sorts of things that Lawrence did.  It was his way of learning how far was too far and what you could get away with. It taught him quite a bit about the psychology of his covenant mates into the bargain.

Lawrence is a thinks deep. And for someone rich, he’s unafraid of hard work.  It’s mainly because his family made their money in hotels, motels and resorts and “Little Larry” was picking up pocket money for housekeeping and yard work as soon as he could do it. When he was Embraced, he had 4 full-service hotels of his own. His family has many MANY more.

So, Lawrence began thinking. Obviously, there is a need for vampires to have a secure place to stay when traveling. But hotels and motels and the like are incredibly unsafe and porous.  Not to mention, it would be prohibitively expensive to put all the 2nd and 3rd shift staff on the payroll so they’d keep their mouths shut. and even if you could manage it, It wouldn’t be comfortable for the undead guest at all. How can you day sleep in a cold bathtub, half expecting housekeeping to come barging in and opening the bathroom door letting in all that pesky sunlight? It’s not as if you can paint all the windows without someone noticing.  They’ll either assume you’re cooking meth or something equally unsavory.

Then he hit on an answer. He liquidated his resources, gave a somewhat convoluted story to his family about needing to disappear into the witness protection program. (So he could break ties with them in a non-hurtful way, but still inherit down the line.) and then he disappeared.  He also fell off the radar at the local Elysium. There were questions of course, but he’d shared his plan with his astonished sire and she stood up in front of court and stated categorically and for the record that he was working on a project and that NO, he was not, in fact, going Carthian, Brood, or becoming a member of VII or anything tasteless like that.

In a years time. he returned to announce the opening of “The Elegy.”

The Elegy is a hotel specifically designed for vampires.  The rise of digital technology has led to a number of places that process old school chemical-based film going entirely out of business. These laboratories are very often entirely light tight. They are built without windows and many of the doors going in and out of the places are shrouded or possess a phone booth like vestibule. Even those that possess a loading dock are well-shrouded in order to keep out the light.  Lawrence bought a number of these structures. The largest being in the Hollywood area. He extensively remodeled them and turn them into comfortable accommodations for vampires visiting Los Angeles. At the Grand Opening of the original “Elegy” in L.A. visiting vampires...visiting harpies even could not say enough nice things about the place and in one stroke erased his troubled fledgling-hood and endeared himself to the Prince.

In fact, He’s created 4 other Elegy’s in large urban areas. He gets bank loans on the fact that there are still certain types of media that require this sort of development and there is a vast market for places where digital technology hasn’t penetrated completely. With some Invictus help, he’s managed to fake up a film development consortium that covers most of Asia and Africa. On paper, they cover the development of 96.4% of the media that requires these processes. It’s all bullshit of course, but since the company isn’t publicly traded, who exactly is going to check? and how?

The Elegy is staffed entirely by blood dolls and ghouls chosen for their extreme discretion. The front desk staff is trained in auspex and they pride themselves on anticipating their guest needs. The portage staff and the maid service make good money, so they are a little disappointed if they are tipped in currency as opposed to the odd playful nip. 

Those Elegies that have a loading bay may receive coffins and a tiny Transport and Logistics concern has grown up in order to move parties of kindred back and forth across the nation. In fact, if you’re nervous about the trip. The Coffins can be opened via keypad access and locked securely from the inside.  They can also be filled with flame retardant gel for an additional fee.

Most of the Elegies feature a blood-warm pool and a pleasant bar area. The Hotel normally has an arrangement with either the local stockyards or multiple hog farms in the local area to keep lightly chilled pig’s blood on hand at all times. (The holidays can get a bit tricky.)  The Bar is also stocked with various forms of Lacrima, Forbes Mill and Calvino Brothers wine.   The manager of the bar also may have stock of lightly relaxing drug additives that may be added to your animal blood.  He or she will also have a list of carefully vetted prostitutes from a local service that is willing to turn up on short notice. Just in case, you don’t feel like hunting.

The rooms are tastefully appointed but there are some basic differences from an ordinary room. There’s wifi of course, but the hotel also features an actual bookstore. just in case you don’t go in for that stuff. There’s no kitchen area because there is no need of one for most guests. Ghouls are encouraged to stay off-site. There’s no kitchen on the premises. However, the Concierge is most adept at acquiring delivery until late in the evening.  The rugs are heavily scotch guarded and most patrons are asked not to bring just ANYONE through the doors of the establishment. But still, occasional accidents happen. The rooms are well soundproofed and the concierge will arrange for the removal of a corpse if you should happen to get too frisky. (Naturally, you’ll be in hock to Mr. Van Doren for the privilege.) The LA Elegy has a nearby underground parking structure and a keypad access that allows a connection to the loading dock.  The water pressure in the showers is quite good as well.  Wake-up calls are obviously not necessary, but you should schedule the time that you plan to be out of your room so that housekeeping can tidy up for you.  The HK staff prides itself on NEVER barging in. Also, They’re scared shitless of what might happen to them if they do.

