Name: Raphael Federer, or short "Raph"
Alias: Wraith
Gender: Male
Alter: 24
Metatype: Norm
Magic: Christian Theurgist
[ Spoiler ]
=== Priorities and Calculations ===
Prime Runner (+35 Prime+25 NegQ – 23 PosQ -15 STR, -8 Focus, -11 initiation, -7 spirits, -20 neue skills) -> 48.000 Nuyen to 24 Karma
A4: Attributes 24
A4: Skills 46/10
A4: Magic 6, 5 Spells, 2x Skill 5
C2: Metatype (5 Points Edge)
E0: Ressources (Prime: 100.000)
Costs: 45.165 (E: 100.000) -> 2.435 Nuyen leftover
Knowledge Skills: (Int+Log)x2=16)
Contacts: Chax6=30
=== General Stats ===Initiative 9+1d6
Astral Initiative 10 + 2D6
Physical Condition Monitor: 10
Stun Condition Monitor 11
Resist with WIL+CHA (11)
Judge Intentions: 10
Carryweight: 30kg + [6]x10kg
Assensing: 8/10
Perception: 9(visual) / 10(audio)
Mental [(Logic x 2) + Intuition + Willpower] / 3 = 5
Physical [(Strength x 2) + Body + Reaction] / 3 = 4
Social [(Charisma x 2) + Willpower + Essence] / 3 = 7
=== Attributes ===STR 1+1….…..3 (15 Karma: 2 ->3)
BOD1+2……..3
AGI1+3…….…4
REA1+3……...4
INT1+4……….5
CHA1+4.…….5
WIL1+5….…..6
LOG1+2.......3
MAG6….……..6
EDG2+5.….…7
=== Skills ===Binding 6 (Air, +2) Pool: 12/14
Banishing 6 (Fire, 2) Pool: 12/14
Summoning 6 (Air, +2) Pool: 12/14
Counterspelling 6 (Combat, 2) Pool: 12/14
Spellcasting 6 (Detection, 2) Pool: 12/14
Arcana 1 (2Karma) Pool:
Assensing 3 (Read Aura, 2) Pool: 9/11
Alchemy 1 (2Karma; MS:+2) Pool: 9
Con 6 Pool: 11
Negotiating 5 Pool: 10
Etiquette 5 Pool: 10
Leadership 5 Pool: 10
Intimidation 5 Pool: 9
Impersonation 2 Pool: 7
Pilot Groundcraft 3 (Bikes, 2) Pool: 7/9
Pistols 5 (Heavy Pistols, 2) Pool: 9/11
Sneaking 2 Pool: 6
Perception 4 Pool: 8
Computer 1 (2Karma) Pool: 4
Disguise 1 Pool: 6
Survival 1 (2Karma) Pool: 4
Running 1 (2Karma) Pool: 4
Swimming 1 (2Karma) Pool: 4
=== Knowledge Skills ===German (N)
English 5
Magical Theory 2 (Magical Goods, 2)
Theology 2
Local Gangs 2
Political Science 1
Drugs 1
Smuggling Routes 2
Pubs 1 (1 Karma)
=== Qualities === Mentor Spirit: Saint Laurentius (Fire-Bringer): 5 (+2 to Alchemy, +2 manipulation spells, WIL+CHA (3) to deny help)
Spirit Affinity (air) 7 (+1 service, +1 for binding-tests; may attack me less maliciously)
First Impression (11) (+2 to social tests on first encounter)
Moderate addiction to Zen: -9
Code of Honor: Won't harm innocent bystanders (-15)
Driven (2): tries to find Sophie's murderer; +1WIL when working on it
=== MAGIC ===Spells :Lightning Bolt 12D(Focus:+2)
Petrify /Pillar of salt 14D
Detect Enemies, Extended 14D
Physical Barrier 14D
Mind Probe 14D
Mindnet, Extended 14D
Influence 14D
Shapechange 14D
Stunbolt 12D(Focus:+2)
Heal 12D
Initiation: Centering (11 Karma): +1 resisting drain if loud, focused prayer is involved
Spirits:Aeraziel, Bound Spirit of Air (Force 6, 3-3 services) (3K) (Optional powers: Elemental Attack, Fear; Spells: Health)
Haruspel, Bound Spirit of Guidance (Force 6, 2-1 services) (2K) (Optional Powers: Influence, Engulf; Spells: Manipulation)
Undiel: Bound Spirit of Water (Force 6, 2-1 Services; disrupted for 22d after Linz) (2K) (Optional Powers: Binding, Energy Aura; Spells: Detection)
