The city of Loom is located in Western Europe, Eastern France. Despite being within french territory, it is in fact an English speaking city primarily, and French second. But regardless of its geological position, it is still a city that attracts people from all over the world, and its not because its a famous tourist spot.

It boasts a population of four and half million people, almost double that of Paris, and consists of several notable sectors, separated by their purpose and use. Though the most notable things about the city are its occupants. While the majority of the city’s population is Human, there are other elements that exist outside of their perspective, sticking to the darker and damper crevices of the city.

---

---

Business District

The majority of the city’s wealth congregates here. Multi-million euro corporations buy and sell assets by the second, as their high rise company HQ’s rise higher and higher into the sky, their glass walls gleaming in the light of the sun.

The security and police presence of the area gives its residents a semblance of peace as they look down on the poorer denizens of the city, with no worries of the troubles happening below. The Citadel is also located here, an important historical landmark of the city.

Entertainment District

The Entertainment District is a place tends to be relatively calm by day, but bustling with life by night. Almost all of the city’s nightlife happens here, from prestigious nightclubs, to the less tasteful and dangerous host clubs and casinos. And in its darkest depths, gangs and organized mafias, plot against each other for “control” of the territory, luckily keeping their business to themselves.

The Residential

Simply referred to as the Residential, this section of the city bears the old and new of the city. Apartment complexes and small shops and businesses line the streets like beehives, with life coming and going from each and every building.

The Slums

The decrepit image of the slums can be a depressing assault on the eyes, with it’s crumbling buildings and even small shanty towns scattered around the outskirts. Crime for the sake of survival is common place here, along with the general scum and villainy.

The Suburbs

The quiet and well kept suburbs surround the outskirts of the city like a border, with urbanizations and privately constructed areas resting under background cityscape. All the buildings range from 2-story middle class housing, to private multi-floored escapes worth in the millions.

---

---

The Citadel

A tower of intricate gothic design that stands at a whooping 700 meters tall slap-bang in the middle of the city, is said to have been built in the 12th century, around the time of the city’s founding. How a building so tall could have been erected at that age is one of the greatest mysteries for architectural historians, and may perhaps remain so indefinitely, as no one is allowed to enter the building apart from a select few.

Or that is what is known about the building publically. It is in fact, the Passage to Heaven’s Gate, with an interdimensional rift located at the top floor of the building, the Gate itself. This Citadel is a home away from home for many Angels that reside here on Earth, and also the place where the Angelic Council resides for minor portions of time, returning to Heaven after their weekly sermons.

The Citadel acts as an Academy for the newly born cherubs that are found among humanity, raising them to adulthood, and training them in their genetically gifted talents until the time comes for them to serve the Council for the rest of their mortal lives.

The Underground

The Loom Underground is an old abandoned metro system that links the entire city together, with multiple points of entry. It is mostly used as a refuge by the homeless, who build small outposts across the city to congregate and get together into small communities, looking out for each other. But despite that, the Underground is still a dangerous place, as the deeper you go, the more deplorable and dark it becomes.

At its depths, after the first 2 levels, the Underground twists and contorts into tracks that lead to nowhere, or train tunnels that go for miles into a seemingly dark abyss, becoming stranger and more abnormal with each level, where gravity itself begins to twist and change at will. It is said by Demon Hunters that the Underground goes as far as 10 levels down, reaching a central catacomb of track that all link to a large auditorium, with a bottomless pit in the middle. A sole striking red-headed woman sits at the edge, playing a golden harp, and stops hapless fools from jumping into the pit. It is said to be Hell’s Gate, and the Woman, it's keeper.

The Hunter’s Lounge

An old bar hidden away in the slums of the city, it's a place of respite for many humans with the knowledge of the Secret World and its horrors. It is ran by an ex-member of the Catholic Templar Order, a rugged man called Fuse by the visitors. It is considered to be neutral ground by the many supernatural seeking factions of Loom, and no business between the factions can be conducted there.

Fuse himself is a relatively laid back man despite his experienced and lumberjack-esque appearance, treating guests with a smile and a first round on the house for fresh faces. Breaking the rules of his Lounge however, does not simply mean a ban, but the possibility of death. And considering the talents and skills of his visitors, death is a just punishment.

The Goblin Market

Located behind a magically sealed door under the Loom Bridge, the Goblin Market is where creatures of all shapes and sizes dwell and sell supernatural goods to those willing to make purchases with their strange currencies. Anything here could be sold, from magical artifacts to enchanted weaponry.

Humans are considered to be the weakest race of the main three. Easily influenced into the wims of both Angels and Demons through illusions or mental manipulation, or other magics. Physically they are just as weak, but their advantages come from their sheer numbers, their technology, and those born with magical affinity (which are very rare cases).

---

It is said that once upon a time angels and demons were created by the same creator. I do not know if that is true, because they seem to be so fundamentally different, but let me tell you young ones what I do know about the history of our race. The one history that does matter still.

During the Great War between the angels and demons Heaven – the majestic clouded kingdom our ancestors called Home, was destroyed. The Angels sought refuge on the Surface, where mankind dwelled. Of course, being as diverse and unpredictable as they are, humans had various reactions to us coming down to their land – fear, hatred, awe… some of our kin were sent to oblivion while others were held in the high respect they deserved. Yet, as much as they tried to resist humans were never as powerful as we are, and even as they sought the help of demons that only back lashed on them, leaving behind a plague of tainted beings that walk the night. The angels who now felt responsible for the fate of those foul beings made it their ultimate goal to protect the humans from both the demons and their own mistakes.

The angels then specialized in different spheres of service for the humans, building their hierarchy that would ensure for a just world. A world where everyone has a place and where everyone knows what is expected of them.

Yet angels couldn’t live on the Surface as they did in Heaven. The lure of human emotions reflected on them and they became enticed with this new species and seemed to catch up on what made humans human – diversity. The result of this is you, my dear fledglings, for you are not as close to our original ancestors as you might believe to be. You were created through a union of angels and humans and you hold a mind and personality of your own – something our ancestors didn’t have. Your lives will be only slightly longer than a human’s, and yet you are not entirely human either. As you explore your neighbor and compare him to a human being you could easily spot one difference – you bear wings.

And this is the only true difference between you and humans . Hahaha, I see you’re surprised and not all too comfortable with the idea of being compared to the lower beings, but are you aware why I say that? No? No wonder, each of you has qualities much beyond the capabilities of a human – regeneration, resistance to illnesses, mind control, nature manipulation, matter creation… flight. But imagine, if you even could, that you would one day lose your wings.

Yes.. what would happen is that you will lose all your super-human abilities as well. The reason for this horrible fate is simple – angels cannot recreate. They weren’t given that power. Human offspring is truly unique and vastly independent of their parents, but angels aren’t. What happens when one of us dies, dear students, is that our souls return to the void where they came from only to re-enter the world later on. What this means is that each of you carries the angelic soul of one of the original angels – on your back, in your feathers.

Now, you are well aware that all your memories are stored in your feathers as all of you should be asked to leave a feather in the Book of Fate at least once by now for the Council to inspect. You should be wondering then, how come you don’t remember that you’ve lived on this world before. The reason is simple and you can see it when you take a look at your neighbor’s wings. They’re all different, do you notice? The specializations your ancestors underwent are clearly imprinted on your immortal souls. They are all changed by the way your original specialized ancestors lived. You are all different. Your original ancestors weren’t. What do you think would happen if you could suddenly remember the origin of everything, hundreds of thousands of years ago? You would most likely break. This is why those memories have been locked away by the Council. Now, each of you could try to remember their past lives, if you’re so eager, but I strongly suggest you stop before you go mad and are no longer fit to fulfill your holy duties.