Over the course of time, the operation has expanded just a bit. Some of the Elegies, but not all of them, even possess an in-house “kennel” for housing animal ghouls and other less identifiable creatures.

The whole works are protected by Mystical wards procured from local practitioners in exchange for prestation. Additionally, the Guestbook you sign is an Invictus contract enjoining you from hunting with a 10 block radius or engaging in violence (Except self-defense) while on the premises.  It is known that the violation of this contract means Harpy censure, City-wide ostracism, and in some cases, Aggravated damage.

Lawrence Van Doren is doing very well now. He makes as much money at his concern as he did with his old assets and he has a portfolio of Prestation now that is truly breathtaking. (It’s a trivial boon to be allowed to stay there at all.

No one thinks he’s a doomed fledgling now.

The Bookmobile of DOOM (Mage: The Ascension)

The BookMobile Of DOOM

This Rolling informational arsenal was bought and paid for by Constanzi Ruiz (otherwise known as Arcangel) and given as a gift to Grandmaster Z. It has proven invaluable as a means of transportation for a large amount of gear and Mages to and from places.

The B-Mobile has had a new engine and suspension system put in and has been treated with Doppler poly-mimetic paint and a built-in E.C.M. package. This combined with the very powerful Somebody Else's Problem Field erected around the van make misplacing the van a very real possibility and there is often the problem of people cutting the van off because they can't see it. The van is painted a uniform brown but may assume two other solid colors, Dark blue or black. The license plate is actually a very cunning liquid crystal display that can be changed at the drop of a hat. There is a large box on the roof of the B-Mobile that looks like the housing for an air conditioner but is actually a hiding place for the antenna arrays. The Van has recently been bulletproofed and will stop all small arms fire. At present, it has no other magickal properties.

The Bookmobile of Doom functions as a level 2 sanctum. It offers -1 to any technomagickal Magick performed within and gives an additional 2 dots of arcane to anyone within.

Because of the nature of the parsimony of its owner...Some would say skinflintiness... Most of the Gear in the back of the van is old or secondhand.Most of it works though...

The Van Contains:

*A mini refrigerator.(often containing Pepsi and cold kit-kats)

*A file cabinet that has been welded to the floor directly behind the driver's seat that reaches nearly to the ceiling.The cabinet contains several different types of official looking stationary, Ho-Ho's, toner cartridges, computer magazines, assorted computer consumables, cables, adapters, remote gear, telephone lineman's gear, a small rack for firearms(usually empty) envelopes, stamps, mailing labels,

Directly behind the file cabinet on the left side is the workstation which is a cannibalized work desk that has been bolted, welded and liquid nailed into place where appropriate. the open space on the desk is a hot-docking station for a trinary computer. the rest of the open space on the worktable is filled with guts of computers that occasionally spill onto the floor. The workstation has a very sophisticated tele/radio communications suite as well as input devices for nearly every kind of media.(Jaz, Zip, Cd, Cd-R,  and Midi interface.) there are also three separate monitors( the one on the left has screwed up color) the seat for this workstation is on a metal armature that folds out from the wall. It has a pillow as it is not terribly comfortable to sit for long periods of time.

The right side wall has been thoughtfully provided with a bar with handles for standing passengers and one jump seat directly behind each of the right side doors. there are two printers and a laminator machine bolted to the wall at chest height.

The back of the van has an emergency exit which is mostly blocked by other mathoms including:

• A footstool.
• Two very large Plano toolboxes(one for automotive tools and another for electrical tools.)
• A cardboard box filled with toilet paper rolls and some completely nutritious but absolutely vile breakfast bars.
• A stolen pay phone,(kind of a sentimental thing.) More computer magazines.
• 6 cans of black spray paint.
• A foldable camp bed that just barely fits in the aisle.
• An extremely compact suitcase with a change of clothes and some basic toiletries
• A spare tire wrapped in a garbage bag which serves as an additional seat.
• an oxyacetylene torch and striker.
• and a cannibalized SNES game system in a small box marked "Farm Tools"

Sanctum Sanctorum (Mage:The Ascension)

Sanctum Sanctorum:

I got to thinking about Sanctums the other day. and it occurred to me that it was one of those little corners of the WOD that wasn't exactly painted.(if you take my meaning.) I think each and every one of us has an idea of what a Son of Ether Sanctum looks like and what a Child of Knowledge Sanctum might look like too. So the challenge becomes to define what other sanctums look like.

