Stele

## Background

Born on a cool foggy morning into the quiet city of Bothell, Mathis is the only child of Rebekah Anselm. Conceived unexpectedly after a night of drunken revelry he was loved nonetheless for his inauspicious beginning. A waitress by trade, Rebekah was the sort of mom who'd work three jobs to keep the rent paid and food on the table, only to spend her last free hours before sleep reading to her son. Out of desperation rather than disdain Mathis was often left in the care of his elderly neighbour Mrs. Juras. A kindly woman who'd been widowed young and never remarried, she was an avid gardener who introduced her young neighbour to the wonders of the natural world, one plant at a time.

On the days when the weather was nice she would take him down to the little plot behind the building, where they could sit, and talk about the plants she grew. By unspoken law, the apartment gardens were hers to tend, and she had painstakingly cultivated a plethora of herbs, flowers, and even the occasional vegetable. In those early years she taught him how to care for the plants, and eventually, the beginnings of how to use them.

It wasn't a conscious decision on Agatha Juras' part to instill her faith into the young boy, but Mathis was far too observant to miss it. The strange objects in her 'prayer' room, the way she wished everyone a happy Yule, the way she'd dance sometimes, and sing to her plants. He asked, and eventually she told him. It didn't take much explaining for Mathis to conclude that he wanted to be like her, to learn the secrets she offered. Aaliyah had never been a religious woman, and if asked she might even have deemed herself an atheist. Yet the fact that her son had faith, even if it was in some strange pagan religion, was not of great concern to her. He was content, Mrs. Juras seemed to care for him, and he did better in school than she ever had. He had a chance, and he was happy.

After high school Mathis was eager to continue his studies, and in keeping with his interests decided to attend Bastyr University. It took a certain amount of careful planning, and the aid of a number of scholarships, but he managed to fund the move to Seattle, and even pay tuition without a loan. There he studied herbal sciences, perfecting the knowledge first bestowed by Mrs. Juras, but years had passed since those carefree days in the garden, and Aggie had grown no younger. At the age of 83, sickness finally caught her, and Agatha Juras developed stomach cancer. She passed away two years later, despite the constant ministrations of her friend.

Rather than being dissuaded, Mathis was driven to his studies by the death. He chose to continue his program, plunging into a doctorate of naturopathic medicine. Even here Aggie helped him, as she had bequeathed to him much of her worldly possessions. He earned his second degree with aplomb, and decided to move back home to help work under a more experienced alumni who ran a small practice in Seattle. Settling into the routine at his new place of business, Mathis found himself with the first spare time he'd had in what felt like years. Though his faith had persevered through the years, the sheen had worn off it after one too many failures. As much as he prayed, as hard as he tried, he still had to sit and watch as sickness consumed his patients. It couldn't truly be said that he was depressed, he worked as hard as ever, had the energy to take up painting, and even study new findings in naturopathy with almost compulsive fervor, but he had grown hollow inside, and it made him desperate.

Eventually, in a sorely misguided attempt to reconnect with his heritage he added a little Taoism to the eclectic soup that was his faith, even going so far as a brief affair with Tai Chi. As the feeling of mystery faded from that too, and the new became old, he began to feel as empty as ever, and it scared him. Perhaps from desperation, or perhaps, as he might now admit, from a last attempt to flee the faithlessness he was beginning to find in the world around him, Mathis chose to attempt something he'd read only the vaguest hints of.

Embarking onto a camping trip for which he was ill prepared, the young doctor retreated into the woods around town with a backpack stuffed with gear, and a pouch filled with herbs he'd never have used on his own patients. In a little cave he found a few kilometers out he did as a paperback history of Chinese religion informed him ancient practitioners of the Way had done. He poisoned himself.

Even for those well versed in toxicology properly assessing the level of active compound in a biological sample can be difficult. For an inexperienced herbalist working from materials he'd purchased online, it was never going to end well. Alone in a centipede infested cave, Mathis died of ventricular arrhythmia shortly after his 25th birthday.

Yet that wasn't quite the end it should have been. In that moment of transition, as his soul stood in liminality, it was finally free to answer the call that had long disturbed it's slumber. He remembers walking on a pathway of black glass, climbing through an ashen plain of utter stillness while stone figures questioned his right to remain on the path, and finally, inscribing his name at the base of a leaden obelisk with a shard of chisel-like bone. As dawn broke over the forest, Mathis crawled from his grave, and saw the world with the eyes of the Awakened.

It took the members of the Seattle Consilium a mere week to find him after he returned home, and in the lessons they offered he found the purpose he'd always craved. Nearly a year later he was done with his apprenticeship, an untried member of the Mysterium ready to start building some kind of life amongst his peers. As all Mystagogues must, he consulted with the Order's seers on how he might prove his readiness for true initiation into the Mysteries and to the surprise of all involved, his fate was found to lie in another city entirely. In fact, it lay in London of all places.

Somewhat confused, but determined nonetheless, Stele began preparations for the move, making a few cautious queries amongst his old schoolmates and professors about opportunities across the pond as well as sending word to local mystagogues explaining his intent and the circumstances that had brought him to it. With a few month's work and a little nudge to Fate he eventually located an elderly widower who was more than willing to rent out the apartment beneath her flat and with the last of Aggie's gift, he purchased a ticket, packed his things, and set out for his new home.

## 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.

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 an array of subtly coloured Oxfords.  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.

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.**

## Relations & Contacts

### NPCs

* Susan 'Sue' Bellsworth
* Ys

## Miscellaneous

### Equipment

1/2
* **Tarot Deck** - Stele's preferred magical tool, these well-worn cards are rarely far from his person. Hand painted, the deck has a somber feel to its artwork that lends an air of inevitability to readings made with it. He usually carries the deck in a leather holster at the small of his back.
* **Pewter Pen** - When the situation calls for a more direct approach, or he just needs to sign something, Stele reaches for this dip pen. Formed of brightly polished leaded pewter, this pen has rattles slightly when shaken thanks to the shards of bone he has secreted inside its handle.

### Music

This playlist is a somewhat symbolic, somewhat literal interpretation of Stele's progress along his Path.