Guild Spotlight:

Monitors, Oracles & Pardoners

by J. Edward Tremlett (reggies_ghost@hotmail.com)
Summary: An in-depth look at the three Guilds from a post-Maelstrom POV...
This article originally appeared on Ex Libris Nocturnis at the URL:
http://www.nocturnis.net/articles/wraith/default/2001/October/324/page1.html
The Monitors
Nicknames: No-Blinkers, Fishers of Men, Web-Cutters, Pickpockets, the Stares, the Fetter Mafia,
Navigators
Guildmasters: The heads of the seven Families run the Guild, though it’s quite clear that the wishes of
the most powerful Family is what steers the Monitors.
Center of Power: Florence Necropolis, though six of the seven Families also have a L’ufficio
Principale (‘Main Office’) in other Necropoli throughout Europe and North America.
Specialty Arcanos: Lifeweb
Organization
The Monitors are broken up into seven Families: elder, tightly knit dynasties of Wraiths who have held
power over the Underworld for untold centuries. Though the Families were once made up of blood
relations, they are no longer strictly so: blood may be thicker than water, but loyalty and good service
are stronger than blood.
In theory, each Family has rights to the business within a certain geographic area, and the obligation to
report all useful information to their cohorts. Note we said "in theory”: in practice, it's not unusual for
Monitors of several different Families to be active in the same Necropolis, and the best information
have to be wrested out of rivals via spying and blackmail.
The Families are:
The Hohenstaufens of Florence, who claim to be the oldest Family of all. Though their name has
changed over time, they have always been the most powerful Family of the Guild. Deitrich holds the
reins of this Family and, through it, the rest of the Guild. They directly oversee all the territory within
the Mediterranean Sea, and all countries - and pieces of countries -
that border the Sea lying East of Slovenia, with careful tentacles spread into Turkey.
The Severns of Liverpool, who have dominion over Great Britain, Ireland, Iceland, Greenland and
most of Eastern Canada (Newfoundland, Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia). Until recently the
Family was housed in London, but they relocated to Liverpool following the aftermath of the Jade
Empire’s invasion. They are ruled by Maximilian Edward-Hyde Severn III, whose father,
Maximilian II was lost in the battle for London.
The Barents of Amsterdam, who hold the Netherlands, the rest of Canada and Alaska. Pieter
Christiaan Smuts oversees this vast empire, but does so with a sinking heart; The Storm has almost
completely severed his connections to the New World, and with little to hold onto in Europe, he fears
for what the future may hold.
The Trois-Mullets of Paris, who have always held power over France and Belgium, and have recently
acquired all former Soviet States that aren’t bordering the Mediterranean - with the exception of East
Germany. Henri-James Trois-Mullets rules the family with an iron hand and a wicked smirk, reveling
in his recent change of fortune and wondering when to expect
a reprisal.
The Petrovichs, who have been in Moscow for time out of mind. Once they oversaw the whole of the
USSR, and were a close rival in power to the Hohenstaufens. However, with the breakup of the Soviet
Empire the outlying states were handed to the Tres-Mullets. Mikhal Lavr Ulyanov - presumed lost to a
Harrowing while trying to take control of the Guild - broods in self-imposed exile in St. Petersburg,
and plans an uncharacteristically subtle revenge. Meanwhile, his ‘son,’ Vladimir Nikolai Kolchak,
maintains appearances in Moscow.
The von Moltkes, who rule a once more united Germany from Berlin. They also claim dominion over
Austria, Denmark, Norway, Sweden and Finland. They are led by Erich von Falkenhayn, whose over-
cautious method of command might not have been successful in the first World War, but has brought
him - and the Family - great tidings in the Shadowlands.
The Aragon of Madrid, who hold dominion over Spain, Portugal and the whole of the contiguous
United States. After the defrocking of the Petrovichs - which they had a direct hand in - the Aragon
became the second most powerful Family of the Guild. But with the Storm on, and contact with the
United States so difficult to maintain, Xavier Phillipe de Aragon was seeing his power slip right
through his fingers. He tried to wrestle control of the Guild away from the Hohenstaufens, and was
sent shrieking to the Labyrinth for his pains. Now his cousin, Jorge de Aragon, rules cautiously in his
stead.
The Families try to present a united front to outsiders; As anyone who knows anything about the Guild
can tell you, that's a very thin facade. In fact, the only thing keeping the Families from trying to
completely destroy and absorb one another is the fear that their rivals know of more Fetters than they
do. This state of tearoom detente has lasted for ages, and it is unlikely to end anytime soon.
The Monitors claim to have held the entire city of Florence as their stronghold since the Fourth Great
Maelstrom. How such a thing could have been possible is not known; The Hierarchy should have
nipped any such grandstanding in the bud. But yet the Necropolis is filled with Wraiths who do not
blink, and any signs of the Hierarchy having ever had control over it are very hard to spot...
The Guild makes use of the standard levels of rank. Apprentices seem to be the ones gathering
information on potential customers - or targets, provided they're not one and the same - and the
Journeymen do the actual work with their Arcanos. Masters oversee those operations and report back
to the Grand Master who oversees the L’ufficio for that Necropolis. That Grand Master then sends
information back to the Grand Masters of his Family in their L’ufficio Principale, and receives orders
in return.
Of course, with the Storm on, that chain of information is fairly slow and unreliable. Their l’ufficios
have had to become more self-sufficient, leading a number of them to make some large deviations
from "traditional" Monitor policy. This could also be the result of rival Families catching their
communiques somewhere on the way to Florence and exchanging them for their own, quixotic orders.
Up until the Storm, the head of the most visible Family - and the one who invariably came to Council
meetings - was Alphonse. He had the misfortune of being in Stygia when the whole show came down,
and disappeared in the resulting conflagration. These days, a tall, thin fellow named Dietrich wears
Alphonse's mask: though he doesn't seem as petty as his predecessor, and tends to talk a lot less, he is
no less cold.
