Everything

They say that there are two wolves inside of you — one of them full of fear and anger, and the other full of confidence and kindness. Whichever one you feed is the one that will win your heart. They also say that this story is a wise old Indian story. Stalks-The-Master says that’s all a hunk of horseshit. Stalks-The-Master says you’re a gullible idiot for believing those stories had any indigenous origin, because some Christian fundamentalist made it up and tagged an unknowing tribe to give it a sense of wisdom and mystery. Also? If there were

two wolves inside of you, it doesn’t matter which one you think you can feed, because Stalks-The-Master is the wolf full of anger and bitterness, and he’s the only one living inside you. Obviously, Stalks-The-Master ate the weak wolf without your help, and no one really cares what happens to weak, dead wolves. Do you want to be a weak, dead wolf? You are a fool, so it’s an important question to ask. No? Then learn from the survivor. Learn from Stalks-The-Master… and if you call him your fucking “spirit animal,” he’ll tear your goddamned throat out and reincarnate with someone less stupid than you are.

Everyone’s afraid of being afraid. Everyone is terrified of doing nothing and being no one. Fear, they say, is the source of all bad things like hatred and violence. Well, fear is also the source of getting off your ass and getting shit done as well. So don’t blame the fear: Blame yourself for not knowing what to do with your fear. Well, Stalks-The-Master is fear. Stalks-The-Master is one of the oldest and most original concepts since humankind was able to believe in anything. People believed in fear first. Stalks-The-Master is the oldest kind of god there is, and he’s proud of it. Being as old as he is, he has no patience for foolishness, his greatest enemy. It’s only when foolishness is brother to fear that you’ve got a real problem.

Stalks-The-Master works endlessly, and without regard to the sensitivities and weakness of his “Master,” to impart the wisdom he has to teach. He nips at the heels of his soul-bound partner. He stalks them while they sleep. He howls from the darkness at night. He reminds them that they’re always being hunted, and that there is never anywhere they can go to be safe. He teaches them motivation, and he imparts unto them drive. If they can’t cut it, if they give in to foolishness, he urges them to their deaths so that he can be released to be bound to a more worthy “Master.”

Stalks-The-Master appears most often (sometimes in visions but most often “in the flesh”) as a huge black dog, and sometimes as an even larger black wolf. He avoids that latter form, though, in these days of dopey fundamentalist and New-Age “wisdom” that discourages the embrace of what he truly is. His eyes glow like embers, and his fur is thick and long, whisking after him as he stalks swiftly through the night. He will not hesitate to inspire fear in a physical sense as well. Stalks-The-Master is not more bark than bite, and if his “Master” fails to heed him in the way he deems appropriate, he will rip at their hamstrings and lunge at their throats.

Djinn (commonly known as genies) may conjure up images of a being who lives in a lamp, granting wishes to its bearer. This, however, is merely a legacy of Scheherazade and her more vulgar progeny. Gather a few experts in a room and ask them about djinn, and you’re likely to get as many different correct answers as you have experts. A philosopher might tell you djinn are similar to muses, inspiring humans with wisdom, poetry, and songs. A scholar of Middle Eastern history would know that in pre-Islamic Persia and Arabia, most people worshipped the djinn and made sacrifices to those spirits as if they were as gods, believing those mortals would receive protection, a fertile harvest, and metaphysical teachings in return. A folklorist could choose to highlight the similarities between djinn and faeries, including their talent for a wide variety of magic, love of trickery, fondness for beautiful things, a very long but finite lifespan, a vengeful streak, and a possible weakness to cold iron… though for djinn, the last one is far from certain. Any mage who’s had significant dealings with djinn in the past can’t help but mention their cunning, creativity, ruthlessness, and power. A Sufi mystic would smile, opining that just as angels are made from light without heat, and humans from clay, the djinn are smokeless fire given sentience, intelligence, desire, and any form it can imagine.

