Name
Fidelity "Fiddle" Astor

Gender
Female

Age
22, January 10, 1997

Sexuality
Bisexual

Nationality
American

Appearance
Fidelity has long since accepted the fact that daily life is harder for than. Short and slender she has to use her dogs as buffers to keep from being crushed in crowds and knocks objects off high shelves with her cane instead of getting assistance from someone else. She carries herself with a straight back and steady gaze, greeting most people with the same easy smile and wave.

Her clothes run the gamut from light casual wear to black leather and old jeans, Fiddle choosing outfits more for variety than any particular style. Her preferred Shadow World outfit is purposely extravagant and flamboyant to the extreme, Fiddle believing that there's no point in hijacking people's conscious if you're not going to have fun while doing it.

Height
4'8"

Personality
Aimless, reckless, and obsessive Fidelity is caught in the curious position of being able to do whatever she wants and having nothing she wants to do. With no long term goals to reach for she tries to fill the hole inside her with with constant action. The urge to keep everything neat and tidy that had been ingrained in her as a child clashes with her urge to raise hell, her apartment caught in a constant cycle of being totally trashed and furiously scrubbed clean as conflicting compulsions battle against one another.

Fiddle is certainly friendly but there's an undertone to it that can be somewhat off-putting. She'll wave and smile brightly at an a acquaintance even as she peers around them at some non-existent phantom, eyes flitting about during conversations while she nods along. She's almost weirdly friendly, letting total strangers into her home every weekend to party and allowing people to take almost anything they want.

Her access to apparently limitless wealth has imbued her with a dismissive sense charity of charity, aware that she's much better off than most people but not feeling particularly guilty about it. Her family has money and others don't, that's just how life is. She leaves fifty pound tips on twenty pound meals and gives away jewelry to people who comment on it, waving off stammered thanks as she continues on with her day. Replacing it is just a minor inconvenience. She takes money for granted the same way most people do running water, oftentimes stuffing a wad of bills into friend's hands "to get something on your way home."

Arcana
The Emperor

Persona
The Mothman
First sighted by a group of gravediggers, the Mothman seems to be attracted to death and poor fortune. Spotted flying low over forests and haunting highways, one of it's regular haunts was an abandoned munitions factory from the Second World War. Despite its fearsome appearance the Mothman seemed content to stay out of people's way, restricting itself to frightening motorists and picking off the occasional dog.

Until the Silver Bridge collapsed. A single defective eye-bar led to the whole thing tumbling down into the Ohio river, killing 46 people. Two of the bodies were never found. To this day people claim that all sorts of supernatural happenings had occurred in the days leading up to the disaster, visions of it happening before it occurred and visits from ghosts and UFOs and men in black and the Mothman circling the area as if waiting. This is of course ridiculous. The Mothman was likely just a a sandhill crane or unusually large heron, something mundane and not at all a harbinger of bad luck.

Still the legend persists to this day. If you ever find yourself out on some backwoods road at night be careful when you watch the sky. You might find a pair of red searchlights watching you right back.

Skill
Curse. The Mothman uses it's bulk and ability to fly as a form of mobile cover, tanking damage for its user and more fragile allies. It can also curse enemies, making them vulnerable to damage or weakening their attacks.

Equipment
Sword-Cane: A much more ornate version of her real world cane. The hooked head can snag on limbs and bits of clothing to drag or trip people and the blade itself is weighted perfectly to Fiddle's liking. The bottom is spiked, allowing it to be used as a spear or oversized ice pick.

Henry Rifle: The same rifle she grew up shooting. Sixteen .44 bullets (if you load one in the chamber) sent downrange with speed and accuracy. Her preferred way to fight for obvious reasons.

Education
Business BA (Hons), 3rd Year

Biography
Fidelity was born into immense wealth, the scion of a old ranching family and a more recent chemical empire. Her early years were spent bouncing between her parent's properties in Texas and West Virginia, being taught almost exclusively by private tutors and learning to ride horses and handle livestock. It was established early on that she would be inheriting one or both businesses depending on how things went, the young girl accepting her fate without much enthusiasm. She had no interest in learning the finer points of shipping nylon and neoprene around the globe and was better suited to shooting bottles and riding horses than castrating steers. But it was never about what Fiddle wanted. Her existence was a calculated affair designed to ensure both parties involved had an heir.

It was a somewhat lonely existence. What few friends she had she'd be separated from for months at a time as she bounced between states, being taken all over by one parent or another as they went about their mostly separate lives. With neither mom nor dad having much interest in her outside of her studies and general well-being she relied on her relatives for company, a private car dropping her off at all the birthdays and barbecues her parents didn't have time to take her to themselves.

Her favorite relative lived out of the country, working a meaningless upper management position for Astor Chemical Co. in London’s Canary Wharf district. Daniel was more of a parent to Fidelity than her biological ones, taking care of her for a couple months at a time when she needed to be out of the way. Fiddle sat for hours listening to him tell stories about aliens and cryptids haunting the backwoods, absorbing each tale of ghosts invading people’s heads or strange monsters that lurked in back alleys.