Notable Groups
One time-honored profession the Monitors have engaged in is navigation. With the ability to know
where their Fetters are in relation to themselves, they can guide a ship through both the seas of the
Shadowlands and the worst parts of the Tempest. Monitor Navigators have been a fixture on ghost
ships since time out of mind; Even the Hierarchy’s ban on the Guilds did little to change this, though
the Guildwraiths’ regalia were kept hidden away.
With the Hierarchy gone, and the Maelstrom on, the Monitors have repolished their image a bit by
making their Navigators very visible, and quite available. The great Navigators’ Houses of the
seafaring Necropoli have reopened their doors, and the seas of the Shadowlands are once more plied by
stately, unblinking sailors.
This move has made the Guild somewhat more popular, but it has earned the enmity of the lower-
ranking Monitors. The casualty rate on ships in the Storm-tossed seas is obscene - some say only one
ship in three comes back to port - and it’s no accident that Grand Masters won’t get within a yard’s
distance of a ship these days.
Still, orders are orders, and orders are obeyed. The Guild’s appearances must be kept, and the
American territories must be overseen. With the well-wishes of their superiors - and a stern warning of
what desertion brings - in their ears, the Navigators board their teetering wracks and pray to see land
once more.
Current History
The nearly-undisputed masters of Lifeweb and the Fetter trade, the Monitors Guild has spent the time
of the Storm counting its coin and charting a very profitable future.
It’s simple commerce: only those Wraiths who can hide in the Shadowlands can survive the
Maelstrom, so having well-maintained Fetters is absolutely essential. Wise Wraiths might say that
having a Monitor look after your things is like having a professional thief design your home's security
system, but with a lack of clear alternatives - and no Hierarchy to say otherwise - the Guild is enjoying
a brisk business.
News of their new era of opportunity was a little slow in coming. The Head of their most visible
Family - a timid, squat and petty fellow by the name of Alphonse- went to Stygia just before the Storm
broke, but he never came back. Word has it that he was present for Charon's return, but word also has
it that he ran for shelter immediately thereafter and was never seen again. The whole story had to come
from a delegation of Mnemoi who traveled to Florence to tell of what took place.
As you might expect, the exact details of what happened were quite a surprise to the Monitors. Even
though the thrice-banned Guild had been hiding within their number for so long, the Monitors were
ever only on the edges of the Mnemoi's plans. There's some speculation that some of their number
knew of the nature of the deception, but that’s highly unlikely.
After the Mnemoi were thanked and sent on their way, a brief period of inter-Family chaos ensued
over who would lead. A few Gaunts were Domemized for their pains, and a thin, reedy Wraith known
as Deitrich rose above the others to assume Alphonse’s position. Dietrich had worked directly under
him
for some time, and was privy to quite a few of his secrets - such as the Fetters of Alphonse’s rivals.
Those secrets served him well.
Thereafter, the Guild recognized the wonderful opportunity that the Hierarchy's passing had given
them. But they also felt the need for caution, for though Stygia could be an implacable foe, it was also
be the best ally in need they'd ever had. If they'd had cause to have someone dealt with in a way that
could not be traced back to them, they needed only slip information on his Fetters to the local
Hierarchs. Likewise, more than a few Hierarchs slipped the Guild the name and whereabouts of
someone they wanted clandestinely dealt with, and the Monitors would see to it.
Now that the Monitors’ partner in quiet crime was no more, they would have one less tool at their
disposal, and one less screen for their rivals to go through. New allies would be essential to fending off
attacks and securing their position. So when word reached Florence of the Artificers' desire for a new
Council of the Guilds, Dietrich went to London to attend.
It was a rather amusing spectacle, but two concerns emerged by the end of it. The first was the
insistence on inviting the Alchemists, and their entering the Council as a "greater" Guild once more -
reviving the Guild's other competitor in the Fetter protection business. Had Alphonse been there, he
might have blocked this by calling in every favor he had. But Alphonse was not, and Dietrich was of a
much more cautious turn of mind. And so he said nothing, but coldly declined to vote on anything to
do with the formerly "outlawed" Guild.
The second concern was something of a slap in the face. As every Guild on the Council had to provide
a form of free service for the good of Wraithdom as a whole, The Monitors - being the Guild who best
understood Fetters - were a logical choice to watch after the Fetters of Necropolis defenders.
Dietrich agreed to that, but was stunned to see how loudly the other Guildmasters insisted that they
take no payment for that service whatsoever: no money, no favors, no considerations - not so much as
a tip.
They also got something akin to a warning when Artemus Vanderwal, the new head of the Spooks,
made some comment about not "tagging" their customers - to great assent from most of the other
Guildmasters in attendance. He was, of course, referring to the notion that Monitors make a clandestine
survey of their customers' Fetters every time they meet them, so as to target them for later blackmail.
Such vile rumors had been circulating for ages, and nothing the Guild could do would convince anyone
that they were hopelessly false.
But, again, Dietrich said nothing. It was almost as though he had something up his sleeve to save for
later...?
Current Activities
Their deal with the Guilds was to look after the Fetters of all Necropoli defenders, protect them from
harm and reattach them if need be. The Guild could still charge its usual fees to ordinary Wraiths, of
course. It was judged that only those who were busy watching for the next Stormfront would really
need the Monitors' help.
The Monitors have been keeping their promises, of course. They have also begun the practice of
reaping promising Enfants with a predisposition towards Lifeweb - getting them into the Guild before
anyone else can induct them into their groups. Though the current state of the Tempest has made long-
distance travel within it almost impossible, they are still training Monitor sailors for such vessels, and
sending their ever-dwindling body of trained Navigators into the Shadowlands’ seas as well. And, as
ever, they are refusing to teach other Wraiths the secrets of their Arcanos. This has been a long-
standing practice for them to ensure their near-monopoly over the Fetters business. If someone's good
enough to warrant proper instruction, they'll be inducted and trained as an Apprentice. If - as
sometimes happens - they try to run after they make Journeyman and set up business for themselves,
their own Fetters will be systematically ripped from them, one by one. And in this time, that's as much
of a death sentence as anything.
