Character Creation [The Reclamation of Creation]

[Prescient Stranger]

Sheet removed. There's enough people entering already, and I find myself at odds with the direction of the pre-game stuff enough that I don't think I'd add much to the game with my presence.

 

[Atrius Night]

Just checking, currently it seem there are


3 defilers


1 slayer


1 malafactor


1 fiend


For a total of 6 players...


What player cap are you looking at (i.e. am I too late, drat my slow reading that only has the book half finished)


If there is still room, I guess I'll jump into a Scourge for my primary (as my typical first choice is currently in a population boom) and am currently leaning towards either a Dragon-blood or a mortal for my akuma.


Question; can a dragon blooded still do their free reflexives with their akuma powers? Or do those require combos as normal for most other exalts....

 

[Lochar]

I'm only going to choose 5, so you can put in here still if you want.


Dragon-Blooded can still do free reflexive on their Dragon-Blooded Charms. Non-DB charms are counted as charm usage. States so in the book.

 

[Chaka]

Tarth Karst


Caste: Malefactor


Concept: Desert Messiah


Urge: All Rulers Must Die (Adorjani Obsession)


Motivation:Free the Nomadic Delzahn from the rule of the Tri-Khan


Attributes


Strength: 3 Charisma: 4 Perception: 2


Dexterity: 3 Manipulation: 3 Intelligence: 2


Stamina: 3 Appearance: 4 Wits: 3


Abilities (favoured in italics)


Martial Arts: 5 Integrity: 3 Performance: 4 Presence:4 Resistance: 3 Survival: 3


Occult: 1 Athletics: 2 Awareness: 2 Dodge: 2 Linguistics: 1 Socialise: 2


Specialties: Survival (Cecylene): 1


Backgrounds


Backing (Cecylene): 2 Cult (The Haj): 2 Influence (Demons of Cecylene): 1 Unwoven Coadjatur:3 Resources: 2


Charms (Adorjani charms are favoured, but he doesn't have any yet)


Malfeas


Hardened Devil Body


Cecylene


First Cecylene Excellency (x3)


Hellscry Chakra


Transcendent Desert Creature


Sand Through Fingers Defense


Holy Land Infliction


Infernal Monster Style


Retribution Will Follow


Raging Behemoth Charge


Infernal Monster Form


World-Breaker Grip


Virtues


Compassion: 3 Temperance: 1 Conviction: 3 Valour: 2


Willpower: 6 Essence: 3 (15/36) Soak: 3B/2L/0A


Health: -0/-1/-1/-2/-2/-2/-2/-2/-4/-4/I Torment: Adorjani Torment Languages: Flametongue, Old Realm


Dodge DV: 4 Parry DV: 5 Join Battle: 5 Dodge MDV: 6


Background


Tarth Karst has always been a child of the desert. Growing up amongst the Delzahn tribes, life was hard and dangerous, and made Karst so. Like his nomadic brethren, he roundly cursed those Delzahn who had forsaken their pure lives in the desert to lead pitiful, debauched lives in the city of Chiaroscuro. He felt that no fat king had any right to lead him or his people, and felt daily affronted that such a state of affairs could be. He became a rabble rouser and activist amongst the desert tribes, his natural charisma and fiery passion calling out to others of his ilk to rise up and tear down the corrupt society that would control them. His drive and fire brought a small group to his cause, and in time they began to harry settled Delzahn outposts.


The Tri-khan's forces were quick and brutal in suppressing this proto-rebellion. On the eve of one of Karst's raids on a settlement, the soldiers were waiting. Karst was the only survivor, left for dead from wounds sustained in the battle. He crawled out toward the desert to die, cursing all the gods for his failure. It was then that the demon who had been witnessing the battle approached. It offered Karst power, glory, the ability to make his dreams for the Delzahn a reality. Karst accepted without hesitation or a second thought, and the demon melded with him infusing him with the Infernal Exaltation it bore. Tarth Karst became a Malefactor, a child of Cecylene. A child of the desert in truth.