And yet.. if you do still try, and succeed in remembering even only 50 lives back, you could maybe become a part of the Council. If you have proven yourself to be objective enough in your judgments you will be one worthy of following and we all will devote our lives in service to your judgments.

The Council is indeed the most powerful entity in our hearts and our loyalty is with them before it is with any human kingdom or family. It is the ruling force that follows through the education and rising of new angels, making sure they fulfill their duties… and punish when needed. The core of the Council are the seven Archangels, the seven unchanged by time. You will probably never catch glimpse of them in your lifetime, because they still inhabit Heaven, and are rarely concerned with anything we find important. Yet, as the true objective ones, their opinions cannot be ignored, even if only a few Clairvoyant and some high-ranked Pure or Greys could ever communicate with them. So in case your fate is ever important enough to concern the Council, you would do best to look for any of the angels with blinding-white robes and a ruby tiara on their foreheads.

Us, the normal Angels, have a relative freedom of movement and action, as long as we serve the greater good, never put our personal interests before the humans’ and never neglect our duties. Depending on how you perform you might be punished. Self-sacrifice is often the worst possible crime you can commit, because it leaves you unable to serve and is hence devilishly selfish. And the most severe punishment for egoistic actions isn’t death, but an eternal immobility trapped in onyx until the Council decides your powers are for some reason needed and release them. Let me assure you, this is not a decision often made.

Now let me welcome you into our ranks as you are now officially one of us servants.

Angels come from the ruins of Heaven, formally their home prior to the Great War that nearly wiped them from existence, and caused the death of the Keeper of their Gate, Caine, leaving the gate into their world forever open.

Angels look just like humans, save for the wings attached to their back that they can hide either within their bodies, or though the use of illusions. Not all of them are dashing and their looks vary as much as the humans’ ones do. Still, they could be distinguished by the weird vibe they give you, the energy you feel them emit, and their vibrant or overly serene nature.

Of course, there are exceptions to the rule. The highly specialized physique of the Battle angels means their bodies are perfectly adapted for their tasks – they are athletic, fast and strong and tend to have bigger pupils that reflect light in the dark just like a cat’s.

Miracle angels, on their part, often use simple spells and tricks to catch the eye and convey their holy messages. They often make people turn in confusion trying to understand why the person they just passed by seemed to catch and reflect the light.

On a physiological level angels are once again pretty much like humans. They won’t die from a single gunshot, but they will sustain serious damage and will be unable to fight after a few.

---

Your mother told me you were considering going to the Surface for some inexplicable reason.

Now let me tell you this straight-on – don’t poke your nose there. Yes, I’m serious Mairick, don’t give me that idiotic smirk of yours. You might think you’re a big fly here but you know angels have been training to kill us for thousands of years and they’ve, believe it or not, become quite good at it. You might have realized that if you had the brains to ask someone more experienced than you who remembered the Great War. Heck, even you could probably remember if you weren’t busy scratching your ass half the time.

Nowadays the young angels are taught to hate and kill abnormal beings on sight, resulting in both blind submission to “the Council” and unwavering belief in their own powers and righteousness. The arrogance that sprouts from that is based on the ignorance of the real demons being at least just as powerful as the angels.

Furthermore, in order to keep the low-class angels submissive the Council created the image of demons as vicious monsters, while concealing the truth about the real demons being held in the same respect as angels and on the Surface are being feared or even secretly protected by the Council themselves! Haha can you imagine the looks on their faces if they were to find out some of the decisions made by their great leaders were influenced by the very same beings they hunt!

See, this is the risk of believing in authority. You become a winged brainless vegetable, a dog and nothing more. Of course, you always need rules, but you also need personal freedom. If my kingdom is to one day be ruled by a reckless and ignorant fool like you, then I would have to agree that the time to change leaders has come and accept any consequence – even if my land has to go to the incubus tribes of mirati.

Us demons don’t follow a strict hierarchy, and our abilities and shapes vary greatly in compare to the angelic ones. When an angel dies their immortal souls are passed on, but their memories are usually locked away from them, giving the children skill, but no personal experience greater than a lifetime. In comparison a demon has to spend their life in one form and when they have experienced it fully and learned all about it they participate in a ceremony. In that their bodies are cut open to possibly allow for a higher being to rise from the shell, their memories intact. Participating in the ritual is both an honor and a risk because often times the process is rushed by an impatient or greedy demon and the result isn’t a metamorphose but death. Are you listening, Mairick! No-one will be able to save your sorry-ass if that were to happen and you’ll free a space for another demon to be born in Hell.

Listen, we’re not all that different from angels, despite what anyone will tell you. The major difference between us is our perception of growth, development and death. Demons accept death as a necessary evil to evolution and to making their offspring stronger, IF they survive. Angels deny and resent death, clinging to the idea of eternal selfless perfection, yet it catches up on them too, one way or another.

Truth is, our bodies are much more flexible with living conditions than theirs – try shoving them in an oven and see if they can last longer than three days before they melt to ashes. Then again, that’s a stupid example because instead of killing them it would be much more beneficial to you to help yourself to their flesh and blood and consume the energy they waste with their existence.

So let this be a friendly warning, stupid son. I am much more aware than your mother that you need to follow your own path, but don’t get ahead of yourself. There is the time for everything and if you do want to try your luck up there - do so. But make sure you’re prepared and sure of what you have to gain if you do.

A paragraph wouldn't be enough to list all the species of demons and their appearance as they could be anywhere between everyday-looking objects to dragons. What we could explain is what we know about the species that threaten us most - the vampires and werewolves.

Both species share the common characteristic that they're very hard to kill. Often to achieve that angels resort to using fire and dismembering as the body can't repair beyond a certain point. However despite being extremely strong and fast those demons also have weaknesses and could be stopped with the right tools and sufficient knowledge.

- Even though they heal rapidly, silver and gold have been known to cause their skin to burn and slow down the rate of which the demonic cells heal.

- Prayers uttered by an angel are known to cause great irritation and, depending on the strength of the angel, even cause death. The method seems to occasionally work for humans as well and using it is encouraged when facing a demon but weapons are still known to work better.

- Blessed objects such as crosses and holy water could work if one was to come by ones blessed by a Miracle angel. Unfortunately it will have no effect on the demon if he is still young and his soul is mostly human.

- In olden times Sun was said to purify all evil but we now know it has a minimal effect on the demons. Hunters still researching the matter claim it has to do with angels leaving Heaven and depriving it of what some mockingly call "a holy filter".

Also known as “The Bureau”, this French Government funded group dedicates its existence to the investigation, study and containment of paranormal activity within the confines of Loom. Highly secretive and illusive, they manipulate the media from behind the scenes to hide the paranormal from the normal, even applying drugs to witnesses to manipulate their memories, and in extreme cases, doing what we would consider to be unethical, or even monstrous, in order to maintain normalcy. Though despite their efforts, things still tend to leak.

The Bureau on certain occasions work together with the Angelic Council when their missions have a common target. But they have been known to show hostilities towards them as well. Making their relations relatively neutral in consideration of their previous engagements.

Investigation

The investigation portion of the Bureau consists of former police and private investigators who have been recruited upon witnessing or surviving a paranormal anomaly, and their skills being evaluated as useful to the Bureau.