As for their usual tricks: the word from above is to curry favor with the Artificers and the Masquers, in
spite of what’s happened before. This way, the latter can have their help finding out where the
Alchemists new abilities came from, and then, once this is known, the former can be primed to call
them on it. After that’s taken care of, it’ll be back to business as usual... unless their current
negotiations with the Usurers bear fruit...
Current Political Situation
Much like the Usurers - at least, so far as anyone can tell - the Monitors are very pragmatic when it
comes to picking friends and foes. It’s all about who can offer what: anything else would be foolish
and sentimental.
Seen in that light, their best friends are the Harbingers and Pardoners. The Harbingers have been their
partners in enterprise, plying the oceans and the wild seas of the Tempest since time out of mind. The
Pardoners are best equipped to deal with Shadows, and the Monitors often look after their Fetters for
reduced fees in return. The Guild also reserves some favors for the Haunters, who make excellent allies
when meddling with the Quick.
On the other side of the coin are the Alchemists, Masquers and Spooks. The Masquers are their chief
rival in the information-gathering business, and the other two have always been direct competitors in
the field of Fetter protection/destruction. The Spooks’ new leader is getting to be rather bothersome,
too.
On the other hand, the Masquers are getting curious about the Alchemists’ newfound abilities, and
that’s made for some inroads to cooperation. Likewise, the Monitors’ disdain of the Artificers is being
placed on the back burner to deal with the Alchemists. Some deals could be made here - at
least in the short term.
As for the Mnemoi: their shared Arcanos markings has bound them together for a long time - too long,
so far as the Families are concerned. The current wisdom is to treat the coincidence as a “favor,” and to
call it in as soon as it’s needed.
And there are ample opportunities for this in the near future, it would seem...
The Oracles
Nicknames: The Unblinking Eye, Seers, Joss-Tossers, Bone-Throwers,
Boneshakers, Gypsies, Soothsayers
Guildmaster: Depends who you ask...
Center of Power: Also depends who you ask...
Specialty Arcanos: Fatalism
Organization
In times past, the Guild - often called “The Pantheon” by its members - was made up of five factions,
each based around a different philosophy and use of Fatalism. They were:
The Delphics, who practiced the ancient, Delphic form of prophecy through hallucination. They had a
strict, numbered hierarchy with a leader known as the Grand High Oracle - Selena - presiding over
them all.
The Augurs, who sacrificed other wraiths and read their steaming corpus to see the future. Their ranks
were led by the Aleph, who held the Sacrificial Blade of Eannatum as sign of his rank.
The Gamblers, who looked at the art as both a matter of odds and a wonderful source of income. They
were overseen by the Dealer, who often held court on a relic steamship known as La Belle LaFayette.
The Clairvoyants, who were a mishmash of countless styles of prophecy, odds-making and fate-
changing - divided only between those who believed they could change the future, and those who said
they could only say what would happen. The Clairvoyants were overseen by two persons, Dama
D’onore and La Guardia. They shared a position on the Pantheon’s Council, and held one,
unified vote between them.
The Doomsayers, who went about crying that the end was near, and foretold little else besides. They
were led by the Prophet and his many
Signbearers.
Each faction’s leader was part of the Guild’s honorary decision-making council. The highest Delphic
presided over that council, of course. This arrangement created a “big tent” of a Guild. Their different
factions were all nipping at one another’s heels for position, yet they were united by their use of
Fatalism, however different those methods were. It was not the easiest or most amicable of
arrangements, but, by the grace of Fate, it worked. As of now, that “big tent” no longer exists. The
Delphics are staying on a small island off the coast of Thrace, in Greece. They still revere their leader,
Sophia, first Pythian, but she has been struck mad by some strange calamity. The Delphics claim that
they are the true face of the Guild, but they are very few in number, and nearly friendless. On the other
hand, the Gamblers and the Stregherian side of the Clairvoyants - those who felt the future could be
shaped - have lots of friends. Between the Gamblers’ money, and the Clairvoyants’ public relations,
most Wraiths in the former Stygian territories consider their faction to be the true Oracles: in fact, it is
their representative who sits on the Council of Guilds. The Dealer and Magus run the “true” Guild
from La Belle LaFayette, currently docked at the Copenhagen Necropolis.
Meanwhile, the more fatalistic, Etruscan side of the Clairvoyants have sided with the Augurs, who
were never too popular to begin with. Under the guidance of the Aleph, they ply a lonely, plasm-
soaked trade in darkened corners throughout the Empire. They are no longer restrained by official
censure of their actions, but they remain patronized only by those who appreciate the Augurs’ extreme
methods. And as for the Doomsayers...
Special Groups
... after the fractioning of the Pantheon, the Doomsayers followed their Prophet and his Signbearers out
into the wilderness to find the “promised land.” Just where they wound up isn’t known, and what
happened immediately thereafter can only be guessed at. But what isn’t in question is that they have
returned - and no one is very happy to see them.
This faction held a dark secret: not only was the end approaching, but they were steadfastly committed
to bringing it closer. Only when Doomsday loomed directly upon the horizon could Stygia be truly
cleansed, and at that time the entirety of the Empire would Transcend in a great, glorious Rapture. But
Doomsday had been forestalled by Charon’s acts; By soulforging so many spirits, Oblivion was being
denied its rightful tithe, and so could not grow. And so, in secret Haunts throughout Stygia, the
Doomsayers would
practice what was known as “annihilation” - tossing Soulforged objects into Nihils so as to destroy
them, and release the spirits within into The Void. It was hoped that this would speed up the timetable,
and soon glory would be theirs. Sadly for them, this glory was not to be. The 6th Great Maelstrom
came, Charon returned and then left once more, and the mass Transcendence the Doomsayers were
hoping for did not come to pass. This left the Prophet and his followers with a slight crisis of faith, but
they seem to have dealt
with it in a typical fashion - only their methods have changed for the worse. Where the Doomsayers
were content to fling Soulforged objects - and the occasional captive - down into The Void, they are
now engaging in the wholescale destruction of Wraiths. In Necropolis after Necropolis, well-timed
Barrowbombs ignite in public places and send scores of Wraiths into final Harrowings. The carnage is
terrible and absolute. And for some strange reason, those blessed with Fatalism are quite unable to
see these explosions coming; It’s as though the visions were somehow being blocked from view...?
