Name: Mortal Name: Oliver Acheson.  Fae Name: Unknown.  Title: The White Warlock.
Age: Though he seemed to have spent centuries in the Garden's fringes, only three years has passed in the mortal world.
Age apparent: Thirties.
Gender: Male.
Sexuality: Unconstrained.
Occupation: Chef; runs a soup kitchen.
Languages: Speaks English and Spanish; can read multiple languages of the past, present and arcane; can understand many languages of the Goblin Market.

Seeming: Ogre.
Kith: Witchtooth.
Court: Autumn.
Keeper: The Lady of Midnight and Shadow.
Faction: Mondlicht Fluchtlinge.

Wyrd: 4
Glamour Pool: 20
Willpower: 7



Concept

The White Warlock was a creature of darkness that lived in the untamed wilds at the edge of the Garden.  Obsessed with magical tomes and bubbling cauldrons, he seduced wanderers and drew in children to keep his house and to provide meat for his stewpot, but it was the whisper of pages and the promise of dark vines and moonlight that truly drew his love.  A tortured child who grew to become a torturer, he was strangely alluring but also utterly terrifying.  An indomitable evil lurking beyond the edge of the light, the goblin that would get you if you didn't watch out...

In the mortal world, he is a man torn between polarities.  He dreams endlessly and deeply of the time he spent in the Garden, haunted at least as much by the cruelty he remembers inflicting as the cruelty he remembers feeling.  He wants a home, wants to return to the kind person he was, but finds it infinitely difficult.  He is still obsessed with magic, with learning to fend off the True Fae.  He also wants to protect those left without homes, human or otherwise.  His emotions are so violent he often startles his friends, yet he can be the kindest or cruelest of men.



Appearance
Height: 6'3"/6'8"
Weight: 180 lbs
Eye Color: Blue/Lambent yellow with reddish sclera
Hair color: White
Hair Style: Waist length, straight.
Complexion: Fair Caucasian/White.
Body shape: Tall and slim/Gaunt, elongated.
Clothing: Black.

Mien (Description): The White Warlock is very tall but thin and not bent, with proportions that seem elongated.  There is an oddly aesthetic symmetry to him: in some lights he even looks strangely beautiful, though there is something off about angles that give it an uncanny and creepy feel.  His hair is long and white, his features sharp and pronounced.  Deep red eyes, cold, arrogant and reptilian, stare out of his face.



Mask (Description): The Warlock's mask is surprisingly handsome, though with strong, striking features.  Cold eyes dominate a face with a hawklike nose, long pale blond hair and very long, elegant limbs.  Something about the entire effect is superhuman, both entrancing and terrifying, as if the truth bleeds through even in a way the eye cannot see, so that every smile cuts like a knife.





Personality:  Strict, elegant, controlled, particular.  Passionate.  Acts of kindness and caring are startling but heartfelt.  Temperament is always uncertain.
Virtue: Charity.
Vice: Wrath.

The White Warlock is elegant, constrained and perfectionistic.  He is also utterly passionate.  He despises bullies and slick con artists, and finds it difficult to hide his impatience or disgust with them.  He has a deep weakness for the disenfranchised, especially children without homes, and can be startlingly kind to them.



Your Story
Passions/Goals:

History
Oliver Acheson.  A dutiful, intelligent child who cared most about honesty, about duty and about learning.  His father, an addict and a gambler, made his life a living hell.  Sometimes he was an amazing dad, taking Oliver out to do fun things, lavishing attention on him, taking his side in every petty childhood squabble.  Other times he was moody, verbally and physically abusive, stole money from Oliver's mother (wiped out Oliver's college fund) and disappeared for months.  Oliver's most prominent role model was his grandmother, a proud and passionate woman who had been all over the world, served many roles: debutante, nurse, adventuress, lover, wife... and who would regale him with stories.

He doesn't remember how he came to the garden, but he believes that it, like so many things that shaped who he was to become, came from wandering down paths that were forbidden.  He had a fight with a child at school and was embarrassed at himself for being sent home.  Instead of going directly there, he wandered aimlessly down streets he'd never been.  He found himself in a warehouse, going ever deeper underground, following the flickering of yellow lights that seemed to die as he passed under them.  Somehow, the warehouse became a forest, and the lights the edge of a garden.

Because Oliver had such deep love of his grandmother and missed her so much, when he heard rumors of a witch who lived deep past the garden who preyed on children, he dismissed the darker aspects of the hearsay only to think that this was a lonely old woman who probably needed someone to keep her house clean and read to her.  So he went outside the garden, somehow escaping other dangers that lurked there, and became the prisoner of a truly terrible Hag.  A true evil witch, she was the picture of cruelty and wanted to destroy everything beautiful and pure.  Still, somehow, Oliver survived.  He could read to her when her eyes dimmed, yes, but from dark texts of black magic and ugly brews.  He kept her place clean, or if there was a speck of dust anywhere, he was cruelly beaten.  He was kept in a cage, vilified with words about his stupidity, his uselessness, that if he were a little bigger and less scrawny she would eat him.

