Found all over Asia, yao guai (yokai in Japan, and yokwe in Korean) make up one of the largest categories of supernat­ ural critters in the Pacific. Because of this, describing them in generalizations just creates confusion and misunderstandings. Breaking them down into subcategories doesn’t help much either, since different cultures break yao guai down differently. For example, hulijing (fox spirits) get lumped in with one cat­ egory of spirit in Japan, but with another in China. In Japan, most supernatural creatures get lumped into the category “yokai,” with some getting subcategorized further based on their appearance or abilities.

Since the Japanese language has the habit of using the same word for Awakened and mundane versions of the same animal (kitsune means both “fox” and “fox-spirit”), this section favors Chinese words when describing entities that are more or less the same thing described in different languages. An important note about Asian languages: Most Asian languages do not distinguish between singular or plural, so the plural of shisa is still shisa.

Basically, if you run into magic creatures in the Pacific, follow these rules:

1. Be respectful. 2. Take no shit.

3. Do not have sex with them. 4. Hold up your end of any deal.

Hulijing

Generally benevolent, the legendary fox spirits hulijing (kitsune in Japan, and distinctly different from the Changing Breeds of the same name) move like dancers, effortlessly covering great distances with feet that don’t appear to touch the ground. They can shift between fox and human forms, but regardless of their visage, hulijing retain their tails, making them somewhat imperfect spies, especially since many hulijing have multiple tails (the oldest and most powerful have nine). Too clever for violent force, fox yao guai employ guile and seduction in order to avoid conflicts. When cornered, though, hulijing can bite, scratch with their claws, and occasionally breathe fire in a would-be assailant’s face.

Most of these sly creatures have seen centuries come and go. Because of this, conversations with hulijing routinely befuddle the unprepared; not only are hulijing supernatural, but they have witnessed generations of different human customs. Most don’t remember which idioms are still in vogue, making them sound like hipster grandmothers. Thanks to their comely appearance, however, most people find their odd mix of slang from the ages as endearing as it is confusing.

As adorable as their cultural confusion might be, it can also create some serious problems. A cute, almost playful suggestion may be a directive straight from a powerful kami. An offhand remark could spell flirtatious interest or grave danger. Choose your words carefully and listen to everything they say.

Inugami

Forged through intense torture on every level imaginable, inugami have arguably the most disturbing origins among Japan’s many magical critters. Unlike most of Japan’s para­ normal fauna, inugami owe their existence to mages, not to nature. They resemble dogs, but have been twisted by violence so horrible that it brought them back from death. Because of their cruel circumstances of creation, they’re among the few yokai who are incapable of communication, existing only to do the bidding of their masters… which is usually murder.

Despite being born from the corpses of large-breed dogs, inu­ gami have unusually gaunt and bony frames — a byproduct of being tortured and starved. Their rebirth inflicts a permanent hunger, incapable of being satisfied even with vast amounts of blood and death… though not for lack of trying. Compassionate mages find no happy ending when dealing with inugami; those who try to save inugami by turning the creatures into familiars tend to realize what a horrible mistake they’ve made once the psychic link floods their minds with murderous imagery. Ending an inugami’s bondage doesn’t free it from its curse; you need to put the poor thing down forever.

Oni

Known outside their homeland as “Japanese devils,” oni take a strange sort of pride in their public image as dimwitted thugs. Given their demonic appearance, and their capricious and violent natures, it would make sense that these yokai would have serious problems blending in with the human world. However, a little makeup and bulky clothing goes a long way toward disguising them as ugly but otherwise normal human beings. It helps that oni often pose as yakuza — a group of people most Japanese folks go out of their way to ignore.

Oni social structure features rigid hierarchy, with each tier figuratively and literally browbeating the lower ranks into sub­ mission. Consequently, conversations with oni feature an odd mix of chatting and blood. Making a good first impression on an oni is essential… and often requires breaking some bones. Oni will rarely challenge a mage a second time if that mage has bested them once already, but it would be foolish to trust such creatures, so smart mages really don’t.