Current History
In-the-know observers have said that of all the Guilds, the Oracles have lost the most ground since the
start of the Storm. While those on the outside haven’t seen much of a change, their structure remains
fractured and broken: a steady – if eclectic – harmony turned to infighting, discord and chaos.
Some say the Oracles should have seen this coming. Some say that they did see it coming, but were
powerless to stop it. And some say they knowingly brought it all on themselves because it was “part of
the plan.” But whatever the truth may be, most Oracles aren’t in much shape to say.
The problem starts and ends with Fate: not only the fickle force that the Oracles either claim to master
or foresee, but also the Lady who bears that name. Though the Oracles were never a true part of the
Legion of Fate, they had their connections, and shared a clear – if fractious – obedience to the Lady’s
lead. As such, they did what they were told, and only debated amongst themselves whether they were
willing partners in destiny, or just tools being used for the grand design. The Oracles knew something
of Fate’s design, of course. They knew Charon had been reborn. They also knew that he would one day
die, and they knew – or at least hoped beyond all reason – that he would return to the Shadowlands and
rule once more… this time with the guilds instead of against them. But in order to show the Emperor
that the Guilds were worthy bodies, they had to play the deciding part in his coming back.
So, for more than fifty years, the Oracles kept tabs on the Skinlands. They watched the skeins of fate
with careful, unblinking eyes: watching the possibilities narrow and the probabilities become more
certain with each passing year. And when the right moment came around, they engineered Charon’s
return. But things became hopelessly complicated, right from the start. The Jade Empire invaded on the
eve of Charon’s return, the Sixth Great Maelstrom erupted soon after his second death and the returned
Emperor was almost
destroyed when the Midnight Express derailed. There was an assassination attempt, Spectral attacks
and various other treacheries to deal with. And then, when he was brought before the Guild Leaders
and Deathlords to have his memories returned, it became apparent that not enough Mnemoi had
survived to give the Emperor his due. This led to Charon’s decision to hand the rule of the dead over to
others, and – before an audience of stunned wraiths – the Emperor Transcended, leaving the dead to
their own devices.
That setback aside, the Guild might have remained whole. But with the horrors of the Storm, the Guild
lost two things that were irreplaceable.The first was the Reed Bundle: the sign of wisdom, insight and
leadership for the Delphic Oracles. It was lost when the Isle of Sorrows was swamped, and the Guild’s
ancient temple ruined. Countless other things were lost that terrible day, but no other treasure was as
revered as that simple bundle. Even now, fever-crazed Delphic Oracles comb what’s left of the temple,
braving the winds, the Spectres and the Storm in the hopes of retrieving it. But the second and most
horrifying loss was The Lady Herself. After seeing Charon’s Transcendence, the Ladies of Fate said
their farewells, got into a boat and were paddled away from the Isle of Sorrows. They have not been
seen
since, and no one who’s gone to look for them has returned. For all appearances, the Lady of Fate is
gone.
Saying that things went to hell after that would be somewhat of an understatement. The Guild rapidly
relocated to the Shadowlands, and holed up in the London Necropolis. And as the Storm’s horrid
winds battered against their temporary shelter, those Oracles who huddled there fell to arguing with
one another over whose leadership would best serve them.
An emergency session of the Pantheon’s Honorary Council was convened, but the attendants could
make no headway. No matter how much Selena called for peace and calm, her words were unheeded
and her leadership was all but ignored - even by those who had once been allies. And then, at the
height of the bickering, something terrible happened. Selena fell down, opened her eyes wide - as
though she were seeing some nameless, terrible horror that the others could not - and she began to
babble. No one could bring her out of the state, and the council was dissolved. The other Delphics
were unable to bring Selena around in the days to come, and, shattered and stunned, they couldn’t
bring forth another, more coherent leader.
This led to the Gamblers allying with a large percentage of the Clairvoyants to take control of the
floor. The enigmatic leader of the Gamblers, known as the Dealer, clasped fortunes with one of the
more prominent Card-Carrying Members, who called himself the Magus. They then announced their
intention to lead the Guild through the darkness and into better times. The Augurs tried to wrest
control from them, but had no success.
When the Storm started to abate, the Augurs departed in disgust, promising a reckoning. Also leaving
with the Augurs were the Etruscan Clairvoyants, who wouldn’t join with the Gamblers due to
“philosophical and ethical” differences. The Doomsayers must have departed at some point, but no one
saw them go - much less cared. And that left the Delphics to make one last, private attempt to regain
what they had; It failed, and they left. The time thereafter was a brilliant honeymoon for the “new”
Guild. The
Gamblers’ ship miraculously weathered the Storm, and it the Oracles put their energies behind moving
it - and their base of operations - to the Copenhagen Necropolis. There they would be assured of a
good port, protection from the winds and a few other “advantages” that only the Dealer and Magus
were privy to. Whatever they were, they seem to be working in - *ahem* - spades. And to this night,
Selena sits in the new temple of the Delphics, a near-mindless engine of prophecy. Those loyal Oracles
who attend her take down her every word and spread the notes across the floor, hoping to find some
pattern of the future in her incoherent babblings. So far, they’ve agreed upon nothing, save that it
seems the end is coming.
And soon.
Current Activities
Those Oracles who took control of the Pantheon are enjoying their time in the sun. As part of their deal
with the other Guilds, they are to provide free strategic advice to the defenders of the Necropoli. This
only covers matters of defense, though. They’re still allowed to charge for consultation on private
matters, and they do.
Past that, it’s business as usual. Folks need to know what the future holds for them, new seers need to
be brought into the fold, and the Guild as a whole needs to be shepherded through these times into a
brighter, Storm-free tomorrow. The odds are fixable, the future’s a blank canvas to be painted on, and
tough times are good times for those who can see ahead of the game.
