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Nikki
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Nikki


Concept: Assassin

Tradition: Euthanatos

Essence: Dynamic

Nature: Survivor

Demeanor: Visionary

Appearance

Nikki is a nondescript European-American with brown hair and brown eyes. She stands 5'7 (170 cm) and weighs 135, athletic pounds (61 toned kg). Her looks are plain, but because she has an established sense of style, she can markedly vary her appearance with cosmetics and clothing choices. Nikki's voice is likewise non-descript, and in conversation, she reflexively affects accents that are near-local to the person with whom she's speaking, but not quite.

 

Keeper's Cottage

Attributes

Physical

Social

Mental

Strength: 1 Charisma: 1 Perception: 4 (keen senses)
Dexterity: 4 (smooth) Manipulation: 3 Intelligence: 2
Stamina: 3 Appearance: 2 Wits: 4 (level headed)

Talents
Skills
Knowledges
Alertness  2
Do  1
Computer  *
Athletics  1
Drive  *
Cosmology  *
Awareness  1
Etiquette  2
Culture  *
Intuition  1
Firearms  4 (Assassination)
Enigmas  2
Streetwise  2
Leadership *
Investigation  3
Subterfuge  4 (Find Weaknesses)
Meditation  2
Law  *

Melee  *
Linguistics  1 (French)

Research  *
Lore  *

Stealth  2
Medicine  *

Survival  *
Occult  *

Technology  *
Science  *
*Illusory dot from Jack of All Trades Merit





Secondary Abilities


Style  3
Fastdraw  3
Poisons  4 (Undetectable Poisons)
Scrounging  1
Misdirection  3




Spheres


Correspondence 1 (Mirrored surfaces)
Life 2 (Knife)*
Prime 1 (Corset)
Entropy 1 (Faceted Crystal)
Matter
Spirit
Forces 1 (Ruby Quartz)x
Mind 1 (Meditation)
Time 1 (Meditation)
x = Not Needed Due to Arete
* = Unique Focus




Advantages


Arete 2
Willpower 9

Quintessense 3
Paradox




Backgrounds


Arcane 5
Node 1
Sanctum 5
Avatar 3
Resources 3




Merits


Innocent
Black Market Ties 2 Prestigious Mentor
Acute Senses (Vision)
Jack of All Trades



Flaws


Enemy 1
Masochist
Twisted Upbringing
Infamous Mentor
Throwback 1




Equipment


Multiple Passports & IDs




History

Marcus is my father...

No, that’s not actually correct. 

Marcus was my father...

That’s a lie. Let me begin again.

The man who raised me, Marcus Carlson (a.k.a. too many names to mention), treated me as if I were his daughter. I am not, though I thought I was for most of my life. I learned only a few years ago that he stole me as an infant, from a hospital, when I was just a few hours old. He raised me as his own.

More correctly, he trained me as his star pupil. From the time of my birth, he had trained me to be what I am today. And what I am, more than anything else, before anything else, is a servant of the Wheel. Thanks to Marcus, I am beholden to no one, I am independent of body, mind and soul, and I follow my own path through this life.  I grease the Wheel that it might turn freely. That’s what Marcus made me. But I am just now discovering that he left me woefully under-prepared for the world in which I suddenly find myself alone.

May he, when next his soul becomes ascendant on the Great Wheel, take the form of a three-legged dog with fleas.

Marcus was the only family I had ever had. And let me assure you, I grew up in a blessedly twisted family. If I may illustrate: a few weeks ago, I killed Marcus Carlson, sliced his jugular vein, pulmonary artery, and trachea, on the way to severing his spine at the Medulla to stop his autonomic functions in a neat, little, three-step move I’d been working on for years...

…a thing of beauty, that move.

See, I’m an assassin; I’m one of the better assassins in the world. I have been for a while now. And it was Marcus who had been training me for the trade since forever.