Rule #2 is in full effect here. Oni will absolutely beat the shit out of you to prove a point. Nonviolent negotiation works only when the threat of violence looms so heavily that no one doubts the outcome. Don’t worry — these bastards can take a beating. Besides, if you really wanted things to go peacefully, you wouldn’t be making deals with literal devils. Thanks to the rules of oni social hierarchy, however, you can pretty much do what you want with these creatures once you’ve earned their respect. More than a few mages of questionable morals have made their fortunes by using oni as muscle. Think of oni as Japanese orcs, and you won’t be far from the truth.

Tanuki

Taking top prize in the “Best Shapeshifter to Party With” contest, tanuki also win the “Biggest Asshole” award. Pranksters at heart, tanuki love a good joke, especially if their shapeshifting allows them to play multiple roles in it. Greedy people with poor senses of humor run the risk of becoming the butt of overly complicated jokes. To the credit of all tanuki, no one has died from any of their cons, although a kitsune did nearly drown from one. Other pranksters, drunks, and travelers are the tanuki’s favorite sorts of people.

Confusingly given the same name as the raccoon dogs of Japan, tanuki vaguely resemble their mundane counterparts, if you ignore the fact that they stand upright, wear clothes, tower

over six feet tall, and possess truly impressive testicles in their native form. Tanuki claim to be the best shapeshifters in Japan, however, and often live undetected among humans for years before growing bored and moving on.

Being friends with a tanuki can be profitable, but no one who’s interested in profit is likely to become friends with one. Despite their zany antics, though, tanuki often give good coun­ sel and are among the most reliable guides wilderness travel, especially among the mountains of Japan. Thanks to their penchant for playing roles, few mortals can claim to truly know the personality of a tanuki. For the most part, these yokai give off the air of happy drunks, even when they’re completely sober. Tanuki personalities tend to fill rooms, too — a characteristic which endears them to many people and annoys the shit out of

others. If you like hanging out with the life of the party, a tanuki friend will make your day. If you’d rather have a quiet night, you’ll probably want to strangle the chubby beast.

Tengu

Potentially the most dangerous of the yokai, tengu possess nearly the same brute strength as the oni, but with far superior intelligence and potent magical skills. On top of that, they blend in easily among humans, being distinguishable only by their extra-large noses. Although their name translates roughly as “heavenly dog,” the tengu are bird-people spirits, considered to be “slayers of vanity,” challengers of over-proud humanity, and patrons of the martial arts.

While originally hostile to humans, these yokai have since found their place in the modern world as guardians of a sort. People, tengu feel, are weak, stupid, arrogant, and often self-destructive. Given the human tendency to ruin the rest of the world in the process, tengu have adopted a sort of “protective older sibling” role with regards to humanity — guiding, advising, teasing, pro­ tecting, often tricking, and occasionally beating the shit out of

the younger sibling when he does something especially stupid. To this end, tengu have meddled in human politics for centuries. In addition to meeting the rich and powerful behind the scenes, masked tengu played a more insidious role: They are said to have been Japan’s first ninjas, spying and sabotaging their way into Japanese history… and may continue that tradition secretly today.

Dealing with a tengu is a game of endless second-guessing. Did they give in too quickly? Not quickly enough? Did they agree with you only because they had planned the whole affair to go in their favor from the start? Tengu prize cunning, not raw power. Unlike the oni, kicking a tengu’s ass doesn’t buy you any respect — they’ll give you a wide berth after such displays of violence, but consider you a rank amateur in terms of real power. To test a potential rival’s intellectual capacities, these beings often speak in riddles, making the mage who can keep up with them a rare treat. If you can put one over on a tengu, they might even grow to like you. Tengu would rather make a deal; if they have to fight, though, they will, and viciously.

Modern tengu drive hard deals. Expect plans within plans, and always read the fine print. As far as a tengu is concerned, mages are not “normal” human beings, and thus fall outside the protective courtesy they afford to most people. In fact, expect a tengu to screw you over for a fistful of yen until you manage demonstrate your merit. If you manage to prove yourself to be an asset to the tengu, they’ve been known to grant favored people access to their very deep pockets and troves of magical and mun­ dane secrets. Even then, though —read the fine print. Seriously.

From wonder into wonder, existence opens.

