Birth Name: Adeleia Ware
Other Names: Adam Ware

Gender: male (in the eyes of most)
Age: 32

Rank/Titles/Social Class: Adam is a member of the old nobility of the city, able to trace his ancestry back to almost the founding of the city; though his family did not originate there they have been nobility in Prague long enough to count almost as a founder. He also comes from a family of noted eccentrics; often considered to be a bit “off”. But the money and bloodlines of the Ware family are not to be questioned and society simply has to shut up and accept them. Fortunately for society Adam, indeed most of the Ware family, has little inclination to venture into the parties and soirees of the polite world. Invitations are consistently extended to him; and always politely declined. Many a hostess has secretly been relieved, and even more secretly been disappointed for to secure his attendance would be the equivalent of a social coup.

Adam is a slim man built along lean toned lines, not muscular. He has fair skin and hair so pale a blond as to be almost white but his most striking feature is his piebald eyes; one green the other blue. All in all he looks extremely exotic and added to the air of mystery and eccentricity that surrounds the entire Ware family he is often gossiped about or wondered about. He does, after all, project the look and air of a dandy . And sometimes his lack of interest in choosing an acceptable wife, slender form and exotic features lead people to one of two entirely erroneous conclusions: either he is weak or he prefers men in his bed.

In general he dresses in impeccably tailored clothes, slacks and vest fitted perfectly to his slim form. He prefers somber hues, black, gray, or deep blue; all his clothing is of the highest quality and clearly tailored by experts. He conforms to the perfect expectations of society, despite his dislike of the restraining clothing. The only thing he balks at are the ridiculous patterns and loud colors often found. He prefers things simple, and that includes his fashion. As much as he can get away with anyway.

In work he often poses as a tradesman, laborer, beggar, or someone even less reputable. He finds no difficultly passing himself off as such, as once disguised the only thing remarkable about him are his eyes. Though he finds such clothing infinitely more comfortable it is too conspicuous for his normal circles and thus he wears it only rarely.

Personality: Adam is a quiet person; indeed he has no problem with sitting in pure silence for nearly unlimited amount of time. He is content with his thoughts, seeking the patterns in the chaos. He is a genuinely good person; but when one talks with him he comes off aloof or distant. He is a calm sort of person; fairly unflappable and clear headed even in a crisis. He is often bluntly logical and sometimes he forgets that others prefer to be more on the emotional side. So he is sometimes seen as unsympathetic and harsh as well. He is very discrete in all things, particularly his relationships. He has a fiercely protective streak focusing on his family, his lovers, and the society. To those he values as a friend or family he is fiercely loyal. To the society he is devoted. And to the rest of the world he is merely indifferent.

Psychic Talent: Adam's psychic talent revolves around patterns. He can see the patterns in all things, even those that people might consider entirely chaos. He can spot what will work, what fits into the pattern, how things connect, and what things don't fit at all. He can look at a series of clues and sense how they link together, he can find connections in random incidents, he can spot the person in a crowd who doesn't belong. He can work something into a situation, blending it with what already exists, to misdirect and mislead. It is an unusual talent and he had learned to use it in unusual ways. It also makes him an exceptional strategist for many things; both in the society and out as patterns exist everywhere in the world...in the crush at a party, in fencing moves, in a game of cards, in coded writings, or in seemingly unrelated murders. Because he is so psychically sensitive to patterns he is also psychically sensitive to things that are chaotic. He likes order around him and he gets somewhat obsessive over a problem. In fact if he cant find the pattern in a series of things he will often become a bit melancholy; indeed some, mostly his very close friends/family, fear/ed a sufficiently complex problem might one day drive him mad.

Skills: Adam has spent his entire life in the Society, he was born into it, and groomed to one day take over as Master of the Society. He learned to use his talent as soon as it manifested; and it was assumed he would have a psychic talent of some sort for both his parents had strong psychic skills...his father in engineering and his mother had a talent for reading aura's. He was taught by both of them and learned to use his psychic talent to enhance his skills in other areas that might rely heavily on patterns. He has a knack for languages and code-breaking, they are patterns after all, and has over his life, learned many of them. He continues to develop this skill learning not only languages but also dialects. He has also made a thorough study of disguise, business investments, dancing, and even the disreputable pastime of gambling. All have their roots in patterns and he took to them very well. So much so that he often spends time in the gaming hells winning large amounts of money and then investing it into lucrative investment schemes. The extent of Adam's fortune is known to few, and he uses it to fund the society. He has an amateur interest in chemistry, physics, anatomy, and astronomy but no great skill in these areas. Still he devours well researched and written books on the subject.

Weapons/Fighting: Adam's slight form and vaguely feminine appearance have often called him to defend himself on the field of honor. He has gained great skill in fencing, another pattern. Pistols at dawn however is a bit more of a challenge; he is an acceptable shot at best. Fortunately as a master swordsman he prefers to chose a bladed weapon. In his forays into the underworld and on missions for the Society he has discovered smaller more concealable blades are desirable. Thus he trained, and now excels, in knife fighting as well. His small form give him an advantage in speed and dexterity and he actually prefers knife fighting. The thing is it's not a pastime considered worthy of a gentleman so he doesn't often inform people he has this skill.

History:
Adam was born Adeleia Ware, the only daughter of Marcus and Esme Ware. Their family has been established in Prague for a long time, but it is clear in both name and appearance that Prague was not the origin of the family. Still, they have been a fixture in Prague for so long that they are accepted as local nobility.

Marcus and Esme were private people, even though Marcus was master of the Society he wasn't seen in public all that often. Instead he relied on seconds to deal with planning assignments and most of the day to day work of the society. He preferred to tunnel in the basement, and work in his laboratory building clockwork doohickies and thingamabobs. His talent ran along those lines, able to create almost anything he put his mind to. The patterns simple grew in his mind; often times too fast for him to even write them down. That was where his wife came in.

Esme was far more personable. She handled most of the personal contact; as well as hosting parties and gatherings, conducting meetings, and in what little free time she had she worked as a record keeper for her husband's ideas. She went into seclusion when she became pregnant and an already reclusive couple became almost hermits. They lived in House Ianus however few, save a few trusty servants, had any contact during Esme's pregnancy. Just before Adeleia was born Marcus and Esme moved out of House Ianus.

They moved into town, dressed as common trade laborers, and raised their child there among the locals and trades folk. Unknown to the nobles as well as members of the society. Only Marcus returned to House Ianus on a regular basis, taking over running things as his wife was busy.

He hated it; but he needed to keep his wife and child a secret. Few knew why; and Marcus did not enlighten them. The truth was he had made enemies, as had his wife. For all they were reclusive they were dedicated to eradicating fraudulent psychics as well as stopping those who would use their Talent for dark work. They were adept at blending their Talents together and working as a perfect team. They had worked together to track and stop a man who was using his Talent to ruthlessly murder. They stopped him; but did not capture or kill him. And for as long as he had gone to ground they worried he would return.

When Adeleia was 6 the murder found his way into House Ianus; lured intentionally there by Marcus who had never given up hunting. He had a very few trusted members assist him and together they lured the man into the caves below the house. Marcus, a genius engineer, had planned for this and had trapped the place in preparation. When the traps were triggered the whole house shook as the cave in claimed the murder's life. Marcus and his trusted friends put it about it was one of his experiments gone terribly astray. Things continued as they were before but Esme and Adeleia were free to return to their home.

During the time she had been raised among the commoners Adeleia had grown to be more comfortable as a boy than a girl. She was accepted, allowed to do far more, able to play freely in the streets, and soon she simply adapted to that lifestyle. As she learned how restricted she would be as a female in society, particularly the elevated circles she was born into, she began to resist it more and more. Her parents accommodated her wishes to live as a boy and when they moved back to House Ianus and the majority of the members met the Master's child for the first time; they met Adam Ware, firstborn son of Marcus and Esme Ware.

Adam continued his education, training, and life as a male and few ever knew otherwise. Fortunately as a descendant of psychically gifted parents, and raised by a society of people who not only believe in but possess and study such Talents, he was taught to use his abilities from a very young age. When he was 15 his parents went on a trip to the continent and never returned. It is believed they perished over there but Adam has had no news or proof to one way or the other. He continues to search for some sign; one way or the other. But he could not allow himself to mope for long. The society needed running; death or absence did not change that; and it needed a strong leader. Adam became that leader. Unfortunately as the Master of the Society is a hereditary position and Adam favors female lovers it is unlikely that he will ever produce an heir and that position will die with him. He knows this and has already begun researching current members seeking who would be best to be named his successor; who has the society's best interests at heart, and who would keep true to it's goals. Unfortunately the member list is quite large and he has not had an overabundance of contact with many of the members. Deciding he needed to have a more direct contact with the members Adam has become the exact opposite of his reclusive parents, to the point of even leading investigations and research projects in an effort to learn more about the members than was cataloged in the member roster.


Random: There are 4 people who know Adam is in fact a female; besides his parents. His lover, his personal butler/valet, and two of his parent's close friends who helped in resolving the issue that had caused Marcus and Esme to move from House Ianus when Adam had been born. It is known Adam has a lover; but he gives discretion a whole new meaning and he is fiercely protective of her.

Birth Name: Lucie Ruzicka

Other Names: Andel Cervenka(Male alter ego), Lady Aneta Montilyet, Daniela Musil, Katerina Myska, Gabriela Novosad, Irena & ‘Little Rose’.

Gender: Female

Age: 19

Rank/Titles/Social Class: Princess of the Underground, Baroness of Thieves, One Who Knows.

Appearance:

Lucie Ružička is one of those rare gems found throughout the world, jealously guarded by overprotective fathers. She has an oval face, skin unblemished, with full, rose lips in a natural pucker, a sharp chin and high cheekbones. She has a small, straight, nose, sat under a pair of bright, amber eyes slanted slightly inwards; equally capable of being warm and kind, as they can be sharp and piercing. Waves of chestnut hair falls down her back and over her shoulders, reaching to the middle of her back, and most often hanging free—Though set up in a variety of intricate designs should the occasion demand it.

Lucie is a tall woman, at 170cm or height, and lithe of build, her body being the evidence of countless hours of training. Though there is no truly chiseled muscles on her body, one does not need to look twice on her naked form to know that she has a strength few other women possess. At the same time she sports a distinctively womanly figure, with wide hips and ample bust. While not quite buxom, she is still well endowed enough that she finds nothing to complain about.