The majority of their work involves in inspecting crime scenes, following up on possible leads to the creature responsible, and finding them. Should their skills be insufficient in containing or destroying the being, then the job is passed on to Containment.

Containment

The containment portion of the Bureau consists of former military personnel and special forces who have been hand selected from various sources for the purposes of containing or destroying highly dangerous paranormal entities.

---

The School is an educational and secular entity that is on an invitation only basis. Inviting magically gifted humans into the school to train them in their inherent gifts, away from the prying eyes of the world. Hidden away in an unknown location, they segregate themselves from the outside world, believing that their gifts do not belong outside the walls of the School, and must remain a closely guarded secret from the public eye.

On rare occasions, they aid the Bureau with their skills with containing the paranormal, as their goals tend to be at least somewhat similar in nature.

---

The Illuminati, also referred to as the Illuminates, are a group of 13 corporate leaders that control the world through the use of financial “aid”, manipulation of technological advancements, violent military action and blackmail. They own a conglomerate of Mega-Corporations that all hugely benefit the respective services that they sell and produce. They are considered to be nothing but a myth.

---

Though there are many self proclaimed Demon Hunters who work independently, many flock to the Guild. The Guild, formally known as the Templar Order from a bygone age, is an organization lead by noblemen of various rich and royal families dedicated to the eradication of Demon kind across the world, through the use of their own mages, and skilled combatants on a hefty payroll, alongside their own technologies that employ magical properties.

They are known to have a close allegiance with the Angelic Council, and view the Bureau with a slight disdain due to their ethical inclinations of containment first.

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Race:[/b]
[b]Sub-Class:[/b]
[b]Description:[/b]
[b]History:[/b]
[b]Abilities/Skills:[/b]
[b]Notable Belongings:[/b]

Name: Full name of the character and/or any aliases they go by.
Age: Years of existence.
Gender: Sex of the character.
Race: Origins. Human, Demon or Angel.
Sub-Class: What type your character is. May not apply if you’re a normal human.
Description: What your character looks like, what types of clothing they wear and identifying marks.
History: Summary of their lives to present day, including details over key aspects of their lives, motivations, and any important points for plot.
Abilities/Skills: This includes magic spells to learned skills, each one needs to be noted about when they were learned in the history. Even briefly. Any magical or supernatural abilities need to be detailed about what they do and include their limitations.
Notable Belongings: This section includes anything out of the ordinary, from weapons to supernatural items or property owned.

Description:
Romeo, which is what we'll call him for simplicity sake, appears to be around the age of 25. Whatever material looks to be his "skin" is a very pale-sand tone, opposing the dark color of his black hair, which is held in a loose side-parting cut.
He is quite above average height, standing at Six foot Two, and carries broad shoulders, with a very stiff posture. Despite his deceptively thin appearance, he is actually quite heavy for his size, weighing in at 220 pounds, the result of him being constructed of steel, alongside a various array of light alloys.
His kind are manufactured to have the most appealing appearance possible. And Romeo is no exception. He is granted a sharp, well defined jawline, and flawless "skin".
Scientists in the lab provide the Synthetics with basic clothes. Black Khakis, a black T-shirt, and black Tennis shoes. The shirt, however, is slightly modified to allow for a small, yet important feature, that all Synths have. From their right shoulder sprout two thin steel pipes, each about an inch in diameter. His exhaust pipes.
Occasionally, during periods of heavy "exertion", you wouldn't exactly call it exertion as Synths are unaffected by the concept of stamina, steam will billow from these exhaust pipes, releasing any consumed gases into the atmosphere around them.
Synthetics usually have excellent posture, and never have the need to sit or lie down. You can tell them out from a crowd in a multitude of ways. One being, they don't really socialize well. Another, being their posture and absolute stiffness. A third, being how they look at things; they don't seem to be distracted vary easily at all, and can focus on multiple subjects at once, often gazing deeply into them with their emotionless eyes. Finally, they are generally very poor at creating facial expressions.
Synthetics are much stronger than their human counterparts. For purposes of lifting, pulling, pushing, etc. they operate at 1.5X the strength of peak human condition. Synths are also reasonably fast. Faster than most humans, but because of their weight, their ability for this is dampened. Synthetics have stellar endurance. The concept of stamina is no matter to a Synth, and they also don't feel pain. Even small blades, such as pocket knives, or switchblades, do little to no damage.
Another note, is that Synths have significantly increased reaction times.

History: Synthetics are a new technological advancement introduced by an organization known as "Myriad AI". They create these Synths for their own personal use, and mass profit. Originally having their synthetic creations armed only with military weapons and reconing technologies, Myriad AI began to develop more serious programs. One example of such program was an advanced experiment, code-named "Juliet". Program Juliet was an attempt to exploit emotions in AI. They attempted to create and control an artificial system of morals, advanced sentiments, and opinions, and insert them into the core hardware of a Synth. At first, they succeeded. And then they began the tests.
Previous Synthetics were not programmed to be, nor exposed to any level of emotional distress. R-27 was first on the line. In previous tests on humans, the results wildly varied, seeming to have widely different effects from individual to individual. Eventually, they began tests directly targeting Synth R-27. Throughout these tests, the limits of what the AI could handle were pushed severely, resulting in Project R-27 developing a systematical improbability, self awareness.
He becomes aware of himself as his own being. One able to make its own decisions, and develop its own opinions rather than being told how it felt at every step of its existence. He began to question why this was happening, and why he was here in the facility. Occasionally, out loud. He even began to show sign of insubordination, such as responding to a command with "Why?".
Myriad HQ was displeased. They ordered a reboot of his non-core memories, and a reset of his AI. Subject R intercepts this order, overpowers the unarmed staff, and escapes. He travels to a city call "Loom", and with Myriad agents in his tail, he needs to find refuge..and a purpose.

Name: Matthew Daniel Stanford (current name) / Michael/Mohannad/Mattathias (previous names)

Age: 400 years (estimated)

Gender: Male

Race: Demon(ically-infected human)

Sub-Class: Vampire

Description: Lean and spare, Matthew has slightly sunken cheeks, overly prominent cheekbones, and a straight, sharp nose; he's slightly too underfed-looking, but his sharp Eurasian features, combined with that knowing glint in his cloud-grey eyes, do give him a roguish charm. He looks like a man in his mid-twenties, and stands at about 1.65m / 5' 5", with slightly curly black hair worn at almost shoulder length and chestnut-brown skin free of scars or blemishes. He dresses neatly and comfortably in muted colours; long-sleeved turtlenecks, long pants or jeans, in beige and pale grey and blue almost as much as in black. A great deal of black still features, most notably the knee-length longcoat he conceals his knife within. Such warm, skin-concealing clothes are his preferred wear regardless of the occasion, though he has the skill and means to turn out in formal wear suited to the most solemn and lofty events if he must.

Matthew carries himself with the easy grace of a dancer - or a panther. He's confident in his abilities, and seemingly perpetually amused by the day-to-day quirks of life, almost condescendingly so, but there is something in the genuine curiosity of his questions, in the small, wry smile on his face, something bright and heavy in his eyes, that suggests more. Though his eyes may literally gleam bright in the dark, light reflecting off his tapetum lucidum, which along with the fever-heat of his body are the only true hints of his inhuman truth.