=== Equipment ===Lined coat 900 (Arm:9)
Vashon Island Ace of Cups 1600 (Arm:9, Social Limit +1)
Armor Jacket (Arm:12) 1000
Full Helmet 500 (Arm:+3)
Ares Predator V + Silencer & Personalized Grip1625 (Accuracy: 6 (8); Damage:8P AP: –1; SA; Ammo: 15; -4 against perception tasks)
Ammo: 30x regular (600), 15x gel (375)
Suzuki Mirage (8500) (Handling: 5/3, Speed: 6, Acc:3, Body: 5, Armor: 6)
Erika Elite + Sim Module (2.600)
Microcamera + select sound filter (350)
Concealable Quick-Draw-Holster (275)
10 doses Zen (50)
Glasses Rating 4 (vision-magnification, low-light-vision, image-link) (1275)
Ear Buds Rating 3 (Audio-Enhancement1, Select-Sound-Filter) (900)
Trodes (70)
Gloves (10), biker's mask & 5 pairs of Single-Use-Gloves
20 reagents (400)
Magical Lodge Force 2 (1000)
Flashlight & Survival Kit (225)
Metalink (25)
1x Stimpatch4 (100), 1x Antidote Patch3 (150)
2.435 Nuyen
Foci:Summoning-Focus (Air) Power 2 (4 Karma, N8000)
Spellcasting-Focus (Combat) Power 2 (4 Karma, N8000)
Licenses:Fake SIN Rating 4 (10000): Raphael Altmann
Fake License Rating 3 (600): Awakened
Fake License Rating 3 (600): Possession of firearm
Fake License Rating 3 (600): Concealed Carrying
Fake License Rating 3 (600): Use [Stunbolt]
Lifestyle: Middle (5000) + Local Bar Patron (Nikolai; 25) + Garage (100)
-> 1m/5125
Loot and rewards:Ballistic Mask (Armor +2) (Warehouse)
- Smartlink
- Thermographic Vision
- Low-Light Vision
- Vision Enhancement 3
Hermes Ikon Commlink (Warehouse)
10.000-9.500= 500€ (Payment Nacl)
Morphing License Plate, a Spoof Chip and Run Flat Tires (Abdecker)
Fake Sin Rating 3 (Abdecker)
20.000-3000= 17.000€ (Abdecker)
Bought reagents already spent
=== Kontakte ===Georg Schraff, AKA “Grinch” (Connection 4, Loyalty 4): His former Roommate, now a drug-dealer and leader of a neo-anarchistic gang.
[ Spoiler ]
Georg's impulsive temper has gotten him into trouble countless times, and often Raph was the one to get him out of it. Whether it was to calm a bouncer Georg insulted, or prevent him from answering a thug's provocation with a blazing gun, Raph always hat a tempering, moderating influence on his easily angered friend; without him, Georg would likely rot in jail by now. On the other side, Georg was often the one providing the cautious Raph with the necessary push to leave his comfort zone, making him more daring and bold. Even after Raph moved out of Georg's flat, the two still enjoy a deep friendship and make sure the other doesn't do anything extraordinarily stupid.
Nikolai (Connection 3, Loyalty 3): Bartender, fixer.
[ Spoiler ]
Raph often visits Nikolai in his small pub next door, preferably early or very late at night, when the "Hetmanat" isn't too crowded and he can freely chat with the old Hungarian. Nikolai usually knows an awful lot of gossip and usually enjoys grumping about everything that’s going wrong in his opinion, often addressing problems "a friend of a friend" has - and thereby providing some minor jobs for Raph. Mostly dirty and poorly paid, but hey, a job is a job.