Personality:
A meek serving girl, a ruthless head of staff, a quiet observer, and a cheerful drunk. Lucie Ruzicka can be any of these and more, but it is not truly who she is. She is not the easiest person to get close to, preferring to keep people at a safe distance where she feels that they cannot hurt her. There’s always been the risk of quickly losing a friend or acquaintance in her life, and so growing too attached is something of a risk, given that any one of them could disappear without a trace one day, only to turn up in a ditch two weeks later, throat cut. As such she very rarely lets someone know the true her, but in the event that it happens they’ll be someone she will confide in with almost everything. To most, however, she seems self confident to the point of nearly being arrogant, acting aloof in many situations and teasing in others.

She is a rather curious individual, in the sense that her love for books is born out of a wish to see the world outside of what she has found herself confined in since her earliest years. She’s never outright malicious either, actually being a surprisingly benevolent person despite her calling; preferring a way out of confrontations that don’t end in violence, though she won’t shy away from it either, if the only way out is through force. She’s quick witted, and prone to idle banter, with retorts flying from her lips faster than she can sometimes think. She’s not apologetic in such situations, expecting remarks shot her way in return. More to the point, she’s not apologetic very often, mostly resigning to the fact that some people might not like her sharp mind and tongue.

That aside, however, Lucie will be pleasant company to those who are not too easily offended, and are intelligent. Her morals are very much in a grey area, so the ignorant people whose worlds are white and black do not appeal to her, and neither will she appeal to them.

Psychic Talent:
Psychometry is a skill that allows Gabriela to learn of objects through concentrating on related objects, or by using what she calls ‘Keywords’ when concentrating on a person. If, for example, she uses the keyword ‘Invaluable’ and uses her talent on a person, she’ll receive a brief image of an item the person considers invaluable, as well as whatever room it is contained within. She can also turn this skill to use on people themselves to extract information about them, however this requires physical contact—skin on skin, or through thin pieces of clothing such as a shirt or through silk gloves. When using it on people she doesn’t require keywords unless she wants to learn more specific things, as simply directing the skill at someone will give her their name, age, and gender. Though the latter is very rarely important.

Skills:
•Stealth:Lucie is, thanks to her background, exceptionally good at stealth. She excels at sneaking through shadows and lurking along corridors without people noticing her. She moves silently and unseen.
•Agility: To say that Lucie is agile would be an understatement. A trained eye will not see that she moves with an ease born only out of years of intense training. She can run, jump, dash, and bend in ways that most people would balk at. Peasants and commonfolk would compare her speed and ease at which she moves to that of a cat or snake: She always lands on her feet, and strikes with deadly precision.
•Social Adaptation: In an effort to blend in with any environment, Lucie has learned to apply make-up to look like anything from a Lady to a common street rat, or even an androgynous male. Not only that but she can mimic the dialect and behavior of both the upper and lower class to the point where neither will be able to discern her true origins.
•Learned: As a result of her upbringing, Lucie can both read and write, and have even grown quite fond of books regardless of contents and topics. As a result she’s also rather knowledgeable in many fields, but far from an expert.
•Memory Frames: Throughout her years, Lucie has learned that memorizing details is a vital part of her ‘job’, and as such she has taught herself to memorize certain scenes or events in near perfect condition as a ‘Picture’ in her mind. It’s not something passive, so she’ll have to consciously do it. Nevertheless, she can commit a short conversation or an event to memory, keeping it as ‘picture’ to draw upon later if need be.

Weapons/Fighting:
Being the surrogate daughter of a Crime Lord of a major city such as Prague does not come without training to hold one’s own. As such she is fully capable of defending herself with a variety of weapons, including both guns and more primitive weaponry. A list of what she can use best.
•Daggers and Knives. Her preferred weapon, as they do not impair so much on her movement, and allows for sneaking much better than any broadsword ever would.
•Firearms. Lucie knows well how to use, load, and clean most basic firearms. She’s no expert as she prefers a dagger in the back should it be absolutely necessary, but it is within her ability to use them.
•Poison. A Woman’s Weapon, they say. While a rare skill she employs, she has ways to obtain poison and have used it on a few occasions in the past to take out a target.
•Brawling. Lucie is by no means a small girl, and has enough core strength in her body to take down most unarmed opponents, if she does not wish blood on her hands.
•Swords. Basic knowledge of sword fighting as a whole, and more skilled with the lightweight rapier.

History:
There are those who live rich lives, filled with luxury and the very best that money can buy taking up every ounce of their time, be it simple food or luxurious events like horse races and the like. Then there are those who toils for every flat coin coming their way, working hard to get food on the table, and make end’s meet. And then there are those in-between: Having neither trouble with money, nor really enough to truly live a life of luxury. What most of these have in common is innocence: A life lead in the sun, and smiled upon by society. The merchant providing food for those who have the coin, and the farmer doing his honest work for honest pay, and even the aloof aristocracy and nobles looking down on the commoners, doing their part to keep society afloat. All of these have one thing in common: Innocence, and ignorance of the going-ons in their world.

T͘w̕o҉ ͏si͢d͏es ̡t͢o͢ ́eve҉ry͡ co͞i͢ņ

One who has never known the light is Lucie Ruzicka; a child born and raised in blood, coming from a family whose fates are forgotten and unknown. She has lived her life in the Shadow, doing her part to keep the underworld from going out of control, while at the same time bolstering it to new heights. She is the Princess of Thieves, and the Baroness of the Underground, man and woman, and many more names besides.

Her story starts sixteen years prior, in a ditch outside of the Prague. A wail cuts through the night, the crying of a child calling out for someone, anyone, to come to it and help. A middle aged man, clearly in his late thirties, steps out of a nearby horse-drawn carriage, the rider jumping down from the front, holding up a lantern to light the way. The man walks closer to the wailing, eventually coming to a stop besides a bundled up, little girl. She has scrapes all over her body, and one of her ankles looks dislocated.

Her wailing stops as the man nears, the rider’s lantern lighting up his features, showing a grizzled face that, beyond all expectations, shows sympathy. He bends down and looks the girl over, taking her small hand as she reaches out for him. He reaches out for her leg, only for her to shuffle away, shaking her head.

“Foot hurt,” she muttered, sniffling. She had stopped wailing.

“I know,” he replied, smiling gently. “But I can make it better. If you let me.”

The girl looked hesitant at first, but didn’t move away when the man came closer. He reached out for her leg, one large hand grasping her thin calf, and the other her foot. “Now,” he said. “On three. One…” He twisted his other hand, setting the bone back in its place, prompting a loud screech of pain from the child, renewing her crying. It soon subsided, however, and she looked at his smiling face, grizzled as it was.

“It don’t hurt more.” She glanced from her foot to the man, a tentative smile on her face.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was the first meeting between Lucie Ruzicka and Filip Beran; one of three Crime Lords in Prague at the time. Lucie stayed with him from that day on, being taken care of like he would a child of his own. Her childhood, however, was not a normal one. From as early as he could, he taught her a multitude of skills: How to read, write, act proper and how not to. He taught her how to move quickly and without noise, how to move without being seen, and, most importantly, how to take things without other people noticing. He also taught her how to fight and how to run, should such ever be necessary. He taught her everything a thief, infiltrator, saboteur, and assassin needed to work on his field; The ever-evolving battlefield of the underground world: The Dark side of the Coin. She became a weapon and a tool, someone who owed their loyalty—their life—to him.

Eventually grew up to become a beautiful young woman, having completed enough robberies and assassinations to be known as someone more than just a simple thug, rumours even ran throughout the commonfolk of the city: One of the Crime Lords had a daughter, she was ruthless and uncaring, twisting men around her finger tip with but a dozen words, and so skilled that no one knew what she truly looked like, but they were certain she existed. Though having no known titles given to her from birth, those associated with the darker regions of the city came to know her as the Princess of the Underground, and Baroness of Thieves.

There were even those who claimed that she was not a woman, but an almost equally attractive young man. Somehow the ones who spoke of this particular rumour lent more credence than the others; for they claimed to have seen and heard the very person in question. Even then, however, the titles remained, the gender not entirely known by the commonfolk.

But she was not exactly as the rumours suggested. She was neither uncaring nor heartless, and though she did what her given task necessitated, it was never a pleasant experience when it came to the bloody work. The thrill of avoiding discovery and finding things thought to be unknown by everybody except the owners was something she enjoyed: Thievery, infiltrations, sabotations. Those were things that she enjoyed, finding a joy in that only a few things exceeded. Reading being one of the few things she enjoyed more.

In fact, were truth to be told, she was a caring person who only did what was expected only because the alternative was gruelling to herself; beatings that would not show on her body, and days without food following if she resisted.

During her time growing up, she discovered a special talent of her own that nobody else seemed to possess. She found herself capable of gaining information about people, or objects, by touch or simple concentrating on them and ”asking” the object or person about something; using a single word or keyphrase. She called these prompts ‘Keywords’. She told no one about it, keeping it hidden, though training it when given the chance, which was often given how many jobs she was sent on: Be it simple thievery of sabotaging one of the other two Crime Lords’ operations.

At the age of eighteen, Lucie caught a strange sliver of information from a passerby whom she had used her skill on. She’d let her fingers brush his as he passed, and used the keyword ‘Secret’. The result was a flash; an image of a grand mansion followed by an understanding: Society & Psychic. She received no more information than that, but it was all she needed.

From that day forward she sought more information on this Society, using her gift for both reading and her Psychic abilities to find out as much as she could. She eventually discovered that they were a Secret Society composed of Psychic people like her, and that—in so far as she knew—anyone could join so long as they were upstanding members of it.

What followed were months of preparations, blackmailing, bribing, and more than a little seduction and maneuvering, and Lucie had everything in place. She had acquired a job for an assassination on Alfred Cipris, a member of the aristocracy. The message that Filip Beran received the day after was that ‘His Daughter’ had been discovered in her attempt and executed at gunpoint, her body thrown into the river.

The message had come from one of the guards in Alfred’s manor, a colleague of Lucie’s, and one of the men she had both bribed and blackmailed to tell him the story she had should happen. While more than a little angry that his best tool was now gone, Filip did nothing, instead resuming his work. He had a fortune he wanted to get bigger, and that did not happen when one acted out of anger and frustration.

Word quickly got out, as she had designed, that the Princess of the Underground had passed, lending more credence to the message the guard had delivered. Lucie Ruzicka was now free, and she knew just where to go.

She had set her eyes upon the secret society for psychics, looking to find a use for her skills—psychic and not—that did not require the shedding of blood.