History: Where he was from no longer matters; what his birth name was, what language his parents spoke, who his people were, all of it is as dust in the wind to him. The earliest event of meaning that he will acknowledge remembering, with bitter amusement, was when a demon-touched woman good as killed him by accident, and her brother gave him of their cursed life to try to save him.

Matthew loves Hadrianus like his own true elder brother, but he's not sure if he will ever quite forgive him.

They travelled together for some time, helping each other learn their new lives. Hadrianus was kind and compassionate and disliked not just violence but the very idea of hurting humans; Hava was proud and angry and wanted to be a good person like her brother. Matthew, who had learned to fight even before he got his blood-hunger, who found it deeply unfair that they had never really had a say in becoming what they were, who had never really believed in justice and goodness, Matthew turned from hunting animals to hunting human prey because life was meaningless and dead was dead so he might as well taste sweeter blood.

Hadrianus did not like it, and Hava did not like it, but Hadrianus of the Fortress was the kind of person whose door was always open no matter how much it hurt him, and Hava followed his lead, and Matthew could do what they couldn't because he knew how to fight and run and hide and live, so they argued and acquiesced and split paths and rejoined each other as immortals are wont to do, once they have realised that they have eternity to wait for the other to change their mind.

And Matthew changed his own mind in the end. It might have been Asha's influence - Asha who was another of Hava's accidental would-be victims, who became like a very charming, very stubborn sister to Matthew, who loved the disparate changing human cultures and taught him how to appreciate the trappings of the rich, and had no patience for how he indulged his hungers. It might have been the realisation of how hollow his life was, the emptiness of it eating away at him. It probably wasn't that one time an angel caught up to him, the single bloodiest fight of his life because it just wouldn't die until he tore it apart limb from limb, and not before he'd nearly died himself. But the catalyst was probably when he realised that choosing not to kill was so much harder, that he had lost control of himself, that he felt almost like he couldn't stop even if he wanted to, when he caught himself looking at Hadrianus and wondering what a fellow vampire's blood would taste like.

So he walked out into the wild to die.

The blood-hunger was a horrid ache in his bones and a twitching want in his hands, until he was nearly delirious with the memories of the taste of it, but Matthew walked on past even the scuttling rodents in the grass because while he had never felt any particular guilt over any human's death, he was angry and stubborn and he refused to become so inhuman that he would turn on his sire, he refused to become so monstrous that all of life became only about his strength and his hunger, and it wasn't even that he believed in doing the right thing, it was only that he had always had pride in himself and nothing, not even what was stealing the strength from his limbs for want of blood, not even that was going to stop him deciding who he was.

When they found him, he could keep himself from tearing out their throats, even though he knew in his gut that if he did not feed soon he would likely die. They took pity on a lost traveller until he showed them his teeth and tore someone's flesh with his claws and licked the single taste of agonisingly tangy red off his fingers. When they tried to tie him down, tried to kill him, he tore the ropes and broke their weapons and lay down in the dust to die in peace because he wanted it, to be able to choose not to drink even with the scent of it thick in the air.

But then one of the men came up to him, knelt in the sand beside him, and with a knife spilt some of his blood in a bowl and offered it to him. And he didn't understand the words the man spoke but he understood the solemnity and sorrow in his voice, and the kindness broke his heart in a way nothing had in years upon years, and he took the bowl and drank.

He stayed with them for some time; he lived on rations of blood measured out for him, from the young men of the village and from the goats, and he learned their words and their prayers and helped to tend the flocks and gardens.

Eventually, Matthew left, because if he was not dead then he owed it to Hadrianus and Hava and Asha to let them know. He found Asha and then he lost her. He tracked down his wealth again, and hers too, learned his way back into the human world, and worked a deal with a demon for Contempt because he wanted a weapon that could kill an angel, and he wanted to trade away something he didn't want to have anymore, and because he wanted a reminder to keep by his side.

And here Matthew Stanford is now, in Loom, because here is the hub of the supernatural, lurking behind the doors and beneath the streets, and if Adrian and Haven Castle are to be found anywhere in the world, here they likely will be.

Abilities/Skills: The first and foremost ability of a vampire is that they are usually human in appearance, in all ways save for the fever-warmth of their skin and the cat-brightness of their eyes in the dark. When confronting prey or enemy, however, their fingers may twist into claws fit for rending flesh and their teeth sharpen for tearing bites. This mild physical alteration is voluntary for all vampires save neophytes, of which Matthew is not.

Strength and speed are significantly heightened in vampires, the better for them to hunt their prey, and they usually become stronger and faster with time. Matthew is fast enough that he is a blurred flash over short distances, and strong enough that a brick wall is a minor nuisance. Vampiric resilience is such that he sleeps only about four hours each day, and a donation of blood from a human will satisfy his hunger for about two days, while their regenerative capability is such that few wounds can trouble him for longer than an hour or two. Any injury inflicted by the burning touch of silver or gold, of course, is another matter entirely.

There is something in a vampire's bite that lulls their prey, fogging their thoughts and slowing their reactions. There is something to a vampire's senses, that their hearing is very keen, and faint scents are still sharp to their nose. There are other such subtleties that come with time; Matthew has learned that he can move silently with little care, and learned that he can feel the light thrumming presence of blood in any nearby beings, feel the burning of power within those veins as a warning of difficult prey, and he thinks that with time and cruelty, he might learn to make all that blood do his bidding.

But for now he will make do with his skill at the longsword and the knife, with his makeshift skill at small firearms, and with his firm belief in never picking a fair fight. He has a keen enough mind, especially when applied as a mix of careful forethought for a particular goal and bold improvisation, combined with his general thirst for knowledge. He has a sharp eye for reading people, or at least, it takes one liar to know another. And when push comes to shove, he is both very good at causing pain and at enduring pain, because at the end of the day, if Matthew is anything he is a stubborn, remorseless, sadistic bastard.

Notable Belongings: Matthew likes to be well-prepared, and his personal effects reflect it - a Glock 19 tucked into his belt, while two wallets and various pockets contain half a dozen debit cards, significant amounts of cash in three different currencies, travel documents made out to two different identities, a smartphone with nothing truly of importance on it, a small notebook with contacts and notes written in his native tongue, and a couple of spare magazines.

Concealed within his coat is a knife the length of his forearm, with a plain leather sheath and a gleaming black blade. Its name is Contempt, and when wielded in battle, so long as Matthew wills it, it calls forth the mortality within those locked in combat, that they may only be as strong and fast as a human, that no otherworldly power may answer their call, and any wound inflicted will heal at mortal speed; against a normal human or a being with no humanity within, it is only a knife. Paid for in flesh and blood, in memory and spirit, Contempt is practically an extension of Matthew; it will burn the hand of anyone else who tries to take it, and will dissolve to ash upon the death of its owner.

More generally, a combination of having found a banker he can trust, decades upon decades of investing his money, and a general accumulation of possessions from cycles of self-indulgence, paranoid planning, and self-imposed asceticism, means Matthew is obscenely wealthy, owns properties in several cities, and actually has concerns with which to occupy his time beyond his search for family and meaning.

Current Situation: Fairbanks had advised Matthew against venturing into Loom. The city had some interesting local initiatives, but the dangers of so much as a three-day holiday, much less living there for the foreseeable future.... "The city's crime rate is alarming, sir, but that wasn't what I meant. Loom has a certain reputation for attracting the particularly amoral and cutthroat, if you'll forgive my phrasing, and this reputation spans both sides of the masquerade. If you intend to maintain a low profile, it may actually be the more dangerous approach."

