Alan
Reluctant
Pagan Soldier
Corporeal Forces: 1 Strength:
2 Agility: 2
Ethereal Forces: 2 Intelligence:
5 Precision: 3
Celestial Forces: 3 Will:
6 Perception: 6
Status/6
Skills: Dream-Shaping/3, Emote/4, Fast-Talk/4, Knowledge
(Administration/3, Economics/6, Voudon/3), Lying/6, Musical Instrument/5
(Saxophone)
Songs: Draining (Corporeal/3), Harmony
(Corporeal/3), Memory (Corporeal/1), Nightmares/3
Attunements: Symphonic Awareness
Yes, that Alan - and, yes, his duties really do
require him to occasionally sacrifice a chicken to various pagan gods. But he does it for
It's rumored that on the first day of every American
President's term of office he gets a truly dreadful briefing about the Eldritch
Horrors awaiting him. Alan believes this
is a false rumor, if only because it's hard to imagine how such a briefing
could be more surreal than his was.
After all, he didn't even believe
in loa before Legba, Erzulie, Oggun and the rest
casually possessed his staff and demonstrated that his particular disbelief was
irrelevant. There they were, there he was and the Forces of Monotheism
were - apparently unwilling to make a touchy situation worse by actively
interfering with the activities of putative allies, no matter how deniable
(particularly when such interference could start an economic collapse). All in all, a bit
overwhelming.
It was a bit of a surprise, you see. Alan's
predecessor had neglected to mention the entire sacrificing a chicken thing, you
see. He neglected to mention it at all.
He neglected to mention the chicken thing, and the manifestation of
pagan gods thing, and of course the entire War between Heaven and Hell thing,
little stuff like that; it was all "Have fun with the American economy,
Alan, and don't worry if a foul-mouthed Caribbean spirit takes over your body
and makes you smoke big cigars - it's just part of the job" and out he
went the door before Alan could react.
Mind you, it could have been worse.
The Afro-Caribbean pantheon was still in the process of getting a feel
for this entire 'voodoo economics' thing (words matter, people), so in many ways Alan could define what his new
priesthood actually entailed.
Thankfully, it's mostly a matter of looking wise, saying soothing
generalities, calming down the public when they get nervous and generally
fostering the concept that everything's just fine. This is, of course, unchanged from what he
expected the job to be in the first place.
What's new is that Alan also has to identify new
ethereal spirits of wealth and prosperity, find out what they like and dislike
and either propitiate or banish them from the corporeal plane: optimize the feng shui of the
American monetary system; and, of course, maintain his symbolic Marriage to the
Press. Standard enough sacred kingship
duties, if a bit specialized, but complicated by the fact that celestial
operatives from both sides are getting bolder at infiltrating and interfering
in both Alan's mundane and esoteric tasks.
The fact that he didn't particularly want to be responsible for engaging
in the latter is immaterial (if you'll pardon the joke); it's the job he was
asked to do, so it's the job that he'll do, even if it means the odd chicken
sacrifice.
On the other hand, he's really looking
forward to explaining things to the poor bastard that'll be eventually chosen
to replace him...