Random:
Her alternate names—aside from the first and the latter; the name of her male alter-ego, and a pet-name only one man knows—are in order of rank and title, with Aneta being the name of a fictional baroness she once impersonated to infiltrate a dinner party, then going on to simply being names of fictional ladies from minor houses or other nobles, and finally Irena being the name she uses when being someone without a titles.

Occasionally dresses as a boy her age, using make-up, a binder, and relatively loose clothing to hide her feminine figure.

Birth Name: Lilian Catherine McClellen

Other Names: Lily, “Professor Lil” is preferred.

Gender: Female
Age: 31

Rank/Titles/Social Class: Professor of “Human Advancement” as she puts it. She has no official documents showing her right to be called a professor, however her family's wealth has allowed her to get away with calling herself such. Her family is among the wealthiest in Europe thanks to her fathers shrewd business tactics and her mothers amazing ability to end up in the wills of old and dying nobles. Her peculiar nature makes her unliked, but the desire's of others to entrench themselves in a position of good standing with her family means she is tolerated and often included in many social and political events.

Appearance:

Physical:
Her face is round slightly stretched. While she did not inherit her mothers good looks, there are many who would be willing to call her attractive, if not for her eyes and the heavy bags under them. Though she is only in her early thirties her eyes appear old and tired, and her irises -which should have been a powerful blue- are so gray that at a distance she appears to have no colour in her eyes at all. Her hair is bright orange -an inheritance from her Irish routes. Her hair is shorter than most woman's of the time and held up in a loose bun at the back of her head with a white lacy ribbon. A few strands never seem to make it into the bun and so she always has a few stray strands to frame her face. Her skin is much darker than someone of her standing would normally have do to much time spent outdoors. Her body is lean and slightly muscular from carrying much weight around her all day and her breasts are slightly smaller than average.

Dress:
She wears what ever is popular at the current time as her mother always buys new clothes and has the old ones thrown out. If she has any say in the matter her dresses are always white to “collect stain samples.” It is because of this fact her mother always buys her black dresses so you will rarely see her in anything else. Lilian also prefers her clothes to be lacy -one of the few aesthetic features of herself she takes an interest in- though she tends to rip off lace that impedes her, so her dresses sometimes appear slightly tattered if her mother hasn't had them repaired yet. She also never includes the petticoats that come with the dresses despite her mothers insistence.

Accessories:
She wears no jewelry of any kind beyond a pair of gold frame spectacles that clip to the tip of her nose and four pocket watches she wares like necklaces. Around her waist is a think leather belt with several ornate buckles. Attached to the belt is numerous leather straps, two of which are used to create suspenders to support weight. The rest of the straps as well as the belt itself, hold a variety of pouches. All told, she has twenty-five pouches of various sizes on her person at all times that hold a variety of scientific instruments and devices. The plethora of objects she carries with her often bang into each other, giving off a feint metallic clanging where ever she walks, a fact many people are grateful of as it singles her approach and gives them time to hide. All of the straps and pouches have been dyed black, a contribution from her mother to make the odd accessories blend in with Lilian's attire.

If not for her dresses clearly being expensive and her face being very well known, her sometimes disheveled look and tan skin would give her the appearance of a commoner.

Personality:

Inquisitive and excited is what she would call herself. Queer and Moronic is what others call her behind her back. While she readily gets along with just about anyone, others find it hard to get along with her as even if you get past her appearance one can never escape hearing about her experiments. While someone who is more socially competent would pick topics that are easy to understand and relate to concepts that the easily offended upper-class could stomach, Lily frequently talks about material that could only be understood by a her and seems to not grasp that talking about collecting the gas emitted by a decaying squab is not something one talks about at a dinner party. To Lilian the world is a fascinating place and the advancement of technology and human kind is extremely exciting to her and something she wishes to be part of. It's Rare to see her in a bad mood, though its hard to tell when she is as her “Thinking” face makes her appear quite cross and she wears it often.

Psychic Talent: Astral Projection: Lilian is able to leave her body behind and become pure thought. She is completely invisible, however those who are sensitive to the psychic potentials of others could easily point her out, though they wouldn't know what they were pointing at. While there is no apparent limit to how long she can project her mind for, she does have a limit to how far her mind can get from her body. Currently she is able to project herself up to four-hundred feet from her body. She is always quiet famished after doing this for any length of time and has learned to bring a snack with her. She is able to interact physically with the world around her however anything heavier than an average size book is too much for her. If she's within fifty-feet she can manage something twice that weight, though getting so close often gets her in trouble.

She often uses this ability to get into places she isn't allowed to satiate her curiosity. She often claims its for the sake of science, however the bedrooms of cute men rarely holds anything one might consider “scientific.” She frequently uses her ability to read the books in the library of the local university, as well as the private collections of many prominent doctors, professors, and scientists that live in the city.

Skills:
Chemistry. Engineering. Research. Investigation. Mathematician. Alchemy

Desiring to contribute to science and the evolution of humanity Lilian focused her attention on a set of skills she felt would bring her closest to this goal. She knew she couldn't just be able to manipulate information, she would have to find it an apply it as well.

Weapons/Fighting: Lilian is very skilled with a weapon of her own design she calls “The Pin Gun.” So named because instead of a firing a bullet, her gun fires close to 50 sewing needles with a single shot that spread out slightly. She uses this gun to kill specimens to examine without destroying the body. Something a normal gun is prone to do. The gun itself uses air pressure to fire the needless rather than black powder and is only good for a single shot. Because of this she always has four ready to fire pistols in one of her pouches. It used to be just three, but she once had to contend with a very angry deer that needed more than three shots. Though she could theoretically be rather accurate with any pistol, the fact that she is used to a gun that does not use black powder means a normal gun would fly out of her hand when fired and her shot will miss.

History:

Lilian was born in Ireland and grew up on a farm till she was six. At that point she hadn't discovered her love of science but that didn't stop her from being extremely curious and seek answers to many of life's biggest questions. Or at least the sort of questions someone of her age thinks are life's biggest questions. Why isn't the milk green when the only thing the goats eat is grass? Why is it the moon changes shape but the sun doesn't? Why is fire hot? Why do the berries that grow on the edge of the farm look so tasty but make people throw up a lot? The real burning questions. Not long after she turned six her father came into some money thanks to a relative passing on and having no other family members to leave their wealth too. It wasn't a fortune, but it was enough money for her father to buy up a few surrounding farms and hire people to work on them as well as buy a nice house in the near by town. Not longer after that her mother found herself in the will of the dying mayor and they came into more money. Her father used this to buy all the farms around the town.

By the time Lilian was nine her family had become rich enough that they decided to move to a place more befitting their status, and so they moved to a large mansion on at the northern edge of Prague. It was at this point that Lilian's ability to project her mind out of her body manifested. She was unclear why it waited so long, however she theorized that if she had such abilities then others would too and moving to such a large city with so many people would mean there would be more people like her than in the small town she came from. If her presumption was true than perhaps begin around more peoples with abilities like her's was the catalyst for the manifestation of her power. The first time her mind left her body she did not return to it for nine days. The local Doctor's were stumped, and on the eighth day were recommending to smother her to put her out of some supposed misery she was in. Fear of death gave her the push she needed to force her way back into her body. This happened a many more times as she aged, always for shorter and short lengths of time. Eventually she mastered the ability to leave and reenter her body as she pleased. The trick, she found, was desire. A strong desire to leave her body and a strong desire to return to it. At this point she was fourteen, now had four younger brothers, and had moved to a much larger house. When she was sixteen she over heard a professor talking to someone at a dinner party about how electricity was going to change the world and all the amazing things it would bring about. The professor's words enchanted Lilian. She wanted to see that world, she wanted to be part of it, and she wanted to be part of making it happen. From that point on she began to learn, using her ability to get herself into places she was not allowed to go. Either because of her gender or her parents orders. When was was twenty-one she decided she had learned enough from books and wanted to see what she could learn on her own. With this she began to explore the city to see what it had to offer her. It was during this time in her life that her odd appearance began to manifest. The more she found, the more questions she had, which meant she needed the proper equipment to find answers, which in turn lead to her carrying more and more equipment with her. She rarely slept more than a few hours a day, spending most of her time experimenting. When she was twenty-sixth people were used to her oddness, and she was used to taking advantage of her families standing to get away with things a normal person couldn't. The ultimate test of this came about on her twenty-seventh when she declared she was to be addressed as Professor Lil from that point on. No one argued with her and called her as such, with exception to her parents who would always call her Lily. By the time she was thirty-one her brothers had been given factories to run despite their young age, her family was even wealthier, and she had become even more lost in her world of discovery.

Her desire to learn and to notice details most would over look lead her to to discover things people would want kept secret. Not far from her own home sat a manor even more impressive than her family's. This grand building was buried deep within the forest, out of sight of anyone who didn't have the mind to look for it. Inquires around town lead to dead ends as most people didn't seem to know the house existed and anyone who wasn't surprised about the manor's existence had no information to offer. Of course they all could have been lying; Lilian was not very adept at picking up on social ques or mannerisms so it was rather easy to lie to her.

Realizing her questioning was leading her nowhere she began to explore the grounds with her projection. She spent a couple days wandering around the outside, taking in the gardens and such. Eventually she moved closer to the building itself and began peeking through windows. She discovered that people did in fact occupy the rooms within , however she was disappointed to see they all looked annoyingly ordinary. She was hoping to find a manor filled with vampires, or werewolves, or a mad scientist at work.

Despite her disappointment her curiosity still burned and she continued her investigation of the building. Sometimes people would enter or leave but they were few and far between and no one she recognized. There was one individual who would frequently exit the manor, however he would merely walk through the gardens for a little while before returning inside. On the fourth day of the second week of her investigation she began to notice the front door was being left open. On the third day of her finding the door ajar she decided to venture in, feeling rather safe to do so in her projected form. She was once again met with disappointment. The rooms were all ordinary, the serving staff were ordinary, and now that she could hear the conversations being held they too were rather ordinary. She continued to return to the house simply to explore every inch of it and be completely sure it held no secrets. With this in mind she began to map the inside and outside of the manor. As she did this she discovered spots where the inside architecture did not match up with that of the outside, meaning there were a few secret rooms that needed to be searched. More interestingly however was that the occupants, or at least some of them, where acknowledging her presence. At first she ignored it as she took it for granted she could not be seen. But as someone who is used to being ignored even when people can see her she became increasingly more aware that subtle smiles and tips of hats were directed at her. One day, the gentleman she was used to seeing explore the grounds, held a door open for her. He didn't talk to her, didn't look at her, didn't even look up from the book he was reading. She had been waiting for someone to open a door so she could exit a room without raising suspicions and after a short time he stood from his chair and opened it, only closing it once she had stepped out. After that Lilian decided to take a risk and returned to the manor the next day in person. As always the door was open and she simply walked into the building. Everything was still the same, it was as if her being visible changed nothing.