But here Matthew had wanted to come, so here he was. With young William in tow, helping him pick out furniture for the new apartment, update him on current affairs, and provide blood once every two months. What the vampire was going to do for blood every two days until the next time was up to him to figure out. There were homeless people in just about every city in the world, so he hadn't worried.

Except now he was revising his opinions. The beggars knew a great deal, as the invisible downtrodden often did, so he hadn't had to worry about surprising them with his inhuman nature, because this was Loom. What did matter was that many of them would have nothing to do with his ilk, not even for food and money, because this was Loom.

There was also that one strange man who looked far too pretty but lacked any blood-scent whatsoever; in fact, he lacked the scents of sweat or fear and any number of other things that would have marked him a living mortal human, because this was Loom, apparently.

So one and a half months since his arrival, Matthew was having to go further and further to find another individual willing to bargain. And then the incident happened.

He'd noticed a police detective who thrummed with power, who was talking to the homeless folk and asking questions. Power he'd only felt up close once before, from an angel. Power he realised that he'd felt faintly throughout the past month, skittering through Loom, that set him on edge. Of course he followed her home, to see if he could learn anything about her.

What he had not expected was to save her from a mysterious assailant.

(Note: I do not own this picture and will remove it if I am informed it is copyrighted)

Name: Zafira (Zee) al-Rashid

Age: Apparently early thirties

Gender: Female

Race: Human (for a given value of human)

Sub-Class: Freelance guardian angel

Description: Approaching average height only in heels, Zafira manages a striking impression all the same. That isn't because of any particular externality, though her dark hair is fashionably tousled and her lean, dangerously feminine build is appealing. Her eyes are the color of coffee and glitter with intelligence; wide enough, it might seem, to take in the whole world. A full, expressive mouth curves against a complexion with the rich olive tones of the Middle East, her lower lip marked by a small scar. Still, all of this is background compared to the way she moves. Every motion carries a flawless, captivating grace, giving the impression that Zee is never more than an instant from moving into some complex, light-footed dance. Her body language doesn't exactly demand the limelight, but she does draw the eye with the way her hands move while she talks, or the tilt of her head, or the toss of her hair away from her neck. There are marks on her skin, the scar on Zee's lip is complimented by another small mark that cuts through her left eyebrow, with both being family to several other larger marks elsewhere on her body.

Zafira's wardrobe is, in a word, eclectic, since quite a lot comes from thrift stores, though everything she wears is well-made and fits well. She tends to choose closed-toed shoes (and prefers slightly heeled boots over anything else), and has an impressive collection of band t-shirts. In the rain, Zee is entirely unashamed about her umbrella, which has stained-glass cartoon dragonflies on it, and in cold weather she can be found wrapped in a vintage RAF greatcoat that fits like it was made for her. Both of Zafira's ears are pierced several times, and she tends to decorate her fingers and wrists with jewelry, from plain polished bands to elaborately-engraved bangles and bracelets. Quite a few are painstakingly-constructed magical foci, though that's really only clear to someone tuned into the supernatural.

History:

Savannah, Georgia, August 2012

"Don't ask me to do this, Zee."

Her voice was soft, her fingers laced together with mine. We looked out over the ocean, and I didn't need to look at Maddy to see the tears. Under other circumstances, tonight was of no particular significance - it wasn't Easter or Halloween or a Solstice - but that's the problem with prophecies. If you get someone mad enough, and powerful enough, to actually bend the universe to their will like that, they tend not to be all that interested in whether or not they're choosing a day with the proper dramatic importance.

"Why is it my choice?" I said, but there was a smile in my voice.

Maddy looked down, "Because I...I know what this means for you." She sniffled, "This all you've ever known. What you were made for, right? Keeping me safe, making sure I got here, and then walking into the new world together, all of that. And...if I walk away, I don't know what that means for you."

I followed her gaze to the thick slab of black glass on the low stone wall in front of us. For decades, it had been nothing more than a curiosity hanging on the wall of her bedroom and tonight, now, it glowed with a redolent, swirling light. Runes and sigils pulsed around the edge of the disk, and in the surging light in the center, I thought I could see faces, or half-glimpsed scenes.

"But if you ask me to," Maddy continued, "I won't. I'll pick up the Mantle. Because for two decades you've fought and bled for me, you've stood up to things I can hardly imagine and run off shitty boyfriends and you've held me when I was lonely and homesick. And if I walk away, I know I'm hurting you, because I'm taking away everything you are." She sniffled again, and I saw the light reflected in the tracks of a tear down Maddy's cheek, falling from the eye she still had.

I squeezed her hand a little harder, "I haven't always been perfect," I said, a wry expression on my lips.

"You look human," Maddy grinned, just a little, "That means you're at least a little bit human. Which means you're a little bit fallible."

I pulled my eyes away from the glass slab, and studied Maddy's face. I brought my free hand up, traced the lines the scars made across her skin along her cheekbone, ragged and pale. Maddy didn't flinch, but her green eye looked into mine. The pain and uncertainty there broke my heart.

"This prophecy's already cost you so much," I said, tracing a thumb over her cheekbone. I blew out a sigh, "I expect I should say something like 'but that's the cost of destiny.'"

Another sad grin, "But it's not just me - you've been paying the price for my destiny, Zee. And I have. And Mom and Dad have, and..." She turned her head away, and I dropped my hand. Maddy looked out over the ocean, carefully not keeping the disk in her view.

"And then what?" She wiped her eye, "You all keep paying forever, because I make a choice? I choose to make you pay that price? What kind of person does that make me? And don't tell me what the prophecy says, I know that by now."

"I'm tired of monsters," she said, "I'm tired of things coming out of my dreams or the woodwork or out of the shadows. I want to go out and catch fireflies without wondering what's going to charge from the darkness. I want Mom to stop praying every day, and I want to get married and have a daughter and tell her that the world's fucked up, but that we can change it."

"By walking away from your chance to do just that?" I asked.

Maddy sighed, and shook her head. "It's not the right way, Zee. It costs too much. It's...wrong."

I hesitated, choosing my words with care, "There are...people who would disagree."

"Yeah, well. I didn't invite any of them tonight. I brought you, Zee." She turned to look at me, and I saw her eye was dry. "It hasn't been much of a life, all these years, knowing what I am. But at least I've had one. You, though, you've had a purpose, and that meant you've always been behind me, bound by my destiny. And I want you to have more than that, Zee. I want you to have a life, I want you to have something more than a sword and bad sleep and wariness and pain on my behalf."

He voice softened, "I want your freedom. But I also know that freedom is terrifying. You have the answers of your life, and for that matter so do I, I just hate them." The ghost of a smile tugged at her lips, "I want your freedom. But I won't force that pain on you." She swallowed, "I...love you, Zee. You're important to me. That's why if you ask me to take up the Mantle, if you ask me to protect everything that's driven you for the last twenty years, I'll do it. If you ask me."

I was struck dumb.

She could lead the world, if she wanted to. I don't mean with the Mantle, though that was what it had been made for. I don't know if she realized it, but she was one of the people that you listen to, whose will bends the universe for them, just a little. She spoke, and for the first time in my life, I felt...doubt; something other than the perfect assurance that had always rung in my mind like a clear and crystal bell.

I looked down at the glass disk again, one hand reaching out almost involuntarily toward its smooth, pulsing surface, but there was nothing for me there. I saw no visions of the future, felt no stirring of grand ambition. It didn't care about me; I wasn't important. That realization came crashing down on me in a wave, and I blinked. I looked back to Maddy, and struggled for what to say. I took in a breath, blew it out, and I couldn't meet her eye.

