Agawaateshin

Agawaateshin is a death metal band consisting of bass guitar player Makade Young, drummer
Shana Hunter, and singer Kishkedee, all Scions of Cheeby-aub-oozoo. Unbeknownst to most of its
adoring audience, Agawaateshin serves as both cover and recruitment tool for a cult dedicated to
their divine patron; they choose to keep their cult a secret to protect it from outside influence and
prying eyes.

The Scions channel Cheeby-aub-oozoo’s power through music. A hidden passage that leads to the
Underworld hides at the bottom of Lake Manitoba, and the band’s yearly performance at a festival
in Winnipeg ensures that any dark Manitou lurking under the lake stay where they are.

Fenris Arms

Known for firearms stamped with the Tiwaz rune, Fenris Arms manufactures extremely durable
pistols, rifles, and military-grade personal arms for militaries, police forces, and private security. All
Fenris guns are ambidextrous, and the firm has pioneered assistive technologies to aid users with
physical disabilities. Fenris was founded by an incarnation of Tyr himself, and he continues to act as
CEO through a number of identities. The board and a significant number of employees are either
his cultists or Æsir Scions. Tyr keeps the company small and prices its products out of reach for
typical hobby shooters, so Fenris weapons can either be seen in the hands of elite military and
police forces, or held by individuals with disabilities, who are entitled to a steep discount. Fenris’
head office is located in Neuhausen am Rheinfall, Switzerland, just down the street from Swiss
Arms’ much larger corporate headquarters. Tyr is rarely there. He had to locate the company in
Switzerland for political reasons, but he’s never been too fond of the country itself.

Ishtar Gate, USA

In northern Mississippi, a small, wealthy, incorporated cult that worships the Babylonian gods
intends to build an exact duplicate of Babylon’s Ishtar Gate, using nothing but period construction
techniques, with the exception of contemporary computer modelling to get it exactly right and of
course, modern shipping to get the materials to their site. The gate is half-finished and lies off the
beaten path, in nondescript, swampy territory, but it’s open to the public, and draws a small number
of tourists throughout the year. The company owns enough land to rebuild the rest of Babylon, but
they haven’t worked out a decent business plan. Marduk Scions have made it clear that the end
result needs to be an economically viable community, or it’ll dishonour his city-God Purviews.

New Arcadia

New Arcadia is an island commune off the coast of Washington state. Anyone who flew by would
notice it in an instant, as its native flora have been replaced with Mediterranean plant life, and
primitive fishing boats amble around its coast. New Arcadia’s residents settled here to live as the
Greeks did 3,000 years ago. Mortals don’t know much about this period in Greek history, and the
Theoi have proven unhelpful in filling in the gaps, so 102 dedicated worshippers decided this was a
test, and that they should live as the ancients did, so the Gods would reward their dedication. It’s
worked. Several Scions have visited the island, and on one occasion, improved the residents’
understanding of Achaean, and taught them how to read the Linear A script. This exclusive
knowledge generates about half the money the community needs, as members consult with
universities. The rest comes from donations, as other Theoi cults support this experiment in living
history. New Arcadians keep very little modern technology, but it includes radios for emergencies,
and guns to drive off unwanted visitors.

The Archive of Ceremonies

The Archive of Ceremonies prides itself on an attractive sales pitch: Study Sorcery from all over the
World! Learn the secrets of magical traditions both contemporary and ancient! While everyone
receives the same pitch, only the talented few Sorcerers among the Archive’s employ gain the full
range of access and privileges; the support staff of academically-trained demons and graduates
from the C9 universities and the Ivy Leagues get the grunt work.
The Archive of Ceremonies is tasked with keeping records of every act of sorcery and magic ever
performed. All of them. To that end, it employs a sprawling organisation out of its office in Heaven
and dozen sister facilities across the World to monitor Sorcerers and magical communities and
record the feats they accomplish. This organisation exists to support its chief stars: the Sorcerers,
field experts who lead the pack in identifying novel sorcerous practices, recovering records of
extinct traditions, and occasionally involving themselves in occult conspiracies.

While the Archive prides itself on professionalism, its Sorcerers are drawn from a variety of
backgrounds, from self-initiated occultists, disciplined graduates from the school of Daoist sorcery
maintained by the Wǔ dāng Clan, foreign Sorcerers, and the most eccentric: reformed Sorcerers
captured by Heaven who have been made to put their powers toward a good cause. This eclectic
gathering ensures that rarely a day passes without dramatic, sorcerously-empowered arguments
about the right approach to archival work.

The Archive’s policies are to avoid intervention by default, their job is to keep records of magical
traditions and magical acts, not to regulate them. Despite this, an activist culture has emerged
among the Archive’s more youthful Sorcerers, who try to support marginalised communities whose
traditions are threatened or disseminate some of the archive’s wealth of knowledge in the form of
magazine instruction manuals and online drop boxes, occasionally causing new acts of magic for
the Archive to record.