The home had rekindled her interest in it a hundred fold.

She finished mapping the house and began to search the secret rooms. Most were the normal sort of thing one might find in the home of someone who is both paranoid and wealthy. There was however, a few of these rooms she could not get into through normal means. No secret switch or hidden lock, no way to reveal these areas in any form -at least none she could find. Her curiosity getting the better of her she sat down in the library and acted as if she had fallen asleep. In reality she had projected her mind out and made her way to the closest of the secret areas she could not find away into. Making use of her projected forms more pliable nature she squeezed through an extremely narrow opening behind a bookcase and was delighted to find not a room but a set of stairs leading down. Moving fast she rushed down the stairs into what she assumed to be the basement. What she found was a vast network of rooms and more people then she had ever seen in the upper sections of the manor. More amazing was that many of them seemed to be performing experiments or doing research. She was ecstatic; there was a whole building of scientists progressing human advancement right beneath her nose. She was so excited she had completely forgotten that some of the residents of this manor had already proven to be somehow aware of her projected form. So much so that when a young lady stopped in front of her and offered her a heartfelt congratulations on finally making her way down, Lilian recoiled in surprise and knocked over a table of equipment. She immediately allowed her mind to return to her body and discovered her body had been moved from the library to a small lounge. She was sitting in a rather comfortable chair in front of a table. On the table sat two glasses with wine and two plates, each with a pear on them. Across from her sat the gentleman she had seen in the garden and who had held the door for her. “Good Afternoon Miss. McClellen. I think you and I should talk.” After a long conversation with the gentleman followed up by a sincere apology to those whose work Lilian ruined when she knocked over the table, she was welcomed into the Society.

Random: Lilian absolutely adores pears. So much so that she usually has at least one for every meal. She'll eat it with a fork and knife, savoring every bit of it. Her mother used this fact to her advantage and had perfume made that smells exactly like pears which she gave to Lilian to wear. It was the only way to get her to wear some kind of perfume. Because of this she smells strongly of pears at all times.

She hates anything that does not have a proper explanation as it means there is nothing for her to learn. Because of this she often gets into debates with religious types, fortune tellers, and other such people she considers to be “fraudulent leeches on society.”

She is deathly afraid of staying put for too long. A disorder caused from her early experiences with her ability to leave her body. At that early stage she could not move far from her body and was often forced to watch doctors stick her with all kinds of needles and listen to them suggest "Putting her to rest" to her parents numerous times. She fears staying in any place for too long will lead to someone trying to kill her.

Birth Name: Aleksandra Alexeyevna Volkov
Other Names: The Wolf of Novgorod

Gender: Female
Age: 26

Rank/Titles/Social Class: Countess, currently living on Prague on her own but heiress to her family’s estate.

Appearance: Standing at an impressive 5’ 10” Aleksandra can easily literally look down on most others she meets, be they male or female, and takes great pleasure in doing so whenever possible. Her body is an unusual combination of lean corded muscle from many hours of intense exercise and combat training, and a softer figure owing to her ability to afford as much food as she needs. Her prematurely white hair is held behind her ears and allowed to fall into a mess of wavy locks down her back, the front bangs being permitted to hang free for the most part. Her face is smooth, with slight cheekbones and tawny eyes that burn with a fierce intelligence. She disdains dresses, instead preferring the coats men tend to wear, and has become adept at concealing firearms underneath them, and has many coats tailored to her figure in various weights so that they may be worn year round.

Personality: Aleksandra doesn’t just go against the grain for what is “good and normal” for a woman in 1890s society, she completely and utterly ignores it, and happily flaunts this and her opinions favoring women living in society with the exact same power and responsibilities as their male counterparts. While clearly a woman of high birth, she has a tendency to not keep her nose stuck up, preferring to see where she’s stepping. A brilliant scientist, she has a tendency to become completely and utterly fixated on one particular subject, be it scientific or not, to the point that she might forget to eat, drink, sleep, or relieve herself, instead working for literally days on a project before simply collapsing from exhaustion. Despite this, she is not unapproachable, especially if one has some matter of interest to discuss. An experienced fighter as well, she takes care to be armed every moment of the day, shashka worn openly on her hip and pistols concealed under her coat, and she has over time come to be constantly on guard and rarely relaxed. Even so, there is a reason for her reputation as a sexually free spirited woman, regardless of the sex of the other (idk where else to put this).

Psychic Talent: Aleksandra does not have a psychic power in the sense that some might think of it. Instead, her psychic ability allows her to detect the use of other psychic abilities, be they speech suggestion, someone reading an aura, detecting the history of an object, she simply knows it’s happening and more often than not, who’s doing it. In addition, she finds herself able to shrug off such things as suggestion or what-have-you, seeing straight through other types of psychic deception as well.

Skills: Aleksandra, whilst born into high society and expected by most to be groomed for such, has little if any skills required to function in such society, instead finding herself most at ease with soldiers and fellow scholars. While she speaks two languages, neither of them (English and Russian) are particularly useful in the city of Prague, and she struggles to learn Czech as well, her mind being attuned to different things. Where she truly shines is her skill at arms, and her prowess as a metallurgist and materials scientist in the burgeoning field that is genuine science. Enrolled in Moscow’s State University by her father at her continued insistence, Aleksandra quickly rose to the top of her field, demonstrating a blinding intellect and remarkable skill in the field, with a seemingly innate knowledge of mathematics, inorganic chemistry, and most particularly, anything involving metallurgy. Having trained her mind from a young age with strenous mental conditioning, she has developed an adamantine will and mental discipline. She also developed a rather nasty reputation as a woman unrestrained by the social norms of her time, and… tales, of her skills beneath the covers became a mythos uttered in muted whispers whenever the older population was not around.

Weapons/Fighting: Aleksandra is an excellent shot with both rifle and pistol, disdaining the more ornate versions reserved for dueling in favor of rugged and chunky models intended for genuine combat, and has two revolvers in particular based on the Colt 1889, these however are custom ordered models in .45 Colt, with an extra two shots per cylinder due to the extraordinarily strong materials she provided them with to make the guns and are consequently capable of withstanding immensely powerful smokeless powder loads. She carries both of these revolvers and on a leather belt beneath her coat, along with huge amount of ammunition for it. She has practiced extensively with the pistols and used them in actual combat and has never been failed by them. She also carries a well used Cossack shashka, having been taught anything and everything in the use of the savage weapon, and garnered plenty of firsthand experience in training bouts and genuine fights to the death.

History:
Born into a very wealthy and eccentric if somewhat obscure on the political stage noble family, Aleksandra never knew her mother, who died a few days after childbirth from an infection. From day one, her upbringing starkly contrasted with the norm for noble girls, instead of being taught to be unquestioningly obediant and to do housework, Aleksandra was instead taught to read, write, do mathematics, and speak English from a young age. In addition she was given rigorous training to hone her mind to a razor keen edge and strengthen her will into wolfram, the exact reasons were never given, but her father always provided the answer, “You’ll know some day.”

She also developed tastes in literature, enjoying the short stories and poems of Edgar Allen Poe, The Vampyre, Dracula, In A Glass Darkly, The Picture of Dorian Grey, The Devil’s Elixirs, The Turn of the Screw, Frankenstein, and a special place in her heart for Wuthering Heights. A fascination with the dark and the macabre developed early on in her life, and stayed with her throughought and to the present day, as shown by the silver memento mori-esque necklace she wears.

Her father was the very definition of absent minded scholar, rarely leaving his study except in the evening when he and his daughter would discuss various matters, increasing in relevance as she grew older until they were having intense sociopolitical debates nightly, or arguing over the proper method for the synthesis of sodium barbiturates by the time she was fourteen. Her father was delighted at this and needed little in the way of encouragement to browbeat his way into securing an education in Moscow’s State University for her at the age of eighteen.

During this time she was not idle, and practiced extensively in less refined forms of martial art. Pulling strings with her father’s influence she secured for herself a set of revolvers which she practiced with daily, soon becoming remarkably adept with the weapons. While her father initially disapproved of this, he eventually relented and retreated back to his studies, giving his daughter a hand wave of defeat. From that point on little if anything could stop her, and she found her way into the tutelage of one of the Imperial Russian Army’s Cossack warriors, who, after much pushing and exchange of coin, agreed to teach her everything he knew in the use of the traditional and lethal shashka. She grew to be a formidable opponent with the blade, almost matching the old Cossack himself and easily exceeding him in agility by the time she reached twenty two. While such activities as becoming a deadly shot with the pistol or a master of a less… refined blade such as the shashka were intensely frowned upon by almost everybody else, she developed her trademark unconcerned air during this time, content in ignoring such things.

In Moscow, she discovered both her remarkable affinity for metallurgy, eagerly forging ahead in the field of metallurgical science, and her own psychic talent. One day a man accosted her in a hallway, a not unusual occurence, but something was… different. She felt an unusual presence in her mind, and mentally poked at it, finding it somehow linked back to the man in front of her. Further investigation revealed the purpose behind this intrusion into her mental space, and she hurriedly threw whatever the mental equivalent of a brick wall was in its way. She all too clearly saw his intent to influence her thoughts and the direction of the conversation towards… stereotypically male ends. While she was used to such attempts at this point, what struck her was the probe in her mind she had felt, and she entered into a studying spree, entrenching herself in the library of the university in an attempt to glean what she could from the multitude of dusty tomes.

Gradually she came to know all the contents the library had on the matter of psychic powers, and the notion intrigued her to no end. She would set out at night through the streets of Moscow, sword at the ready in case of trouble as she sought out the various “psychics” that proclaimed themselves in the streets, finding the vast majority to be frauds and scam artists, and the genuine few to be disreputable sorts who also attempted to scam, charm, or simply psychically influence her out of her money, time, or clothes. She quickly grew disgusted with such people, and began to seek out like minded individuals who studied and investigated these psychic powers. In this time she returned to Novgorod, living in the family manor and conducting her own research, psychic alongside metallurgical, and while the latter yielded wonderful results, the former remained infuriatingly mired in mystery.