She was the product of the prophecy, and for that matter, so was I. She was born under the right star, at just the right time, and the power of the prophecy wrapped around her - exactly the way a generation of people had expected. At the same instant, I stepped into the world, fully-formed and whole, ready to stand at her side. Maddy came into the world in a hospital, into a bright and unfamiliar world filled with impossible expectation. I remember stepping out of a shadow in an alley, the first sound in my ears that of a paper wrapper crunching under my boot. From that first instant, I knew that Madison was capital-I Important, because everything that made me said so. That fact had been my foundation, my breath and my blood.

For the last two decades I had been her guardian, and I had known exactly what I was meant to do. That certainty had a delirious perfection to it, a simplicity that narrowed my life to a path where I knew every step I would take. For twenty years, I had help raise Maddy, I had defended her, I had stood in the path of everything that would harm her, because that's what the prophecy said I would do. Because I was the guardian, and Maddy was Important.

An ocean of ink had been spilled about Maddy; it swirled through her life, wrapped her in words and expectations. Mystics, maniacs, family - they had all thought she was Important, too. She, in fact, was the only thing to be so. Everyone else was...extra, ancillary, unnecessary. Maddy was the one who mattered, because of course she did. Her parents weren't important, her teachers weren't important.

I wasn't important.

And of course, I had known that was true. I stepped in the path of some shrieking horror's claws because if I was hurt, it meant Maddy wasn't. I followed her family from one city to another, never really settled, because of course I did.

I wasn't important to the prophecy.

But I was important to Maddy.

And that changed everything.

With an effort, I tore my eyes away from the disk of black glass, and I looked at my ward. I saw the ragged scar that tore down the left side of her face, a permanent marker of the time I'd failed. I saw her fear, and her courage, and her love - and I saw a young woman who deserved more than shackles.

"Do you want pizza?" I asked.

"What?" Maddy said, "Zee-"

I gripped her hand, "Listen to me, all right? Gino's will still be open for another half an hour, and I'm starving. It'll take us fifteen minutes to drive there, but I think they'll forgive us. Sam's a friend."

Maddy looked confused, "Wait, did you hear-"

"I heard you, Maddy. And I'm flattered, and humbled and all of that." I waved my free hand dismissively, "But there's not a question here. You want me to make the choice?"

I unlaced my hands from hers and took a few steps away. I found what I was looking for without much effort, retrieved it, and took stepped back toward Maddy.

"Here you go," I said, and I handed her a heavy, jagged stone the size of a big fist. She took it in her hands, and I stood back.

"You're really sure?" I asked.

Maddy looked at me, then down at the glass disk, then back. She nodded, took a step forward, raised the stone over her head, her body arcing in one of human form's most primitive and simple displays of power. A part of me thought time would slow down or stop, or that something would happen - that a meteor would come streaking out of the atmosphere and knock the stone away - but there was nothing like that. Maddy shifted her weight and her arm came down, cutting through the air like a falling mountain.

When the glass broke, the sound wasn't the tinkle of a window pane or the pop of a bottle. It sounded heavier somehow, more muted. Each fragment fell, still filled with the strange whirling light, each still winking with a rune or some piece of a language I didn't understand. After a moment, the light seemed to run out of the shards, each flicker and mote rising into a small, tight vortex.

"Maddy," I said, "We might want to stand b-"

The lights whirled together then burst, silently, in an expanding ring of multicolored fire. It passed through Maddy and I without any obvious effect, and though I don't know what I expected, neither of us doubled over or burst into flame ourselves. Electric street lights flickered and buzzed when the ring passed, but returned to their normal sodium glow a moment later. After a few dozen yards, the whole thing dissolved, whirling away into motes of glowing glitter.

"Is that it?" Maddy asked. We both took a step forward, looking at the shattered artifact.

"I think so," I said, and nudged a fragment with the tip of my boot. It clinked like obsidian, but did nothing else.

Maddy leaned down and picked up another shard, "What happens now?"

I took a deep, long breath, felt the air swirl in my lungs. It felt clean and new.

"You talked a lot about certainty, about purpose," I said, "You were the Chosen One. I was your guardian angel. But you know what I'm still certain of?" I grinned.

"You still want pizza?" Maddy said, standing. She wrapped the fragment in a handkerchief and tucked it into a pocket.

"I still want pizza," I said, and grinned.

We turned away from the ocean and started walking back the way we'd come, the sound of the water at our backs. I felt...strange, and light, like something had changed but I wasn't entirely sure what. Maybe it was just low blood sugar. But next to me, Maddy stood straight, her shoulders back, and with every step she seemed to unwrap from herself, her arms swinging free at her sides. The city lights sparkled in her eye like reflected stars, and I saw a smile pull at her lips.

We were quiet for the long walk back to the truck, stepping up into our seats with easy comfort. I reached forward, turned the key in the ignition, and the cab jerked the way it always did, the way that I kept meaning to have checked. I turned the lights on, put the transmission into drive, and then paused.

"You know," I said, "I've always wanted to go to France."

Abilities/Skills:

- You're A Wizard, Zee: Zafira has an intimate connection with the currents and movements of magic through the worlds, a result of being conjured from raw magic by Maddy's prophetic destiny. Her command over that power extends largely into the realms of channeling power for defensive magic (shields and wards) along with lightning-flavored evocations. With time and effort, she's also capable of making various enchanted gewgaws, but that process is very time and labor intensive. Though she is considerably skilled in the Art, the more power Zee channels into any particular working, the more physically and mentally taxing it is on her. She is entirely capable of blacking out from this exertion.

- Old-Fashioned Girl: A guardian angel (note the lack of capitals) needs to have a sword, and Zee is no different. But because a weapon you don't know how to use belongs to someone else, she is also a competent close-quarters fighter. She isn't spectacular or effortless, and a dedicated student (especially creatures that have been fencing for several human lifetimes) will outclass her, but she acquits herself well, with or without her weapon. Zee in addition is very well aware of how to maintain and repair the weapon, even to the point of making a new one if necessary.

- Hard to Kill: She isn't stronger than a run of the mill human, and she isn't faster, but Zee is absolutely tougher than it seems like she ought to be. Not that she'll be shrugging off broken bones and bullet wounds, but the machinery of her body is harder to damage than even an exceptional human. She also heals from injuries more quickly, and more completely, than her neighbors, but that's cold comfort when she's still waiting for a broken arm to knit back together.

- I Know Him: The supernatural world is entirely within the sphere of what Zee considers normal. She's never not known there were vampires and angels, or that Bedazzled wasn't an accurate depiction of the denizens of Hell. Her knowledge is not encyclopedic, but it is extensive.

- Training Day: Zee is in remarkable physical condition - and she works for it, too.

- Someone to Watch Over Me: Zee still is a guardian angel, and has found she can attune that to other people at will. That connection becomes more significant with time, but gives her a subconscious awareness of an increasing number of things about the person's life. That includes things like knowing whether someone (or something) wants to hurt them, where they might have left their keys, or whether the family curse is real. She also can take no action to harm that person, and is compelled to actively defend them if they are in genuine danger. Over a long enough span of time (years), fate will ensure she's in a position to help. This connection is voluntary, and Zee can terminate it when she wants to (for example, at the end of an engagement with a client).