The Corinthian Society

After the First World War, The Corinthian Club of New York avoided the general decline of
gentlemen’s clubs by redefining itself as a benevolent works society, open to all. Nevertheless, not
all members are created equal, and while anyone (of any gender, since the 60s) may pay the steep
initiation fee to join, descendants of 19th-century members and select invitees benefit from a
network of private estates and slightly better service, as long as they honour Poseidon. The Society
keeps up the estates to house Poseidon’s Scions and servants, who are of course given elite
membership, free of charge. To the public at large, the Society is best known for promoting the
Corinthian ideal in amateur sport. Every few years they raise funds with the Isthmian Games, an
Olympics-like event strictly limited to people who haven’t competed since age 16, if at all. The
Games feature a certain degree of clumsiness that amuses the public but irritates Poseidon himself,
since the original Isthmian Games were held in his honour. Nevertheless, the God appreciates the
Society’s work. It funds horse-rescue charities, support for earthquake victims, and importantly, gives
his Scions decent meals and accommodations whenever they drop by.

The Children of the the Dagda

The Children of the Dagda are a group of archaeologists and historians who congregate in the
chapel at Trinity College in Dublin. Joe Lunder, son of the Dagda and tenured professor, leads
them under his assumed name, Aed Finn. The cult is dedicated to uncovering all historical
knowledge of the Irish people and their Gods, and they offer each discovery they make to their
patron God and to Ériu in tribute. They also throw the rowdiest faculty parties on campus.

Aed Finn gives monthly lectures on Irish history and the importance of his divine father to the
Tuatha Dé Danann, in an act that glorifies the brilliance of the Good God and spreads word of his
great Deeds.

The Crossroads Society

An alliance of Sorcerers, occultists, scholars, and cults from across the World, the Crossroads Society
conceives of itself as a support network for Sorcerers who act as intermediaries between mortal
communities, Denizens, the Gods and their Scions. Wary of the power and influence wielded by the
Gods, Crossroaders organise to use their Sorcery to protect local communities at the most basic
level. At the heights of their power, ancient Sorcerers wield their power to oppose Gods and Titans
in the interests of their communities or themselves.

Decentralised to avoid being compromised by the Gods and other powerful beings, membership in
the Crossroads Society is regionally based, with assemblies that gather to discuss supernatural
threats in Liminalities that evoke their namesake; these ensorcelled locations conceal the Sorcerers
from eavesdroppers underneath a pall of shadows and an always-midnight sky. Membership is by
invitation, and usually offered by Sorcerers to their apprentices, or those they recruit in the field.
Crossroaders vary heavily in their opinion of the Gods. Some take powerful gods such as Hekate
and Èshù Elègbará as patrons and allies, working closely to protect their community from other
supernatural threats. Others keep the Gods at arm’s length, concerned more with fortifying their
own power against rival supernatural powers than with combatting mutual threats. When
Crossroaders have disagreements over how to proceed, they are most often settled with
competitions, games, and duels under the midnight sky of the Crossroads.

Crossroaders are selective about recruiting Sorcerers to their numbers, but they are not shy about
using outsiders as their agents. Sorcerers may be invited to the Crossroads to be offered work by
the Society, which rewards service with accumulated knowledge, relics and other goods. More than
one Crossroader was initially brought on to perform a task and found themselves joining by the
end.

The Cult of Elena Amaral

Elena Amaral, daughter of Xochiquetzal, didn’t mean to found a cult that worshipped her. The
successful model and fashion designer just loved to throw opulent parties at her villa near Mexico
City for her elite clients and wealthy fans. Is it her fault they loved her so much they wanted to keep
coming back and bringing her gifts? Of course not.

Elena’s cult exalts her as a Goddess on Earth, lauding her name in every magazine and making
sure her personal styles become next season’s trends. Once a month, they gather at her villa for fine
wines, delectable hors d’oeuvres, and a sneak peek at her new designs. They offer prayers and
sacrifices in her name, asking for her patronage in their business endeavours or blessings of beauty
and success in love. She’s afraid now that if she refuses them, she’ll be lambasted in the media as a
fraud or a haughty ice queen, so she plays her part to the hilt and tries to enjoy the limelight. She’s
not sure how her mother feels about it, but she has a feeling she’ll find out eventually.

The Grandchildren

Ògún has a lot of Scions, and they’ve started large families of their own. The Grandchildren
(Yoruba: ọmọ) follow their ancestor’s ethos, ready to protect their communities with weapons or
wisdom. Individual lineages follow their own customs, but when branches meet, they follow rules
similar to those of Yoruba Ogboni, or fraternal institutions. These customs include subtle symbols,
hand signs and shibboleths designed to confirm membership. As Grandchildren found self-defence
initiatives wherever they live, this has often protected them from persecution. They tend to be
physically fit and good in a fight.

