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Whispers of Dissent
By Aaron Anderson, Phil Brucato, James Estes, Looking Eagle, Deena McKinney, Wade
Racine, Andrew Ragland, Derek Pearcy, Kathleen Ryan and Lucien Soulban
Contents
1
Credits
Written by:
Aaron Anderson, Phil Brucato, James Estes,
Looking Eagle, Deena McKinney, Wade Racine, Andrew
Ragland, Derek Pearcy, Kathleen Ryan and Lucien Soul-
ban
Additional Concepts by:
Kevin Andrew Murphy and Jim
Comer
Developed by:
Phil Brucato
Edited by:
Veronica Randall and Ken Cliffe
Vice President in Charge of Production:
Richard
Thomas
Art Directors:
Lawrence Snelly and Aileen E. Miles
Layout and Typesetting:
Matt Milberger
Art:
James Daly, Pia Guerra, Anthony Hightower, Mark Jack-
son, Robert Macneil, Shea Anton Pensa, Alex Sheikman, Ron
Spencer
Map:
Larry Friedman
Front Cover Art:
Ash Arnett
Front and Back Cover Design:
Matt Milberger
Special Thanks To:
Larry
“Goob Spooge”
Snelly,
for spilling out the contents
of his comical coconut. Strange days ahead…
Kathy
“Veteran of the Psycho Ward”
Ryan,
for digging
herself into Freelance Hell.
Ken
“Kiltophile”
Cliffe,
for skirting the edges of decency.
Andrew
“Cuddles”
Bates,
for going into Exile.
Rob
“Gaijin”
Hatch,
for booking the God King.
Ethan
“Silent Strider”
Skemp,
for having the author sneak
out the back door.
Rich
“Harrowing”
Dansky,
for resolving a few Fetters.
Wes
“Embraced”
Harris,
for coming through the shaft with
his ass intact.
Mark
“I Did This”
Rein•Hagen,
for telling it like it is
1
.
Andrew
“So Did I”
Greenberg,
for Obfuscating his way
through the credits — again.
Trace
“Con Girl”
Oconnor,
for returning to the scene of
the crime. Welcome back, Trace!
Jane
“Elmer Fudd I”
Palmer,
for killing the Wabbit.
Rebecca
“Elmer Fudd II”
Schaeffer,
for passing Jane the
keys to freedom.
Staley
“Mega-Mommy” and
Mike
“Bad Seed”
Krause,
for
siring a new wolf-child.
…and a special welcoming howl to little
John McDonough
and his proud (tired) parents
Ann
and
Chris.
Haaa-
Woooo!
1
Sort of.
© 1996 by White Wolf. All rights reserved. Re-
production without written permission of the publisher
is expressly denied, except for the purpose of reviews.
Mage: The Ascension
and
The Book of Crafts
are
registered trademarks of White Wolf Game Studio. All
names, titles, characters and text herein are copyrights
of White Wolf unless otherwise noted.
The mention or reference to any companies or
products in these pages is not a challenge to the trade-
marks or copyrights concerned.
Due to mature themes and subject matter, reader
discretion is advised.
2
The Book of Crafts
Prelude
Introduction
Chapter One: Bata’a: Spirit Music
Chapter Two: Children of Knowledge: An Ancient Brew
Chapter Three: Hem-Ka Sobk: Eaters of Sin
Chapter Four: Kopa Loei: Magick from the Land
Chapter Five: Sisters of Hippolyta: Wind-borne Seeds
Chapter Six: Templars: Militia Christi
Chapter Seven: Wu-Keng: The Black Watch
Chapter Eight: Wu Lung: The Dragon Wizards
4
9
13
31
47
63
79
93
109
125
Contents
3
Prelude
By Kathleen Ryan
Shangri-La is home to the Tellurian’s
oldest true alchemist’s shop. On the crest of
Red Hill Street, it towers above its neighbors,
five half-timbered stories of cracked plaster
and rotting, black-oak beams. A sign above
the door swings noisily on wrought-iron
hinges, the picture upon it faded beyond
recognition. Only the word “Apoteke” is
legible.
Inside, Jeremy Hurst sits restlessly behind the counter,
his laptop propped against the ancient brass cash register,
his lab notes scattered in loose heaps beside a box of ginseng
and bundles of sage. He bites his lip in intense concentra-
tion, his red hair falling into his eyes, pencil drifting back
and forth between the complex formula in front of him and
the intricate doodles that cover the margins.
The front door rattles.
“We’re closed!” He yells, without looking up. “Come
back at one o’clock.”
The doorbell chimes, and he sighs, laying down the pen-
cil. “Sorry, I must have forgotten to lock up.” The customer,
black-shadowed in the bright doorway, shakes her head.
“You didn’t forget.” The voice is low, solemn.
Jeremy stands, hands under the counter.
“Your lock is broken,” says the stranger.
She steps forward. She holds a rusted, crumbling block
of metal, and he recognizes her. He raises the shotgun above
the counter, aiming steadily at her heart.
“Amanda.”
“Jeremy.”
They wait.
“Put it away. I didn’t do the lock.”
He studies her, shifts the weight of the gun to one hand,
finger
just
off the trigger, and reaches out with the other.
He hits “No Sale” on the register, and pulls a small pebble
from the open drawer.
“Here.” He tosses it, and Amanda plucks it out of the
air, careful not to move closer to him. “Hold that, and tell
me again.”
“I did not destroy your lock. I did not break your lock,
except to pull it free of the door to show you. I have not come
here to harm you or anyone here. I am running an errand for
the Old Man.” The young Euthanatos sets the ruined lock
down on a barrelhead, watches him. “Satisfied?”
4
The Book of Crafts
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