The Tarth Karst that walked out of the desert months later back to the tribes had a new fire in his eyes. His words seemed more passionate, his zeal boundless. He would take anyone who would listen and brutally destroyed anyone who gainsayed his words, his fighting prowess now utterly terrifying to behold. People listened to him speak of a purer world, one where the soft were weeded out and only the strong and hardy thrived. A world under the rule of Cecelyne, where natural law prevailed and the strong rose to the top. Many were eager to listen. Now, Karst forments a new group. A Yozi-worshipping cult of Delzahn who will come out of the desert like a sandstorm and tear down the rulers of Chiaroscuro, freeing the desert tribes from their weakling rule: The Haj.


One of his most recent and lauded successes was the conversion of a young Lunar who travelled up from south of Gem to the Yozi cause. Stelmar, Karst's Lunar bondmate, came in search of his Mate, who he had dreams of. The man he found was no longer a Solar, but his words spoke to a darkness in Stelmar's own heart, and he converted to the worship of the Yozi's with almost pitiful ease, eventually being Invested by the Ebon Dragon as an Akuma (Cecylene had little use for his manipulative brand of social skills, so Karst petitioned the other Yozis to grant his mate the Investiture). Now a being of amazing power and utterly subservient to the will of the Thing Infernal, Stelmar is Karst's most trusted and dangerous aide and lieutenant.


Of course, Karst won't stop with the destruction of the Tri-Khan. He won't be able to. Though he is a child of Cecelyne, the Silent Wind whispers in his mind, nagging constantly. All social hierarchies breed weakness. Chiaroscuro is the beginning. He will destroy the rulers of the world, one by one... Even without his Adorjani Urge, Karst may well be doing it anyway. He truly believes it's the right thing to do, for the benefit of humanity. It's actually because he cares so much he wants humanity to improve. And he will be its shepherd, and Cecelyne its harsh but loving mother. Whether or not this motivation lines up directly with that of the Endless Desert is probably debatable, of course.

Act of Villainy


The caravan hadn't seen the attack coming. The desert fighters being led by Karst came from almost nowhere, and the fight had been pitifully brief. Karst himself killed four men with his bare hands, howling with righteous fury. However, the captain of the caravan's guard was a God-Blood, and he'd stood where his men had fallen. He even managed to meet Karst's rampant destruction head-on, slightly wounding the Malefactor before being subdued. Respecting this man's determination, Karst did not land the finishing blow, instead taking him alive.


The captain of the guard came to in a deep pit dug into the sand, fortified with planks of dried wood. He found himself shackled to a rock. He pulled fruitlessly at the chains, but they were too strong for him. He couldn't rise above kneeling.


'Tell me, warrior. What is your name?' A voice called down. Above him, Karst knelt, looking down into the empty pit. A huge canvas bag seemed to be suspended over the pit, full to bursting. 'I don't answer to you, demon!' Spat the captain. 'Now now, no need to be hasty. Or so impolite. You can walk away from this, you know. Times are changing, warrior. The time when strong men will rule and the weak will be purged is coming. You are a strong man, you could do well. The service of the Endless Desert bears many rewards. Great power, beyond anything you can imagine, can be yours in exchange for a little loyalty. Will you join us?'


'I would never submit to you or your foul ilk!' The caravan guard snarled defiantly, though his voice shook. 'Very well, warrior,' Karst said, his voice resonating with genuine regret. 'I respect your strength. I wish you had told me your name. I like to remember the names of the worthy dead, and you are one such. Still, no matter. Goodbye, warrior.'


Without a further word, Karst rose to his feet, drawing his belt knife. He rent the canvas with it, and turned away, walking back towards the camp. As sand poured out of the torn bag, filling the pit, the caravan guard began to scream...