Daniel only fueled her interest in the supernatural, letting the girl dig through his collection of grainy UFO sightings and books on the occult. Just a bit of harmless fun, he told her. Strange stories that weren’t true but were good for a late night scare. She remained unconvinced, sure that there was more to the world than people accepted.

Those treasured days came to an end shortly after Fidelity’s twelfth birthday. Daniel had been heading home from work late one night when his elevator failed in a freak accident. He plummeted 15 stories before hitting the ground, reduced to paste almost instantly. A tragic case of bad luck, nothing could have been done. Fidelity took the loss hard, refusing to speak for nearly a month after the funeral. Less than a week after she started to talk Lady Luck spat on her again, a sudden thunderstorm turning the ground to mud while she was out riding. The horse tripped in the muck and toppled over, crushing her leg underneath it’s bulk.

It took more than five hours before she could be found and by the time she was taken to the hospital it was too late. Fidelity’s left leg had lost most of its function, forcing her to use a brace and cane to get around. After a long run of relative kindness Luck had decided to lash out and Fiddle took notice. Chance and probability became fixations for her, taking an interest in all sorts of gambling and numbers games. The randomness of it all intrigued her, watching with interest as people won and lost fortunes in moments.

From that point on she was stuck in a sort of functional dissociation. Her belief in the otherworldly only deepened with her newfound interest in chance, strange figures flitting about at the corner of her vision. She went to a private academy for high school and made up for all the stupid decisions she hadn’t been able to make, throwing herself into the drinking and drug scene with passion. More than one sports car ended up wrapped around a light pole or stuck in a ditch, substances doing nothing to temper her penchant for risk taking. It was a miracle she made it to graduation, her by now divorced parents gladly shipping her off back to London with the hope that she’d sort herself out there.

As long as she was educating herself both had pledged to support her, Fidelity’s self-destructive party lifestyle backed by seemingly limitless funds. She was now free to drift without any purpose save for hedonism.

Affiliations
-Daniel Astor:Fiddle's now deceased cousin and surrogate parent. She keeps a picture of him in her wallet and on her desk in her penthouse.
-Turner and Basker:Her service dogs and chaperones. Trained to help their mistress by serving as bulk to lean on and getting objects that would be otherwise out of reach, as well as defend her when needed. There are few people in the world capable of fighting off nearly four hundred pounds of attack dog and she has yet to one of them.

Relationships
TBD

Character Theme
TBD

Alistair’s physical form is fairly average; he’s perhaps a touch shorter than medium height, is neither scrawny nor bulky and has a face somewhere between broad and angular. His hair is jet black and his eyes are a dull green. He’s normally at least somewhat well-kept – he washes his face enough to avoid outbreaks of acne but does get the occasional spot; has his hair cut every four or five months or so; and shaves once every two days.

In regards to clothing, Alistair’s wardrobe isn’t extensive or especially varied, since he isn’t exactly fashion-conscious and lets his parents and grandparents buy most of his clothing for him. His school uniform is worn according to Evergreen’s policy; when dressed casually he prefers mostly plain and fairly dark clothes, favouring mostly forest greens, maroons and deep blues, though he’s also a fan of burnt orange. Where he does wear more colour is on his t-shirts – which most people don’t know because he also favours heavier clothing, to the point that he’s been known to wear jumpers during heatwaves. Given that he enjoys walking, he possesses very rugged and practical footwear and sees little need to use anything else beyond his school shoes.

Alistair’s gear in the World of Fog will almost certainly skew towards the pragmatic and practical, favouring his usual rugged clothing and gradually augmented by what armour happens to be available.


Alistair’s life did not begin favourably. His biological parents died in a car crash when he was about three. Both were only children and, by a stroke of misfortune, all of his biological grandparents had died already; with no family to care for him, Alistair was thus put up for adoption. This, in most cases, would not have set him up well for the future.

Enter Henry Parton and Steven Daniels, a young, kind couple who had just entered into a civil partnership, as soon as the law allowed, and were now looking to adopt. Their application came through and, after warming quickly to Alistair and he only slightly less quickly to them, the two became his new parents and their mid-sized apartment in Manchester his new home.

This would be precursor to the best part of Alistair’s existence thus far. Proving bright, he was placed into private education funded by Steven’s job as a civil rights lawyer, something which he enjoyed thoroughly. At the same time, Henry’s work running a youth club in Manchester’s heart, where he kept watch over Alistair each day after school, kept the young boy from becoming snobbish – in fact, he became something of a little brother figure to several of the teenagers who frequented it. Through them, Alistair learned about many of society’s social ills, an education that was redoubled by his participation with his parents in Manchester’s Pride events and their telling him about their experiences when they were younger and society was less tolerant. Indeed, Alistair only knew two of his parents’ parents; Steven’s were heavily religious and had ostracised him upon his coming out. Nonetheless, that was the past and this was now; now the two of them were happy together and now they had a son who was quickly developing the fire to confront obstacles to his own and others’ happiness head-on.