What do all Sanctums share in common?

1) They are places where bending reality becomes easier for the Mage or Mages in question. In this respect, they are like places of power for Mages without exactly being a horizon realm. (which is a good thing, it gives a haven to Mages without all the baggage of horizon realms and ancient chantries and extra-planetary jaunts and all that stuff that is completely out of place in a "Destiny's Price" style chronicle. It also precludes the Mages from chickening out and ducking into the realm for a while when pissed off vampires or werewolves show up.)

2) They offer an additional amount of anonymity and arcane, thus enabling the Mage to work large magicks without being a huge blip on the nearest Manar scope. They enable a Mage to attack remote targets without being discovered. They enable Mages to hide when the heat is on.( "No...I'm sorry...you people want Doktor FrankenSTERN! He's the next castle on the left!") They also enable Mages to hide awkward things that need hiding like diabolic summonings and Nodes. Sanctums also keep others from knowing what you are up to and is perhaps the sole reason why Convention Mages use them too. Arcane keeps that pesky Time scrying off of you while you plot your enemies bureaucratic demise.

3) They act as a good place to put all the Mages assorted Mathoms like their library, their Tass supplies, ritual equipment, old foci, alchemical labs and other whatnot. Because of the place's Arcane, Others will not find them. In fact, Sanctums seem to gain power based on the amount of Magick Junk they have stored in them.(sort of a weird quasi-resonance thing.)

Akashic Sanctums:

These sorts of sanctums break down into a couple of different types. Many follow the form and function of a traditional Kwoon or Dojo. These types of Sanctum tend to accumulate weapons on the walls, pictures of former masters, scrolls of the teaching, the heavy bag, the speed bag, arrow and shuriken targets. Maka wara boards, bricks, wooden practice dummies, exercise equipment of all types. Herbalogical equipment in large lacquered wooden cabinets, Tatamae(a soft floor), and numerous other training tools. Some Akashics, particularly Orange Robes are more at home in a monasterial setting and might make a combination shrine/library sort of arrangement. While a Blue Skin might just find a waterfall and start to build a Zen garden around it.( the act of creating the Zen garden would be roughly analogous to act of gathering Stuff. the same effect would be achieved.) In all cases, you will be able to find joss, and ritual purification (the calligraphic form of hedge magick and the sight will also have to abide by the rules of feng shui.(and may, in fact, provide some additional abilities if in a really good site.

Celestial Sanctums:

These sorts of sanctums are a lot like a miniature shrine or temple of their own.They differ from a church proper because they are sustained by the will and faith of the user only. The best way to picture the kind of stuff that is available in a Celestial Sanctum is to picture a Catholic Mass. The priest enters into a fenced off area to separate himself from the parishioners mentally. (Proximity is very important in magickal theory.) He wears a special set of clothes(vestments) and works with a special set of tools and helpers(altar-persons, Holy water, and the cup and plate) He consecrates the wine and wafers.(symbolic representation of the deity) and even the air he breathes is changed to be made otherworldly.(With a censer, smell is a very important trigger for changing consciousness.) This collection of theurgical material is also important for magickal workings and is also augmented by religious books and in some cases music as well. Naturally, the trappings are going to be vastly different if your Celestial Mage is a Hindu or a Bantu. But the ideas and processes for touching the divinity are universal and even they are ultimately unnecessary. Other Stuff might include, healing paraphernalia, candles, musical instruments, scourges(to mortify the flesh) Hallucinogens (for the purposes of prophecy.) and a natural source of water or fire.

Cult of Ecstasy Sanctums:

Try to picture the coolest bedroom in the world. Nice big comfy futon, Game system that will run just about anything, Shelves and shelves of books and sheet music, a keyboard, and guitars, incense and other Head supplies like that. Psychedelic lighting and other weird stuff of that sort.(stick-on Glo-in-the-dark stars, Day-Glo mandalas, black light painting, a lava lamp or two. a Chinese rug on the floor...go nuts.) Candles with holders that will prevent an accidental fire. a skylight or maybe a mirror over the bed. A closet filled with every sex toy known to person-kind. Hell...maybe even a hot tub. This would be the place where the Cultist would go to safely stimulate himself or another or where he would go to seek refuge from too much stimulus. In many cases, these sanctums can be made as devoid of sensory stimulus as possible.(many are light tight.) Some Ecstatic cultists try to live in very small homes so as to be able to claim the whole house as a sanctum.