Silvia AKA “Glyphe” (Connection 3, Loyalty: 4): Fence, talismonger.
[ Spoiler ]
In her early twenties, Silvia Steindl is young to be a talismonger's assistant. There’s more to her, though, than the cute, innocent eager-to-assist-you vendor, that she mimics on her job: She has excellent connections to the black market, foremost for magical goods, and her knowledge and discretion make her a
Her knowledge of magical goods, discretion and black-market connections them make the innocent-looking girl a useful and lucrative fence, and her joyful, positive nature make her a pleasant companion. After his mentor's death, Silvie's comfort and company were a soothing medication for Raph’s anger, and they spent many long evenings and nights together, talking about their lives and discussing mundane and magical oddities.
Harald Märle (Connection 3, Loyalty 3): Policeman and husband to his deceased friend and mentor Sophie Märle.
[ Spoiler ]
Still grieving over his wife's murder, the once proud and enthusiastic Harald is now a bitter man. They helped each other move along after the shooting, and although Harald would never admit his thankfulness, the two men share a deep bond of mourning and overcoming. Raph never told him the true story of Sophie's death and his reluctance to stop the robbers, and so far Harald never questioned his honesty – at least not to Raph’s knowledge.
Herr Böhm (Connection 1, Loyalty 2): Excorcist.
[ Spoiler ]
The old gentleman, an apparently powerful hermit and dear friend of Sophie, often showed up in the store to purchase an old book or a magic artifact. He’s a reclusive fellow who never took interest in actual smalltalk, but greatly enjoyed discussions about all sorts of magical curiosities. Raph still has his commcode and address from Böhm’s time as a frequent costumer, but the last time Raph saw the eccentric old man was at Sophie’s funeral, quietly sobbing alone in the very back row and the last one to leave the church’s hall with Harald and Raph. Upon leaving, he turned back to Raph with the words: “She loved you like her own son, you know that?”
Certainly well-intentioned and meant to comfort him, it only added to Raph’s hidden guilt.
=== Appearance & Demeanor===Rather small and slim, Raph isn't quite an imposing figure. He has a pale skin and dark, brown hair, that he parts sideways uninspiredly, his eyes are of a cold greyish blue. He is only in his mid-twenties and appears to be a friendly and self-secure fellow, but if you carefully look behind the social first impression, you might notice that already one or two of his mouse-brown hairs have turned silver and that his face looks a little worn-down like a man who's sonstantly tired. His voice is usually calm, and he tends to avoid slang terms, a habit from his time as vendor at Sophie’s shop that never fully died.
He consideres his spirits sacred entities and would never send a spirit just to do the dishes etc.
=== Background ===[ Spoiler ]
My life has taken many a turn so far, some for the better, and some for the worse.
I am a humble man. I never asked for much. Growing up SINless to a single mother wasn't pleasant, but hey, we didn't starve. My mother, Frieda, was deeply religious, so she raised me very much in tune with the bible. Every evening, I thanked the lord for the little we had. Frieda worked at a factory for soy-products, so she brought home enough money for us to eat. The first game-changer in my life was my mother being able to buy a fake SIN for me - likely the worst fake ever forged, but it meant I could visit a run-down state school. I don't know how she managed it, but I was a child and I didn't ask questions.
School was horrible, the other kids were vicious and violent, and I was smaller and weaker than all of them. Being unable to defend myself with my fists, I quickly had to learn to make my bullies comply with honeyed words and hallow threats. Needless to say, it worked poorly, and I took beatings quite regularly.
I prayed a lot these days. I prayed for help, when I was beaten, I prayed for the power to defend myself, I prayed for a better life for me and my mother.
At the age of 12, my prayers were answered.
It was a cold night in October, I was sitting outside to feel the freezing wind on my skin, rapt in meditation-like prayer. I asked the heavens why I was so weak, why I couldn't change my life for the better - and for the first time ever, a voice answered my question. Not some kind of ethereal echo, but a voice from within my very soul: I felt, at this moment, that I had something in me. Something, that would help me. Some kind of divine potential. And I felt that someone was there to help me stir up this potential.
