Name: Schrödinger (Schroedinger, if you don't have the patience for those fancy letters)
Title: sir, ah...cat, erm -- yes (He's definitely male. But that doesn't keep him from confounding those who put a great deal of stock in matters of etiquette but failed to consider that cats are far better people than humans)
Moniker: the Improbable Feline

Age: ? (He claims, at various times, to be a few thousand, to be older than the First City, to be older than the Bazaar. He is probably lying about most of this. He also claims to be older than the Duchess. How old is the Duchess? Come now, that is not the sort of thing one ever asks a lady, particularly not a lady of her caliber)
Race: feline (has the appearance of Felis silvestris. Not F. s. catus -- no one with any sense ever accuses him of being a domestic cat)
Appearance: a standard cat of perhaps nine or ten pounds, about a foot in height at the shoulder when on all fours. He has a luxurious coat of black fur that fades to merely very dark brown in some places. He seems to be of some unknown longhaired breed, though his fur is on the shorter side for most of those breeds. His eyes are either yellow or light green, but which depends as much upon when one is looking as anything else. There is a minor kink about halfway along his tail, and one ear has a small slice in it where an injury didn't quite heal right.

^{Of course, things become far more interesting in Parabola....}

Primary Attribute: Watchful
Secondary Attribute: Shadowy


Background: Schrödinger claims his mother was a sister to the Midnight Matriarch, and his father a Parabolan panther of considerable power. It is not entirely unlikely that this is the truth, though he must be lying when he says he visited the Second City just to see it fall. ...Mustn't he? He's never had any qualms about bending the truth when it suited him, nor substituting a reasonable lie when the truth just wouldn't do.

What is known for certain is this: he has been around long enough to acquire both knowledge and wisdom, and given the ease with which he visits Parabola and the nature of death in the Neath, he may well be considerably older than the average Surface feline.

He is a frequent figure in the presence of the Duchess, and also at the University (Benthic more often than Summerset). He is fond of the Shuttered Palace and Veilgarden, and like all cats he is intimately familiar with Spite and the Flit. Unlike most of his brethren, however, Schrödinger shows an unseemly (for a cat) fondness for the affairs of humans. Perhaps that explains some of his more unusual habits and predilections. Perhaps he is simply a singularly unique specimen. Whatever the case, he has been known to make himself useful, or at least conveniently bribable, depending on his mood.

Name: Cassius Ashdown
Title: Sergeant
Moniker: The Inquisitive Veteran
Age: 46
Race: Human
Appearance: Cassius is a tall individual, standing at 6’5 in height, with a well muscled body, the latter being a result of his time spent in the military and constant physical exercise afterwards that period. The invasion of Hell left it’s marks on Cassius’s body, the most evident being the missing eye but one can see scars here and there on his body from the Devil’s infernal weaponry; the only scar on his body that Cassius didn’t earn in that campaign is a scar that goes through the length of his throat, a souvenir from a near-failed scientific-expedition. Cassius normally wears a long, black, overcoat that reaches past his knees, with a white dress shirt underneath it; to compliment the overcoat Cassius wears a pair of matching black trousers and simple shoes. Along with this, Cassius almost always wears a pair of white gloves.

Primary Attribute: Watchful
Secondary Attribute: Dangerous
Connections:

