Anyone can go to a club, attend a festival, or watch sports or cool performances. Certain people, though, make a lifestyle of such things. Artists, dancers, musicians, technicians, roadies, preppers, organizers, wayward Rennies, art-show

curators, mad inventors, psychotropic anarchists, installation pros, gutter punks, political reformers, traveling merchants, and hardcore vagabonds all nurture skill sets far outside the mainstream norm. These folks might participate in what some call “normative culture” when they must, but they choose to live as far outside of it as possible.

Although the range of their capabilities runs from dabblers to dedicated pros, such people pursue odd vocations: pole dancing, fire spinning, computer hacking, musical performance, three-dimensional art, electronic technologies, global cuisine, wilderness hiking, acroyoga, armor-crafting, meditation techniques, aerial performance, costuming, car modifications, dumpster-diving, salvage, and other unusual yet non-magickal pursuits. These are the folks who travel from Burning Man to Rainbow Gatherings, belong to the Peace Corps or kink scenes or Doctors Without Borders, who’ll dance at Coachella before heading down to Goa and backpacking across Mongolia between their attempts to hike the entire Appalachian Trail. Some favor Renaissance festivals, while others throw hip-hop block parties, form step-dance troupes, employ “circus arts” at established or transient venues, and generally live a more colorful life than the average guy on the street.

Because such vocations tend to be mentally, physically, and often emotionally demanding, true devotees (as opposed to short-term “tourists”) tend to have a few Attributes higher than the mundane norm. Each individual’s Abilities reflect her chosen subculture; a backpacking enthusiast will have respectable Survival, Medicine, and Athletics Traits, while an urban “maker space” devotee would have decent-to-formidable scores in Technology, Research and, naturally, Crafts. They don’t shock easily, either, so their Willpower tends to be higher than the norm. To balance it out, such people often (but not always) lack more mundane skills, like the ability to balance their checking account, and might suffer penalties to their Social-based rolls when dealing with mainstream culture. Hardcore devotees generally (but again, not always) sport elaborate tattoos, unconventional wardrobes, and striking hair styles, and favor “alternative” perspectives on politics, sexuality, spirituality, and overall identity. It’s worth remembering, too, that while such people get typecast as “liberals” in socio-political terms, quite a few of them are radically, perhaps even violently, conservative instead.

(Certain subcultures — such as skinhead groups, Antifa, MMA fighters, medieval recreationists, doomsday preppers, and the like — also nurture the Abilities: Brawling, Melee, Martial Arts, and possibly Firearms and Gunsmithing. These folks generally have higher Physical Attributes than usual, too. For more details about devotees of more-violent subcultures, see “Hardcases,” p. XX.)

Within their chosen community, serious devotees often know (or at least have heard of) one another, stick together against outsiders, and have their own way of dealing with problems. Folks who spend serious time in these subcultures believe mainstream society is flawed, even broken, and so they have formed their own communities in response. Their reaction to

“mundanes” can range from patronizing pity to searing scorn, and that reaction generally goes both ways, especially when cops are involved. That said, many devotees have learned to work within the law while manipulating it to their advantage; thus, the Law Ability is common among scene organizers, activists, and folks who like to live outside that law as freely as they can.

Suggested Attributes: Strength 2-4, Dexterity 2-4, Stamina 3-4, Charisma 2-5, Manipulation 1-4, Appearance 1-5, Perception 2-4, Intelligence 1-5, Wits 1-3

Suggested Abilities: Academics 1-4, Area Knowledge (scene of choice) 1-5, Art 1-5, Athletics 1-4, Awareness 1-2, Crafts 2-5, Computer 1-5, Drive 1-3, Expression 2-5, Law 1-3, Politics 1-3, Survival 1-5, Technology 1-5 (plus an array of Abilities that suit an individual’s mundane and other pursuits.)