She acquired the anonymous nickname “The Wolf of Novgorod” among some circles during one of her nighttime expeditions, which never ceased even when she returned home, when she stumbled across unusual markings on an old dilapidated house some distance from the city center. Slowly pushing her way inside, she came to realize that she had stumbled across a cult of some sort, and as she soon realized, a cult headed by a psychic with powerful abilities of suggestion. Had she been a more foolhardy type she might’ve attacked then and there, but instead waited and listened, learning their plans as well as some names and information she tucked away for later investigation. Over the next month she systematically tore the cult to shreds, tripping a cultist on his way to an assassination, a small dart with a small amount of sodium pentathol in the neck of a cultist making a speech, and then watching as he lost any and all ability to lie, and soon, simply killing them in one on one duels in a back alley or wherever. By the end of the month she was able to walk straight into their now much emptier headquarters and gun the remainder down in a quick but brutal gunfight. In doing so she too was shot, giving her a noticeable limp and a bloody hole right through her side. She survived thankfully, and abstained from further cultbusting antics, instead devoting herself to researching such things even further.

One day she recieved a letter addressed to her in English, inviting her to a manor in Prague, a certain House Ianus, in order to discuss matters of import, matters she knew instinctively the topic of. Of course she was very familiar with the House and knew some of its doings, but not nearly as much as she would’ve liked. Jumping at such an opportunity she packed her bags and set out for Bohemia, arriving in relativelty short order. At this point her father had given up all hope of keeping her in Novgorod or Moscow to study, and simply sent his blessings.

After a couple months she was fully settled in and becoming restless, instead of prowling the streets like she was accustomed to, she took to the various mysteries the Society dealt with, and delved into the wealth of knowledge on psychic phenomena the Society had amassed.

Random:
•In case it wasn’t obvious, she’s openly bisexual and doesn’t care what anyone thinks.
•

Birth Name: Johanna Roheisia Valerivicus
Other Names: “Jo”

Gender: Female
Age: 26

Rank/Titles/Social Class:
Originally born into the merchant class by way of her parents, Johanna is now within close ranks to the middle-upper class ranks of society, by her own doing.

Johanna is tall, standing at 5’8, or at least for a woman. She weighs 130lbs, and every inch of her body is lean, taunt muscle. She often times wears simple, yet still rather fashionable clothes; she tends to stick to earth tones, when deciding what to wear, such as burnt umber, rusty orange, pine green, navy blue, etc. Johanna has a soft face with pointy cheek bones, and a small squarish chin. Her eyes are slightly tapered at the corners, giving her a more feline look than others, with bright silvery eyes to match. Her nose is gently sloped, with a rounded-tip, and plump lips that look like she is pouting when she frowns.

Personality:
Johanna has always been headstrong, and rather defiant in her ways. She likes things to be do in a peculiar way, her way. She can be very unsettled if she finds/hears men making roguish comments about any woman. Johanna is what most would call, a feminist in today’s terminology. She believes women should receive equal pay in the work force, and that it should be acceptable for a woman to have an occupation, no matter her standing in life. Unless of course, she doesn’t have to work for it because her family is overly wealthy; then by all means, stay at home and sip tea from beautiful china saucers. Johanna has never loved anyone, sure she knows of love, and dreams about it, but the closest she has come to love, is keeping familiars.

Psychic Talent: Automatic Writing
When Johanna was but a young child, her parents would find her facing the wall in her bedroom, writing hurriedly across the wall. They had to wallpaper her walls countless times, just to cover up her incoherent words etched into the wall. It started at the age of four, though it became more prevalent when she entered her teenage years; Johanna would fall into a trance, one where she would awaken from, and proclaim she knew nothing of what transpired. What she was seeing, were visions, turned into writing, her conscious mind was forced into writing what she was seeing. To this day, Johanna still experiences her spells of automatic writing, making her grow weary of what she is doing, where she is going, and whom she is with. Most of the time, Johanna can be easily awoken from her trance by just a shake of the shoulder. Yet, when traumatic events are occurring, especially ones she is writing about, Johanna becomes very tense, and agitated, often ending in raging screams should anyone disrupt her vision/writing process.

Skills:
Tarot Reading (more of a hobby, and as a way to peer deeper into her visions, she does not do this for money.)
Sewing/Embroidery
Painting/Drawing
Fencing
Botany (consisting of knowledge of useful herbs, poisons, potions/elixirs/polutices/salves/tinctures, and gardening as well.)
Speaks the following: Italian (Native), French (Fluent), English (Modest), German/Russian (Decent)

Weapons/Fighting: From Johanna’s insistence, her parents hired her a fencing tutor, she is quite skilled in fencing, and actually owns a French rapier, one obtained from her studies abroad.

History:
Born into a wealthy merchant family, though still considered beneath aristocracy, Johanna Valerivicus was conceived by Albert and Susanna Valerivicus. Albert came from Italian ancestry, and Susanna was of French descent. Ever since Johanna was four, she would have spells, and fall into trances, one that would result in a jumble of chicken scratch writing scrolled across the walls in her bedroom. Her parents grew worried about her habit, and desperately tried to control it themselves. One day, when Johanna turned 7, she was found banging her head against the wall in her room, crying loudly.
When her parents looked to see what troubled their daughter, they gazed in horror at the words etched into the wall. “Isabella. Isabella. Isabella. Isabella. Isabella Lorenzo. Isabella Lorenzo. Isabella Lorenzo. Isabella Lorenzo. Smoke all around. Burning. Burning. Burning. Smoke all around. Burning. Burning. Burning. Forever after. Burning. Flames. Flames are growing. Burning her. Burning her. Burning her alive. Can’t see. Can’t see. Can’t see. Crying. Crying. Crying. Crying. Crying for help! No one can hear. No one can hear. No one can help! Fire all around. She is dying. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.” The last word was repeated across the rest of the wall, and she was about to start onto the next wall when her parents entered the room. Isabella Lorenzo was a young girl that Johanna grew up with, they were both playmates as they lived across the street from one another, and she died in her house due to a blaze started by an oil-lamp being knocked over that spread out of control. Isabella, and her nursemaid were the only ones that perished in the blaze.

Ever since then, her parents believed that Johanna was indeed gifted, with a paranormal talent. Though they dared not try to exploit her out of fear or condemnation from the church. At the time, Johanna and her family lived in Florence, Italy. From there, they moved northward to Prague. At the time, and still true, to do the day, Prague was considered a destination for the artists, the thinkers, and a popular destination for the aristocrats. For her father, Albert, he wanted to move their family to Prague due to its vast trading district. As a merchant in Florence, he provided a decent life, yet the opportunities in Prague left him wanting for more.
When Johanna had settled into her home life in Prague, she insisted on her father hiring a governess, along with a fencing instructor, as she put it, she needed to be taught how to defend herself. She could speak fluent French and Italian from her parents, her father’s trading business allowed her to learn English as well, but she had troubled understanding the local dialect, a rough combination of Slavic tongues, mainly German. Her governess, Greta, taught her how to speak German, and Russian. She became Johanna’s second mother, as her mother, Susanna became more distant to the young Johanna. When her mother became with child, this time providing a younger brother for her, Susanna passed away from consumption months after, leaving Johanna stricken with grief.
As Johanna entered her early teen years, the death of her mother still hung heavily upon her mind, yet she put her mind at ease by focusing on her studies. She wanted to study everything, with such a young and impressionable mind, Albert could not say no to his beloved daughter. By the age of fifteen, Johanna had taken arithmetic, literature, and a particular liking to the study of plants. Her father fueled her love of the earth by purchasing a pleasant town-home with a small, arboretum. Here, Johanna continued her studies, mostly coming to understand the effects of plants, and which ones grew best in sunlight, or in the shade; which ones were poison, and ones that were better used in soups or teas. She had a particular touch for growing exotic flowers, especially changing the colour of roses.

Her brother, Reinold, was just a young toddler when Johanna left the home of her father in pursuit to open her own apothecary. Albert assisted her, making sure she chose a decent store front, close to where the upper-class citizens lived, by herself, at the age of 18, and the occasional aid of her father, Johanna provide care to the people of Prague through her apothecary. She made tinctures, poultices, potions, elixirs, all in truth were very beneficial to one’s health, and not a scam like others were doing with their elixirs of ‘eternal life’. She didn’t believe that bullcrap those scam artists fed the people, as the power of herbs could really help treat an ailment or provide the body with relief. Her fits had died down considerably of automatic writing at this point in time, yet when a young woman went missing in Prague, Johanna frothed at the mouth for days, writing incessantly, her eyes rolled back in her head, her face pallid and sweaty. Once she came too, Johanna discovered, after checking the newspaper, which a young woman, close to her in age, had drowned under mysterious circumstances; she chose to lead a more secretive life, and made her apothecary, appointment-only. Times were hard as she was forced to close her shop, Johanna had dwindling customers once the whispers of doctors came about.

Only a month ago, Johanna received a well written letter, inviting her to visit a manor on the edge of Prague, settled deep within the thickets of the woods. She knew of the place, House Ianus, by rumors alone.

After receiving the letter, Johanna considered it for a week, weighing in her mind, the truth of the letter, and what the writer meant by her ‘talent’. She feared that he knew supposedly of her habit, and once deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to see what the fellow wanted, she wrote in return.
House Ianus proved to be a gorgeous manor tucked away in the forest just outside of Prague. Johanna moved in a week later, explaining to her father that she had discovered a learning opportunity at a school on the edge of town, where she would pursue her studies in botany further. He rejoiced at the idea that she would have a place to stay, and continue her passions, Albert asked no further questions about the manor or what she would be doing, as he trusted his daughter to make sensible decisions.
She has been at the house for less than a month, but she has become well acquainted with the grounds and gardens, preferring to spend her time there, harvesting herbs and flowers, tending and weeding to her plants like beloved children.

Random:
Johanna loves plants, her favourite ones are: chamomile, lavender, thyme, roses and poppy flowers.
She can make a mean cup of tea! Don’t expect her to drink any type of English tea though.
Johanna owns a French rapier, a gift from her mother before her passing, she has made it into a cane sword, with a raven’s head for the cane handle.

Birth Name: Shearra Whitlock Statholme Haimes

Other Names: Virtually everyone who knows her, including her parents, calls her Shay.