 

[Chaka]

Stelmar


Caste: Changing Moon (Akuma of the Ebon Dragon)


Concept: Beautiful tempter


Urge: Serve the Thing Infernal


Spirit Shape: Ocelot (Tell: Cat's Eyes)


Attributes (favoured in italics)


Strength: 2 Charisma: 2 Perception: 3


Dexterity: 3 Manipulation: 6 Intelligence: 6


Stamina: 2 Appearance: 7 Wits: 3


Abilities (favoured in italics)


Athletics: 1 Integrity: 2 Martial Arts: 2 Resistance: 1 Linguistics: 3 Performance: 3 Presence: 4


Socialise: 3 Survival: 2 Beauracracy: 2 Investigation: 2 Lore: 2 Occult: 2


Backgrounds


Demonic Patron (Ebon Dragon): 5 Demonic Inheritance: 5 Reputation (Sun King Seneschals): 2 Solar Bond (Tarth Karst): 3 Artifact (Silken Armour): 2


Charms


Appearance


1st Appearance Excellency


New Friend Aroma


One of the Herd


Clover Can't Be Found


Ebon Dragon


Cracked Cell Circumvention


Bloodless Murk Evasion


Knacks


Prey's Skin Disguise


Green Sun Child


Essence Mirror Form (Demons)


Virtues


Compassion: 1 Temperance: 3 Conviction: 3 Valour: 2


Willpower: 6 Essence: 6 (18/46 (2 committed) Soak: 5B/6L/5A


Health: -0/-1/-1/-2/-2/-4/I Limit Break:Curse of the Heartless Weasel Languages: Flametongue, Old Realm, Riverspeak, High Realm


Dodge DV: 5 Parry DV: 3 Join Battle: 3 Dodge MDV: 7


Investiture of Infernal Glory


Basic Bonus Points: 15


Inheritance Bonus Points: 30


Bonus Points gained from burned Attribute Dots: 9BP (3 dots burned)


Bonus Points gained from burned Charms and Knacks: 40BP (all charms and knacks burned)


Bonus Points gained from Mutations:


Creature of Darkness (0BP, inherent)


Ordination of Lies (6BP)


Blurred Fate (1BP)


Dragon's Breath (caustic darkness): 6BP


Terrifying Mane: 6BP


TOTAL BP: 113


BP expenditure


Appearance: 9BP to go to Appearance 7


Intelligence: 12BP to go to Intelligence 6


Manipulation: 3BP to go to Manipulation 6


Knacks: 18BP spent


Charms:30 BP spent


Presence: 1BP spent


Essence:40BP spent


TOTAL BP spent: 113.


Backstory


Stelmar grew up in a little village in the Summer Mountains. The village was a poor one, maybe less than 20 people. Stelmar's mother died in childbirth, and his father was a drunk. By the time he was fourteen, he ran away from home, nursing the wounds from the last beating, his father's heartsblood drying on the knife he couldn't seem to drop. He wandered south and east, through the mountains. Eventually he was taken by a slaver caravan moving through a pass.


Having traded one level of abuse and suffering for another, Stelmar swore he would survive this and see his enemies suffer. He allowed himself to be beaten, broken and used a hundred times over, in the most degrading ways imaginable. His natural good looks brought the attentions of the lecherous slave trader, and it was here Stelmar saw his chance. One night, after months on the trail, when the trader had fallen asleep, sated on the boy, Stelmar once again ended abuse with a knife. As he cut the man's throat, the caravan's interior was lit by gentle silver light. Looking up, he saw a beautiful eoman standing there, smiling at him. 'Child, you have suffered endlessly and taken the weight. You have done anything necessary to survive. You are my child. Take my power and ensure the world does not have to suffer as you have done.' The woman disappeared, and Stelmar realised the light was emanating from his own body. He felt power course through him, his wounds heal.


None of the caravan survived the night.


Later, Stelmar was taken in by the Silver Pact, tattooed in to the Changing Moon caste. He heard the tales of the great Solar kings, and came to believe them fervently, earning him reputation with the Seneschals. When word came that the Lawgivers had returned, Stelmar swore he would find his mate and join them. He set out, occasionally meditating as he travelled through the Southern desert. He travelled a long time, but eventually he saw visions of a desert warrior leading men out of the dunes. He felt drawn northward, and in time was found by Karst's band. The Malefactor recognised his dead mate staring at him from the man's eyes, and spoke passionately of the world that would come, terrible and purifying.