Dreamspeaker Sanctums:

Are usually naturally occurring structures or are built in such a way as to be part of the ecology. While the urban shaman might have some difficulty in this regard, treehouses are becoming increasingly popular as a means around the problem. Mages in the wild will use old trees, Caves, and burial mounds as well as any hidden spot where the ley lines are particularly strong. So how do Dreamspeaker accumulate Stuff? Well.... they don't really. But they might grow a garden, paint some cave paintings, and such sites often attract animals (peaceful ones generally.) Some Dreamspeakers also partake in Verbena-like lore and might have some books and herbs stored nearby. The Sanctum could take the form of a shack or cabin way out in the middle of nowhere. The sanctum might also accumulate cultural arts and crafts.Drums, hand built snowshoes and Bows, bullroarers and other caboodle like that.

Euthanatos Sanctums:

These sanctums often blend elements of Chorus Sanctums and Akashic Sanctums. Some are temples to Shiva. Some are workshops for assembling bombs or distilling poisons. Almost all have an area set aside for combat training and for using dance as a focus. Like many types of sanctums these places often rely heavily on music and incense to create a particular mind set and to remove the Mage from worldly concerns. There are so many ways to deal death, and there are so many tools to do so that a list of Euthanotic Stuff could be a post all by itself....But here is a short smattering of ideas like...tools, a forge, explosives, poisons, statues to Kali, booby traps, torture implements, Bones and other dead stuff, sharpeners, books of stolen kindred and wraith lore. Targets, sacrifices and maybe a prisoner or two.

Hermetic Sanctums:

While Hermetic Sanctums are not without their theurgical elements, they are mainly used as studies and places to experiment. Odds are good that their magickal library is here. if the hermetic in question has an interest in anything personal and time consuming it will be here as well.(Computers? Herbology? Alchemy? Ships-in-bottles? ) Alchemical labs are useful for a few things, Cabalistic high ritual magick requires a number of diverse foci, Enochian Mages will require a tablet of Solomon and every single hermetic sanctum has at least one permanent protective circle for summonings and other major workings. some also have thaumaturgical triangles and Sephirothic trees. Hermetic Sanctums are often very comfy as Hermetics spend a lot of time in them.

Sons of Ether Labs:

Well.....Hmmm...If there was any group that the background was invented for, this is it. Where else are you gonna keep those apparatus and monsters(not to mention that assistant...yeesh!) The following appended list is taken from someone else post. I regret that I don't know whose because it's simply brilliant and I reprint it here in the spirit of transmitting the information again. If it belongs to anybody out there get in touch with me and I'll credit you right here..

Extension cords - and lots of them.

Duck Tape - holds everything together.

A big Generator - MORE POWER!!! Bwahahahaha!

Tesla Coils - gives good mad-scientist lighting

A good "Control Panel" - with knobs, dials, and buttons galore.

A nice sound system, tapes of a raging thunderstorm - for mood.

A "Frankenstein switch" - to pull for big effects.

Spare lab coats - always have a clean lab coat on hand in case something important happens by.

Readouts with the glass covers off - so you can change the readings as needed.

A skylight - OK, more of a feature of the lab itself, but still essential.

All kinds of scientific meters - Photometers, Ph meters, voltmeters, Gas Chromatograph, Speedometer, Odometer, etc.

Ether Telescope and Microscope - to see things too small or distant for Ether goggles to pick up.

Rubber gloves - for messy work.

Sledgehammer, pipe wrench, pliers - for REALLY messy work, for self-defense too.Oil can - to get moving parts going right.

Espresso machine - for those long nights.

Lab Mice - even Mages need cute pets, never hurt them, only a cruel technocracy Mage would do that

A Freezer - for cold storage of things.

Beakers and glassware and Bunsen Burners (oh my)

Acid of some type - to warn people away from.

Many brightly colored chemical solutions

Some Fluorescent Fluid

Silly Putty - for calibrating instruments, defying analysis, and use on the funny papers.

A really big Fish Tank - for immersing things in moxes of stuff

An inflatable Godzilla Decoy - to fool rampaging monsters, best if enhances with a CO2 cartridge for a quick inflation.

Band Aids - For minor lab accidents and study.

