Scion: Deus ex Nihilo
A tall and painfully handsome vision of Haitian health with a smile that could melt the coldest heart. He wears a deep purple button-up shirt, a white vest, his veve embroidered on it in white, black slacks and loafers, and a black trenchcoat.
AKA: Lazare Bonfil, Baron Wednesday, Saint Lazarus
Associated Abilities: Empathy, Fortitude, Integrity, Medicine, Occult, Presence
Associated Epic Attributes: Charisma
Baron Mekredi is the god of second chances, of those who have died and been returned to life. He guides them through all the new insights provided from beyond the veil of death: visions, second sights, and the desire and motivation to turn one’s life around, to maintain good health and pursue spiritual fulfillment unfalteringly — because none know better than those who have died before that death comes for all eventually. Though Baron Mekredi is a generally happy and fun-loving fellow, he is a far more sober and pensive figure than his father, Baron Samedi, especially when Mardi Gras ends and Ash Wednesday begins.
|Pantheon||Orisha||Role||God of the Resurrected|
|Determinations||0||Moments of Truth||0|
Legend ●●●● ●●●● ●○○○
|[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]||[ ] [ ]|
|[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]||[ ]|
|Empathy||●●●●● (●●●)||Occult||●●●●● (●●●)||Control|
|Move||22||Dash||44||Swim||11||Jump||10 yd vert||20 yd horiz|
|FoS||100 lb||10 yd|
|Per||300 yd||150 yd|
|DEX||Cat’s Grace, And the Crowd Goes Wild, Roll With It, Divine Balance, Untouchable Opponent, Perfect Partner|
|CON||Damage Conversion, Holy Fortitude, Natural Juggernaut, Self-Healing, Divine Fortitude (Sleep, Food), Tireless Worker, Last Act, Divine Damage Conversion, Regeneration, Unbreakable, Extended Youth|
|CHA||Benefit of the Doubt, Unimpeachable Reference, Borrowed Credibility, Widespread Appeal, Blessing of Importance, BFF, Charmer, Boys Will Be Boys, Crowd Control, Calm the Savage, Inspirational Figure, Natural Leader, Never Say Die|
|MAN||Blurt It Out, God’s Honest, Takes One to Know One|
|APP||Blinding Visage, Doin’ Fine, Center of Attention, My Eyes Are Up Here, Star Power, Game Face, Perfect Actor, Bedazzling Image, Tailor Made|
|PER||Empath, Subliminal Warning, Scent the Divine, Sense Fatebond|
|INT||Telepathy, Blockade of Reason, Perfect Memory, Applied Academics|
|WIT||Meditative Focus, Social Chameleon, Instant Assessment, Lateral Thinking, Psychic Profiler, Selfless Speed, Damage Control|
Darkness ●●●●○ ○○○○○ ✩
|Night Eyes||●||—||—||See perfectly in the dark.|
|Afraid of the Dark||●●||1L||Man + Emp||Terrify your target into losing Willpower.|
|Shadow Refuge||●●●||1L||—||Hide yourself in any shadow you can fit in.|
|Shadow Step||●●●●||1L||—||Step into any shadow and back out of any other shadow you can see.|
Death ●●○○○ ○○○○○ ✩
|Death Senses||●||—||—||See and interact with ghosts.|
|Euthanasia||●●||1L||—||Painlessly kill any mortal or supernatural creature that wants to die.|
Health ●●●●● ●●○○○ ✩
|Assess Health||●||—||—||Accurately know the state of anyone’s health by looking at them.|
|Blessing of Health/Curse of Frailty||●●||1L||Sta + Med||Cure or cause birth defects in the womb, or make new infants more robust or more prone to illness.|
|Heal/Infect||●●●||1L/1W||Sta + Med||Heal bashing damage or convert lethal damage to bashing.|
|Salve||●●●●||3L + 1W||Int + Med||Allow your target to use his dying boxes as normal health boxes.|
|Control Aging||●●●●●||Varies||Sta + Med||Vastly speed up or slow down a mortal’s aging.|
|Restore/Wither||●●●●● ●||3L||Int + Med||Heal all types of damage.|
|Martyrdom||●●●●● ●●||3L + 1W||Sta + For||Suffer your target’s damage to heal him of it.|
Ori ●○○○○ ○○○○○
Ori Pool: 9/9
|Ifa||●||1L/1 Ori||—||Enhance Mystery or Prophecy boons.|