At first, the Lunar was horrified by his mate and his words, but something in them resonated. The strong should be freed of the weak. His parents had been weak. The slavers had been weak, damned by their vices. And suffering does make you better, he was proof of that. Surely he'd be doing the world a favour? Stelmar took Tarth Karst's hand and swore to stand by his side as he had done ages ago, the requests of Luna forgotten.


Cecelyne found little use for Stelmar, a subtle man willing to manipulate to get his desires. However, the Ebon Dragon saw the corruption of a thousand degradations in him, and took him for his own. Stelmar found at the end of the tortuous process he was more beautiful and powerful than he had ever been, and the will to serve the Yozis and their Infernal champions (particularly Karst) flowed with the blood in his veins. now Stelmar stands at his mate's side. Where Karst leads with holy desire and fury, Stelmar seduces, manipulates, lies, and does anything, literally anything, to further the Haj. He is no fighter, however, preferring a knife in a spent lover's back to combat. If forced to fight, he relies on a rudimentary knowledge of martial arts while seeking a chance to flee or seek reinforcements.

 

[The Demented One]

Backstory for Grinning Mishka


Without thinking, she leapt into the rapidly coursing stream. A moment’s hesitation, and the current would have dragged the child forevermore out of her reach, but with a dive worthy of dolphins she broke the water’s face, catching the infant’s desperately flailing hand in her own. Fighting against the current, she began swimming back to shore, reaching for a tree root that hung over the river. If she could just swim a few yards more it would be in reach, she and the child would both be safe...but such was not to be. Mishka could not both fight the current and hold on to her sister forever, and her mortal flesh betrayed her. True, she laid hands on the gnarled root, hoisting herself to safety; but only after the weakness of her arm had let the river drag little Jacob away.


As she dragged herself ashore, a tide of tears trickled down her face, a weeping that would not stop until her body had no more tears to birth. Her father consoled her, but his words were hollow to her ears, and gave no solace. Her mother simply would not speak–not to her, her father, or any other. Within a week, Mishka’s mother had slit her wrists with a kitchen knife, snuffing out her life. Mishka had no tears for her.


But it while it was Mishka’s fate to drown in her sorrow and shame, she drew down on herself the notice of one beyond all mortal fate. As she lay numbly in her bed, teasing her arm with the tip of a knife caked with her mother’s shed blood, there was a fevered pounding at her door. She lay unresponsive, only to hear the pounding grow louder and louder, a staccato ecstasy of thudding bass that threaten to batter down her door. With a dissonant shout of iron twisting, the oaken door was torn from its hinges, and the monster drew near.


It was a filthy, almost-human thing, overly-muscled and clad only in blood-red hair. It plodded towards Mishka, with the weighty inevitability of rage barely restrained; and for the first time, Mishka ceased her sorrow. Her bitter tears, her self-hatred, her cold numbness–all were broken, for here there was a monster out of stories, come to eat her alive! Mishka could only laugh in the face of such cosmic absurdity.


But the monster had not come to taste of her flesh, though its lolling tongue and sniffing nostrils made clear how deeply it ached to sup on such succulence. Instead, it bore an offer. Speaking with a voice both menacing and bizarrely beautiful, it told her that she bore no guilt for her failure. Her flesh was imperfect, corruptible–but as treacherous as her mortal frame had proven, it was not her fault. Mishka, still laughing, listened, her demonic guest’s words staunching the scarring on her soul. And then, it told her that she could be more. That she would never have to fail again. That she could be given flesh that would never betray her, strength that would never be surpassed, power that would never be questioned.


Mishka said yes.


The blood ape pressed itself on her, pinning her limbs in its adamant grasp, and let loose a howl that almost drowned out her manic laughter. The demon deliquesced, its unwoven flesh seeping around and into Mishka, wrapping her in a crucible of flesh. Five days later, the cocoon shattered as Mishka’s fist pierced it from the inside. She stepped out, naked and transformed. Her body was rewoven from a mere girlish frame to a lithe, elegant musculature who strength trumped that of the greatest of men. Her hair, once a tawny brown, was now the color of week-old blood, and her eyes glistened with predatory malice. She laughed–not the manic howl of a girl shattered and broken, nor the cold and empty-hearted mirth of a girl numbed by sorrow. It was a laugh of pure happiness, a bliss that spilled from her flesh in waves of green light.