This stranger spoke to me that night. He called himself Saint Laurentius, claimed that I was gifted, and that he could help me unravel my gift. I was scared, but he managed to calm me - Laurentius is a gentle soul, he seeks to aid and to shepherd those embracing him and to grant them knowledge and strength. On this night, I embraced him and this strange power that he would show me. I awakened.
Life changed, then.
My mother didn't want me to go to a corp- or state-owned magical school. She said, they'd ruin me. But private or church-owned ones we couldn't afford. It was a distant friend of my mother, who took me in: Sophie Märle, an aged Christian Theurgist, who ran a store in Linz where she sold antiquaries and all manners of magical goods. She honed my talents, schooled me and, more importantly, she gave me a place to be. A purpose. I helped her with the shop, we read the Holy Bible together, she'd teach me spells. For the first time in my life, I felt safety, embedded by my faith, guarded by Laurentius.
But the lord giveth, and the lord taketh away; I am no stranger to the… unpredictability of his mercy:
About one year after I moved to Linz, my mother died in an accident at the factory. I was told her face was so disfigured that I couldn’t see her. She must have died in horrible anguish, with sharp shrapnells piercing her internal organs, while I was chasing my dreams a hundred miles away from her. I was told her last words were that she loved me.
Took my quite a lot of time and many sleepless nights to swallow my mother's death, but I managed to move on. I had the lessons, the shop, I had my faith and I had Sophie, who became as much a mother-figure for me as my late Frieda. I lived with her and her husband Harald, a stern but friendly man (he works for the police, which apparently forces you to abandon all sense of humor, but apart from that, he’s a great guy), and for five wonderful years, I had something like a family.
Sophie was like that little angel from old cartoons, sitting on one of my shoulders, cautioning me to always be diplomatic and that violence is never a solution. She was the person Laurentius wanted me to be: always kind, always peaceful, using words instead of force. I truly believed in this pacifistic way.
Today I curse my naivety. When I was 17, this young, naïve happiness got shattered:
It was in the evening, we were just about to close the shop. I was working the counter, Sophie was cleaning up in the back room. The digital doorbell rang, and I looked up from my work to see three masked men with guns enter the shop; it was a robbery.
The world around me seemed to blur, all I could focus on were the gunmen and their shouted commands hands on the counter, no movements, where is the money… Sometimes I still hear their voices in my dreams. I was utterly unable to move. I could have fought them, strike them with bolts of lightning, turn them to pillars of salt - But I didn't. I just stood there, mumbling about considering their actions, ushering them to remain peaceful.
Suddenly, Sophie stood in the doorway at the side of the room. One gesture of her, and a spirit appeared in front of me, shielding me from the bullets the surprised robbers unleashed. A second gesture, and a blast of energy (a Stunbolt, as I recall; even now, she didn’t want to kill them) hit one of the men, he stumbled. The next moment I saw Sophie getting tossed back by a barrage of bullets hitting right in the chest. I screamed, and finally being able to move, I hurled a lightning bolt after the men who were now running for the door, then I dived behind the counter, as they answered with suppressive fire. When I got up again, shoulder bloody, where a ricochet had hit me, the robbers were gone and Sophie’s body was riddled with holes. None of my spells could save her, she died in my arms only seconds later.
My own fear and dislike of violence had gotten her killed.
I couldn't stand the guilt. I lied to the police about my passivity, I lied to Harald, Sophie's husband, when I told him about the death of his wife, about how I just let the murderers into our house and tried to reason with them, instead of attacking. It broke Harald’s heart; he said, he couldn’t bear me living with him anymore, as it reminded him of Sophie’s death every day. Perhaps he saw through my lies. The shop got sold, and the new owner had no use for me. I was left without home, without work, without qualifications and without anyone I could turn to.
At this point, I had to admit, that my philosophy, the pacifism that Sophie, Laurentius and Christ had taught me over all these years, were faulty. My strict path of morally correct actions had to be abandoned, as it was this very path of caution and compassion that had gotten Sophie killed. This existential crisis had thrust me into a state of depression where neither Laurentius’ guidance, nor the comfort of Silvia, a local talismonger’s assistant and the cutest girl I had ever met, could get me out of.