• The Master:"Many still hold the Masters in contempt, but I for my part thank them. They have brought us to the next frontier: the Neath. If it weren’t for them we wouldn’t be positioned in this uniquely advantageous position to unlock its mysteries, even if they sometimes hinder our efforts in unlocking said mysteries."
• Bohemians:"They are self-centered, hedonistic, fops, it’s better to stay well clear from them. There’s nothing else to be said."
• Constables:"Ah, the protectors of the people of fair London, or that’s the ideal at any rate. Ah, how seldom does reality match the ideal but, even so, they still have their uses."
• Criminals:"In an ideal world, one would be able to acquire whatever it is that one needs through the proper, legal, channels. As it stands there are quite a few things, particularly books and relics, that can’t be obtained if one doesn’t make deals with those living in the shadows. A pity really, if things were otherwise one could save themselves so many headaches but it’s a sacrifice one must make in the search for knowledge."
• Hell:"Ah, our otherworldly neighbors, I was afraid I’d be asked about them. I should hate them, I lost a year of my life in that infernal dimension of theirs, and countless friends as well. And yet, when I see them, nowadays I can only see a mystery to be cracked open, it’s secrets ready to be revealed. Well, I suppose I don’t have to play nice to get that secret...in that sense I suppose that, yes, in a way I hate them.”
• Revolutionaries:"Ah, a similar case to the one with our criminal friends. In an ideal world, it wouldn’t be needed to deal with them, but they have information that is very, very, interesting. Still, how once can access that information is another matter entirely….for example one could always strike a deal with the Constables, a tip here and there about suspect revolutionaries in exchange for receiving a text here and there as a gift from a friend. Still, in spite of the knowledge they possess, they are utter fools, who would like to get rid of beings such as the Masters? Or the Bazaar? This people just don’t think what we could learn from either of them, and that I can’t forgive.”
• Rubbery Men:"Ah, they are fascinating creatures aren’t they? None of us know from where they’ve come, and not even the Devils seem to want to approach them. If only they could communicate with us easily, just think of what we could learn! Still, I suppose it remains a pipedream for now. However, I do know that we shouldn’t treat them as we currently do such an attitude is unbecoming of us."
• The Docks:"There isn’t much to say, I know a few people there due to the trading company but I wouldn’t say I’m particularly close to anyone there. At best I’d say we maintain a good professional relationship with those who work for the trading company."
• High Society:"I suppose I should say something about feeling at ease amongst them or that I’m accustomed to their lifestyle? Well, I’m afraid that’s not the case, we Ashdowns made our fortunes through our hard work and climbed the social ladder thanks to that, as a result of that I’m afraid we’ve never quite fitted entirely, and I have other more important matters than ingratiate myself like a sycophant to a bunch of snakes that will more than likely sneer at me once I turn my back."
• Church:"I haven't much to say, I pray for safety and good fortune from time to time but I wouldn’t call myself a devout believer. The last time I went to a chapel was during the mass held for those in my unit that were lost in the campaign of the ‘68, afterwards I haven’t set foot even once."
• The Great Game:"Ah, the Game, there isn’t quite anything like it, is there? In the end we’re all pieces of chess in the Game, at best I could say that I’m a pawn who is aware of his position but I have no further interest in involving myself in it beyond that."
• The Tomb Colonies:"Ah great source of information, I’ve been to Venderbright once or twice and what you can learn in that place is incredible! A few of the more, well, bellicose ones might ask you to duel them but they are in general quite amiable, it’s truly a shame that they are so reviled by the rest of our society, just imagine what we could learn if we were a bit more open-minded."
• Urchins:"Hmm, there isn’t much to say, a bunch of kids who turned to crime because our society couldn’t provide for them. No matter the way you look at it, their present situation is our fault, but unfortunately no one seems to want to do anything to fix that issue...though even if we tried, I doubt the Urchins would be too please. It’s a bad situation all around I’d say."

Background:Cassius was born in 1850 within the Ashdown family. The Ashdown’s were a wealthy family that belonged to the upper strata of the middle-class thanks to the ownership of a trading company and various contacts amongst the upper echelons of society. Cassius was groomed through the vast majority of his life to take his father’s place as the head of the Ashdown trading company, and as such was privately tutored in many of the subjects that his parents believed would help him in his future position at the head of the trading company such as fine etiquette and various other matters that would, in his parents eyes, hone the young Cassius trade acumen.