Several wonderful years passed. Eventually, Steven secured a high-profile job at a law office in London and, Henry assuring him that one of his fellow youth workers was actively eager to take on a leadership role, the family moved southwards. Fortuitously, this was just before Alistair was due to start secondary school; while he did shed some tears over leaving his friends at his old school and at the youth club, some parts of the transition would have been inevitable even without the move, making it somewhat less painful. Performing very well in his SATs, he more than passed the threshold for entrance to the pre-eminent Evergreen Grammar School. Indeed, life could seemingly only get better; Henry and Steven married in 2014 as soon as same-sex couples gained the legal right to do so and Alistair also took the surname ‘Parton’ at his own insistence, binding their family yet more closely.

And then things got complicated.

Alistair never quite learned to love London – the place was unfamiliar, yes, but Alistair also found it more claustrophobic than Manchester; there were noticeably more people and buildings packed into any given space. It all felt rather hostile and, unfortunately, that set a tone. He didn’t really secure a friendship group at Evergreen in the same way that he had at his last school. Nor did he find himself with much social activity outside of school hours; not one to fall into gang activity, he instead started exercising his independence in walking through London’s many parks (one of the few things he preferred about the city). Richmond Park quickly became one of his favourite places to be and he’d often spend hours traversing its pathways.

That gave him time to contemplate, and he needed it, for his beliefs were also under assault. In 2016, when Alistair had just turned 15, the United Kingdom held a referendum on membership of the European Union. He and his parents, like most others, expected a Remain victory. They were proved wrong. For Alistair, this was a shock; Brexit, and especially the surge in racist abuse afterwards, presented a profound challenge to his previous belief that humanity was moving towards a more open future and would continue that way if only there were people to strive for it. He came to question whether fighting for a cause at all could in fact do more harm than good; after all, in Brexit’s case, the backlash against the values that he treasured had actually become more powerful than the case for those values. This wasn’t helped by his increasing predisposition towards philosophy, especially existentialism, and his hardening certainty that there could be no such thing as an objective right or wrong – meaning that all of the beliefs that he considered abhorrent were, in fact, as justifiable as his own. They could still be fought against, of course, but then he was reluctant to do that now.

Alistair thus began a search for answers that continues to this day – or, perhaps more accurately, for the answer, one to the question of society. His investigation fuelled him to near breaking point; what was distance before became active separation in an attempt to limit the perceived threat that any positive effort would entail, even as his conscience cried out that those efforts were needed now more than ever. This internal struggle motivated him, if self-destructively, such that his GCSEs, then A-Levels, were all great successes, or at least deemed as such.

This brings us to the Alistair of today, headed to Thames’ Edge – close and eminent, the obvious choice. His great struggle continues, caught between his desire to provoke change for the better and his fear that attempting to do so has an equal chance to bring about change for the worse. This fight and its self-imposed conditions have closed him off, despair creeping towards his heart for, within it, he still wants the chance to act, to dedicate himself to the justice, truth and harmony that he remains hopeful the world can one day embody.

Perhaps he’ll have that chance.


Once extroverted and constantly cheerful, Alistair is now a considerably more muted and deeply extrospective young man, questioning everything about the world around him to try and make some sense out of the growing chaos and contradiction. For now, that contradiction has rendered him more than a little mechanical, simply going through the motions of daily life. He rarely attempts to make friends anymore; that said, should one take the effort to crack his shell and get to know him, they would find someone who is still very personable, kind and warm – even fun-loving! What was previously his main drive, the determination to push society to be open and more welcoming, has been stifled; his primary goal now lies in finding the answers to the questions which are stifling it.

That stifling, naturally, is what has generated his Shadow. Alistair’s Shadow is what he has suppressed in his uncompromising search for answers: his desire to act, to strive to make the world a better place rather than trying to avoid making it a worse one. Like most Shadows, it is impulsive and reckless; unlike most, one could hardly call it selfish and, unlike most, Alistair does not reject it out of ignorance or fear but out of perceived necessity.



Alistair has had a wonderful relationship with his adoptive parents for the vast majority of his life, a bond forged over many years of shared thought, trust, hope and laughter. However, that bond is now under strain; Alistair’s relentless search for a way to enact change without risking its opposite has left him little time for regular interaction. Alistair, of course, knows full well that they worry after him; though he regrets it, he believes it another necessary sacrifice.


Henry Parton’s parents have always doted on Alistair and that remains true today, something which Alistair appreciates. That said, he doesn’t see them terribly often any longer, given their home in the North of England. He’ll make more time for them at some point soon; such does he tell himself.

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