And as for the Doomsayers? Well... there’s a good card on finding out what the hell they’re up to - as
the rest of the Guild had no idea how far gone they were - and then finding a way to stop them. The
Magus and The Dealer are working on a way to see past their tricks, and once they do, the other
Guilds will be the first to know.
As for the folks who lost out...
The Augurs and Etruscan Clairvoyants are working on getting their power base back. Their
clientele may be small, but it turns out that no few of their customers are old, powerful and well-landed
Gaunts. It’s just a matter of getting them together at the right place and time - an end that the Guild’s
been trying to foresee for a few years, now...
The Delphics are paralyzed and nearly powerless, and are doing everything they can to change this
state of affairs. The elder Pythians are meeting with old friends and customers in the hopes of gaining
back their recognition. It’s slow going, though...
And the Doomsayers are still out there, bringing horror, terror and the kiss of The Void to those they
encounter.
Pray it isn’t you.
Current Political Situation
The Oracles’ relations with others are hopelessly colored with their auguries. In that sense, politics has
little to do with who they’ll deal with and who they won’t - it’s all about backing the right horses and
avoiding the wrong ones. Of course, auguries aren’t always 100% accurate -especially these days - but
plans cannot wait for the end of the Storm. The Gambler who sits upon the Reformed Council of
Guilds - an old, mustachioed card shark by the name of “Uncle Jack” - has been dealing in step with
the following prophecies. They are all courtesy of the Clairvoyants, mostly seconded by the Gamblers’
own, more oddslike forms of divination.
The Alchemists: “Back from the dead, the Sphinx waits in the deserts with another, truer riddle:
‘What’s black, white and red all over?’” (Odds are on a big revelation that we can all profit from.)
The Artificers: “An old man sits by a fire, elsewhere, stirring the embers and waiting for some sign
from above. Suddenly, it begins to rain.” (Fifty to One on the Blackhands continuing to fall.)
The Chanteurs: “First there is a mountain. Then there is no mountain. Then there is.” (You can have a
jockey without a horse, but every horse has gotta have a jockey. Wait for it...)
The Haunters: “The proud knight becomes the dragon to slay the dragon. The seer stares into the void
for so long his eyes disappear. As below, so above.” (I’m giving the game a 49-point spread, here, but
I don’t know whether to root for the home team or visitors. Come to think of it, I’m not so sure who’s
who...)
The Masquers: “The Emperor parades through the streets, unaware that he wears no clothes, but all
the kingdom’s little boys have been put to the sword. In a long, dark window, the archer steadies his
ever-watchful aim...” (First lesson at the poker table: hold your cards close to your chest...)
The Monitors: “And then a great creature came to the shore, and it wore seven crowns upon its head,
the better to see in all directions the ruins it would claim as its own.” (... because if the other guy sees
your cards, it’s all over.)
The Mnemoi: (The uncovering of a tarot card: it is “Death”) (Hundred to One odds on a big change)
There are also three other guiding Prophecies that haven’t been seconded yet. They are:
The Oracles: “A hand rises against itself, fingers warring with one another. Only the knife shall truly
win.”
The Pardoners: “A careless hand spills enough ink to drown the world. The watchmen all rush to sop
it up, but falter and disappear beneath the surface. From the killing pool, the wise hand arises, speaking
of redemption. Only those who follow will walk on the water.”
The Solicitors: (The sound of a seer tearing out her own eyes and tongue...)
The other Guilds as individuals are of no consequence. They must be. But there is one other, as yet
unseconded prophecy worth mentioning:
The Reformed Council of Guilds: “Jack and Jill ran up the hill - to fetch a pail of water. Jack fell
down and broke his crown - and Jill ruled all she surveyed”
The question of final identity baffles the Guild to no end, and takes up much of its time.
The Pardoners
Nicknames: Inkyfingers, Inquisitors, Purgators, Purifiers, Blackhands,
Sootsleeves, Soul Doctors
Guildmaster: The body of Master Pardoners known as the Curia leads the Guild
by consensus.
Center of Power: The London Chapterhouse
Specialty Arcanos: Castigate
Organization
The Pardoners follow the usual ‘rank’ system that most Guilds do, save that the names of those ranks
are different. Postulants (Apprentices) train hard to become Pledges (Journeymen), who may carry an
iron lantern and help the Guild perform its duties. After distinguished service in this probationary time,
the Pledge is recognized as a Pardoner (Master), and may spend her time doing her normal duties, as
well as delving into research that can aid the Guild in its tasks.
Above the Pardoners are the Master Pardoners (Grand Masters), who act as the leaders of the Guild.
They sit upon a decision making body known as the Curia, and steer the guild as a democracy. Once,
there was a Supreme Master who led the Curia, but recent times and tragedies have called that practice
into question. For the time being, the Guild is experimenting with consensus leadership, and a Master
Pardoner named Sister Temperance acts as a chairperson for the group. The new arrangement seems to
be working fine thus far.
There are a few ‘factions’ within the Pardoners, but these are based on method and philosophy of
Castigation rather than political aims. While the ‘factions’ members strongly believe their own
methods or beliefs to be the truth, they try to avoid petty bickering with the others as much as possible.
Of course, that doesn’t mean that some Pardoners won’t ever try to jockey for position. Lately, there’s
been a stirring amongst the more socially proactive Pardoners. They feel they they should use the
threat of a Castigationary boycott against certain Underworld elements to maintain camaraderie and
peace. These voices are in the minority, fortunately, but their arguments are not falling on deaf ears,
and - little by little - some of the Grand Masters are starting to mull the option.
There are also a few ‘special interest societies,’ whose Pardoners fulfill a certain task for the Guild.
Amongst the usual ones you might expect from such an organization, there is a group known as The
Beacon. They act as ‘police’ in the Guild’s ranks, Castigating any Pardoner accused of corruption or -
more often - behaving in ways that strengthen her Shadow.
While it’s well known that The Beacon is a necessary thing, many of the younger Pardoners aren’t
happy about it. The prospect of having “the soul gestapo” look in on them can be unnerving, especially
in a profession where second-guessing your actions comes with the territory. No one wants to complain
about the group in public, obviously, but with democracy has come a sense of foolish optimism. Some
wonder how long it will be before The Beacon’s mandate is put on the table at a meeting of the Curia...
