True Name:  Mathis Anselm
Path:       Moros
Order:      Mysterium
Age:        26
Height:     5'11"
Weight:     154lbs

Physical Description:  Slim of build and features Mathis has always carried himself with a certain grace.  Others often remark on the intensity of his slate gray eyes, noticing the glimmer of amusement that can often be found in their depths.  When he works those stormy eyes can seem unerringly distant, calculating and intent, lending him a very serious mien that can seem at odds with an otherwise rather compassionate disposition.  He is often quite pale, resulting from a combination of his bookish habits, and a natural colouration inherited from his mother.  He keeps his hair at a somewhat messy 'medium' length, remembering to trim back the coffee coloured locks of it only when the ends of his bangs become enough of a bother to demand a response.  In part from vanity, and also from a general distaste for the itchy feel of stubble, he always finds time to keep his face clean shaven.  He's well aware that his features hold something of a youthful charm and used to play upon that quite frequently back when his classmates would pull him into their nights out on the town. Note: Striking Looks •

Clothing:  Day to day Mathis favors a sort of monochromatic appearance, with most of his wardrobe consisting of black, gray, and white items with the occasional scrap of colour.  Typically he wears simple buttoned shirts, the sleeves loose or rolled back as the weather demands, though he occasionally replaces these with a light sweaters if the weather turns truly chilly.  Along with these he prefers dark slim-fit jeans, and either black converse, or hiking boots as the mood strikes him.  Though it is usually concealed by his shirt, he is rarely seen without a necklace consisting of a miniature vial on a leather cord.  Inside a single, somewhat faded purple blossom can be seen, it's distinctive shape marking it as aconite to those who dabble in botany.  His only other adornment is a band of stainless steel on the middle finger of his right hand.


Nimbus:  When Stele invokes his connection with Stygia onlookers find the word growing cold and dim, light and heat fading in prominence as a feeling of perfect inevitability settles over the area.  Existing shadows seem to grow bolder under this new-found twilight; writhing subtly, never under full scrutiny, but only as they are seen from the corner of the eye.  On him alone does this become untrue.  Regardless of how he is viewed, Stele's eyes are hidden, wreathed if only momentarily by a veil of darkness that gives the impression he is looking on something great and unknowable.  As he draws down the higher laws of his Path, the shadows begin to whisper, their pronouncements incomprehensible though they leave impressions of familiarity in those present.  Moreover those same shadows will gain in substance, their furtive twisting becoming ever more vigorous as they brush at those present with an ephemeral chill.
The remnants of Stele's magic are often described as a sort of 'spiritual frost,' a numbness that is carried to observers upon a nearly inaudible chorus of whispers.  Nimbus Tilt - Unsettled: -1 to Composure.

Magical Tools:  Those who have spent any amount of time around Stele since his Awakening will soon notice the deck of cards he carries in a tooled leather case at the small of his back.  While the holder itself tends to be concealed by the untucked edge of his shirt, the well worn cards within are taken out and used every time the necromancer's curiosity gets the better of him.  Hand painted, the deck has a somber air to its artwork that occasionally brings a note of inevitability to their interpretation, but suits their user all the better for it.  When casting, Stele will often draw a random card from the holder and examine it's imagery himself when trying to glean some secret, or turn the card toward his target when trying to impart something.


When a more direct sort of approach is necessary, the necromancer instead reaches for the work bag that always bounces at his hip.  Held securely in the side pocket is a slim dip pen of leaded pewter that he uses as an impromptu wand.  The finely crafted tool weighs heavy in the hand and if shaken the slight rattle from within is the only noticeable sign of the bone shards he has packed into the handle.  While a little shorter than the traditional hermetic implement, Stele has found that by holding the pen backwards and gesturing with the tapered end, he can trace high speech glyphs with ease, or merely point it at people to make his intent clear.