Prophecy ●●●●● ●●○○○ ✩
|Hero’s Herald||●||—||—||Give others in your band a large one-time bonus to a roll for an event you foresee.|
|Expanded Awareness||●●||—||—||Add your Prophecy Boons as successes to Join Battle rolls.|
|Destined Drive||●●●||—||—||Grant additional dots and channels of Virtues that are related to the story.|
|Legendary Vision||●●●●||5L||Per + Occ||Foresee the climactic event of the story in order to gain Legend points when it occurs.|
|Fates Foretold||●●●●●||—||—||Foresee moments of crisis to come in order to gain the band bonus Legendary Deeds during those scenes.|
|Tragic Flaw||●●●●● ●||3L + 1W||—||Grant extra dots of a Virtue for the rest of the story.|
|Prophesied Greatness||●●●●● ●●||5L + 1W||—||Make powers with positive Fatebonds less expensive for everyone in the scene, and powers with negative ones more expensive.|
Psychopomp ●●●●● ●●○○○ ✩
|Unerring Orientation||●||(1L)||—||Always know the cardinal directions and perfectly remember any map you see.|
|Where Are You?||●●||—||—||Instantly know the location of anyone who contacts you.|
|Unbarred Entry||●●●||1+L||—||Walk through walls and obstacles.|
|Come Along||●●●●||1L||—||Apply your Psychopomp Boons to your targets as well as yourself.|
|Terra Incognita||●●●●●||—||Per + Awa||Find nearby Terrae Incognita and learn their requirements for entry.|
|Hand Off||●●●●● ●||1L + 1W||—||Teleport items that you own to any person or place you know.|
|Rainbow Bridge||●●●●● ●●||3L + 1W||Int + Awa||Teleport to any location you know of.|
This ichor-infused form allows Laz to walk the World freely, either as a powerful and influential demigod or as a subtle and covert hero.
Maman Brigitte is a Ghede, a death deity who protects gravestones marked with a cross, and the divine wife of Baron Samedi. She’s notorious for her fiery nature and wicked tongue. Also for embarrassing Laz every chance she gets. (Hey, someone’s got to get Lazzy-biy to lighten up!)
Though outfitted with all manner of knick-knacks and decorative markings and ribbons, it’s easy to see this particular artifact was once a simple glass preserves jar, re-purposed for occult uses. It was once owned by Laz’s grandmother, a relic from her life in Haiti and a memento of her mother, who was a mambo. No spirits reside in the jar currently.
Grants access to Death and Prophecy and reduces the difficulty for any ritual by 1 provided the govi is used in the ritual.
Not once has Laz ever mentioned the contents of this simple leather pouch that hangs like a necklace from a leather thong around his neck. Its only adornment is a small black feather secured by the twine that keeps it closed.
Grants access to Darkness, Health, Mystery, and Psychopomp.
- Mead of Inspiration: When imbibed, it provides max Epic Manipulation
- Glepnir Garrote: Spd 3, Acc 0, Dmg +2L, Def +0; can be used in a clinch, and when clinching you can spend a point of Legend to make its next roll do Agg damage
- Una Voodoo Doll
- “Everyone deserves a second chance.”
- “No one should try to manipulate Fate for their own gain.”
- “If it will benefit the greater good, I must sacrifice myself or my happiness.”
- “I will do everything I can to ensure the well-being of my chosen family.”
- “We must all find the most harmonious balance between the Titans and Gods.”
- (Mjoll) Clumsiness: Scion suffers a penalty of half her Prophecy boons to her DVs.
- (Una) Solipsism: Scion suffers a penalty of half her Prophecy boons as dice from all Perception rolls.
- (Yousu) Quick Temper: Scion suffers a penalty of her total number of Prophecy boons as dice from all rolls made to use Charisma knacks.
- (Laz) Bluntness: Scion suffers a penalty of her total number of Prophecy boons as dice from all rolls made to use Manipulation knacks.