Notable Groups
Of the Guild’s ‘special interest societies,’ no other has attracted as much attention - or notoriety - as
the Darksiders. In times past, these brave Pardoners accompanied various orders of Doomslayers out
into the field, there to confront Oblivion on its own territory. Side by side with the Martyr Knights,
both as allies and actual members of that group, they would dare the obscene depths of the Labyrinth,
and deal with the minions of their mutual adversary.
But where other Doomslayers might be content to kill and destroy their enemies, the Darksiders and
Martyr Knights always set their sights on a more noble goal: redemption. Through decades of perilous
experimentation, they knew it was possible for a Spectre to be transformed back into a Wraith, and, out
in the field, they would test their new theories and apply what they’d learned. True to their cause, they
never letting the fact that only nine Spectres had been reclaimed over the last 70 years halt their
missionary zeal.
With the fall of Stygia, and the end of the Martyr Knights, the Darksiders are alone in their travails.
And yet, as each new Stormfront boils over the horizon, a Circle of Darksiders can be found in the
thick of the fray - holding off the invasion while seeking redeemed Spectre number ten. Those they can
neither redeem nor turn aside are “bottled up” and taken back to the Chapter Houses: held against the
day that a cure for their condition might be found. It is a lonely, sad fight against terrible odds, but the
Darksiders wouldn’t
have it any other way.
Current History
The Pardoners have a parable:
“Once there was a man who was absolutely certain of where he was going. When he would stop to rest
or take shelter, people asked him where he was from. He would smile, point behind him and say -
simply - ‘There.’ And when they asked where he was headed, he would smile, point off to the horizon
and say - simply - ‘There.’ And once he was rested and fed, or the storm had passed by, he would pay
for his keep with strange coins, thank his hosts andcontinue on.
“Every few years, the same man would pass through the same place. When he did, he’d be headed in
the same direction. And when they’d ask the traveler where he was going, he’d point off to the horizon
and say - simply - ‘There.’ And he’d stop and rest, or take his shelter, and as soon as he wasable he’d
be back on the road again.
“This went on for a lifetime. The young traveler became an old man, but he never seemed to slow in
his pace or falter in his speech. And he neverchanged his story, either: he was always from ‘there,’
behind him, and always going ‘there, before him. Some said that he must be traveling the entire world!
“Then, one day, while the Autumn leaves were falling, he came back to the village as he always did.
But this time, as he approached the inn, he clutched his heart and fell to the ground. The doctor could
do nothing for him, but for a dying man he seemed to be in good cheer - crying tears of joy as he laid
there, close to death.
"And the village men asked him: 'Old man, all these years you’ve been going somewhere you call
‘There,’ yet you keep coming back here? Why?’
“And the old man smiled, and said: ‘Friends? Don’t you see? When I was asked where I was from, I
said ‘There.’ And when I was asked where I was going, I also said ‘There.’ But both times, I was
pointing here. This where I began, and this is where I have ended. My journey is over. I am home.’
And, having said that, he closed his eyes, and died content.
“Would that we were all so certain of where we were going!”
Told once, it’s a quaint lesson in certainty or purpose. Told twice, it takes on the character of a bad
joke. Subsequent retellings start to grate, and while Pardoners are supposed to be fully open to their
spiritual lessons - however ‘quaint’ they may be - they often find the more hackneyed, oft-repeated
ones to be very disheartening.
This story has a lot in common with the Pardoners’ own history: sincere and well-meant, but with the
same disheartening conclusions. Nor is there any end in sight for the “retellings”: the same good
intentions are upheld, the same things are done, the same mistakes are made, and it happens over and
over again.
Their recent history is no different.
In the waning says of Stygia, the Guild’s Supreme Master - Sister Acceptance - abandoned her post to
go look for Charon in the Labyrinth. Acceptance was absolutely certain that Charon was still down
there in its clutches, and needed her help to escape. She couldn’t have been more wrong, as it turned
out, but then, as she held a great deal of guilt over his disappearance, she may have been easily
deceived by her Shadow. Who can say?
Before Sister Acceptance left for the Veinous Stair, she was scourged one last time by her personal
confessor, Sister Rapture. She left orders with her that Brother Tenacious should be allowed to reign
over the Curia in her stead. And then, lantern in hand, she descended into the bowels of Oblivion;
She has never been seen again. Brother Tenacious took the word of his promotion badly. Not only
would he rather focus on recruitment than leadership, but recently he had discovered that his own
Shadow was more powerful than he’d been aware of. He was gripped with a terrible self-doubt as a
result - one that could only be salved by encouraging other Pardoners to reach greater heights than he
thought himself capable of. In his estimation, he was too much of a liability to lead the Guild, and
while he considered himself a warrior for Christ, he in no way thought he had the right to lead God’s
army. So, despite the Curia’s unanimous approval of Acceptance’s judgment, Tenacious declined to
take the spot. He could have asked that Sister Rapture - who was also favored by Sister Acceptance -
accept it, but he instead asked for Brother Devotion to assume the mantle. The younger Pardoner very
graciously accepted it. Meanwhile, Brother Tenacious resolved to undertake a retreat as a participant,
rather than a leader, in the hopes that he might rekindle his faith in himself.
A short time later, the 6th Great Maelstrom erupted, and all that the Pardoners had built was laid waste.
The Commandery of the Martyr Knights was quickly overcome from within by the Labyrinth’s forces;
All the Spectres those Doomslayers had been holding for study broke loose of their bonds and
destroyed all they could find. The Chapter House was engulfed by a near-flood of Spectres, and its
great Angst Battery - which had been sabotaged by Brother Compassionate’s Shadow - exploded, and
waves of pure
Oblivion were sent scuttling throughout the undercity.