For the first five days, Mishka killed. And killed. And killed. Urged on by the blood ape now woven deep into the weft of her soul, she discovered each of the many different ways her newfound self could end a mortal life. She took on the name Grinning Mishka, tattooing an inhuman smile upon her lips with the blood of her victims. But she was no sadist, for all that the erymanthoi urged her on, and took less and less pleasure in such excesses of force. She began asking the ape why she had been chosen, who had transformed her, and why she must kill. The erymanthoi, chattering with malevolent glee, only urged her on to more murder, and she silenced its voice within her mind. Never again would she heed the blood ape’s bidding.


But in time, she found her questions answered. Malfeas sent an envoy, a young and nubile neomah, to bid Grinning Mishka come to learn of her inheritance. The Green Sun Princess eagerly leapt to follow the fleshweaver’s offer of answers, and so the two set off through sun-seared deserts in search of Ceceleyne’s boarders. As they traveled, Mishka learned what she could of Hell from her guide, while not taking carnal pleasure in her ultimately gratifying flesh. In five days’ time, Grinning Mishka stood at the thrice-threefold gates of Malfeas.


She was greeted by a radiant idol of brass, the lesser humanoid form that embodied a shard of Malfeas’s consciousness. Mishka, overcome by his demonic majesty, fell to her knees before the manifest Yozi, and fervently swore eternal fealty to him, not knowing she had already sworn such an oath. Malfeas, pleased by her show of loyalty, led her to Ligier’s brazen manse. There, Grinning Mishka was little more than a plaything for Malfeas and his lesser souls, a host of fiends who pressed their malevolence down on her as if she were a sheaf of paper under a printing press. But for all the beauty of their cosmic evil, all the grandeur of their plans, something was wrong. Grinning Mishka was entirely pledged to Malfeas and his glorious Reclamation, but some intuitive worry bothered her as she tried to sleep on her bed of brass and iron.


As she first succumbed to sleep in the city of Malfeas, she had a half-dreamt revelation: her lord was powerful, glorious, the rightful overlord of all Creation. But he was insane. Possessed by seething rage and self-destroying madness, Malfeas as he was would destroy both himself and all Creation before he could rule it. She woke shivering, fearing this new discovery. She could not betray Malfeas, the king of hell whom she now loved, but neither could she blindly follow his unthinking orders and self-annihilating demands. Loyalty she could not forsake, but blind loyalty she could not afford: one would be the destruction of herself; the other the destruction of her master.


The next day, the whole host of Green Sun Princes assembled to welcome Grinning Mishka, bidding her welcome to the legions of Hell before she went back into the world of Creation. Seated at the left hand of Malfeas, she exulted in the glory of hell, but could not cease her fear for her beloved master. And thus, a sphere of endlessly perfect crystal coalesced from the thin air before her, a lucid orb filled with imprisoned flame. Malfeas looked down at the sphere, mere manifestation of his sister-Yozi, and nodded his assent. And thus, She Who Lives In Her Name addressed Grinning Mishka.


She told Mishka of how Malfeas was once the most supreme being that could ever exist, the ultimate ruler of worlds. She told her how he had been mutilated by the inglorious host of the Exalted, how they had slain the soul that was now Ligier and transformed Malfeas into the mass of rage he is today. Grinning Mishka pleaded with Her, seeking some answer, and she found what she had asked for. As her newfound Shadow Patron explained, the bond between her and Malfeas was twofold: for all the infernal power he had invested in her, she could render the same unto him. Malfeas now was consumed with an unslakable lust for mindless violence and excessive force, but Mishka could transform her, harness his rage. Thus was Mishka’s answer.