Gender: Female

Age: 30

Rank/Titles/Social Class:

Shay comes from a line of minor English nobility, though being the youngest daughter of the family, has no titles or expectation to such of her own. Her family, through shrewd investments, careful guidance, and the good luck to avoid having an uncle who drank the family’s fortunes away, has remained quietly prosperous. Through their lands and business dealings, the family provides quite a comfortable life for even the most wayward of their children. Despite the burden on her to appear publicly, Shay rarely does - though her family are adept at providing reasons as to why. Most of Society understands that she very likely does something that’s not entirely ladylike, but as those same people both have no idea what that might be, and have never gotten word of any verifiable scandal, few aspersions are cast on the missing daughter. In a roundabout and almost underground way, however, Shay’s talents have made quiet inroads, and those who know how to find her, do - or, at least, they have a need, and they find their way to the one person who can help them. They very often don’t know who that person is until she opens the door. Thus far, none of those stories have percolated into the gossip-driven taffeta-and-lace crowd - but that day may be coming.

Appearance:

Shay is tall for a woman, though still not six feet even in quite striking heels. While she is slender, very little about her build, even with what little can be seen beneath traditional Victorian attire, suggests the sort of willowy, consumptive waifness so in fashion in some parts of the world. She moves with a quickness and surety that occasionally finds her at odds with societal expectation, though her every motion still carries the grace a lady is expected to have. Like many Britons, Shay has fair skin, but with none of the pallor associated with spending all of one’s time indoors. Her hair falls in a rich, dark tumble just below her shoulders, with most of her locks tied, pinned, or braided behind her and a few left loose to frame her face. Large, intelligent, and bright blue eyes look out at the world from beneath long lashes, constantly flickering from place to place, absorbing detail in the tiniest fraction of a moment before moving on. Despite her best efforts, Shay’s hands are often stained with ink or some other pigment, and she will sometimes wears gloves to avoid having to explain herself. Beneath those gloves, he hands are long, quick, delicate, with surprising strength. She has no visible scars and no tattoos, though she wears a certain amount of jewelry.

When in public, or in society’s view (The two are not always the same), Shay will comport herself as expected, dressed fashionably and in colors that flatter her. She doesn’t even really mind, as her dressmaker is impeccable and has discovered how to incorporate subtle seams and reliefs to allow comparative freedom of movement, even when wearing half a dozen layers of clothing. In private, or when on an adventure where petticoats have no place, that same dressmaker has furnished her with shirts, trousers, boots, coats, gloves, and belts of hard-wearing material, close-fitting and expertly tailored. She has some choice words for those who appear surprised at the fact that, indeed, under all those layers, women have legs.

Personality:

Ferociously intelligent, almost pathologically analytical, occasionally obsessive, and, perhaps most importantly, deeply self-aware of these facets of her own personality, Shay is a study in contrasts, camouflage, and restraint. There are times - most often in private, though with some of Ianus Manor’s other inhabitants - where her pacing, loquacious, nearly frenzied examinations are appropriate, but for the most part, she’s very aware of the truth of things. She is curious about virtually everything, with an understanding of the world around her to one level or another marked with deep wells of devoted, meticulous, systematic study. One could say, and not be terribly far off the mark, that Shay is something of an intellectual magpie, though there is some method to her curious pattern of study. She doesn’t exactly disdain high society, but very often finds the gatherings intensely dull, free of intellectual challenge and being uninterested in the social gauntlet beyond ensuring her peers find nothing of interest. With those she finds vapid and empty-headed, Shay is pleasant but forgettable company; with those of more advanced intellects she is brilliant, challenging, articulate, forthright, and perhaps more than a little bit of a show-off.

Shay also possesses a streak of nearly-fearless practicality, engaging in moonlight chases, subterranean adventures, and horseback shooting matches, knowing that not only does she know how to do all of these things, but that in many cases she’s the only one around who does. She has a wide streak of belief in justice and fairness, and believes strongly in the Society’s drive to unmask and discredit those charlatans who would prey on people with false psychic talents. All the same, she retains a certain exasperation with how regularly people are taken in by even the simplest schemes. While she certainly is aware of societal norms and requirements, she uses them only as method of camouflage - for herself, Shay has no time for what ladies should or should not do, instead being vastly more interested in what she can do.

Psychic Talent:

When you look into someone’s eyes, you feel a connection, maybe for a second, or maybe for the rest of your life. For Shay, that contact opens a pathway for her abilities as a Mesmerist - not in the orgiastic ecstasies of Franz Mesmer, but of imprinting colour and texture to another’s perception and memory, from the subtle to the extreme. She can cause another to pull long-locked memories from their deepest, darkest wells, or put subtle spin on others’ perception of her, making Shay seem the way she wants a person to see her.

For example, if Shay were at a party, and one of the other guests - let’s assume a busybody or gossiper - had heard something about Shay’s exploits either on her own or with the Society, during the course of their conversation Shay could steer not just the conversation, but her partner’s very perception of the conversation. Without anything meaningful having been discussed, that person might walk away completely satisfied in Shay’s utter innocence of any untoward behavior - and, perhaps, even defend her should the subject arise later. She might also use this talent to manipulate the master of a college who, under other circumstances, might believe a woman had no place in the chemistry lab, and certainly not in anatomy theatre. There are very likely other extreme Mesmeric suggestions she could make to a person, or even place them entirely under her spell - but that is not something she’s ever tried, nor does she want to.

Skills:

Observation and Deduction - Shay is adept at gathering, organizing, and synthesizing vast quantities of information rapidly. This is most obvious in a party trick that she sometimes acquiesces to perform, but is useful for a dizzying array of tasks. Her only problem is that in many cases she can’t avoid collecting that information, even when the inevitable conclusions aren’t things she wants to know.

Scientific Achievement - As a dedicated student of various scientific disciplines (Including chemistry, anatomy, and poisons), Shay has developed a keen scientific mind. She believes strongly in experimentation, data recording, and tries to keep as many of her own biases away from her work. When appropriate, she’s even published several papers and monographs - though under a thorough pseudonym.

Crack Shot - Shay is an excellent shot with a variety of firearms, and would put her own skills against any of William Cody’s trick shooters any day of the week.

Polyglot - For reasons of her own, Shay speaks Arabic and German in addition to her native tongue, but struggles with the local Czech.

Violin - Shay plays the violin. Rather well, too!

Weapons/Fighting:

As mentioned above, Shay is an excellent shot, though this does not necessarily always translate into being a useful gunfighter or, indeed, that firearms are the correct tool for all situations. She has a certain skill with simple hand to hand combat, but any formal student of a martial art would be likely to best her two out of three. She has no skill at, or interest in, fencing.

History:

London, 1887
——

Snow fell in bright, fluffy puffs out of an iron-grey sky, already grubby with ash by the time they melted on cobblestones. The British Empire may have conquered half the world, but it had no control over the endless, greasy grime that coated every structure in sight. Shay Haimes trudged through the slush, her steps quick despite the uncertain footing, her back straight, fists clenched, each step splashing down through half-frozen slurry like a tiny cannonball. She looked up at a building number and turned sharply, yanking the door open, the heels of her boots banging up a flight of stairs. A door stood closed but unlocked at the landing, and she pulled it open with enough force to make it recoil off the wall as she stepped through, bumping into her back. Undaunted, she strode forward, pulling something out of her bag.

“What the hell is this? Shay said, slapping a magazine down on the man’s desk. Across the top, in black letters on a yellow banner, read “Beeton’s Christmas Annual.”

“And a merry Christmas to you as well, Miss Haimes,” the man said, picking the magazine up and looking at the cover, “And as for that, it’s twenty-five pounds I didn’t have before. Now sit down and shut the door, you’ll let worse things than the cold in. I’ll get us some tea, shall I?”

“Art,” Shay said, spinning the magazine back toward herself, then glowering at the man’s retreating back, “I told you these things in confidence. I didn’t expect you to remember them, let alone write them down. What if someone traces them back to me? To my family? My god, my sister would-”

“I’m sure I’ve no idea what you mean,” the man, Art, said, as he came back in with two mugs of steaming tea, perfuming the air with bergamot and oranges, “Here. A lovely blend from a new shop on the Queensway.”

“You’ll not distract me with tea,” Shay said, taking a sip, “…Though this may come close.”

“I thought it might,” Art said, taking a sip of his own, “Now, about the stories - they’re fluff, penny dreadfuls, something for the masses to enjoy while they shirk more productive tasks. There’s no substance there, an evening’s entertainment, nothing more.” He smiled, his voice jovial, playful.

Shay’s eyes narrowed.

“Come now, Miss Haines,” Art said, “I admit, I may have taken some liberties-“

“Couldn’t you have at least based the character on me?” Shay said with a sigh, “That would have at least been flattering.”

“A woman?” Art said, “Miss Haimes, you are aware I am trying to be paid for this work. Besides,” he said, forestalling a volcanic response, “I did.”

“You did no such thing!” Shay replied, “Unless you mean that he’s tall and thin and has dark hair, like every third person on the street. And the man is simply dreadful. He’s arrogant, condescending, has no care for the opinions of others, and insults those who think he’s remarkable. And this other fellow, he simply follow along like some sort of lost puppy. And these things he does, that he knows, they’re poppycock.”

“Miss Haimes,” Art said, his voice careful, “Do you recall the anatomists’ conference a couple of years ago?”

“Of course,” Shay said, confused.

“I seem to recall,” Art continued, “That a certain young lady, who had not been invited but nevertheless everyone was utterly convinced should be there, got into a rather heated debate with the keynote speaker on the subject of cyanide detection in cadavers or some such. I further recall that young lady being escorted from the premises, though no official censures ever appeared in the broadsheets.”

“His position was utter nonsense,” Shay said, leaning forward, setting her tea on the desk, “He had no real science, nothing but skill with a pointing stick. And he argued with me about whether or not it was going to rain.”

“His theories sounded perfectly sensible to me,” Art said mildly.

“That’s because you wouldn’t know methanol from marmalade,” Shay said, her tone a quick, harsh snap.

Art opened his mouth, then swallowed down is reply as a thoughtful look stole over him, “Wait, how did you know it would rain later that day?”

“Two men in the audience had new-ish boots,” Shay said.

“Boots.” Art said, “I see.”

Shay sighed, “They were older men sitting in the aisle across from me, both with slightly reddened knuckles. One kept rubbing his knee, and both were wearing boots - not completely new, but the leather hadn’t been stressed enough to be broken in. Rarely worn, then, but not kept in a closet and forgotten. Not fancy enough to be for special occasions, and listening to a lecture isn’t that kind of occasion to begin with. So, why would they have boots with little wear but still be on their mind enough to put them on? They were made by a very high-end manufacturer, lots of padding and hidden bracing, very comfortable for people who have sore joints, but also very expensive - not the kind of boots you would wear every day unless you were expansively wealthy. So now we know that the men were wearing those boots because their feet hurt, and we also know that pain isn’t constant because if it were, the boots would be more worn-in. So, what would make two different men’s feet and knees hurt in the same way at the same time? Clearly, the answer has to be dropping barometric pressure brought on by rain coming in, aggravating the men’s chronic arthritis, making their joints hurt and having them pull those boots out of the closet. Perfectly sensible.”