– Lao Tzu

And so, he runs. Feet torn, limbs bleeding, sides pierced by cramps and teeth, he runs. Ground bucks. Rocks cut. Cramps sear along his ribs. Blood flows from a thousand cuts, and still, behind him, they come.

Wake up, he begs himself. Wake up before they get me. The nightmare stretches out, though, like a lover on a bed of thorns, voluptuous in agony and hungry for more.

Storm winds lash his skin. Lightning throws the landscape into sharp relief. But no relief shakes Chatan Rolling Waters from his vision. The hunt is on, and Chatan’s losing.

Behind him, Stalks-the-Master shivers in a dozen lupine forms, cutting through the dark like knives in Chatan’s skin. Flames flicker from its hungry eyes. The wind is a hungry hunter’s howl, steadfast as stone, flowing like a gully-washer flood.

“What am I supposed to learn from this?” The words tumble from his lips as he runs, broken teeth from a mouth that’s said too much. The breath behind them, wheezing, drops those falling words to whispers. Without answers, the wind carries them away.

And so, he runs. Sole-shredded bursts of pain flare from his battered feet. Cold wind scourges him with sand.

The wolves close in. “What?” Chatran cries, the hopeless words like wires in his throat. “What am I not seeing here? What am I supposed to know?”

Pain, he knows, is a teacher. But class is over as the wolves close in…

Umbrood. Such a clinical word. It suggests shadow-children, eclipsed by the light of human Arete. Arrogant mages stick that word to the forehead of beings they barely understand, slapping names of convenience into hierarchies that promise illusions of control.

Morons.

The spirit-world breathes. With or without delusional mages, it’s alive. Whether that life consists of visions shaped by human beliefs into familiar forms, alien beings from distant cosmos, fragments of mythology given life by mortal thoughts… these are philosopher’s games, more suited to a polite fireplace conversation or the brain-wrenching lessons of some polysyllabic know it all. Spirit entities are what they

are, and don’t need mortal minds to contain their mysteries. Sure, we all see ‘em a little bit differently, but that speaks more to our lack of imagination than to the limited essence of beings without boundaries.

The material world is a sham. Mages know that already. The beings whose essence pervades reality aren’t bound, as we so often are, to the frailties of bone and skin. We can post names and descriptions on these ephemeral entities, but the truth they represent is beyond any language a human throat can frame.

Pedantic poetry aside, the following characters are bigger than the Traits we’ve given them or the names we speak when we refer to them. Papa Legba might look like an old dude with a dog, but that’s an illusion: He is the principle of transition and passage, embodied in a human form but so much more than we could ever be. When your mages meet such entities, then, treat them with respect. If you’re a player, remember that the god or Loa or Avatar or djinni you’re dealing with has levels your mage only barely understands. If you’re a

Storyteller, make these beings mysteries, not mere monsters. Describe them a little differently (maybe even a lot different­ ly) to each player; wrap the landscape and elements around them. Bring as much of a sense of enigmatic awe as you can possibly describe, and hint at things far greater than anything your players sense. Use the following entries as guidelines, not limitations, and feel free to add to or alter the powers and abilities given in the pages below. These aren’t monsters that can be killed with a blast of fire or hypertech plasma, but sacred emanations whose apparent forms are rough sketches of what they truly are.

For more details about spirit entities and the game-rules surroundings them, see the Mage 20 sections about “Umbrood Spirit Entities” (pp. 485-495), “Inhuman Entities” and “Atmosphere and Description” (pp. 356-358), “The Deeper Level” (pp. 363-369), and “Spirits” (pp. 631-641), plus “Summoning, Binding, Bargaining, and Warding” in How Do You DO That? (pp. 90-106). For new spirit Charms, see this book’s Chapter Five.

The guiding “inner gods” mages perceive can range from whispering voices to apparent people in their own right. Gods & Monsters features an array of Avatars to inspire players and Storytellers to create their own such characters. Several of these Avatars have no physical presence to speak of, and thus have no Physical Traits; Avatars associated with the Manifest Avatar Merit, however, possess the same Traits any other character of their kind would have. The following entries have been left essentially “anony­ mous,” too; this way, you can adopt these Avatars to suit your own characters and chronicles, adopting specific elements as you see fit.