Only one Martyr Knight survived that holocaust. He ran to the Onyx Tower, and reported what had
happened to the newly-returned Charon, the Deathlords and the leaders of the Guilds. Upon hearing the
news, Brother Devotion pledged his Guild to the newly-returned Charon and the defense of the
Empire. The Emperor gratefully accepted it, making the Guild the lynchpin of his strategy to defend
the Isle of Sorrows.
The battle that commenced from there was a horrible, terrible thing. Though Charon’s strategy was
sound and unquestionable, there had never been a Storm the likes of this before: any unforeseen crack
in the plan was exploited to the hilt by Oblivion’s army. Deathlords were lost, leaders of the Guilds
were struck aside, and countless Legionnaires, Renegades and ordinary Wraiths were torn asunder by
the waves of Stygia’s enemies. Despite it all, the Pardoners - like the Harbingers - held true to their
oaths, doing their best to hold the darkness at bay.
There was a petrifying moment when Brother Devotion was cleaved in twain by a Dark Walker, and
those about him began to fall back in despair. But before that Pardoner’s killer could raise its scythe to
strike another blow, it was likewise destroyed. And behind the cloud of its ashes stood Brother
Tenacious - his lantern held high and all traces of self-doubt gone from his face.
The rallying speech he gave at that time, there on the Great Stairway, is credited by many as being
what turned the tide of the battle. Under the direction of Brother Tenacious - who had no idea what
Charon’s plan was, but saw where the Isle’s defenses were failing - the Pardoners redoubled their
efforts, and Oblivion began to fall back under their harsh gaze. Before long, the sky was clearing, and
fewer and fewer Spectres were washing ashore. The Stormfront had been beaten, but what a cost that
victory was! The Isle of Sorrows lay in ruins, the Deathlords were lost to a man, and Charon - mighty
Charon - laid aside his burden of ages and Transcended.
The Empire of Stygia was over, but there was no time to mourn. More Stormfronts would soon be on
the way, and there were a lot of survivors to ferry from the Isle. Brother Tenacious liaised the
surviving Pardoners with the Ferrymen and Harbingers to escort the Isle’s survivors to safety, both in
London’s Shadowlands and other safe locations along the River of Death. Once the exodus was
underway, the Pardoners delivered much-needed Castigations to the masses in both places. The
wounds of the injured were seen to, and those too far gone were helped into their Fetters for Slumber.
Only when every Wraith who could be accounted for was cleansed, and the emergency was in a state
that could be called “under control,” did Brother Tenacious allow himself a moment’s rest.
And when he had it, he wept.
A few months’ passing saw the Guild back to what could be called its “former glory” - if they had ever
truly left it. Now led from the Chapter House of London, the Pardoners were everywhere. Their
lanterns were once more hung out with pride, and the name of their Guild fell freely from their lips. In
many ways, it was a new beginning for them.
But the mantle of leadership was an uneasy one for Brother Tenacious. Though he presented a self-
confident face to the Curia, and his fellow Pardoners, in secret he nursed a growing feeling of doubt.
Despite the best Castigation any Pardoner could receive, he remained unsure that it could keep his
Shadow
in check. He was constantly second-guessing his own pronouncements and decisions, and the strain
was starting to show to those who knew him best. Those doubts did not stop him from attending the
first meeting of the Council of Guilds, nor championing them.
Then, at last, Brother Angyr came back from North America to report on what had happened there. He
told the assembled Pardoners stories that chilled the blood of dead men: stories of countless Necropoli
lost to Spectral incursion; entire areas - called “dead zones” - where Oblivion has tainted the landscape
and turned it into a grotesque and dangerous parody; the increase of Spectral Cults in the Skinlands,
and the shambling armies of Shadow-eaten corpses that attacked the living.
Things were terrible, to put it mildly. His own Necropolis of San Francisco was so hard-pressed for
Pardoners that they were handing lanterns to Enfants fresh out of the Caul. The last Necropolis he’d
seen before he’d headed for London was New York, and he saw its last Pardoner fall to his Shadow in
the
heat of a lost, hopeless battle.
Brother Tenacious had heard enough. While they’d been looking out for the Shadowlands of Europe
and Russia, North America had fallen down. This he would not stand for; This could not be allowed to
continue.
Once more, Brother Tenacious stood before his Pardoners and gave the greatest speech that he could
give. There, in the Grand Hall of their Chapter House, he called for a Crusade to cleanse the whole of
America from the forces of the Labyrinth. And by the time he was done, so many Pardoners had
volunteered to join him that Tenacious had to literally forbid half the room from going. The Crusade
was placed into action almost overnight, with Brother Tenacious as its leader and Brother Angyr at his
side. Its numbers were stacked with Pardoners of every rank, with many Darksiders volunteering to go.
But there were others as well: former members of Stygia’s Doomslaying Orders were more than up for
the challenge, as were Storm Wardens and some of the more civic-minded Renegades; Helldiving
Masquers and Bedlameer Haunters who relished the chance to take the fight directly to the enemy; No
few Artificers who wished to apply their skills to Spectral corpora, or Mnemoi who were sent to record
the events that would transpire; Even a few Usurers came along... though no one was quite certain
why, save them.
Before going, Brother Tenacious met with Sister Rapture for one last Castigation. At its end, he told
her that he wished for her to lead the Guild in his stead; He could think of no better replacement,
should the unthinkable happen and he not return. She accepted, though she had desired to go with the
Crusade, and the Curia was informed of his decision.And so, on dozens of Relic ships, with Harbingers
to light the way to the New World and Monitor Navigators to lead them all through the Storm-wracked
seas, the Crusade departed. A great deal of the London Necropolis’ inhabitants were there to see them
off, earnestly hoping they’d see those brave souls once again. Brother Tenacious took one long, last
look back, blowing a chaste, heartfelt kiss to Sister Rapture... and then they were gone.
That was some time ago, and though the Chapter House receives occasional word from brave
Harbingers, there is nothing in the way of regular reports from the Crusade. At the last writing, seven
months ago, they were still struggling to retake New York.
There has been nothing more ever since...
Sister Rapture held the title of Supreme Master for the better part of a year. She led the Curia wisely
and well, and maintained Brother Tenacious’ lead in dealing with the other Guilds - especially the
Mnemoi. She was a sterling example, and a wonderful credit to others of her kind.