If you can find a few djinn and ask the same question, you’ll receive minor variations on just one answer: Djinn are a

noble people whom humans (and according to some, angels, too) have consistently and relentlessly demeaned, subjugated, and abused. Some feel the trouble began in ancient Israel with King Solomon, a wise and powerful mage who either discovered or imposed upon reality certain rules governing how djinn could behave in the physical world. He used this Solomonic Code, along with a ring giving him power over demons, to assemble a veritable army of spirits to build his palace and temple, and generally to make his life even more decadent than it already was.

Those djinn who blame not just humans for the war, but also the angels, place the human share of responsibility partly on the patriarch Abraham, but mostly with the prophet Mohammed. The angel Gabriel commanded both men to prevent worship of any god but theirs. Mohammed took this much further even than Abraham’s idol-smashing, occupying Mecca with his followers, addressing the djinn directly in the Qur’an, and inviting them to join his new religion. But to be welcome, they must accept a subordinate position not just to humans, but to all the angels as well. They could still inspire humans with their ideas, so long as those ideas were not religious in nature, and they would never be considered worthy to travel to heaven again. Those djinn who felt this too unjust must leave their people’s cities to preserve what they considered a hostile takeover of Arabian religion, or at best, a coerced ceasefire much more favorable to one side than the other.

The emirs who ruled those cities took their cue from the angels, branding the exiled djinn shaitans, from an old Sumerian word meaning “male demon.” They knew even if all djinn fought as one, they were no match for the combined prowess of the Craft that would one day be called Taftani on one side, and the entire angelic host with their Hermetic, Celestial Chorus, and Ahl-i-Batin allies on the other.

Along with its accompanying seals of binding, the Solomonic Code allowed the Taftani to imprison hundreds, possibly thousands, of djinn in bottles, lamps, rings, and other vessels, for use as Paradox-free magical slave-batteries just like Solomon himself. Adherents to the new faith of Islam consid­ ered Solomon a great prophet, so demand for the Taftani’s services grew even more quickly under early Islam than in the past. This, say many djinn who remember it, was when they knew they would never win the War of Enslavement. The Taftani and their Hermetic students took too many marids too quickly. Without their eldest, most powerful and charismatic leaders, the djinn were now a broken people who might never recover. While a few individuals could always be malicious, the djinn as a people felt they did not deserve such treatment. Opportunistic human mages had simply done what humans always have: They found a resource and exploited it, ethics be damned.

Like any ancient book of spirit lore, the Solomonic Code is available in a variety of contradictory versions. Most agree that somehow, humans and djinn can have children together, producing fertile offspring who are not quite one thing or the other. Some versions of the book say djinn can live no longer than 5,000 years, while others speak of legendary djinn who have lived to the age of 15,000 or even 20,000. A few manu­ scripts suggest one can tell a djinni’s age or temperament by whether its skin is blue, green, or red… but how can a natural shapeshifter’s skin color mean anything at all? At times, the book can be almost comical in its uncertainty: cold iron may keep djinn away, if a person sits within seven concentric circles made from it, but the scribe admits no one was brave enough to test the theory personally before writing it down.

Every version of the Solmonic code seems to agree on the following important details about djinn:

• Once bound into a vessel with a Solomonic seal, a djinni must heed the commands of that vessel’s single owner to the best of their ability.

• He or she need not protect the owner from their own mistakes or desires, nor go above or beyond the literal meaning of a command.

• A bound djinni must answer the vessel’s owner even without a command, if that person addresses him or her by the full, true, and correct name other djinn use.

• No djinni, free or bound, can directly affect a Solomonic vessel in any way, nor speak about the name or situation

of a bound djinni beyond vague statements like “I know someone who needs help” or “I’m on a rescue mission.”

Djinn differ from most other spirits in the sophistication of their consciousness, and in considering themselves native to both the Umbra and the physical world, Arabia and Persia specifically. According to their own lore, djinn were the first people to walk the earth, far older than humans. Some of the eldest djinn claim to remember a time before humans could write, speak, or even use tools. Those interested in metaphysical matters suggest that if humans’ bodies are clay and djinn’s bodies are fire, their ability to interbreed suggests a kinship of the soul or spirit. Could a human be nothing more than a djinni’s soul with a permanent human body attached? If so, does this mean Awakened djinn mages are possible? No one can say for certain, but it is true some djinn historians and occultists consider it possible. A djinni’s mind is at least as complex as a human mind. They think of other spirits as many humans think of animals: Some can make good pets, useful allies, or obedient workers; a few are smart; but most are just simple and not very interesting.

