James Foster
Ethereal
Crossbreed
Corporeal Forces: 2 Strength: 4 Agility: 4
Ethereal Forces: 3 Intelligence: 6 Precision: 6
Celestial Forces: 2 Will: 4 Perception: 4
Status/3, Charisma +2
Skills: Dodge/3, Dreaming/5, Emote/6 (mastery),
Fighting/2, Knowledge (Occultism/2, Poker/6 (mastery), Research/2), Languages
(Greek/1, Hebrew/1, Latin/1, Spanish/5), Move Silently/2
Songs: Healing (Corporeal/2), Shields (Corporeal/2,
Ethereal/1), Tongues (Ethereal/2)
Advantages: Symphonically Aware, Ethereal Connection
James Foster is the Chosen One of an unholy
pantheon. His 'father' - a god that
predated humanity - slaked its blasphemous lusts on a bound virgin sacrifice in
order to spawn him, and one day, when the time is right, James will be its
conduit by which it will impose its inhuman will upon a helpless world. Until that day, he holds sway over a
fanatical cult of fanatics, all dedicated to his every whim; their worship is
all that keeps his dark urges in check.
But soon, he will abandon his husk of humanity for the awful,
sanity-destroying truth; very, very soon.
Or... not.
Yeah, there's so much wrong with the above paragraph
that it's hard to know where to start.
To begin with, this god that predated humanity? If only.
We're talking strictly a low-level spirit with the Deception affinity
and a taste for both horror fiction and human women. As for 'virgin', ah, well, let us not speak
too harshly of the habits of Mr. Foster's mother; suffice it to say that the
bonds were strictly for show. No complaints
by either side, in other words. As for
the cult... well, there was and is one, yes.
It's one that was primarily composed of two groups: people who thought
that folks like H.P. Lovecraft were telling some sort of truth, and people willing
- nay, eager - to manipulate the gullible.
Group 2 also had a working knowledge of the War, a bit of Sorcery and a
relic containing the Ethereal Song of Fruition.
The plan was supposed to go something like this. 'Summon' down a Great Ancient God; impregnate
a cultist via the aforementioned relic; wait for the Gorgon to be born and use
it as a living prop for yet more pathetic, yet lucrative, cult activities.
This plan had several flaws, of course. One small problem was that the leaders of the
cult, being Sorcerers and thus not really all that clued in, were unaware that
not every human/ethereal crossbreeding automatically results in a Gorgon. James isn't one, for example. A slightly larger problem was that even if
James had been a Gorgon the cult
leaders didn't have any real way to break him to their Will - but this was
dwarfed by the largest problem of all, which was that five years after James'
birth a squad of angels hot on the trail of a missing fruition-Relic crashed
through the walls and killed every single member of Group 2.
Leadership of the cult thus devolved on James'
mother, seeing as she was the Bride of the Unpronounceable Named One and
everything; she and her followers decamped to
As for James; he grew up pretty much aware that he
was somehow special, but all attempts to convince him of his eldritch, horrible
destiny failed from the get-go. The boy
mastered smiling and nodding before he could read, and he would be more than
happy to be a complete and total materialist in response to the increasingly
soft-edged esoterica that his mother's acolytes keep spouting at him. Except that... he can't. He's aware that he's some sort of psychic - a
real one, which is why he doesn't bring it up at all - and that there are
things out there that look human, but aren't.
Some of them are good, some of them are bad, and most of them are
strange and dangerous.
So, James has spent the last few years trying to
piece together what the heck's really
going on out there. He's talked to every
esoteric hermit, freak, outcast, renegade, mercenary, visionary and gypsy who
showed a hint of real understanding.
He's met some who have. A shivering violinist with the voice of an angel
and the thirst of a damned soul - with eyes to match both - showed him how to
close wounds and cure diseases with his mind; a pop-eyed woman with the
faintest of green tint to her slightly slick skin traded him the ability to
call up a protective whirlwind in exchange for seven nights of vaguely batrachian passion (let us not speak too harshly of Mr. Foster's
habits, either. It's not so much lechery
as a surprisingly wide range of tolerance towards the outré). And, of course, his dreams are full of all
sorts of information and knowledge, some of which is even relevant to the
waking world.
Still, the lad is young and impatient - both of
which are about his only real character flaws - and hidden lore seems to be
revealed so slowly. It's annoying, and
it should be noted that James is just the tiniest bit worried that his apparent
lack of squamous-ness may not be as permanent as it
seems. James enjoys being both human and attractive, and isn't too keen on the
idea of just letting either be stripped away because of some sort of tainted
blood. It will no doubt be a great
mental and psychic relief to him, should he ever find out what's really going
on with the universe.
Ironic, that.