(Image by Mellie)
As Aimee Bonfil returned home from the New Orleans Mardi Gras celebration, the black rooster’s crow sounded horrid, as if it had rung up from the depths of the underworld. It attacked the poor young woman, inflicting minor but painful wounds. Though she was reluctant to kill it, Evette, Aimee’s mother, wrung the wretched creature’s neck. That was merely the start, however—to the daughter of an old-world mambo, it was undoubtedly an omen.
Later that evening, Evette consulted her govi in an attempt to determine what the omen entailed. What she saw was that selfsame black rooster making a wide gash in her daughter’s abdomen, causing blood to gush out until she finally died. Shaken by the vision, Evette set her govi aside. Unfortunately, there was little she could do except wait and see.
Aimee, of course, remained blithe to any omen (though she did, from that point onward, avoid the chicken coop). However, a couple weeks later she discovered she was pregnant. She left a message for the man she’d been seeing for the past few months, but the number she’d called hadn’t been assigned to any phone—even though it had worked before. Evette marked that second odd thing in her mental log.
After much contemplation and soul-searching, Aimee decided she would keep the child. Evette, though supportive of her daughter’s decision, felt a sense of dread that only grew as Aimee came to full term.
Lazare was born on October 31st at 0313, a healthy 7 lb 10 oz. Aimee died on October 31st at 0333, from uncontrollable internal hemorrhaging.
Lazare was a gregarious, chatty child, with an easy charm that made him quite popular with the ladies—indeed, his grandmother was perhaps the only woman who could resist his smile. Having raised one child already, perhaps it was no surprise that Evette raised Lazare to temper his popularity with noblesse oblige.
He took especially well to what his grandmother had to say about voudou. The stories of the rituals and the loa fascinated him. All that culminated to the intense curiosity he experienced when he first discovered Evette’s govi. In his childish innocence, he tapped into the govi (far too easily for one so inexperienced) and saw a vision of a large, black rooster defecating on his grandmother’s cigarettes. Concerned by what he’d seen, he tried to warn Evette. Though the portent frightened her and caused her to try to quit, she ultimately couldn’t control her addiction to nicotine and resumed smoking regularly.
As such, Lazare never had a chance to enter the rebellious phase of adolescence. His grandmother was diagnosed with lung cancer when he was 15. It was a tough few years, but it had taught him a lot, not the least of which being the true value of family. Towards the end of his high school years, the chemotherapy seemed to have driven off the cancer—however, it left his grandmother a shadow of her former self. He felt that there had to be another way, another solution to cancer that didn’t take such a toll on a person.
That thought was what made him decide to work towards med school. With the help of financial aid and scholarships, Lazare enrolled in a pre-med program at the nearby university. Evette was very proud of him indeed.
Unfortunately, the cancer returned with a vengeance. As his grandmother declined, Lazare had to divide his attentions between schoolwork and family, causing his grades to drop. Though they were still passing grades, he knew it would severely hurt his chances of getting into med school. But his grandmother had no one but him, so he took care of her as best he could.
She died a couple of days before Mardi Gras. For 24 hours afterwards, Lazare found himself in a strange, zombie-like stupor—he did not attend class, nor did he even sleep. When Mardi Gras came about, he found himself alone in his room with several bottles of rum. Without reservation, he began to drink.
A kick brought him back to the waking world, causing him to cough up the vomit that had settled in his lungs. Squinting, he looked up at the man who had kicked him: a tall, dark, handsome fellow wearing a sharp suit and a top hat. This was none other than Baron Samedi, who chastised him for not giving his grandmother a better send-off. He then proceeded to take Lazare out on the town, hitting up various bars and clubs.
However, Lazare was hardly in a mood to celebrate. His dour (or grim, one might say) behavior eventually got to the Baron himself. Eventually the Baron took him outside to an alley and gave the obviously short version of the speech he’d been building up to all night: that Lazare was his son and that he was going to take part in the family business. Into Lazare’s hands Baron Samedi shoved a well-worn travel guide to both the under- and over-world and Evette’s govi as tokens of his good intentions. He then left his son in a huff.