The House of Caladbolg

Why yes, they do have Excalibur. Well, one of them. The House of Caladbolg (that’s the sword’s
name in Middle Welsh) collects potential Excaliburs for safekeeping and future conflicts. The Scion
Fergus mac Róich commanded them to do it over 1,000 years ago. Fergus had lost his blade, the
first Caladbolg. He pretended to die, but sought the blade zealously, until locating it — or a twin
made by Fate — in the hands of Pendragon, the Bastard (the House doesn’t call Arthur by his given
name, or acknowledge his kingship, and they consider the Welsh pantheon upstarts). Fergus was
soon able to travel to secret places as his geas commanded, and bade the descendants of his old
warband to continue the quest. The House of Caladbolg is loyal to the Tuatha Dé Danann and
hoards supernatural arms they believe belong to the pantheon by right, but modern members trade
in other antique weapons, and are willing to trade foreign miracle-weapons for cash and favours.

The Institute for Business Information Sites (IBIS)

The Institute for Business Information Sites is a recognized leader in setting standards for secure
network facilities, specialising in air-gapped systems and protocols for courier-facilitated data
transfer. Begun as a joint project between several Thoth-worshipping librarian and archivist groups,
IBIS has grown wealthier than all of them. IBIS-approved facilities combine Faraday cages and
biometric security with intruder-defeating techniques that date back to the pyramids (in the
chambers most people don’t know exist). As an act of devotion, IBIS builds its own facilities to
preserve human knowledge (which is really Thoth’s knowledge) against future disasters. These
places also serve as excellent bolt holes in case members get in trouble, though they’ll have to
squeeze in between slabs of etched granite.

The Order of the Mule

The Order of the Mule’s idiotic antics have scored millions of YouTube hits, and “Set — WOO!” has
joined “YOLO” as a famously ill-considered slogan. The Order recruits from college campus,
competing with the Greek societies who’ve denied them official recognition. After a week of booze-
fueled antics performed while wearing donkey masks, successful candidates earn the right to enter
the bottom floor of the clubhouse and raid the fridge for beer whenever they like. The minority who
avoid the parties after entering are singled out for further initiation. Leaders test their intelligence,
take them on gruelling expeditions through arid terrain, and after determining their life goals, try
to fuck them up with temptation, threats, and general harassment. Each ordeal brings them closer
to their true purpose: to serve Set as moral leaders and occasional soldiers.

The Scholomance

Not many people can claim they went to school to learn sorcery from the “Devil.” The Solomonari,
students of the Scholomance, can do exactly that. Prospective students take a train from Bucharest
into the Terra Incognita the school calls home, nestled underground amidst high mountains
shrouded by cold fog, where the silhouettes of flying serpents perch among the peaks.

If there were an Ivy League of Sorcerers, the Solomonari belong to it. Drawn from driven,
intelligent, and fearsome individuals across The World, each of the thirteen students in each class
received a personal invitation from the “Devil,” called the Headmaster by students. They offer an
education in Goetic Sorcery, the art of sealing and binding demons and other powerful beings into
pacts. Students train for seven years, and those who survive will graduate, joining the powerful
network of mercenary Solomonari alumni who make pacts to enrich themselves and those who
purchase their services, but with one catch: The very top of the class is taken by the Headmaster,
never to be seen again.

The Headmaster offers lectures on a variety of topics ranging from the humanities to the arts of
binding dragons, controlling the weather, and the secrets of magic. Practical experiments in the
caves in which the Scholomance were built consume students time outside of lectures. The Black
School also offers guest lectures by Gods, Sorcerers and demons of all kinds: dog-like Markoláb,
who devours the sun and moon to hide them beneath his black fur; Lidérc, the personification of
nightmares who dotes upon the Headmaster as if they were a lost lover; Sákány, the thunderstorm
dragon who fathers the serpentine mounts upon which the Solomonari may ride; and many others.

From their opening ceremony, students are caught in a game of intrigue, fighting to achieve strong
results without placing themselves in the Headmaster’s sights. Students conspire to sabotage one
another to improve their standing, but their most hated rivals often receive boosts and subtle
support, to ensure that they are taken in place of their fellows. Some classes are entirely individual,
while others form pacts to work together that survive past graduation.

The Trismegistos Academic Sanctuary (TAS)

TAS, colloquially known by faculty and students as Scion High, is a recent development. The doors
opened four years ago, and the first students graduate this year. It’s an exciting time for them and
the school; this year, the first ever senior class will graduate and go out into The World.

The Weird Sisters

About 1,000 years ago, three sisters became widows as two warlords — Duncan and Mac-Bethad,
ravaged the land in a series of petty Scottish wars. The sisters secured the aid of the Morrígan in a
complicated arrangement. Wishing to extinguish both warlords’ lines, the sisters thought it might be
the work of generations, but the Morrígan only agreed to aid female, property-owning descendants.
It was a typical Morrígan trick that would see the sisters either lose her favour, or join with the sort
of men they hated. She didn’t count on the sisters remarrying and promptly employing mariticide
and selective infanticide to keep the bargain intact, nor did she think the Weird Sisters would
produce disciplined daughters willing to repeat the process, until liberal social mores and better
reproductive medicine made keeping the covenant a bit less harsh. So, to this day, the Morrígan’s
Scions are bound to aid the sisters’ three eldest female descendants, provided the women own a bit
of land. The Weird Sisters use such assistance to keep themselves rich, and fund initiatives that
support financial autonomy for women. As for the warlords? Shakespeare wrote a play.