A lost spirit of summer and long, lazy evenings by the riverside



Strength 2
Dexterity 2
Stamina 2

Presence 4
Manipulation 3
Composure 3

Wits 3
Intelligence 2
Resolve 3

Mortal Skills

Athletics 3
Brawl 0
Crafts 2
Drive 0
Firearms 0
Investigation 0
Larceny 2
Melee 0
Stealth 2

Academics 0
Bushcraft 1
Conformance 0
Law 0
Medicine 0
Occult 2
Science 0
Streetwise 2
Technology 0

Alertness 0
Empathy 2
Enigmas 1
Expression 2
Intimidation 0
Leadership 1
Performance 2
Rituals 4
Subterfuge 3


Ally 3
Rank 3
Resources 1


Lore of Spirits 4
Lore of Vainglory 2
Lore of Fundament 1

Apocalyptic Traits

Wings (dragonfly, translucent)
Striking looks
Natural charm
Unconquerable visage
Pass without trace
Iron constituation

Faith 3

Willpower 4

Destiny 1


Once upon a time, when the world was young and fresh and full of hope and possibility, the angels of the glorious sun, the sweet summer breeze and lazy water lapping at the shore came together to make one perfect, midsummer day.

The echoes of the spirits that were born that day loom large in the minds of men, often in the shape of what they call fairies. Although the colours and styles change with time, always they seem to appear as smiling maids, dancing light on their feet in a flutter of wings and the scent of wild flowers.

Not all of those spirits have survived the ravages of time though, many have died as their rivers and meadows were destroyed, or became the haunts of thugs and drug users (or other, darker presences). Of those who still exist, many are corrupted or at least deeply changed.

Irenea is one such a spirit, existing on the edges of human civilisation. Her hosts are normally wanderers, musicians, hippies, artists or travellers. She often seems distant, preferring to live in a half remembered dream world, where life is still as innocent as it was before. Beware though, when her attention is brought into focus, she can be terrible and, what is more, the angry spirits that have long slept (trampled into the dirt by human feet) rise at her call. Behind the warm smiles there is anger, so much fury at how humanity has squandered the gifts that she offered them.

Yet, sometimes, there is still the echo of the golden, blissful summers of childhood and yesteryears.


Apocalypse NexaNexa Rhea