For a SoE Botanist:

Several dozen spray bottles containing a variety of plant nutrients

A large hydroponics tank with gro-lighting adjustable to an extensive variety of colors

Flowers which would change color whenever nobody was looking at them.

A Familiar which appeared as a cross between Junior from Little Shop and Cleopatra from Addams Family.

Hundreds of soil samples, including some taken from Umbral Realms.

A seed collection containing varieties which were either extinct or which nobody had ever heard of, as well as mundane ones.

An attached greenhouse which was conspicuously designed more to keep things IN than OUT.

A cage and tank containing common feeder animals (goldfish and mice) though there APPEARED to be nothing to feed them to.

Several cages (again, no lab ANIMALS to put them in.)

A flame thrower (?!)

A moderate chemistry lab, mostly mundane.

The occasional small plant which would uproot and run away if anyone attempted to touch it.

A plot of carrots which appeared to be growing upside down (with the leaves in the soil and the root protruding.)

A couple cabbages which could occasionally he heard to hum tunelessly.

A hand-pump chemical sprayer labeled EMERGENCY in ominous lettering.

A notable lack of insects.

(I'm sorry...I had to laugh after reading it again. We now return you to our regularly scheduled article)

Verbena Sanctums:

Verbena and Dreamspeaker sanctums share a lot of common characteristics. an outdoor setting or very convenient to one. a lowered gauntlet, friendly local animals, artsy-craftsy stuff, healing supplies, apothecarial junk, a local garden, an almanac, an ephemeris, incense, air, earth, fire, and water. sacrifices,(maybe.) some Teutonic Verbena go a lot further with old weapons and runes on everything, Santeria practitioners rival both Celestial Mages and Bataa'a Mages for sheer volume of sacred materials and icons. goblets, altars and some kind of knife of axe are usually the only universal element in this group. Verbena Sanctums react badly to being desecrated. It is known that those who do usually end up horribly cursed.

Virtual Adept Sanctums:

In some respects, the virtual sanctum is often the only place that a virtual can really relax and play a bit of Marathon. while Virtuals pride themselves on their self sufficient nature and self contained power they perhaps need a sanctum as much if not more than Sons of Ether. The Virtual sanctum often is dominated by the Virtual's sit-down mainframe computer. workdesk and an electronics workbench. the place is often heavy with multiple monitors, fax/modems, printers, laminators, phone lines, VR gear, tech manuals, CD-roms of important Magickal works, backup software, a portable fridge and microwave. most Virtual Sanctums also have technology built into the walls and the phone lines that is similar to a fighter jets ECM package to produce that Arcane feeling.(never mind that this is probably impossible.) There is at least one Virtual Magus in our campaign that has transformed an old reconditioned Bookmobile into a Sanctum. Virtuals only spend a lot of time in their sanctum when coding something big or when making a serious run on a heavily protected system.

------------------------------------------

You might think that Technocrats would not have to have a sanctum and in fact the official policy is that Sancta(?) are against the rules of the union, they endanger the prevailing paradigm, they make members of the union difficult to find, and there is no reason that convention members can't use open general labs for their work.

This is, of course, Bullshit.

Technocrats need Sanctums just as much as tradition Mages if only to keep prying eyes from their own side off of them. Technocrats need a place to experiment with the cutting edge of the paradigm, plan their bureaucratic vendettas, turn Nephandi, plan their escape, and of course store their junk.

Progenitor Sanctums:

It is heavily frowned on for Progenitors to use Conventional resources to make things for their personal use...Never mind that everybody does it. That's what Progenitor Sanctums are for. There are Progenitors that study herb lore, keep bees, grow custom orchids, make pets(that will kill you...) and stow away a spare tank for the clone you are growing on the sly.

Iterator X Sanctums:

Rare, but not impossible. They violate Orthodoxy, but some Iterator Mages do find that they work better alone. Picture an immaculate workshop with every kind of tool that you can imagine.then double it.

Order Sanctums:

Every Order Mage needs a place that he is sure is not bugged and will often go to great lengths to secure such a place. Most Sanctums of Order Mages are extremely anonymous offices in near empty office buildings somewhere out of the way. They also use small cramped labs for those Mages well versed in brainwashing techniques. Since Order Mages must usually account for every piece of equipment that they handle, sometimes stocking the Sanctum with found articles can be a real hassle.