And she loathed every moment of it. She felt like an utter hypocrite, almost imagining that her face
was changing its shape every time she was “playing” at being the leader. And, worst of all, this had
nothing at all to do with her Shadow: it was all her - completely and totally.
An extended period with her own, private confessor revealed the seat of her problems: guilt over what
had happened to Sister Acceptance. Deep down, Sister Rapture had never been able to forgive herself
for not doing something - ANYTHING - to keep Sister Acceptance from leaving for the Labyrinth.
And if Sister Acceptance had been there at the end... would Charon have Transcended?
Her Confessor suggested she try to take control of these feelings of inadequacy. She took his advice a
little too well, deciding to silence her guilt by going to find Sister Acceptance. She left orders with him
that Sister Temperance should be allowed to reign over the Curia in her stead.
And then, lantern in hand, she traveled to what was left of the Isle of Sorrows, and found the Veinous
Stair. Once there, she followed in the footsteps of her mentor, leader and friend, and descended into the
bowels of Oblivion.
She has not been seen since.
The Curia was more than willing to allow Sister Temperance to lead the Guild, as their departed
Supreme Master had wished. However, Sister Temperance - being known for both her namesake and
her wisdom - suggested a different route. Surely, as recent times had shown, the power of one was too
apt to be abdicated, leading to chaos and confusion. Why not spread the authority out to others?
It took some doing, but in time she convinced the other members of the Curia to give democracy a try.
The results seem to be acceptable - for now - but come what may, Sister Temperance hopes that the
change will be for the good. After all - as she’s no longer afraid to say - the parable of the old traveler
isn’t a good example for Guild leadership....
Current Activities
Now that the Hierarchy is over and done with, the Pardoners can walk with their lanterns held high and
their true allegiance known. Of course, they could have done so before: like the Harbingers, none
dared interfere with their works. But the threat of official hassles - however remote - is completely
gone, and they need confront nothing but the Storm, the Spectres and the Shadows of their clients.
Their part of the compact of the Guilds was fairly obvious, and they have upheld it without complaint.
It also went without saying that they would aid the Necropolis defenders in defending the cities from
the Storm, as only a strong understanding of Castigation can help turn the tide of battle. Whenever the
warning bells ring, and the warriors head for the walls, the Pardoners are there. The Guild also had a
great deal of contact with the Hierarchy, Renegades and Heretics in times past, as they felt it was their
duty to minister to all Wraiths. That has not changed with the Storm, even if the nature of the groups
they were ministering to has been altered. As far as the Pardoners are concerned, a changed patient is
still a patient.
For those who claim the title of Hierarch - and all the grief and bad PR that go with it - the Guild is
there to lend a hand and the power of their art. Of course, they don’t always agree with some of the
things done by the Legions, but a powermad Wraith with authority and a controlled Shadow is much
better than the same Wraith with a raging beast on the inside.
Though the new breed of Renegades are little like their predecessors, the Guild still sends its Pardoners
deep into Gang territory to cleanse their Shadows. As before, no Renegade dares to harm them. Some
in the Guild say that they should withhold Castigation from them until they agree to a peace treaty, but
few Pardoners are willing to listen to that sort of talk.
As for the Heretics: with the fall of Stygia, the proponents of Transcendence are free to work in plain
sight once more. Unfortunately, Wraiths aren’t any more likely to believe in their ‘fairy stories’ than
they were before the start of the Storm. News of Charon’s Transcendence is largely written off as
rumor, or wishful thinking, and even the word of the Pardoners is scoffed at by the more unruly and
ungrateful. Still, the Heretics try to spread their vision, and the Pardoners are there to aid them. And as
they do, they try to find those who claim to have made the return trip from the Far Shores. Odd stories
have been reaching the ears of the Curia: tales of truly enlightened Gaunts whose powers over
Shadows would have made Sister Acceptance seem a mere dabbler in the art. These could be mere
rumors, of course, but Master Pardoners still sweep the islands of the Tempest, looking for anyone
who may have seen a return traveler.
As for those brave Crusaders, whose fate lies unknown, the Guild can only cross itself and pray for
their success, safety and souls.
Current Political Situation
They say that everyone’s the Pardoners’ friend, and vice versa. While that’s true in an official sense,
there are some folks that the Pardoners are more happy to work with than others. Not that they’ll admit
it to their faces, of course...
The Guild counts many friends out of mutual respect. They are justly proud to see the Alchemists back
on the board - even if they did exclude them from a similar gathering a long time ago - and are amazed
at what the Guild’s been able to do. Meanwhile, the Harbingers remain steadfast allies, as always, and
they’re very happy to have “Chanteurs” helping out in the Storm Wardens. Likewise, they maintain
strong ties with the Artificers, Monitors and Sandmen, even if they aren’t always seeing eye to eye.
The Artificers are good for Soulforged lanterns, but the cost of their bluff and bravado is starting to
catch up with them. Monitors look after the Pardoners’ Fetters in exchange for Castigation services,
though they remain rather guarded about their goings-on past that. And the Sandmen are engaged in a
project to heal the souls of Wraiths through dreams - something the Pardoners are quite interested in
helping along.
On the other hand, they don’t like the Spooks; Even with their new leadership, the Pardoners think
they’ll be up to their old, Angst-gathering tricks before too long. They’re also not crazy about the
Haunters, though they respect their efforts against the Storm, and they really don’t trust the Usurers.
The Masquers are a mixed bag: they wish some of them wouldn’t do what they do, but they respect the
Hell-Divers for fighting Oblivion at Its’ source.
And it should also be noted that, with the revelation of the Mnemoi’s true nature, the Pardoners have
gone well out of their way to rectify their mistake. They vouch for them when no others will, and
every Pardoner has been instructed to place herself between a Mnemos and an angry, ill-informed mob.
While it may be a while before the Mnemoi and the Pardoners can have the same working relationship
they once had, the two Guilds are laying the inroads to make that happen once again.