Face of the Guardians of the Veil


Path: Mastigos
Order: Guardian of the Veil
Virtue: Prudence
Vice: Pride

Intelligence 2, Wits 2, Resolve 3
Strength 1, Dexterity 4, Stamina 2
Presence 2, Manipulation 4, Composure 2

Mental Skills: Investigation 3, Occult 1
Physical Skills: Athletics 1, Drive 4 ( +1 on two wheels ), Larceny 3, Stealth 3 ( +1 with a vehicle )
Social Skills: Persuasion 3 ( +1 to save a life ), Streetwise 2, Subterfuge 2

Merits: High Speech (1 dot), Allies (Guardian of the Veil, 3 dots), Hallow (2 dots), Resources (2 dots), Status (Guardians of the Veil, 2 dots), Sanctum (2 dots, both on security, Sanctum & Hallow are the same thing)

Health 7
Willpower 5
Gnosis 1
Wisdom 7

Mana 6 / 10

Speed 10
Defense 2
Initiative +6

Arcana: Mind 2, Space 3, Time 1
Rotes: Portal (Space 3, pg. 238), Scrying (Space 2, pg. 235), Correspondence (Space 1, pg. 232)

XP: 5
Arcane XP: 2


Quick was a 28-year old motorcycle courier in San Francisco. He grew up across the Bay in Oakland, but had moved into The City when he turned 19 to go to college at the San Francisco Art Institute. He wanted to be a painter but found that photography came much more naturally for him, as he had a keen spacial awareness. His professors were impressed by his technical prowess and his ability to abstract reality through the lens without using any special filters (he gained the nickname Quick after showing off his uncanny ability to figure out the correct shutter speed needed for different lighting conditions), but they were disappointed with his lack of direction and drive to enter the artist community — so much so that they started recommending that he pursue a different life path, telling him that it was a shame to waste such talent on someone as lazy as he was.

After four years of school, Quick was becoming increasingly unimpressed with the “professional artistic community” and decided to drop out. During his time at the Art Institute however, he found that he enjoyed riding his bicycle on long trips around the city, pushing himself on some of the steeper hills. He also found that he had gained some punk sensibilities from learning the “truth” about elitist professional artists and their exclusive community, and spent more and more time going to punk shows in the whole of the Bay Area.

At one of the shows, he met a girl (Myrna) who rode a 1967 Yamaha Journeyman motorcycle, and they became quick friends. She taught him about motorcycles and the freedom that came with them, and he took a deep interest…in both Myrna and her motorcycle.

Quick took on a bicycle courier job, and after about a year asked Myrna to move in with him. She did. Things went well, and the two would go on weekend trips out of the city, and up north near Russian River to get a bit of nature. He found that his photographic skills grew as they would surround themselves with redwood forests and grape fields, and his riding abilities grew as well. Sometimes Myrna even let him drive.

One Sunday they were on their way back into the city after a long weekend among redwoods. Quick was driving, and they were coming up on the Golden Gate Bridge. A thick fog was coming in fast, and engulfed the bridge just as they rode onto it. It was so incredible the two of them laughed at the sheer absurdity of it. The fog was so thick, they had to slow down a great deal. After about five minutes, Quick noticed first that they were still on the bridge, and second that there seemed to be no other traffic. He turned back to see if Myrna had noticed, and that’s when he realized that the weight of her arms was no longer around his torso. She wasn’t on the bike at all. He stopped the bike. He looked around. There was nothing but fog and bridge, and the bridge only extended until the fog started, and that was only about 15 ft from Quick. He turned around and rode back shouting Myrna’s name. He rode for an hour. Two hours. Still on the bridge. Still in fog.

Quick turned his bike back around. He had to have just missed her. He rode back toward The city. He rode and rode. Hours passed. Miles passed. Days passed. Quick refused to sleep until he found Myrna. How could he still be on the bridge? Where was everyone? Where was the world? Where was Myrna? He kept riding. Soon sleep took him, but just as it did, Quick heard the blaring of a semi-truck’s horn, and he opened his eyes to see it coming straight on. He swerved to the right and out of the fog and off of the bridge. It was morning. The sun was rising to the east of The City, and he sat alone on his bike off the side of the road while traffic drove past.

It was then that Quick understood exactly where he was in the universe and the precise moment in time as the seconds ticked past. It was the morning after he and Myrna had ridden onto the bridge. The weird thing is that he knew for a fact that the time that passed while he was on the bridge had also been real. Somehow there had been days added to the timeline within the span of a few hours. When Quick arrived back at his and Myrna’s apartment, there was a man sitting in his living room.

“Welcome under the Veil,” he said.

…more to come, but that’s his origin as a mage.


A Tale of Two Cities benjaminbeard SimonMiller