Art looked at Shay over his mug, took a long, slow sip. “Perfectly.”

Shay cleared her throat, “And that doesn’t change the fact that…” She rummaged on the table, flipped the magazine open, “Look, this one even takes place in Lauriston Gardens.”

“Nobody from Scotland Yard was involved with that, though,” Art said, “That was a purely private matter. A consultation, you could say.”

Shay sighed, “Why didn’t you at least tell me, Art?”

“I rather expected you would have, in your own eloquent and scathing way, told me not to,” Art replied, “Besides, look on the bright side of this. People are finally being interested in science, in the truth of things. They want hard reality, not fairy stories or folk cures. They want to believe in justice, to know that we can catch people who prey on those weaker than they are. These stories let them have that, make them believe that the world isn’t as dark and mysterious as they were raised to think. They want to believe, and things like this,” he tapped the magazine, “Are how they’ll get there.”

“So you’re taking the stories I told you and…giving people hope?” Shay said, “I don’t think you’re quite so high-minded as that.”

“Of course not,” Art said, “I’m also being well-compensated. They’ve already commissioned another of these, apparently this is selling quite well.”

“Surely you don’t mean to continue this,” Shay said, arching one eyebrow.

“I believe I’ve made my position sufficiently clear,” Art said, “Besides, I really don’t know why you’re so concerned about someone tracing these things back. As far as anyone knows, these are pure fiction. By the time I’m done with them, that’s damn close to the truth.”

“Art,” Shay said, her voice flat, “You put my name on the first page of the story.”

“I did no such thing,” Art said, and laid his hand over his heart.

Shay watched Art for a moment, then reached inside her jacket and pulled out a small, silver calling-card case. With a few deft motions, she withdrew a card, snapped the case closed, returned it to her pocket. She picked up one of Art’s pencils, underlined a few letters on the card, then slid the stiff paper rectangle over to him.

Art picked the card up, looked at the underlining, “Miss Haimes, do you have any idea what it’s like not to be as smart as you?” He leaned forward, “I’m reasonably clever, and you’re something else, something far beyond all the people who are going to read these stories. Nobody knows your connection. Nobody ever will. These will just be thrilling stories about a man and his chronicler,” Art paused, “Making people safer. And that reminds me.”

“Reminds you?” Shay said, suddenly nonplussed.

“I have a contact, over in Prague, by the name of Ware. He heads an…unorthodox collection of like-minded individuals who…how to put this delicately, investigate the paranormal. Root out fraudsters, find what the read dangers are. They…keep people safe. I was going to tell you over Christmas puddings, but I expect now is as good a time as any.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” Shay said.

“Well,” Art said, “They’re always on the lookout for new people to induct into their ranks. We both know the world is getting a little more strange, a little less civilized than we’d like it to be. They want to help with that. They want to solve the mysteries. Ah, here we are.” He pulled a letter out of a drawer, handed it over to Shay.

She pulled thick vellum out of a heavy, wax-sealed envelope, her eye running over heavy-lettered words.

“They want to meet you, Ms. Haimes,” Art said, “And I think that you’d do much for one another. Go, be part of something bigger, something important. Let him solve the little mysteries” and Art tapped the magazine, “And you’ll solve the ones that matter.”

Birth Name: Roger Alexandre Martin
Other Names: Prefers to simply be called Roger, he has jokingly been called the "Bloodhound of Paris" by his former colleagues and a number of criminals, but it is a nom de guerre he neither relishes nor tolerates without complaint.

Gender: Male
Age: 27

Rank/Titles/Social Class:
Monsieur Martin is of humble origins (lower class). However, he has an exemplary service record, having served a number of years as a detective with the French civil police force, the Sûreté Nationale. He left the bureau on cordial terms and as far as the French constabulary is concerned he remains an upstanding citizen.

Appearance:
Roger is decidedly average in height (6'1") and has a solid build; the result of life long pursuit of urban adventure. His skin is light, but touched by time spent in the sun, and Roger has a healthy vigor to his appearance. He has the sharp brown eyes of man always on the lookout for trouble and straight brown hair kept perennially short. He sports a well-kept mustache and meticulously trimmed beard, to ward off the cold of night according to his own claims. He walks with the grace of a man certain of his place in the world and confident in his own abilities to handle himself when things inevitably take a turn for the worse. Roger has a small collection of scars, chiefly on his hands and arms, courtesy of time spent in the field. His nose, although expertly set, has clearly been broken a number of times.

Roger wears a gray coat with covered buttons and matching waistcoat, dark trousers, short turnover shirt collar, and black bow tie. In regards to footwear, he favors a pair of sturdy leather boots. His practical outfit is completed by a well-worn bowler hat. Like many gentleman of the day Roger also carries a cane with him everywhere he goes, he see it as a proper gentleman's accessory, and more importantly it is a useful but discrete weapon. In addition to this, Roger does not venture far without the added security of carrying a loaded firearm on his person.

Personality:
Roger is a pragmatic and hardworking individual by nature. He is even-tempered, rarely allows his emotions to get the better of him. He is meticulous in his planning and deliberate in his actions. Exposure to some of the less noble aspects of humanity has left him a bit of a pessimist and he is notorious in the society for his dark sense of humor. A career spent sifting through the lies that people create to hide their crimes has also left him rather distrustful of other people. However, man is a social creature, and despite presenting a gruff exterior, Roger is agreeable and warm to those that show themselves worthy of his trust.

Far from a coward, Roger is willing to face danger when required, but he does not idly risk himself or others. If he has learned anything in life, it is the importance of adapting to the situation at hand and that more often than not actions speaks louder than words. Having long since parted ways with the Catholic Church and similar archaic institutions, Roger is concerned with results, rather than tradition or convention.

Psychic Talent:
Monsieur Martin's psychic talent is his remarkable ability to track the trace psychic impressions that a person leaves behind them. This 'aura trail' can however be muddled by the passage of too many people and like all things, it fades with time. Of note is the fact that Roger can also get a hint of the emotion a person was feeling and on rarer occasions still, he has been able to sense the motivations of the person he is tracking.

Roger has possessed this remarkable talent for as long as he can remember, but for most of his life he had simply convinced himself he was blessed with a remarkable understanding of how others think or act when trying to hide or flee.


Skills:
While Roger has the benefit of neither of a noble upbringing nor a lengthy education, his time spent in the service of the state has afforded him an adequate knowledge of the most commonly spoken tongues of Europe. His French is concise and to the point, his dialect very clearly the Parisian of the common man. He speaks English fluently but with a slight accent and he has gone to great pains to acquire a passable level of German fluency. At present, he has only the slightest grasp of Czech, enough to order a pint of beer or a bottle of wine and to get directions to the nearest washroom.

In regards to his professional talents, Roger is a decent enough carpenter and an exceedingly well-trained policeman. He has several years of successful police work to his name and brings with him a number of hard lessons learned patrolling some of the most crime ridden districts of Paris. Thanks to the unique methods employed by the Sûreté, he also has a particularly noteworthy amount of knowledge concerning undercover work and he has acquired a knack for blending into a crowd or disappearing into the urban milleau of any sizable city.

A man of many routines, Roger engages in a series of calisthenic and gymnastic exercises every morning. Although it is not the primary purpose of his early morning activities, these exercises have the added benefit of keeping the Frenchman in excellent shape.


Weapons/Fighting:
Roger is an excellent shot with most manner of firearms, but like any good policeman he views the use of lethal force only as an option of last resort. Furthermore, gunshots have a nasty habit of attracting unwanted attention, something neither Roger nor the society is particularly keen on attracting. Since joining the society, Roger has taken up the normally aristocratic sport of hunting and when not occupied with official business he enjoys spending time in the countryside pursuing all manner of game.

During his time with the Sûreté Nationale Roger was trained in the the techniques of Savate (a French martial art which uses both the hands and feet) and Canne d’Arme (stick-fighting). A practical rather than flashy fighter, he relies on efficient and often brutal techniques to dispatch an opponent. As an experienced police officer he is familiar with how to best subdue or even disarm a suspect, with the amount of harm inflected on said suspect determined by the level of resistance encountered.

A man used to venturing into the heart of crime ridden slums, Roger carries a revolver and a cane (weighted with lead on one end) with him at all times. While a proud Frenchman, Roger is a firm believer in stopping power and thus currently holds the .455 calibre Webley Mk. I as his revolver of choice.


History:
Roger Alexandre Martin born in Paris, in the Winter of 1863, to Monsieur Auguste Philippe Martin and Madame Marie Françoise Martin. The oldest of seven children, he was forced by necessity to grow up quickly. His father was a talented carpenter and his mother was a hard-working seamstress, however despite the dedication of his parents, the large family was often destitute. Roger grew up in the slums of Paris, spending most of his youth not far from the dilapidated neighborhood where he was born. The Paris he knows is one, whose streets were, and still are rampant with crime. However, despite his humble origins, Roger had a happy childhood. After all he had his loving parents, doting grandparents, cherished younger siblings, and a seemingly endless number of relatives around him.

He completed his primary education with only average grades, but was a voracious reader. Given the poverty of his family, he fortunately showed little interest in continuing his formal education and soon after his thirteenth birthday he secured a job in a furniture factory thanks to the help of his father. Showing much of the same talent as his father, Roger did well for himself, or well...about as well as a factory worker in 19th century France could do. However, with the passage of a several of years, he had grown weary of working long grueling hours for little pay and days spent hidden from the sun. Seeking a fresh start and inspired by the newspaper reports about the growing police force seeking to bring order to city of Paris, Roger joined the civil police force at the fledgling age of seventeen. Driven ever onwards by a desire to do some good and the hope of finding some much needed adventure.

He proved to be a quick learner and displayed an impressive aptitude in all things related to police work. Eventually, Roger even managed to secure a position as a detective in the Sûreté Nationale, the most illustrious bureau of the modern police force tasked solely with criminal investigations. Following the tried-and-true methods of the legendary bureau, he participated in an extensive amount of undercover work (especially for the era). Together with his colleagues he pursued all manner of thieves, cheats, con-artists, fraudsters, thugs, violent criminals, and murders. As a member of the bureau, he shared in numerous victories and far fewer defeats (that nonetheless left their marks). In the process, he also received a respectable number of battle wounds; a testament to the volatile nature of police work. He was particularly noted for possessing a remarkable talent for tracking down even the most elusive of suspects and bringing them to justice. Unwilling or unable to accept the talent he had borne with him for a lifetime, Roger simply attributed his success a strong instinct for police work.