But God moves in mysterious ways and relief came from an unexpected angle:
I moved in with a futureless low-life named Georg Schraff, a failed student of politics and philosophy. Georg was impulsive, quickly bored and quickly provoked by anything or anyone who didn’t share his radical leftist-opinions. Over time, he seemed to come up with endless ways to shock me: He took drugs. He also sold them. His was friends with dealers and criminals. He owned a gun, and oh boy, he did know how to use it.
It took me a surprisingly long time to find out and to admit that I had moved in with a neo-anarchistic ganger. I’ve spent countless hours trying to talk him out of that, but he assured me that it was all just good sports, nothing dangerous and that there was no need to worry about anything. Still, he had gained my interest: He was the complimentary devil on the other shoulder of the void that Sophie’s moral-angel hat left behind. His way of life both scared and fascinated me.
I had considered packing my bags and leaving multiple times. But I couldn’t. Perhaps it was because he was the only friend I had at this point, perhaps it was because I felt like I could somewhat moderate the path he takes and have a good influence on him, and perhaps it was because I actually liked parts of what he did. I joined him on some of his nightly adventures, and I’ve got to say, going out at night, smearing graffiti on con-owned buildings and vandalizing the cars of neonazis felt bloody-damn good. With Georg, I could live out a part of me that I had shunned ever-since: I could be reckless. I could be fierce. I could take a dump on turning the other cheek and do whatever the fuck I felt like doing.
One evening, he wanted someone to watch his back when meeting with a particular buyer. Drug-Business. I escorted him, tense as a bowstring, watching the stranger’s every move, and the moment that addict pulled out his revolver, I intervened: With a loud “DID YOU JUST PULL A GUN ON MY FRIEND, YOU DREKHEAD?” I stroke that bastard down with a bolt of lightning, Georg staring at me with an open mouth, while that cram-addict was crawling away from us, his jacket still smoking where my spell hit him. I remember the power I had felt when I walked up to him, kicked the gun out of his camped hand and kicked him again in the guts, hissing: “You ever pull a gun on my chummer again, I’ll burn you alive!”.
Damn, it felt good. From that point on, Georg respected me – his whole gang respected me - and although I never fully joined them, he often asked me for my help on tricky problems – and most of the times, I was happy to comply. One could say that I took my first steps into the shadows alongside Georg.
I slowly began feeling better. Or at least: less bad. Georg got me into zen (both hate and love him for that), which helped me sleep and kept away the nightmares.
Desperate to find a purpose in my new life, I tried to track down the robbers; Harald gave me some info on the police’s inspections and I pulled every underworld-contact Georg and I had, but with no results; every step I took was a dead end, it was as if the men had vanished.
This medicine of cruel determination, this finally embraced fury was the only thing able to pull me out of my depression and back onto my feet. Much to Laurentius’ disdain, I stepped further into the shadows. I had decided that I won’t be a saint in this world of sinners. I wanted more of this medicine: The thrill, the adrenaline rush that I felt when banishing a rampant spirit, scattering a group of mobsters or getting a smuggler’s truck through a blockade made me feel alive, invincible. Laurentius often rebuked me for my new recklessness, but he understands that this way of total pacifism he and Sophie preached, does me no good. He carefully watches over my steps and makes sure, that I don’t wander too stray from the path.
It took me some time to establish a presence, but I managed to make a living by selling my talents. I found my own fixer, Nikolai, who owns a small, shady pub and who always knows a guy who needs something done. I moved out of Georg's place when his gang-business was too much for my liking, and I moved into a cozy flat all for myself. My forged SIN got burnt, but I managed to get myself a shiny new one.
Sometimes I ask myself: "Have I gone astray?" To be honest, I’m unsure. Laurentius shows me one path, but reality teaches me a different one. Does it work to integrate these two? Well, no, not all the time. But then I remind myself: The path of a saint had gotten Sophie killed. The path of a saint had rendered me weak and inactive. Saints are martyrs, and I won’t be one.
I won’t be a saint in this world of sinners.
This is really exciting!
