About Evangeline Haldane, "Eva"Stats:
CG Female Human Shaman 4 (Speaker for the Past / Unsworn**) Init +3; Senses Perception +12 Str 16 Dex 16 Con 14 Int 14 Wis 20 Cha 9 SKILLS Languages English DEFENSE
OFFENSE
MISC
Abilities:
TRAITS Devoted Caster Once per day when casting a spell, you can attempt to cast the spell without losing the spell from its spell slot or using one of your allotted spells per day. There is a 20% chance that this attempt is successful. In addition, select one domain/bloodline/inquisition/mystery/school of magic you have. You can use the first granted power of that one additional time per day. You must be capable of casting spells in order to select this trait. Fate's Favored Whenever you are under the effect of a luck bonus of any kind, that bonus increases by 1. Wisdom in the Flesh (Stealth) Select any Strength-, Constitution-, or Dexterity-based skill. You may make checks with that skill using your Wisdom modifier instead of the skill’s normal ability score. That skill is always a class skill for you. Empathic Diplomat You modify your Diplomacy checks using your Wisdom modifier, not your Charisma modifier. Paranoid (dr) Anyone who attempts an aid another action of any type to assist you must succeed at a DC 15 check instead of the normal DC 10 check. FEATS
RACE ABILITIES/QUALITIES
CLASS ABILITIES/QUALITIES
Personality & Appearance:
A petite woman that appears to be in her late 20s, Eva’s pale skin contrasts with her dark, sleek hair, styled in a variety of sophisticated manners typical of the era, ranging from a neat updo to full and flowing loose. Her facial features are angular, giving her a striking and somewhat austere appearance. She has high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. Her expression is composed and perhaps a bit enigmatic, yet one who looks carefully at her eyes notices a strangely volatile energy, that can be interpreted as both intoxicatingly exciting or deeply unsettling. Eva dresses in dark, tailored clothing that reflects the fashion of the 1930s juxtaposed against a decidedly dark late Victorian feel. A fine black waistcoat and matching skirt suit is accompanied by a dark silk shirt with a high neckline, and a long ash-crimson overcoat. The clothing emphasizes her petite, slender figure and adds to her air of aristocratic refinement. She typically carries a stylish but rugged black satchel, filled with a variety of artefacts. Finally, in her hand resides one of her canes, which serves as both a symbol or status and a functional tool to aid in the aftermath of her injuries during World War I. Eva is an aloof, detached individual. She is well schooled on the expectations of high society, and yet has little cause or respect for it. She is highly educated and can hold a discussion on most topics of import, but is just as likely to brush off such a debate or even walk away mid-sentence. In truth it seems like her attention is often elsewhere, and she has little regard for the present moment. The truth, for those who know, is far more tragic.
Backstory:
The boom of the artillery had faded, and the last sound of bullets flying had left the air feeling still. They had repelled the charge, and in their counter, driven the German troops back from their forward trenches. It had only been 30 meters, but they'd been fighting over that land for weeks. The British troops moved about, recovering their wounded and taking into custody and Germans found living. Suddenly a corporal whistled sharply, calling to his mates. ”Over here quick, it's a girl… I… I think, she’s alive.” He bent down and lifted a small, skeletally thin figure from a shell-hole. Her clothes were threadbare and covered in mud, her hair matted down over much of her face. She was tiny, and could be no longer than 9 or 10. He pulled his canteen out, and offered a sip to her. Her one visible eye looked back and forth, from his face to the vessel, then meekly she leaned forward and sipped. A breathless whisper escaped her lips, ”Thank you sir,” before her eye closed and she passed out in her arms. ”Blimy, I think she’s one of us - British!” A few others had brought over one of the stretchers and he laid her down upon it, though in truth she was so light, it seemed foolish for her to be carried so. The corporal thought to himself, then turned to the others, ’what’s a young British lass doing out in the midst of No Man’s Land?” They were as confused as he was, and began to lift the stretcher to carry her away. As they did, a German soldier they’d mistaken as dead suddenly stood up, swinging a trench axe at one of the stretcher bearers. A shot rang out, crisp and clear, and the German staggered back and collapsed, blood spurting from his neck. The girl’s one visible eye was open, and a small dirty pistol was outstretched in her hand, having apparently been concealed on her person. —--------- ”Can you make any sense of it?” he asked the lieutenant, who was flipping through the pages of scribbles in the small book. The officer was puzzled, and scratching his chin replied, ”It’s not German, that's certain. I, i think some of it is in Latin or Greek. Other parts, I mean they look more like little drawings than words.” They looked from the book to the rest of the items on the table, what they had found in the girl’s small satchel. The soldier had not even noticed the satchel at first, it had been slung under the girl’s outer layer, itself a patched together woolen coat. Before them were:
”Most strange indeed, but look here, there is a crest on the back cover… wait, no, she’s been writing in it from back to front. It’s from the Society of Antiquaries, in Scotland. And there’s an imprint - to J.A., welcome Fellow. 1913. How did this, or she, get here?” —--------- The knock at the door of 62 Palmerston Place that Tuesday morning had been mild and unassuming. But as the elderly gentleman read the letter in his hand, his heart became tight in his chest. He turned to his valet, “bring the motor car around!” as he dashed back to his Chambers to quickly assemble a suitcase for the road. In less than an hour, he was on a train out of Edinburgh, heading to London. She was alive. His daughter was alive. —------ The Honorable John Abercromby, gentleman, scholar, soldier, archaeologist, and professor, found himself in the French city of Nice in the summer of 1902. He had been several years prior, as his explorations brought him back across the Mediterranean, but this time he was on holiday, and extended one. And he was going to enjoy himself. Armande de Polignac was a rising star from the Parisian music scene. She was married with a child, though her husband, the Count de Chabannes La Palice, and daughter both remained in their family properties outside Paris. A talented composer and musician, Armande bore both the vibrant Bohemian airs of the modern artist as well as the style, poise, and beauty of one descended from the inner circle of Mari Antoinette. Though he was more than twice her age, the chemistry between the pair was immediately electrifying, and initial flirtations lead to a passionate romance. The days passed into months, and as summer lead into fall, Armande revealed to Abercromby she was with child. The pair argued some as to how it was to be handled. It was discussed raising her as Armande’s child with her husband, yet neither liked the lie. Indeed, it was strangely agreed that their affair should be ended, but that the child would be acknowledged in both households, and split her youth between the two. —-- Following her birth in the spring of 1903, Evangeline Abercromby de Polignac enjoyed a childhood filled with travel, excitement, education, and art, spending time with her mother in France and her father in Scotland. Or at least, that is where both kept their homes. Both had a lust for travel and new environs, which exposed little Eva to the many beautiful mysteries of the great wide world. She attended salon galas hosted by her great-aunt, Winnaretta Singer (the Princess de Polignac), explored archaeologic dig sites across Great Britain, France, and the Mediterranean with her father, and studied under private tutors who pushed her mind. Eva was bright and inquisitive, but even more than her book smarts, she had an uncanny amount of insight, both into thoughts, society, and people’s emotions. Indeed, she could often see through any deceit even as a young child. In the fall of 1912, while traveling with her father in the Ardennes, she happened upon a small piece of metal in the stones along a riverbank. Despite its obvious iron metal, there was no rust upon it. She ran with it to her father, excited to exhibit her find. Abercromby chuckled a the young lass,
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