- Friends in Low Places: Zee has contacts throughout the supernatural districts of Loom, ranging from passing acquaintances among the Angels to information brokers in the Goblin Market. Some owe her favors. One wants to kill her.

- No Crossroads Involved: One of a very few hobbies Zee has had for most of her life, Zee plays the guitar, and she does it quite well. Most of her repertoire is bluegrass, blues, and old American Country music, though she's always learning something new. She sings too, and very well indeed, and is a regular fixture at coffee shops and restaurants around Loom.

Notable Belongings:

- 221B Rue Boulanger: Zee has a small, cramped, old office on street level in a part of town that's not exactly notorious, but doesn't have the best reputation all the same. There are two signs on the door, one of which is much sillier than the other. Both indicate that if you were looking for someone to help you with the occult, this might be a place to go.

- Fashion Swordward: Swords aren't exactly common fashion in the 21st century, and Zee usually doesn't actually carry hers. Instead, she summons it to her hand with a thought - provided she hasn't been caught in a magic circle, is under the effect of a drug or alcohol, or the ring she's made for this specific purpose isn't sitting on her dresser. The sword itself is similar to a European hand-and-a-half sword with a wire-wrapped hilt, balanced perfectly for her size and build. The entire weapon is adorned with bright silver design work, which is mostly decorative. It can be taken by others (Zee can only dismiss it if she's holding it), destroyed, and damaged, and is not normally a holy weapon.

- Foci: Some of Zee's jewelry are also potent foci for the kind of magic she's most proficient at. This includes charms to make shields easier to project, a complicated bracelet on her right wrist and palm for guiding lightning bolts from her hands, in addition to a pair of earrings that help not leave her concussed and deaf from the thunderclap. She can still do magic without them, but it's much, much more taxing. These objects were specially created by her over a period of weeks or months, and she does not have spares.

- Home Sweet Home: Zee has an apartment in the Residential part of the city. It's small but cozy, with a fireplace. She genuinely loves the place, and has made it a home in every way she knows how. That can be important for creatures with a sensitivity to thresholds...

- Independent Transportation: While she spent most of her life driving trucks on the wide-open streets of the United States, that really isn't an option in an old European city. Zee has long since taken to the motorcycle life, and owns an older but impeccably well-maintained motorcycle, which she uses for almost all of her transportation needs that aren't met by a bus or train.

- Sentimental Value: Zee wears a pendant around her neck on a thin chain, carved from the black glass that contained the Mantle. The pendant itself is carved in the shape of a single stylized angel's wing.

I already sent this to our GMs, but it's here for transparency and completeness' sake too.

1.) History

i.) Who Made the Prophecy?
An enormously powerful, unhinged sorceror in the 1550s. He was jealous of Nostradamus. His name was Joseph Latienne, and he died in 1588.

ii.) What Was the Prophecy?
That an individual born under specific circumstances (alignment of planets, phase of the moon, following certain events in history) would inherit the primary power of the prophecy, which is the Mantle. The Mantle is (was) a separate enchantment laying dormant in a disk of black glass, only accessible to the subject of the Prophecy on a specific day. Latienne did not consider that the individual in question would not want to take it up.

iii.) What Is (was) The Mantle?
A powerful psychic enchantment, allowing for the selected individual to do nothing less than influence the minds of those around them in a meaningful and likely permanent fashion. The holder of the Mantle was meant to lead the world into a 'New Age.' The propecy itself is unclear what that New Age was going to be, and Madison never found out.

iv.) What was the New Age?
Violently oppressive autocratic rule under the holder of the Mantle. But hey, that's a New Age. Latienne was crazy.

v.) Why was Madison chosen?
She is the product of a generations-long knot of people faithful to Latienne's prophecy. They wanted to see that the Prophecy came to pass almost as a scientific experiment. Her parents were involved with this group, and both they and Madison were aware of the supernatural world.

vi.) Zee's Early Life
Zee did not have a childhood; she was created more or less at the same instant that the Prophecy's magical tendrils wrapped around Madison. I really don't have a preference how this is squared with the game's lore, but I'm falling back on "Latienne was unbelievably powerful, capable, and insane." He believed the Chosen One needed a guardian, and made sure they had one. Maybe those people faithful to the Prophecy's power were constantly making small adjustments to the Guardian's latent creation spell, to ensure that she came into the world with a generally-well-adjusted adult's level of knowledge and capability rather than speaking centuries-old French. I promise this isn't narrative laziness, or, well, more than usual.

vii.) What Happened To Madison
Maddy went to college and is pursuing a graduate program in social work. She is dating a man named Samuel Tanner, who is planning to propose in six months' time. They are currently on vacation in Paris. There was a fairly intense amount of fallout from her refusal to pick up the Mantle, but in the end, there was nothing really to be done as the enchantment really did unravel. She has not been attacked by magical creatures since turning away from the Prophecy, although she has also been being very carefully normal. Zee and Maddy correspond regularly, via written letters.

viii.) How did Zee Choose Her Name
The nameplate on a car she passed and a student walking by carrying a book about Haroun al-Rashid. She also looks Arabic.

2.) Wizard Stuff

i.) Gewgaw
It's one of my favorite words!

ii.) Exhaustion
Working large amounts of power is physically exhausting, with combat magic being exhausting on a whole other level. You might think of her like a magical boxer - every working takes effort, and she won't be throwing the hardest punches she can all the time. In fact, if she winds up doing a lot of little things, throwing those big hits won't happen either. Throwing a lot of flashy, offensive magic over a short period of time will probably leave her unable to conjure a shield to defend herself, if she has to. Similarly, defending a number of people from a hail of gunfire for a long period of time will absolutely leave her with swimming vision and a limited ability or desire to fling lightning back. Nothing comes for free.

iii.) Limits
When approaching her limits, Zee first feels that the spell is harder and harder to shape to get to her desired outcome (for exmaple, she may need to shrink the covered area for a shield), followed by physical exhaustion (including loss of balance, double/tunnel vision, and lack of coordination) and mental exhaustion (spells are harder to even concieve of). In extreme circumstances (or if she's just not paying attention to her body, through adrenal reactions, drugs, or other meddling) she is capable of working a powerful spell when she's really not supposed to, and will black out as a result. This is a serious medical condition.

iv.) Recovery
Like recovering from strenuous physical activity, Zee needs a period of time of Not Doing Magic to get back to baseline after doing a lot of spell-slinging. This is depenant on how much power she's been working lately, just the way it would depend with whether a person just did a triathlon or if they took a jog around the neighborhood.

v.) Shields
Zee's shields are generally tuned to redirect kinetic energy and magical assaults rather than directly absorbing them, most of the time. When the option is open to her, her shield will typically make a bullet ricochet with minimal energy absorbtion, and deflect or scatter magical attacks rather than simply overpowering a working. The first regime is more sustainable (though not over serious timespans, say more than 5 minutes in general), the second is not practical for anything except "not flinging bullets into other people in a crowded hallway." She is capable of redirecting the entire magazine of a military rifle (30 rounds delivered over two seconds) with a shield that spans a half-dome in front of her with a diameter of her height, and still be able to retaliate afterward. She is capable of directly stopping perhaps a third of that before the shield would fail and she'd get shot 20 times. Another example would be providing an instantaneous, cushinoning barrier around someone falling off a second-story building to keep them from breaking their neck. Zee is also capable of redirecting magical workings of her own strength, for a considerable period, depending on how many come in at once.

