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Revision as of 18:41, 6 April 2006

Title: The Sublime Chorister Before the Altar of Extinction
Caste: Daybreak
Nature: Gallant
Anima: Ghostly white obelisk, surrounded by swirling glyphs
Concept: Seducer of the Living, Lord of the Dead

Attributes:
Strength 1, Dexterity 4, Stamina 4
Charisma 5, Manipulation 5, Appearance 0
Perception 2, Intelligence 2, Wits 3

Abilities:
Lore 3, Occult 4, Awareness 2, Athletics 3, Dodge 4, Larceny 2, Linguistics 1 (Riverspeak, Old Realm), Performance 5, Presence 5, Socialize 2


Backgrounds: Liege 4, Necromancy 4, Artifact 3, Whispers 3, Manse 1

Virtues:
Compassion 1, Conviction 3, Temperance 3, Valor 2

Willpower: 6
Health: -0,-1,-1,-2,-2,-4,Incap
Essence: 4
Essence pool: 18/32(45)

Charms:

  • Dodge

Flitting Shadow Form
Fivefold Shadow Form

  • Occult

Shadowlands Circle Necromancy
Labyrinth Circle Necromancy

  • Performance

Haunting Inflection Trick
Withering Dirge
Lamenting Ghost Technique

  • Presence

Elegant Tyrant's Majesty
Irresistable Succubus Style

Necromancy:

  • Shadowlands Circle

Field of Fell Dreams
Flesh-Sloughing Wave
Midnight Shadow Sun
Shattered Void Mirror

  • Labyrinth Circle

Links Born of Tumult

Combo:

  • Hymn of Oblivion: Haunting Inflection Trick, Lamenting Ghost Technique, Flitting Shadow Form, Fivefold Shadow Form

Equipment: Mask ( shows laughing or tragic face ), Soulsteel-reinforced buff jacket, Soulsteel hearthstone bracers, Soulsteel Thunderbolt Shield, Hardened Spirit Gemstone, dulcimer, ritual knife

Combat:
Base initiative: 7
Soak: 11L/16B (9L/12B soulsteel reinforced buff jacket)
Dodge: 15
Attacks:
Lamenting Ghost Technique: Spd 7, Acc 10, Dmg +1L/mote ( <= sta + Ess ) 50 yds. unblockable ignores armor
Bare Hands: Spd 7, Acc 5, Dmg 1B, Def 7, rate 5

Lower-Soul Empowered Shadow from Links Born of Tumult:
Strength 9, Dexterity 6, Stamina 8
Charisma 1, Manipulation 1, Appearance 1
Perception 3, Intelligence 2, Wits 5
Abilities: Athletics 4, Awareness 2, Brawl 5, Dodge 4, Survival 3
Health: -0,-0,-0,-1,-1,-1,-1,-1,-1,-2,-2,-2,-2,-2,-2,-2,-2,-4,Incap
Virtues: Compassion 1, Conviction 2, Temperance 1, Valor 3 Willpower: 5 Essence: 2 Pool: 39
Claw: Spd 11, Acc 11, Dmg 13L, Def 10
Bite: Spd 5, Acc 10, Dmg 15L, Def 9
Dodge: 12
Powers: Cunning Thief, Measure the Wind, Principle of Motion, possibly others

Appearance and personality

The Sublime Chorister's flesh is withered and wizened, making him appear almost emaciated. His face is a horrifying rictus, the lips pulled away from pristine white teeth. He has been known to sardonically note that it is now impossible for him to kiss without a proxy of some sort. In any case, he usually travels bedecked in soft black leather and soulsteel, and wears a simple smiling theatrical mask, which on occasion changes to the weeping face of a tragedian. It most often changes when he chooses to kill, or when he acts offended.
He is friendly and frivolous, and he appreciates the good things in life This is a lie. He realizes that his choice has locked living beauty from him forever. He has felt the Malfeans reaching through to... correct... what they see as indiscretions on his part. In turn, he strives to bring all that is beautiful into the Underworld. He cares nothing for Creation's destruction or salvation, but will be glad to see it a lifeless, pathetic shell with no joy, beauty, or virtue. He pays great attention to the deaths of the wealthy and tries to enhance their grave goods as much as possible, to be intercepted and siezed by his master's servants when they form in the Underworld.

Exaltation

The Sublime Chorister Before the Altar of Extinction was once a minstrel, a performer who preached of the beauty in life. Eventually, however, he found himself disenchanted with a Creation that could never live up to the ideals in his heart. He was often depressed, and his music turned to bleak, hopeless themes. What popularity he enjoyed waned, and he was scrambling to make ends meet by the time he was robbed, stabbed, and left for dead one night on a road not far from Nexus.
As he lay watching his blood pour onto the dirt, he felt himself die, and he felt a... lingering, as if something was gripping the life, keeping it from escaping. A tall figure, pale-skinned and crimson-clad, appeared before him. "Come to... mock me before you drag me to the Underworld? Or just waiting for a new companion, ghost?" he asked, certain that the apparition could be only that.
"On the contrary," the man replied. The performer had never loved a man, but even amid his pain and blood he felt strange emotions stir, of fear and of worship. "I am going to give you your life back, if you so choose."
The dying musician choked out a laugh, and coughed on his own blood. "You don't know me very well, do you? The life I've head, death is a pleasant release."
"Very well. Once I let you die, however, you will only learn that the dead have it no easier than the living. Accept my offer, and you will be as a lord of the dead, you will see through the illusions of life, and you will gain the power to show Creation the truth it denies, of its own corruption and emptiness. I will take you to where the true gods rest, unable to be destroyed by any gods or Exalts, and you shall know my purpose." As his last words came out, the deathlord saw that his potential Exalt's body was finally giving up. His breathing was weak and irregular... no, wait.
He leaned down to hear a little better.
"...hold... hearts ... my hand... stroke or... crush... I accept..."
"It is done, then," said Walker in Darkness, and he made a sign of power, a prayer to his masters. In that moment, pain ran through the dying man's body and flooded his mind, twisting into ecstasy. Through his new lord, he felt the dread might of Oblivion, and it reached back into him and caressed his soul. The pain peaked sharply as he felt some thing force itself into him, and the sky was lit by a pillar of dead white flame, flickering with sigils of power.

The bandits looked back in fear and variably made signs for the protection of the Maidens, the Unconquered Sun, or the Immaculate Dragons, and hurried towards their hideout. An ill omen, that light was. Anyway, they comforted themselves, it was far too soon for a hungry ghost to come after them.

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