Through the Breach
Martial Arts and Alchemist
Speed 1] = 0
Charm 1] = 0
Concept: Dabbler (Alchemist/Drunken Master)
Harness Soulstone 1
Martial Arts 3
Defense = 1 but rules give minimum of 2
Willpower = 0 but rules give minimum of 2
Wounds = 3
Walk = 5
Charge = 6
Height = 2
Two talents banked for future
A & T Drakon pistol
Defining Suit (Ace, Five, Nine, King) Tomes [Clubs]
Ascendant Suit (Four, Eight, Queen) Masks [Diamonds]
Center Suit (Three, Seven, Jack) Rams [Hearts]
Descendant Suit (Two, Six, Ten) Crows [Spades]
[Stereotypical Racist Chinese Dialect Filter Applied] I could never understand why my parents would laugh whenever they would mention the “Golden Spike.” Honorable Father was a railroad worker who helped to build the Transcontinental Railroad. Mother was what the round eyes call a “hedge witch,” but my people called a wise woman. She told fortunes and mixed herbal medicine in the Chinatown of San Francisco. That’s where I was born. I’m not sure when. I appear to be in my mid-20s, but my memories go back to the San Francisco Earthquake. Mother says it is being one with the elements of nature; Father says Mother called upon the ancestor spirits to elongate my life. Well, as Father once said, “Best place for skeleton is in family closet.”
When I was young, the street gangs terrorized the alleys around Chinatown. I had to learn the ways of Kung Fu to protect myself. Many street toughs knew the way, as well. So, when I did not want to fight, I spent much time in Golden Gate Park. There, I discovered that I could blend into rocks and trees and bushes such that I was one with them. I knew what they felt and I communed with all elements within them. It saved my life when I angered street thugs, but it made much more of a difference when I learned of herbalism and alchemy. I could sense the right mixtures as the elements talked to me and I brewed potent mixtures when they told the truth.
But therein lies the way of madness. Sometimes, the elements lie. And when they do, the voices of the elements mix with angry voices of my ancestors who chide me for not using a sword, for not being able to paint, for not being a master of wei chi. It was as if my father was a noble who had been exiled. Yet, simply because father eats sour grapes shouldn’t put my teeth on edge. But when the potions go bad, so does my mind.
And that’s why I left San Francisco. I mixed a potion to provide superhuman strength for the leader of a neighborhood association. The voices spoke and the potion transformed him into a monstrous creature. He was strong—terrifying strong—and he threw two of the other tong leaders out of the windows of our upstairs association headquarters, breaking one of the leader’s backs and snapping the other one’s neck. Yes, my potion started the latest iteration of the Tong Wars. As deer should not toy with tiger, I ran away from San Francisco. Every man must wear out at least one pair of fool shoes and I certainly wore out mine. I heard of the marvelous wonders of Malifaux and decided that it might not only be safe for me, but it also might afford a place to become as one with the elements and block the angry voices of noble, but snobbish, ancestors from my head. Why don’t they bother Father? Working on the railroad is not noble profession. Why harangue simple son of railroad worker?
Malifaux is said to have many forces and powers. For me, it may the darkness that makes it hard to distinguish a hawk from a vulture. I intend to learn to center on the elements and learn to control the voices.