And so Mishka returned to Creation, her grin blazing bright. She has shattered the skulls of children, torn from the arms of their mothers. She has slain men whose only wrong was to cross her path at the wrong hour. She has tortured gods, and from their agony forged her armaments. She has wrought the wrath of Malfeas upon the world...but all in a reasoned proportion. Every strike, every lethal blow that she deals out in battle carries not the least excess of force, no strength more than needed. For now, she is the Infernal Monster, and so is her master. But she looks to the future, and sees Creation under the reign of Malfeas enlightened, reborn just as she was. And in her hellish future, she sits at his left hand, the Infernal Bodhissatva. And it is glorious.

 

[Chucho108]

Name: One-Hundred Eight Stones Shattered


Exalt Type and Caste: Earth Aspect Outcaste Dragon-Blooded Akuma


Urge: To serve the Althing Infernal as commanded (Malfeas)


Background:


108


Attributes:


Physical (Primary)


Strength â—â—â—â—(â— â—â—â—)


Dexterity â—â—â—


Stamina â—â—â—(â—â— â—â—)


Social (Tertiary)


Charisma â—â—


Manipulation â—â—â—


Appearance â—â—


Mental (Secondary)


Perception â—â—â—â—


Intelligence â—â—


Wits â—â—â—


Abilities:


Archery


Martial Arts


Melee â—â—â—â—â— [bP 2]


Thrown


War â—


Integrity â—(â—â—)


Performance


Presence


Resistance â—â—â—â—â— [bP 2]


Survival â—â—â—


Craft


Investigate


Lore â—


Medicine


Occult â—â—


Athletics â—â—â—


Awareness â—â—â—


Dodge â—â—â—â—â— [bP 2]


Larceny


Stealth


Bureaucracy


Linguistics â—


Ride â—


Sail


Socialize


Backgrounds:


Artifact: â—â—â—â— (Green Iron Heart) [bP 2]


Artifact: â—â—â— (Tainted Moonsilver Grand Goremaul) – Ameno-Sagiri


Demonic Inheritance: â—â—â—â—â— (+30 BP, up to 20 points of negative demonic mutations)


Demonic Patron: â—â—â—â—â— (Ligier)


Manse: â—â—â—â— [bP 4] (Gem of Adamant Skin)


Artifacts and Equipment:


Green Iron Heart [+4 to Str, +4 to Stm, +1 to Con, +2 to Int, -1 Comp]


Ameno-Sagiri – [spd 5, Acc +4, Dmg +16L/5, Def +1, Rate 1]


Gem of Adamant Skin – Turns lethal damage to bashing


Charms:


General:


First Dodge Excellency – Essence Overwhelming


Earth:


Integrity:


Unsleeping Earth Meditation


Untiring Earth Meditation


Resistance:


Ox-Body Technique


Fire:


Dodge:


Threshold Warding Stance


Hopping Firecracker Evasion


Melee:


Dragon-Graced Weapon


Malfeas:


Hardened Devil Body [bP 5]


By Pain Reforged [bP 5]


Scar-Writ Saga Shield x2 [bP 10]


Join Combat: 6d10


Defenses:


Dodge DV: 6 [(Dex 3 + Dodge 5 + Ess. 4)/2]


Parry DV: 5 [(Dex 3 + Melee 5 + 1)/2]


Soak: 11B/11L


Hardness: 7B


Health:


-0 [ ]


-1 [ ] [ ] [ ]


-2 [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]


-4 [ ] [ ] [ ]


In [ ]


Mental Defenses:


Dodge MDV:


Parry MDV:


Virtues:


Compassion â— (BP 3)


Conviction â—â—â—


Temperance â—


Valor â—â—â—â—


Virtue Flaw:


Intimacies: Malfeas (Positive)


Willpower: â—â—â—â—â— â—â—


Essence


Permanent: 4 [bP 20]


Personal: 11 [Essence 4 + Will 7 + Points from Breeding 0]


Peripheral: 14 (30) [Essence 4 x 4 + Will 7 + Points from Breeding 0 + Virtue 7]


Committed: 16 (8 for Green Iron Heart, 8 Tainted Moonsilver Grand Goremaul)


Bonus Points: 0 [15 + 30 (Demon Inheritance)]


Mutations:


Aura of Power +4BP


Creature of Darkness – No BP


Eyes of Wicked Madness (Permanent) + 2BP


Walking Blasphemy - +4 BP

 

[Elminster]

I was once Masque, chosen of Luna.