The short answer for this is 'trust me,' the long answer is 'she can protect herself or others to a point, and after that point it's not great for her.'

vi.) Not Shields
Generally speaking, Zee is capable of controlling the initial point of evocation - for example, a stroke of lightning from Zee to a target. In other words, the lightning strike typically comes from the palm of her hand (and typically from a focus she can slide down from her wrist and over her palm) and lances straight toward a target. Barring extensive control afterward, the electricity will then take the natural path from there. That said, an attack would not be a sustained arc; the stroke of power will be over an extremely brief period of time. I think it's probably important to say that Zee can't control the weather; she can't call a thunderbolt out of a clear blue sky (although I have some fun plans for a hail-mary move if there happens to be a stormcloud overhead anyway). As before, big magic is big effort, and she can't do it forever (or even for long, or many times in rapid succession.)

vii.) Control
I like to think that Zee has very fine-grained control over her power, including charging her cell phone, refilling a car battery, Tasering someone, etc. This is all subject to what's been said previously; filling her cell phone probably is very close to zero effort, while incapacitating someone from a distance will be more of an effort.

viii.) Spread
Continuing from the discussion in vi.), the electricity will follow the path electricity would normally follow after a strike, unless Zee expends an enormous amount of effort making that not be the case. Striking someone through a conductive medium (salt water) is something she could do, along with electrifying a fence. She can probably destroy electronics fairly easily, although she tries not to.

3.) Getting Punched A Lot

i.) Not-so-Mutant Healing Factor
If a broken bone would take 6 weeks to heal on a standard, run of the mill human, Zee will probably be completely recovered in 4. The bone will also be healed more completely, without the telltale evidence that it had been broken (thickened bone around the break, marks and scarring, etc). In addition, she heals remarkably rapidly from connective tissue injuries (torn ligaments heal in a matter of weeks rather than months, sprained muscles in days rather than weeks). In addition, she tends not to lose muscle or bone density or dexterity while a limb is immobilized. Nerve damage will in all cases heal (including spinal injuries), with speed depending on what was damaged. A damaged spinal cord would take years (or decades) to return to even moderate function. A deep cut on an arm would restore nerve function by the time the wound healed. Wounds tend to leave scars, but so far she hasn't been hurt in a way that's permanently affected her body in a mechanical way.

ii.) Injury Resistance
Zee's body is simply a little bit tougher than normal, perhaps by a factor of 2. It is harder to bruise her, harder to break her bones, harder to concuss her or damage her internal organs. Her connective tissues are more resilient to damage, her muscles more resistant to strain and sprain. Considering that virtually everything in the supernatural world is much, much stronger than twice human baseline, this isn't often actually all that helpful, and she tries to avoid getting hurt to begin with. This has absolutely been noted by the doctors who have occasionally had to stitch her up. Her pain threshhold is extremely high, but that doesn't mean she can stand up if she's lost most of her blood.

iii.) Prior injuries
Zee has been shot twice, both times with handguns. One is on the left side of her abdomen, and left her in the hospital for about a week, and she survived largely due to Maddy calling an ambulance and the fact that the person who shot her was within dispatching-range. The other shot was to her calf, which was painful but not life-threatening, from when a bullet made it around her shield. She has a series of three deep scars across her lower ribs from a werebear she had to deal with after she moved to Loom, which hit her hard enough to lift her a couple of meters into the air and throw her through a shop window. She fought the bear hand-to-hand (or sword-to-claw), and it took around a month for all of the aches and pains to go away, though there have been no long-term effects other than scarring.

4.) I'll be Watching Over You

i.) Attunement
This attunement is activated by a simple act of will and exchange of consent. Zee will touch someone (usually by putting a hand on their shoulder), concentrate for a moment, and then little pieces of that person's life will start to fill her mind, building slowly over time. The same effort of will can break the connection, as can a client's withdrawl of their consent.

ii.) Split Attention
She can do this to more than one person, but it's uncomfortable. She's never done more than three, and now makes every attempt to connect to only a single person at a time.

iii.) Fate
This means that if she's attuned to a single person for a very long period of time, the stream of Zee's personal causality will start to warp to the point where if she happens to be taking her sword to the gym to practice spariing with a friend, that will also be the exact moment that her charge needs to be defended from something that needs a sword to kill it. Or, more prosaically, that she'll always have bus fare in her pocket (even though she didn't intend to, or even if she'd intended to use that change to buy a pastry on the way home) if her charge needs to get on transit and forgot their wallet. She becomes their guardian angel, even for the little things, and even if it's inconvenient for her. If she's on vacation and danger is going to come to her charge, either she'll have a pressing reason to return home, or her charge will by coincidence happen to be just a few yards down the beach from where Zee is sunbathing when some fanged monstrosity comes flopping out of the water. This takes several years to establish, and since Maddy, Zee hasn't allowed her connection to anyone to persist that long.

5.) Weaponry

i.) Conductivity
Silver is the only commonly-available metal that is more conductive than copper, and it has the benefit of also being anathema to a lot of hostile supernatural creatures. Zee shoots lightning out of her hands. The sword is a really good electrode.

ii.) How Zee Summons It
The weapon is bound via an enchantment to an engraved silver ring. When Zee wears the ring (which is not always), she can summon the sword to the ring, and thus into her hand. The same enchantment allows her to dismiss the weapon back to where it was before (which is usually leaning against the door in her apartment). This can be blocked by magic circles, wards, or being in another dimension at the time she tries to summon it to herself. The ring and enchantment were something she bought at the Goblin Market, and is not a built-in part of her skills. The ring can be destroyed (by being melted, but probably not by being physically damaged); Zee does know how to make another ring if she had to, but would very much prefer not to.

6.) Foci

i.) Earrings
A pair of Zee's earrings (elaborately and very finely engraved silver studs) function to keep her from being deafened and dazed by nearby loud noises. These can include the thunderclap from her own power, explosions, and gunfire. They can deaden the bang from a flashbang grenade, but the light and explosion-ness from that kind of experience is still something unpleasant.

ii.) Rings
Most of Zee's rings are just there to be pretty (which is why she sometimes forgets to put the sword-summoning one on). Two of them, however, store a significant electric charge, which Zee can release into someone (or something) she's holding. She genuinely uses them mostly to gently zap people out of the way at concerts (with little pulses of power), but they can each incapacitate a big man if she dumps them out all at once. Zee can recharge them via magic, or let their enchantments recharge via micro-USB, overnight.

iii.) Shielding
On her left upper arm, Zee has an engraved and attuned silver cuff engraved with copper shields. This is her primary focus for defensive magic, mostly shielding and warding spells. Under heavy load, the focus itself does start to heat up (energy leakage from the incoming attacks) and can absolutely wind up burning her. She tries very hard not to let that happen. She can raise shields without this focus, but it is vastly more difficult for a shield of a given size or strength.

iv.) Striking
Zee's right wrist almost always has a bangle around it that, with a thought, will unfold and spring out into a beautifully-engraved brass and copper piece of hand jewelry. A curving plate covers her wrist and extends into her palm, held across her fingers and the back of her hand with fine chain. The plates are, like everything else, engraved with copper, and serve to guide and channel her evocation magic. Zee is capable of using offensive magic without it, but the kind of power she prefers to throw around is much more taxing for any given strike.

v.) Pendant
The pendant is nothing more than a beautifully-carved piece of black glass. Or, at least, that's all I ever had in mind for it. It is a fragment of something that once contained something enormously powerful, though....