The echoes of your woes followed you like chains on a convict.
Born in a cold, sharp place, life had never been easy. Every day had been a fight for food, survival, companionship. But through a series of blunders, you had sunken lower and lower: first exile, then servitude, then heresy. Now, all that remained for you under the light of the Judgements, if you didn't flee or your crime was discovered, was oblivion. Perhaps worse.
And so you fled, using arts learned from secret, dark sources to enter through the realm of mirrors, where you would flee. It was not a decision made lightly: to attempt the act was heresy, and the dreamlit realm of parabola was full of its own hazards aplenty. But the potential for danger, no matter how severe, was infinitely more preferable than guaranteed oblivion.
The ritual required seven candles, a bowl of honey, and a truesilver mirror. Crawling inside, you would find yourself lost in a shifting desert: close to your intended location. You see, your plan wasn't merely to flee into the dimension of Is-Not: no, you knew that eventually, they would find you. Instead, you would escape, into another world, one ruled by different Judgements, ignorant of your crimes against them.
It took you many days of wandering under the cosmogone sun to find your destination, though the process was far more tedious than you expected: you had always required little in the way of food or water, after all, not after your transformation into a Servant, so there had been little threat presented by starvation or thirst that couldn't be warded off by a simple canteen of water and your rations of dehydrated meats.
At the center of the desert was a city, long abandoned, each and every surface carved out of polished and stained glass, imagery carved throughout in a dizzying array of colors: Irrigo and Viric and Violant and Cosmogon and even Peligin and Gant, forming a shifting mosaic of a metropoli covered in the glassen images of banded serpents and striped cats, the glittering light of the eternal desert sun giving the illusion of movement and animation.
Trudging, you passed through the shifting gates, shuddering as you saw images in their movement. Familiar ones. Memories surfaced in your mind: memories of your sire and dam. Memories of your youth, in the cold and sharp place. Memories of your first hoard. And most bitterly, memories of your transgression.
Who are you?
[ ] Mr. Masks: You collected and crafted Identities, expertly crafting false visages, both literal and metaphorical, intricate and without flaw. After you had Transgressed, it had made you an invaluable Servant: you could go anywheres, be anyone, and provide Visages for others that would allow them to do the same, letting them reinvent themselves entirely or go entirely undetected.
-Gain Quality: A Compulsion for Subterfuge
-Gain Skill: Masquecraft 4
-Gain Skill: Fashion 3
-Gain Skill: Spycraft 3
-Gain Artefact: An Impressive Collection of Hyperrealistic Semi-Animated Masks
-Gain Sympathies: Great Game 3
[ ] Mr. Glass: The temptation had always been there. Perhaps it was why you had been exiled. But your obsession was a cursed one indeed: your hunger had been for Mirrors. Glasswork. All to allow you to view into the infinite reflective depths. Abhorrent desires to your people, it had always set you apart from them. Upon accepting Servitude, however, it had become invaluable: your master had required someone capable of managing the acquisition and transport of vast, vast quantities of mirrors and glass, a hunger you were willing to supply if it let you indulge your own.
-Gain Quality: A Desire for Reflection
-Gain Skill: Glasscutting 4
-Gain Skill: Bureaucracy 3
-Gain Skill: Reflection 3
-Gain Artefact: Prismatic Parabolan Mirror
-Gain Sympathies: Industry 3
[ ] Mr. Honey: The first drop was all it took, and you were hooked. At first, you raided the hives of Chorister Bees, but it wasn't enough, it was never enough, and after your transgression, your patron had agreed, allowing you to experiment with keeping your own hives, your own garden filled with all manner of exotic plants for your bees to harvest narcotic nectars from, over time branching out and learning how to develop all manner of exotic and powerful delights, including Red Honey, forcibly extracted from those who had terminally displeased your master, who had a particular fondness for the suffering of his enemies.
-Gain Quality: Honey-Mazed Mania
-Gain Skill: Honeylore 4
-Gain Skill: Gardening 3
-Gain Skill: Torture 3
-Gain Artefact: A Cage Full of Very Immortal Bees
-Gain Sympathies: Bohemia 3
[ ] Mr. Coffins: Death was an inevitable part of life. One you had always had a terrible, terrible fascination with: it had started, of course, with bones and bodies, each of which you lovingly crafted homes of wood and stone, in order to immortalize and preserve the remains of those passed, but these had always been so...inadequate. So ephemeral, so minor. It wasn't until after the transgression that you had found your true desire: the eternal, bright spark that the Stars hungered for, the Soul. It wasn't long before you had a peerless collection of Souls belonging to great philosophers, poets, warriors, academics, and statesmen, each in handcrafted customized bottles. When you could, you paired these with a coffin full of the owners remains, turning your collection into something resembling a tomb.
-Gain Quality: Collector of Spirits
-Gain Skill: Spirifing 4
-Gain Skill: Cthonic Rites 3
-Gain Skill: Grim Specter 3
-Gain Artefact: Stygian Brass Scythe
-Gain Sympathies: Criminals 3.
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Small Fallen London crossover where you play as a rogue curator who decided to use Parabola to escape to a new world. Mostly something to blow steam off with a bit. Big warning, this will involve a lot of spoilers for the franchise.