I was, to put it simply, a spy: when somewhere they must investigate on something they send me there, to investigate and, if needed, correct.


Two week ago, I was on a mission, investigating some, they think, particular cruel slave trader: they usually take young boys and girly (from 12 to 17 Yo) and slaughter any other villager.


The plan was a simple one, I will go in what will be the next village on their blood-soaked rout, take the heart-blood of a young boy or girl, and waiting they come to take me, so I would know who they where, and planning a retribution: so I do.


When I was waiting (under the guise of a nice 14 YO girl, with red hair and sparkles), somebody come to the town, but was not who I toughs...


I recognise the man immediately, even if I had never seen it before, and so him: ignoring my fake parents, he address directly to me: “Auroraâ€, he said smiling, “it has been a long time...â€.


He introduce me to the demon-girl accompanying him, and I recognise her as a shape shifting sister.


He explain me his duty, and I find them as noble as mine (even more, maybe).


He introduce me to his mistress, and I willing accepted to serve her.


As the neomah was changing me, I asked her to made me as she was, because I wanted to become really her sister, in body and soul: amused, she accepted.


And so, here I am: I have new masters, but my work is the same: but now, I have a new hope: the silver pact was unable to save creation, but we can, I know that!


Stalker


Changing moon Akuma (She Who Lives in Her Name)


Attributes


Physical


Strength â— (+â—â—â—â—, brass heart)


(f)Dexterity â—â—â—â—â—â— (+â— tattoo)


Stamina â—â—â— (+â—â—â—â—, brass heart)


Social


(f)Charisma â—â—â—â—â—â—


(f) Manipulation â—â—â—â—â—â— (+â— tattoo)


Appearance â—â—â— (+â— tattoo)


Mental


Perception â—â—â—


Intelligence â—â—â—â—


Wits â—â—â—


Abilities


Archery


Martial Arts â—â—â—


Melee


Thrown


War


Integrity â—â—â—(â—â— Brass heart)


Performance â—â—â—


Presence â—â—â—


Resistance


Survival â—â—


Craft water (â—â— tattoo)


Investigate â—â—â—


Lore â—â—â—


Medicine â—â— (childbirth +â— tattoo)


Occult


Athletics


Awareness


Dodge


Larceny


Stealth


Bureaucracy


Linguistics â—â—â—


Ride


Sail


Socialize â—â—â— (seduction + â—â— tattoo)


BG


Demonic inheritance â—â—â—â—â—


Demonic Patron â—â—â—â—â—


hearth blood â—â—â—


Artefact â—â—â—â— (green iron heart)


Demon Tattoo (neomah) â—â—â—


Virtue


Compassion â—


Conviction â—â—â—â—


Temperance â—â—


Valour â—â—


Willpower â—â—â—â—â—â—


Essence â—â—â—â—


Personal essence 20


Peripheral essence 48


Committed essence 8


Knack


Prey skin Disguise


Humbly mouse shape


Intimate Training recollection


Green Sun Child


Internal form mastery


Charm


hide of the cunning hunter


new friend aroma


second manipulation excellence


Mask of white jade


Second Charisma Excellence


neomah


Harrow the mind


Shapeshift


Weaving the Flash


Principle of motion


mutations


Creature of Darkness (-4)


Magic plague carrier (Grinning fool)(-4)


Aura of power (-4)


Heart blood addiction (-2)


Sex addiction (-2)


Megalomania (-2)


Mind swing (hipe) (-2)


hungry (-2)


freebie expenditure (65)


BG 4


Essence 14


Charm (neomah) 35


Char (+1dex, +2 cha, +1 man) 12


My spirit form is that of a Neomah.


the heart blood one include an Erimatoy (I will use it to fight), several human guise and various animal forms, for disguise and utility: I will provide a complete list tomorrow.