Every time the seasons would change round to when the wild eglantine bloomed just behind the window, the Lady's knights would find the Hag and drag her from her home.  They would not find Oliver, trapped in his cage in the hidden cellar.  They would tie the Hag to a stake and they would burn her, but when the first blooms of the eglantine died again, she would form again out of weird shadows of tree branches, out of blood spattered outside the ashes.  Each time, by the time she returned to Oliver he had nearly starved to death.  The second to last time this happened, she said as she pulled him clear of the cage, "Poor thing," almost tenderly, but by then his hatred of her was bright and clear like a diamond.  He had wanted to love her, but her atrocities and her cruelty killed that urge to love almost entirely.  The last time the knights dragged the Hag to the stake, Oliver had secretly stolen the key to the cell.  She was too used to him, too trusting.  And he had grown too big for the cage.  Somehow, without realizing it, he had grown taller than the Hag. After she had burned to ash, Oliver went out and cut the trees back, burned them, and gathered the ashes into a small box from which she would never return.

But when he set the box on the shelf, he saw that there was dust among the old books, and the sight of it enraged him.  He heard the singing and whispering of the books calling to him, calling him Master, and the rumble of bubbling in the cauldron smelled rich and wild and appetizing.  And he never left.  Not until the Gardener left the Garden.  He captured travelers, children mostly, but anyone who walked or was forced to walk the forbidden paths.  Sometimes he sent lights to ensorcel them.  His home was even more spotless than the Hag's.  He tried not to be as cruel as she had been, but rage would rise in him without thought.  The loud, the messy, would become hacked to pieces, rendered for potions or food.  His house grew taller, more beautiful, and it attracted, almost, it seemed, on its own, a retinue of servants to keep it maintained.  And he gained a title, a reputation: the White Warlock.

But the Warlock was troubled by odd dreams.  He dreamed of an old woman's hand on his shoulder.  At first he cast off such dreams with vitriol of his own, growing crueler afterward as he believed his mind was playing tricks, trying to imbue him with some love of the Hag, some trick that would let her return and take his power.  Then he began to recall things: the nails were trimmed and beautiful with luxurious lacquers, not black and twisted and sharp.  A star sapphire ring glittered on one finger.  The more he remembered, the more he remembered the love he had felt for her and the love he had felt in return.  Love was the one thing completely vacant in his existence, the one thing he could no longer touch, except in those glittering memories.  Except when he thought of his grandmother.

He fought his way back through the Hedge, buffeted and sliced to ribbons, because he wanted to see her again.  Imagine his surprise to see a boy, only thirteen, bearing his name and standing at her side.  Imagine his fury to have that love, that sense of family, taken from him again, after he had gone that distance and endured so much.  Try to understand why the child Fetch still lives.  Is it unwillingness to harm what even looks like a child once again?  Or is it something else?






Relationships
Family:  Father: Bryce Acheson.  Mother: Allison Cicerrelli.  Grandmother: Grace Ortez Acheson.
Friends: ?
Co-Workers: ?
Lovers: ?
Enemies/Rivals: ?
Other PCs: TBD


Pledges
Vows: TBD
Oaths:
Corporals:



Merits and Flaws
Attribute Merits
-I am impossible to fool (Perceptionx3)
-I am highly intelligent (Intelligence)
-I am learned (Knowledge)
-I have a steely resolve (Willpower)

-I am much stronger than I look (Strength)
-My grasp is hard to escape (Strength)
-I do not easily tire (Stamina)

-There is something seductive about me (Charisma)
-I am terrifying (Intimidation)

Attribute Flaws
-My thirst for knowledge is insatiable (Intelligence)
-My temper often gets the best of me (Composure)

Skill Merits:
-I am a skilled fae sorcerer (x2)
-I can brew potions
-I am an accomplished cook
-I can read many languages

Skill Flaws:

Background Merits:
-I know my way around the Goblin Market
-I have status in my Court

Background Flaws:
-I have many enemies

Rare Abilities: TBD

Seeming and Kith Abilities
Blessings: Ogres are mostly big, often ugly and always capable of frightening displays of brute force. The player can spend points of Glamour to improve dice pools involving Strength, Brawl and Intimidate. Each point of Glamour spent adds one die to one dice pool.

The Witchtooth has learned the secrets of the Black Hex: The character may spend Glamour to increase Occult rolls, and gains a one-die bonus to activate any Contracts that involve cursing another person (such as Fickle Fate).

Curses: Not all Ogres are necessarily stupid, but most are fairly gullible, weak-willed and prone to impulsive, thoughtless actions. An Ogre doesn't get the benefit of the 10 again rule on dice pools using Composure (with the exception of Perception rolls using Wits + Composure, which suffer no penalty). The character also suffers a -1 die penalty to Composure when using it as a Defense Trait (that is, when subtracting it from another character's dice pool).