Having sobered up and working on a sizable hangover, Lazare began to shuffle home, not looking forward to cleaning up the mess that was his place. On his way home, however, he came across a large black rooster that approached him and rested its head on his leg. When he stooped to pet it, it dashed away and stopped a few paces from him, eyeing him expectantly.
He followed it to a weathered Irish church featuring stained-glass windows of various saints. Underneath the glass-stained glow of moonlight he found a young, blonde, white woman lounging on one of the worn pews, flipping idly through a bible. When he approached, she smiled broadly and drew him into a long embrace and pinched his cheeks, commenting on how much he had grown.
Once more, he was well aware of who this was coming from: Maman Brigitte, the Baron’s divine wife. She proceeded to tell him how bad she felt for leaving him without a mother figure and had decided that she wouldn’t do what his father had (which is to say, abandon him without explaining very much). She promised to help guide Lazare, to properly teach him how to use his gifts.
She started by having Lazare open up the travel guide. He did, and saw the wonders of the worlds of the living and the dead. As he flipped through the guide, his own internal world changed. Louisiana was suddenly so small, stiflingly so, even—even more so now that his grandmother’s death weighed on him.
Before the night was through, she taught him how to create a gris-gris to his specifications, which he created to help him heal others. Somehow, the gris-gris felt better, more real than med school, causing him to question his life’s plans.
After his grandmother’s funeral, he simply could not stay. He took a year off to travel, backpacking for months at a time in various locales, immersing himself as best he could in the culture and people. When he returned to the United States, he decided that he would share that experience with others and began pursuing a career as a travel agent.
ST: You leapt into the water, with forethought, and the blessing of Fate.
ST: Your road was the Drowned Road.
ST: And Fate has lead you to your dark, painful, crushing death.
ST: And in that moment of Death, there is an existential panic. Samedi is also in the Road with you. And as your soul leaves your body, it has no guide…
ST: But, rather than some finality, this transformation creates instead a sense of freedom. The spirit world opens to you, and you see Samedi, being dragged down into the depths by grasping drowned souls.
ST: You are without form. And you realize, instinctually, that this realm hungers for the living and the dead, and you need a form to resist it. Not only to save Samedi, but to resist the abrasive, consuming power of the Titan you are within.
Nut Meg: Even the guides need to be guided sometimes. And this, this place of drowned sorrows, was not his father’s realm. But Lazare… Lazare knows this place, the crushing emptiness, the bottom of a rum bottle. He’s been here before, if only figuratively, and endured… So, channelling that, focusing that, Lazare gathers himself, spirit, mind, and finally body. It’s very much like the moments a star goes supernova: the intense compression, the melding of elements into a whorling mass of ichor… and then the final explosion of energy, light, and life that ripples out into the universe.
Monday’s child is fair of face…
Nothing like death to make one feel truly alive. Blood pumping, heart beating, lungs breathing, even in these waters… every muscle filled with vigor and the longing to use it. His dark skin almost glows with the vitality barely contained within. Though still slender he is by no means gaunt — which is most noticeable in his face. Perhaps it’s the divine health that’s filled him out a little more, or perhaps it’s the well-groomed goatee that softens his face. Either way, he is the very picture of natural health at its best.
Tuesday’s child is full of grace…
Serpentine lines, curling and uncurling, graceful and lively — at the center of it all is the ouroborous, the path of the hero’s journey, the cycle of life and death: thus marks his veve, embroidered in white on his vest. Not at all like the hard angles of the cross and the grave that summons his father. He’s sharply dressed: a deep purple button-up shirt with the top button undone, a white vest, black slacks, and a black trenchcoat that stops just below mid-thigh. His movements are more fluid than before, as if everything he does is part of some sort of dance.
Wednesday’s child is full of woe…
Born in his mother’s deathblood… witness to the last weak breath that his grandmother’s tainted lungs would allow… so too did Lazare die, the air denied from his lungs by Mami Wata’s realm… and now it was his task to save his father from being trapped forever in the oppressive clutches of the primordial waters, the original womb of the world. Wednesday, the day of ashes, the day of solemnity following the wild celebrations of Mardi Gras, is his inheritance and his legacy. So it came to pass: Lazare Bonfil died and Baron Mekredi — Lord Wednesday — was born.