Void Sanctums:

Void engineers, because of the sheer weight of secrets that they must keep, often need a sanctum. Research and Execution always needs a lab away from the prying eyes of those not in on the big joke. cybernaut sanctums are practically identical to Virtual Sanctums and anyone involved in Chronal or Dimensional Science Research has to have a Sanctum if he's going to be working earth side for any reason. In fact, it is a good idea to assume that any Void engineer that is working on terran soil has got to have a lab/bolt hole tucked away somewhere. if only to be able to use magicks that he's grown used to in other places that he can't use here.

Syndicate Sanctums:

It doesn't matter what the place looks like as long as it has electricity, and a connection to civilization. As long as that's the case, Hey....Why not go all out? Some syndicate consider their offices to be their sanctums, some keep mountain retreats where they go to recharge from the office. A palatial penthouse somewhere in the city is also a possibility. especially if that place is well stocked with alcohol, cable T.V, a Jacuzzi, and a few buff sorority girls. In fact, in Syndicate circles, Sanctums are a form of status symbol and only a low level schmuck doesn't have at least one. Among Convention Mages, Syndicate Mages are also the most likely to have some sort of Trophy room of some sort and all sorts of junk is likely to accumulate here.

Other Kinds of Sanctums:

Hollow Ones Sanctums:

While Orphans tend to run the entire gamut of Sanctum types, Hollowers have sort of taken on a distinctive look and feel to their Sanctums. Like every other type of Mage they have some sort of incense.(in the case of technocrats,  just in case you are wondering it is either Spic-n-Span or burning solder) and they also have books. (although a Hollower is just as likely to have them jammed into a disused closet as on a bookshelf.) Some Hollowers like graveyard crypts for their Sanctums while others will decorate a room with decayed black lace and real cobwebs to get that oh so important ambience. Their choice of music is liable to be as laid back as Enigma or Orbital or as violent as the Ramones or the Dead Kennedy's. Some might have musical instruments or computers.Others might have bongos and the odd wraith fetter. No Hollow One Sanctum is complete without a set of Tarot cards and a Ouija board.any place that is abandoned is ideal for making into a sanctum.

Craft Sanctums:

Any of the Asian Crafts(Wu Keng and Wu Lung) will usually conform to the kinds of Sanctums that the Akashics have. As far as the Bataa'a go, a voodoun Hounfor is basically the definition of a Sanctum. Their will always be plenty of wide open space for dancing. Children of Knowledge will have alchemical equipment that will put any Hermetic equipment to shame. Hermetics have entered into CoK labs and found themselves drooling. Sisters of Hippolyta and Kopa Loie Mages are likely to conform in many ways to both Dreamspeaker and Verbena Sanctums. Kopa Loie Sanctums are always near water. Which isn't exactly hard in the Hawaiian islands. Templars will have Sanctums that are identical with their Chorus counterparts. (although the musical elements will be conspicuously absent) and as far as the Hem Ka Sobk go...well, they probably have Sanctums but nobody has seen the inside of one and lived.

Nephandi Sanctums:

Small out of the way temples, in building basements, in deep subterranean fastnesses, in old abandoned barns in New England somewhere... Some Nephandi sanctums reside cheek-by-jowl with tradition and technocrat areas. Some like to reside near Spiral danser Caerns, Jhuvunka warrens, and large nihils. Nephandi have even been known to create havens out of radioactive test sites, on islands crawling with smallpox, and in neighborhood graveyards and junkyards. Icons to their master often have links to them as well, and may prove dangerous.(especially in the case of the outsider things who have a history of statue animation) Nephandi Sanctums are likely to be littered with slaves and pets.(who may or may not be able to leave) and all sorts of equipment. The sanctum will often conform to their former traditions or conventions standards unless of course, they are not barrabi and follow the Nephandic tradition itself. Such Sanctums are a Satanists wet dream and occasionally make Spiral dansers nervous and ornery.(>sniff< ..."Too clean...need more shit, blood, and dirt in the air.") their incense is a cloying sickly sweet reek that leaves itself embedded in your clothes. their books are those worm-eaten but carefully preserved tomes of utterly damned literature. Their trophies are likely to be real heads on the wall. Some historically minded Nephandi have become attached to particular eras of history and or particular atrocities. and they have started decorating their sancta in those fashions. This is a fad that is beginning to catch on as it make it very to easy to link these sanctums to certain areas of the Atrocity Realm. The current favorites decorator fashions include Concentration Camp, Ancient Rome, Spanish inquisition, Soweto, Jonestown, and Khmer Rouge. Also remember that most Nephandi Sanctums are seriously booby-trapped. if only to keep out their fellow Nephandi.