Unfortunately Her Enduring Majesty’s deal with the Masters of the Bazaar in 1862 would throw those carefully outlined plans into disarray. While the Ashdown family still had the vast majority of the fortune that it had gathered before London’s descend into the Neath, the trading company itself faced problem after problem as Cassius father tried to find new markets which to exploit in the unterzee an endeavor made all the more difficult due to the vastly more dangerous nature of the underground sea in comparison to its topside opposite. Eventually the Ashdown family founds its footing once again and though it'd never regain the same heights that it had managed to reach in the surface their position amongst society was still secure. Through this turbulent times Cassius life didn’t change much, with the exception of the necessary changes that came with adapting to life in the Neath that is, until the fateful year of 1868.

That year Cassius was supposed to enlist in Summerset College according to his father’s plans, the hope being that in that prestigious university Cassius could both simultaneously finish his education and build social connections that'd help him in his future position as the owner of the Ashdown trading company. However things weren’t to go according to the wishes of the elder Ashdown but on the day that Cassius was supposed to take the entry test into Summerset college, the younger Ashford instead signed up into London’s army. No one knows exactly what happened that day, Cassius’s family had never noticed in him a desire to enroll in the army nor a particularly strong sense of patriotism that could explain such an act and Cassius himself has never given any thorough explanation when prompted to explain himself, the only thing that is known for sure is that when he arrived home he announced his enlistment into Her Enduring Majesty’s armed forces. The next day Cassius was out of the Ashdown family to begin his training and shortly after that the ill-fated Campaign of the ‘68 took place.

Unfortunately for the young Ashdown, his unit was amongst those few unfortunates who managed to push past the ambush in the Forgotten Quarter into Hell proper. Cassius was returned to London a year latter amongst other soldiers after negotiations with Hell were over, he was bloodied and bruised and with a missing eye but alive; he was brought in for questioning shortly after that as to inquire what had happened to him and the rest of his squad during their captivity but Cassius couldn’t say what had transpired in the dimension that the Devil’s called home, the only thing that he could recall with full certainty was that his unit had suffered losses in their push into Hell and that his CO, in a bid to try and re-establish the chain of command, had given him a field promotion to Sergeant but, after that, his memories became hazier and hazier until he could remember nothing except for the fact that they had been eventually captured. Too shaken up, to the point of seeming almost delirious, Cassius was allowed to return to his home after it was established that he couldn’t provide anymore information about the fate of his comrades, the next day a letter arrived in the Ashdown household. The letter detailed that while the Royal Army had ratified Cassius’s field promotion for his service in the name of Her Enduring Majesty, it was also relieving him of duty permanently before closing with the fact that he’d start receiving his pension as a veteran shortly enough.

Cassius was rudderless for a brief period of time as he readjusted to London’s society once again but he soon regained his bearings and stated his desire to continue his education. The senior Ashdowns had expected their child to enlist in Summerset to continue his path as a successor of the family’s trading company, like it had been planned two years ago, but to the surprise of his family Cassius enlisted in Benthic and not only that but he seemed to be focusing almost to a single-mindedness degree in all the subjects that concerned the Neath, that strange avenue of knowledge that had open when London fell from the surface. The years of college slowly passed by as Cassius focused wholeheartedly in his pursuit of knowledge and, eventually, Cassius was out, his time as a student at Benthic coming to an end. Now that his studies were done, Cassius was forced to take charge of the family trading company. Somewhat fortunately for the senior Ashdown male, Cassius was interested in keeping the company afloat if for entirely different reasons than his father.

Using the money earned by the company, Cassius funded his own research into the mysteries of the Neath and even helped to co-fund more than one scientific expedition. However this also meant that the trading company has, at times, gone slightly underfunded due to Cassius’s interests, this precarious balance that Cassius maintained as he tried to both fulfill his obligation to his family’s trading company and pursue his own interests in the mysteries of the Neath continued on for years until one day, when returning from his latest scientific expedition, he found out a letter that differentiated from the usual, business-related, correspondence that stockpiled while he was out at zee. There, inside of the envelope, was a letter addressed to him, inviting him to a masked ball held by the upper crust of London’s society; seeing an opportunity in the masqued ball to finally correct the precarious equilibrium between his obligations and his own interests, Cassius accepted the letter without hesitance.