The Secret Garden
Attributes: Str 2, Dex 3, Sta 2, Cha 3, Man 2, App 3, Per 3, Int 3, Wit 3
Abilities: Alertness 1, Awareness 1, Computer 4 (distributed storage), Cosmology 2, Culture 1, Dodge 2, Drive 2, Enigmas 3, Etiquette 1, Firearms 1, Intuition 1, Intimidation 1, Investigation 1, Law 1, Leadership 1, Linguistics 1 (Dutch), Meditation 1, Occult 2, Research 1, Science 2, Stealth 1, Streetwise 1, Subterfuge 1, Technology 3
Backgrounds: Avatar 2, Destiny 2, Dream 2, Influence 1
Spheres: Correspondence 2, Forces 2, Life 2, Mind 2, Prime 1, Spirit 2, Time 2
Specialty Foci: unknown
Unique Foci: none
Merits: Computer Aptitude, Mechanical Aptitude, Black Market Ties (software)
Flaws: Addiction (alcohol, nicotene), Phobia (mutation), Ward (brother)
Attack: Brawl 3/2B, Keys 3/2L, Beretta 4/4L
Defense: Dodge 5, Soak 2B
Move: Walk: 7 yds, Jog: 15 yds, Run: 29 yds/14 yds
It began with the cigarette, of that much you are certain. Another drugged-out evening with your brother and that sudden moment of fleeting pyrogenesis. There had been the guy with gun, of course, but you are sure that the cigarette was the start of it.
Quite what had brought the pair of you to that nightclub on that particular evening is still a mystery. Perhaps you were only along out of concern for your brother’s strange, dream-like behaviour. At any rate, there seemed something almost predestined about your meeting that night with the stranger calling himself Balthazar the Thebian. And something equally inescapable about the appearance of the dark-eyed Malachai, cast immediately in the role of adversary.
While the Thebian and Malachai renewed old strifes, you struggled to protect yourself and your brother from Malachai’s gun-wielding bravo Declan. Without even understanding the nature of the conflict into which you had mysteriously been dragged, you foiled the bullet and shed blood in the darkness, cementing yourself into the drama. And despite the terror, it feels right, as if somewhere inside you, a dream rises to the surface, its colours flashing like the myriad patches of the harlequin’s motley.