A chance encounter with the paranormal resulted in loss of one fellow officer and the death of two civilians, forever shattering Roger's faith in the normalcy of life. Left in doubt and questioning all that he had once known, Roger did the only thing a detective can do when faced with doubt, he sought out the truth. Leaving his colleagues at the Sûreté Nationale, ventured out into the world in search of answers. In seeking these answer he eventually found his way to the Ianus Congreatio.

Satisfied with the honorable goals of the organization and convinced by the information they guarded he embarked on a decidedly different career. Since then, Roger has faithfully served the Ianus Congreatio.


Random:
Bullet format (for now):
an avid pipe smoker, rarely seen without his favored pipe, a simple briar wood pipe, simplicity at first betrays the exquisite craftsmanship that went into the construction of the minimalist pipe. large half bent billiard shape, bent, black stem, light reddish wooden bowl
carries a sizable amount of tobacco with him at all times
stores his pipe and related items in a leather tobacco pouch, engraved with his name (R. A. Martin)

Birth Name: Shalom Loew Ben Moshe
Other Names: Ben

Gender: Male
Age: 28

Rank/Titles/Social Class: Shalom is of the Loew family, an obscenely rich Jewish banking family with deep roots in Prague. He isn't nobility, but he's richer than most counts.

Appearance: Shalom is a skinny, short fellow, clad in heavy black garments with many pouches. He is the antithesis of the ordinary peacocks of Prague, and stands out in a crowd of nobleman like a sore thumb. His hair is black, his eyes are brown, his nose is too big and his lower face is a weak excuse for a chin. Despite all that, he looks weary, well-traveled, and seasoned - a sage with knowing eyes and a cryptic smile.

Personality: Headstrong, devout, inquisitive and fierce as a blood-hound, Shalom would have made for a spectacular general in battle had he the nerve to take another man's life. He has a gentle spirit, a healthy dose of respect for his fellow men and appreciates the fairness of politeness. He's deeply religious and of a scientific mind, which often puts him at odds with himself. He solves these issues with clever reasoning, resorting to logical loops to keep his sanity and faith.

Psychic Talent: None. (Surprise!)

Skills: Shalom has a keen eye for business, finance, investments and money in general. He has a sharp and intelligent mind, a knowledge of history, religion and politics unparalleled by any commoner and a lab dedicated to alchemy. His family contacts all throughout Europe had lead him to know many languages, such as German, Hungarian, Russian, French, English, Italian and more, while his travels abroad familiarized him with Turkish and Arabic, among others. He is a renaissance man, and dubs himself a scientist in many different fields, chiefly of which is Chemistry.

He makes effective amulets and charms to protect people, for a price. High society often turn to him for advice on finance, faith and life itself, or if they feel less protected, an amulet, a charm - or even attempt to ask for a hex, but he would never do such a thing to another man.

He's a collector of many things, including old tomes of alchemy, religious manuscripts and most importantly - anything related to the Golem.

Weapons/Fighting: Shalom shies away from violence of any kind. (Didn't see that coming, did you?)

History: Shalom was born to a cadet branch of the Loew family, whose roots go deep into the city of Prague and its Jewish heritage. He was the third of five siblings and one of his father's two sons. He showed great promise from an early age, and his father hoped he could become a great scholar while his eldest son would take his place in the family business. As such, Shalom was far more encouraged in his religious studies, and even received tutors specializing in mystic teachings such as the Zohar. They taught him of fashioning amulets of protection, old charms and hexes, the science of numbers and symbols, reading the future in the holy book given from god, and much more. He was educated by the best teachers from an early age, attended a fancy private Jewish school and passed with high commendation.

It was after he graduated that he decided to travel Europe and study in religious seminaries in Russia, Austria-Hungary, Germany, Britain - and later travelling to the Ottoman Empire to the great community in Baghdad and a pilgrimage to the holy land in Jerusalem. It was there that he learned of studies of less spiritual value - alchemy, from the mouth of a blind monk in Edessa who lead him to a mad hermit in the mountains of Judea. It was there that he learned of the process of distilling to reach the most pure form, and thus obtaining perfection and purpose.

He stayed in Jerusalem for a long period, when a letter from his father drove him back - his brother had died from illness, and he was needed back in Prague. Shalom would succeed his father - but he couldn't adjust to his new life. He managed the family business together with his father for nearly a year, all the while suffering from insomnia and black dreams. In his dreams his brother was murdered, but he couldn't understand why or how. He couldn't endure the pressure any longer, and left the family mansion.

It was only when his brother appeared to him in a dream, asking him to avenge his death and mentioning the Golem of their ancestor that he stopped himself from leaving the city. His search of a communicator to the other side lead him astray many times, but finally he found a connection in the society - and a promise for a clue leading towards the Golem.

Random: Shalom is often called 'Ben' by members of the community, which irritates him. He endured the nickname so that he wouldn't have to tell his repeat his name too many times around the circles of the society. "Ben Moshe" means "Son of Moshe", because his father's name is Moshe (Moses).

Shalom is in possession of a lot of baubles and knickknacks, some of which are actually useful.

Birth Name: Lady Adriana Sona Pavlina Láska

Other Names: Ana, Adri, Addy (Only her late brother called her Addy), Sona

Gender: Female

Age: 18 years of age, of marriage age

Rank/Titles/Social Class: Adriana was born very much so a Lady, and has always been such. Upper-class.

Adriana is of average height, standing at five foot four, or 162.5 centimeters. She has long curly brown hair that she usually pins up into a bun, or braids and then pins up. She usually is seen wearing long dresses with many layers of petticoats, high button up boots, a fashionable jacket over her dress, and a wide brimmed hat and a pair of gloves.

She is of a slender build, being as she is noble, she does not tend to eat much. She is also in good physical shape, being an avid fencer in her spare time. She does have a small scar on her back left shoulder, but she does not like discussing it or showing it. However, due to how she dresses, no one knows it is there.

Personality: Adriana is a fairly easy person to get along with, gifted in the art of small talk. She is use to conversing with people from all walks of life, and is use to wandering the streets of Prague and finding interesting people to talk with. Adriana is very interested in the paranormal, which is part of the reason why she is part of Ianus Congreatio, besides having her own talent.
For greatest loves, she has much love for the works of fiction, especially one by another young woman. She loves the dark tales from the Americas, and eats up the Macabre. She also loves fencing, calling it an art. She is a master, but does not get to use her skills often, since ‘Ladies do not fight.’
For greatest hates, Adriana hates frauds, criminals, her father, and sweets. For some odd reason she has never found a fondness for sweets that the others of her gender seem to have. As for her father, he use to parade around as a psychic, and made even more money off of people. As Adriana’s own talents developed in secrets, she grew to resent her father.
Adriana is firmly Catholic, which is at odds with her talents and her paranormal knowledge. She is never seen without a cross on her person, and always has a bible tucked away on her person. As for her worldview, she does have a bit of her nose in the air, having been born in the highest rung of society, but is having a bit of change of heart since joining Ianus Congreatio and meeting more people from all walks of life. She is a little snooty at times, but she is working on it.

Psychic Talent: Adriana can read the history of an object by touching it. However, what of what she can read in the history of the object can be rather random. This manifested itself when she was around seven years of age, and she touched a purse belonging to her mother, and saw where her mother had spent the day. She has used this to her advantage, in some aspects, but found that there are times where you do not want to know an object's history. She tends to wear gloves because of this. The last time she used it to her advantage was during a marriage meeting that her parents had arranged, and she asked to see her suitor’s watch. Finding out about his many dalliances, she spurned him. She never clarified as to how she knew, but it became harder for her to hide her gift when abusing it as such. So, she limits herself to how she uses her gift now.

Skills: Adriana is a very well rounded lady, able to speak no less than three languages, play the piano, sing and also fence. She can also cross stitch with the best of them. She had to fight to learn how to fence, since her parents insisted that it was not a thing a proper young baroness would need to know. However, she was very passionate, having watched her older brother for years, and picked up the art quickly. She soon surpassed her first teacher, and moved on, becoming a master at the age of sixteen. For languages, she learned her native tongue, Czech, English and German. She does understand some French, but not enough to keep up a conversation with anyone.

Weapons/Fighting: Fencing. Adriana is a master fencer, having started when she was about seven years in age, mastering the art by the time she was sixteen. Due to this she has rather good reflexes. She also always carries an umbrella for this reason, because who would expect to be fended off by an umbrella?

History: Adriana was born into the noble house of Láska, an old noble family line in Prague. She was raised mostly by nursemaids and governesses, who taught Adriana to be a proper young lady. She was only really allowed one rebellion in her life, and that was fencing. She had grown interested in fencing after watching her older brother, Ludvik, fence. The art fascinated her, and her own brother would let her hold his sword after he was done practicing.

Adriana loved her older brother, and the two kept very little from one another. She never informed her bother of her talent, fearing she would be put away in an institute if she told him. As he was ten years older than Adriana, he was preparing for marriage when tragedy struck. He was gunned down in an alleyway for money one night after returning his fiancee to her home. The criminal stole Ludvik’s money, and his life. After this incident, which happened when Adriana was about twelve, she changed. The bright bubbly girl she had been once grew more introverted, and much more interested in the macabre and morbid things. Her pallor faded, and she became very pale.

This was changed when she turned sixteen, and after she mastered the art of fencing. Her parents did not want to have an ‘unusual’ daughter, especially not with her quickly approaching marriage age. They encouraged her to attend parties, as well as help her father with his frauds. She was disgusted with her father’s antics, but did enjoy the socialization. The color returned to her cheeks, and she started getting a bit more of a healthy life. It was through one of these parties she learned of Ianus Congreatio, and that she was not alone with her gifts. She sought them out and joined them, and has been a part of the society for a little under a year at this point.

Random: Adriana is rarely seen without a ring on her right index finger, which is in the shape of a black rose. It was a gift from her older brother, and she almost never takes it off, except to bathe. Anyone who attempts to take it off of her is promptly beat senseless with an umbrella, or a sword if they are unlucky. Her parents are pushing her into an arranged marriage, but she is not fond of the idea at this time. Marriage is for later, in her mind.