Willpower: 3-5

Health Levels: OK, ‒1, ‒1, ‒2, ‒2, ‒5, Incapacitated

Equipment: Flamboyant or unusual clothing, strange devices, vehicles suited for adventures, and often-dangerous toys that demand specialized skills before you can use them without looking like a complete fool.

Trix

Image: Willfully eccentric clothing, tattoos, and piercings both obvious and hidden are more the rule than the exception in many rebel subcultures across the world. Folks within such groups tend to adopt self-made identities (as opposed to the ones they were raised with), and often choose new names to mark their departure from mainstream culture. The average age for people in such groups generally ranges from the mid-teens to early 40s, although subculture parents tend to raise their kids in those cultures as well, and elders within the community can be 70 years old or older. It’s rare to find subculture insiders who predate the 1950s, but some folks refuse to grow old no matter how many years they have under their belts.

Roleplaying Notes: Normative culture is a prison. You might punch a clock in that world, but you refuse to let it limit who you become.

Lights, fire, action. That’s what Trix is all about. He’s been slinging flame since the 1990s, and with almost 20 years of circus-stunt experience he’s among the best you’ll ever see. Flame is focus, discipline, sex. It’s the element of light that drew Trix out of darkness and helped him illuminate a new generation of artists who’ll go further and burn brighter than Trix ever could.

Quiet, introverted, and socially awkward as a kid, Trix discovered circus arts by way of a girl he had a crush on in high school. She’d be hooping outside between classes, even in the rain, and young Trix (then called Steven Morris) watched, fascinated as she wove patterns of motion around her arms and legs, often spinning two or three hoops instead of only one. He bought his own hoops, practiced with the fanaticism of a young man looking to get laid, and then — when he felt good enough — showed up near her practice spot before his crush arrived, began hooping, and acted casual when she saw him, applauded, and struck up the conversation he’d been dying to have with her. The girl’s given name was Stephanie, but she preferred Sapphire. By the time they broke up with typical high-school explosivity, she’d christened Steven “Trix” and introduced him to flow toys, circus tricks, and the disciplines of flame.

In the years since, Trix has studied every form of circus art he could find. Stilt-walking, sword-swallowing, contortions, acrobatics, the works. To supplement this vigorously unprofitable (and frequently expensive) skill set, he studied computer security, learned some basic hacking, and taught himself desktop video production. As the new millennium opened new venues in self-production and self-promotion, Trix took to the festival circuit, set up an array of social-media platforms, took on apprentices, and formed a troupe of traveling professional performers. Since 2007, PyroKenYeSuz has opened for bands, performed in videos, appeared in indie films, and trekked from Seattle to Tokyo — spinning flame at Burning Man, breathing fire in music videos, walking on glass to protest the last election, and getting snubbed by judges on reality-TV talent competitions. Trix’ troupe has grown and contracted over the intervening years, but it remains among the most respected groups of its kind.

Despite his success, Trix is beginning to wonder where and how it all ends. Now pushing 40, he’s slowing down and running out of energy. The restless passion that once drove him from stage to stage has become bone-deep weariness.

Too many lovers but no true partner. Too many cities, none of them home. Oh, sure that first rush when the crowd gasps still lights up his heart, but the many hours of practice, meetings, and setups and tear-downs have really gotten to Trix. He’s considered handing the whole thing off to one of his associates, but what would he do then? As tiring as the grind’s become, boredom would be even worse. Besides, as he’ll admit when the fun’s over and yet another friend has run, Trix can’t count on the people in his troupe. Yeah, they’re around when there’s glory to be had, but it’s still a struggle to get folks who’ll show up for practice every time or make it through a tour without some kind of drama Trix needs to soothe. Injuries, breakups, permits, insurance … when did it get to be so much damn work? Worse still, he’s got little to show for it all except a Ford Explorer choked with playa dust, stuffed with gear, and redolent of sweaty bodies too tired for a shower before hitting the road again. No savings to speak of, and a couple of credit cards that spend most of the year near the cut-off zone. Trix is having fun, essentially, but this life doesn’t have a retirement plan and the years are starting to pile up on him.