You might notice the characters below have one quality in common: in his or her own way, each of them is disconnected from djinn society at large. That’s because most djinn these days stay where they are safe: in their home country. Secluded in the High Umbra, Jinnistan connects via Old Roads with various locations in the physical world, the astral plane, the Dream Realms, and the Elemental Courts of Fire and Air. Residents of the City of Brass, the most famous djinn city, once acted as ambassadors and courtiers, celebrating and welcoming dreamers, meditators, and astral travelers who found their way to the city gates. Today, the guards turn them away with a polite but firm apology, unless a free djinni with a good reputation vouches for them. Parents raise their children on tales of wicked and dangerous mages who want nothing more than to steal their freedom.

Before the Gauntlet existed as it does today, some djinn believe the entire country of Jinnistan existed simultaneously in the world of spirits and the world of humans, allowing every type of being to mingle, negotiate, and learn from each other. But the loss of so many important voices made modern Jinnistan feel increasingly like an abandoned mining town or military outpost. The City of Brass’ once-gleaming towers, spires, and minarets are dingy and tarnished, with far too few unbound djinn available to polish them. The sultans still send ambassadors to maintain cordial ties with the Elemental Courts, but their hearts aren’t in the formality anymore. It makes avoiding their ancestral lands on Earth especially painful. The djinn who remain are wily and wary, and they never forget.

Djinn travelers today tend to be exceptionally brave, cocky, angry, or foolish. When a son or daughter ignores their parents’ warnings and travels to the human world anyway,

their family holds a funeral within a week of the departure. In the age of rapid air travel and lightning-fast cultural diffusion through the internet, a Taftani could be anywhere and look like nearly anyone. Most families feel it’s best to consider these children lost. The lavish parties when a prodigal djinni returns from the physical world are fabulous spectacles of wine, dancing, and fireworks the like of which human eyes have not seen in ages, possibly ever. Normally, these parties and the rare birthday party for a newborn are some of the only joyful occasions for djinn in a post-Solomonic universe. But recently, this dire state of affairs may have begun to change.

For the past several decades, a small but significant number of Jewish djinn calling themselves shedim have trickled into Jinnistan, seeking refuge from the human world. They practice a peculiar dark and spirit-centric form of Judaism that traces their lineage to Lilith, whom God cast out of the Garden of Eden when she refused to submit to Adam. Since then, the shedim occupied the fringe of Jewish villages and towns, dwell­ ing in abandoned or boarded-up homes in observant Jewish communities throughout Europe and North America. But now, even the most religious human Jews are too skeptical to believe anything might haunt an empty house, leaving shedim nowhere to live when someone who can’t even see them buys their home. The weary djinn of the City of Brass welcomed the shedim and their families to Jinnistan, giving them fertile

land in the countryside to set up their own villages and farms. In time, these formerly unknown djinn refugees might help to replenish their people’s lost numbers. Perhaps some shai­ tans and their families might choose to return as well, if only they could forgive those who once exiled them. The dream of returning to Earth as a people is still distant, and might never materialize, but every returning traveler is still a small victory.

Introducing djinn into a chronicle can evoke potentially challenging themes like imperialism, slavery, racism, or other forms of mass exploitation such as factory farming or sweat­ shop labor. Djinn characters are ideal for exploring questions of magical ethics and ideology. If a spirit demands equal treatment and recognition of its personhood, what should determine whether that’s a reasonable request? How can a mage expect to gain the trust, let alone the friendship, of a being who has only ever known treachery and extortion from that mage’s entire species? If a djinni attacks all humans on sight, failing to understand that only a few humans are mages and even fewer are Taftani, to what extent are the Traditions and Crafts responsible for driving him or her to do so? Should the characters oppose the Taftani and side with their victims, or are the djinn trying to dupe them? What secrets does the City of Brass conceal, and will any human ever walk its streets again? Could djinn and humans ever live in peace or symbiosis, as they did in ancient times?