Who Are You?
Name: Cassandra Saintrae
Passions and Identity
Helplessness: 1 Hardened, 0 Failed
Isolation: 1 Hardened, 0 Failed
Self: 1 Hardened, 0 Failed
Unnatural: 1 Hardened, 0 Failed
Violence: 1 Hardened, 0 Failed
Use this guide to calculate your ability scores, based on your Shock Gauges.
I’m XXXXXX, of Course I Can:
Identity: Agent of Shepherd’s Manor 30%
I’m an Agent of Shepherd’s Manor, of Course I Can: figure out Otherspaces, find a ritually appropriate door, perform the entry ritual to the Manor from memory.
Substitutes for: None; special.
Feature: Vague Information: By having a conversation with someone for sixty seconds or studying them for two minutes, you can get an idea of someone’s relationship to leadership. This might be their capabilities, their actual responsibilities, or something else entirely. See p. 49 of Book 1: Play for the specific rules of Vague Information.
Feature: Agent of Renunciation: The Room’s Otherspatial nature gives it some limited powers of the Statosphere, which it passes onto its Agents. Any time the Agent gets a die roll lower than their Secrets ability, they can choose to raise or lower it by 10—and only 10, not a fraction thereof. So an Agent with Secrets 70 who rolled 53 could make the roll a 43 or 63, if desired. This applies to all die rolls the Agent makes.
See Rules for Agents of the House for more details.
Magick: Adept School XX%
Feature: Casts rituals.
Feature: Magick [special].
Random magick domain:
- Current charges:
See [] for more details.
Avatar: Archetype XX%
Feature: Casts rituals.
Feature: Theme Music. Reality subtly bends to recognize the Avatar.
See []] for more details.
- Ritual of Entry (Shepherd’s Manor)
- any others
- any important stuff you own.
Cassandra Saintrae worked as a Parent Teacher Mediator for a successful profit-driven education group known as FreeBrain Inc., and her services were regularly employed by a competitive charter school in well-to-do South Hooksett, NH. Her job, though unconventional, entailed three primary functions. The first was advising administration on the most expedient ways to inflate grades so as to validate the school’s hefty price tag. The second was harassing underperforming teachers outside of business hours, at their homes, at their apartments, over the phone with a stranger’s voice drenched in static, and once at a funeral parlor bathroom when Miss Beatrice A. thought she was just attending a wake. The third and final duty of a Parent Teacher Mediator was to coerce the parental guardians of “Acutely Abnormal Irregularities” (or “AAI’s”) to either enroll their problemed children in the subscription-based FreeBrain Afterschool Online Interactive Sessions for Tutoring and Behavioral Corrections (or “FBAOISfTaBC”), or otherwise be sued for damages on behalf of the charter school. AAI’s were typically identified as being hyperactive, resistant to authority figures, and having black parents who couldn’t quite shell out the extra money in legal fees to navigate the courts effectively, as they were already broke from tuition costs.
The courts were always rigged in FreeBrain’s favor, as the draconian laws were lobbied into existence by FreeBrain themselves. And the company, with a growing national presence in 13 different states, would then funnel a portion of their settlement earnings to their partnered charter school administrators, in the form of a quiet donation.
This was the existence of Cassandra Saintrae, who thought of herself as a hitwoman of sorts so deeply that she kept a stiletto tucked under her skirt at all times “Just in case, you know, it really turns into a movie,” until she found out about the Atlantean Christblood that ran through her veins, and that her family were paid actors who never loved her.
“Yes. YES YES CASSANDRA. The husband? Fake. His secretions during climax? Bleached syrup. The three daughters? The pains of gestation and birth? A hallucination, a hallucination, a hallucination A HALLUCINATION. Your stretch marks and cesarean section scar? Those were never REALLY there the way you think they are, beloved Cassandra, you just have a poor body image. Too self-conscious—what’ve you DONE to yourself? Negativity and depression are inevitable what with your career-driven lifestyle. You work too hard for us, really, and we DO appreciate that Cassandra, but you’re beautiful just the way you are. Never forget that. Never LOSE that. Even if they never REALLY loved you, that family of paid ingenious actors, your beauty certainly made pretending to love you all the easier for them. Breathtaking. I can assure you.”
Cassandra had just stepped in from a long commute, and was informed of these facts by a home invader with strange anatomy—two identical balding heads at the ends of his wrists, and a massive blue waving hand fused at the top of his neck.
Save for the falling mucus and tears, Cassandra was motionless. And she couldn’t seem to reach for her knife to stab at the man whose sending-off message was “Atlantean Christblood runs in me as much as it runs in YOU, Cassandra Saintrae, the Saints themselves have truly blessed this company with so many but perhaps never one truly as beautiful as you.”
The man extended his neck so that his hand could swat her out of the house that was no longer hers, and slam the door behind her. When she reoppened the door she found herself in a barracks in disrepair. Gun racks with only a few rusted rifles. Empty gasoline drums. No bullets in the cartons labeled AMMUNITION. And at the center a mechanical dog, military-grade, deactivated, with the FreeBrain Inc. logo displayed on its head. So many doors in this room, and all of them lead out to a beach she’d never been to before.
“Might as well try to fix the dog,” was the first objective to grace her mind.