Slender, tall, and pretty, with a long hair flowing straight down past the middle of his back, Trix cultivates an aura of androgyny. His blue eyes contrast with sun-browned skin and a hint of distant Cree ancestry. Shimmering strands of iridescent “faerie hair” sparkle in his dark brown mane, and the few folks who see him without his shirt on know that Trix is all sinew, no fat. In a subculture infamous for elaborate tattoos, Trix has only one: a black bunny done in vaguely Haida style on his right shoulder blade. Not many people see that either, because Trix tends to cover up even in the hottest Nevada summers. His wardrobe echoes his fondness for flames, with bright colors and fire motifs being a hallmark of his clothes. Trix speaks softly and rarely yells even when under pressure. His intensity, though, vibrates through this artist like a hard slap, and his aura (for those who can see it) burns like the little suns he spins on a chain.

Mages don’t have to face their world alone. Although the majority of unAwakened people must remain unaware of the occult war fought in their midst — if only for their own protection — certain people assist the Awakened, either willingly or otherwise. In the old days, such people were known as grogs, custos, or, for truly skillful companions, consors. Back then, such folks were acknowledged (if not always respected) associates of the wizards in their midst. As the tides rose against practitioners

of magick, however, those roles (and the people in them) grew more secretive and remote. These days, folks who collaborate with the Awakened / Enlightened elite either do so without knowing who they really serve, do so secretly, or live and work mostly in Realms and strongholds far from the mundane world.

What’s in a Name?

Among the Nine Traditions, these sorts of associates are often, though not universally, known as consors if they know who and what they’re working with, and acolytes if they do not. Old-school Tradition magi still employ the term “custos”

for their knowing but relatively unskilled servitors, but that term and the elitism behind it have fallen out of favor in the 21st-century world. The Technocratic Union, of course, refers to its more knowledgeable associates as “extraordinary citizens,” and its lower-tier associates as “citizens,” “employees,” or simply “human resources.” The Fallen tend to lump all their associates under the heading of “dregvati,” “pawns,” or “dregs,” while other mages simply call these folks their friends and neighbors, sometimes with honorific titles but rarely with any sort of formal acknowledgment of inferiority regarding to the mages they assist.

Consor Roles and Motivations

Anyone who associates with mages has personal reasons for that choice, and any role that person fulfills will depend upon that associate’s skills and motivations, combined with the needs of the mages themselves. With those truths in mind, the following entries reflect the most common roles consors fulfill within Awakened society, the most common skill sets within those categories, and the most common motivations people have for assuming those roles.

The following roles are not exclusive, of course, and many folks combine several categories into a single role. A bodyguard might love her employer, merging the Backup, Lover, and Professional roles into one very busy life. Ultimately, the most vital elements of a consor’s role are the function she fulfills and the reasons she fulfills it. Every other aspect of that role is negotiable.

In game terms, such associates range from the sorts of normal people detailed under “The Sleeping Masses” (p. XX) and “Among the Masses” (Mage 20, pp. 620-622) to highly skilled non-mages who possess unusual, perhaps inhuman, abilities, like the Hunters and “Static” Magical Adepts detailed later in this chapter, and under “Extraordinary Operatives” and “Technocratic Creations” (Mage 20, pp. 623-626). Consors can be vampires, ghouls, constructs, familiars, or other paranormal beasties who can be found throughout this book; the following section, however, deals with associates who are essentially human beings that might add a few unusual powers to their non-magical skills.

Those abilities, and the people who employ them, are exceedingly diverse in terms of power and identity. Rather than present detailed Trait blocks for the following characters, therefore, the entries below concentrate on the sorts of associates a mage can have, with a few notes that describe the sorts of Traits such characters could have, as well as the templates that best suit the associate in question. The Storyteller, therefore, can customize those characters to suit the nature of their group and chronicle. Your game, your choice.