Bio

Aspects:

Where did you come from?: “Tommy in the Desert”
Invoke to: Be the old soldier, to fight the fight.
Compel to: Remember the horrors of war.

What Shaped You?: “Cancion de Fuego y Corazon”
Invoke to: Remember a lost love, act upon emotion, draw upon magic with a passionate heart
Compel to: To act with emotion.

What Was Your First Adventure?: “Regular Ol’ Del Boy” (Feat. ‘Biran’ of the Winter Court)
Invoke to: Know someone handy. To wheel and deal against the odds.
Compel to: Owe a favour to old friends.

Paths Crossed, #1?: “Our Last Link” (Feat. Warden Olivia Singh Silva)
Invoke to: Use as a symbol of true love and faith in Humanity.
Compel to: Try and see the very best in humanity.

Paths Crossed, #2?: “Early Retirement” (Feat. Wardens Warne and Deng)
Invoke to: Act against injustice, Strike with righteous fury.
Compel to: “Murderer, Traitor, Coward.”, “Damned by my own rage.”

“Tommy in the Desert”

[A letter in a neat hand on standard issue army paper, dated from 1916, from Sgt R.B. Singh to J. Singh of Birmingham]
“John, we have reached Arabia in good time. It is a certain improvement on the trenches, at the very least! I will soon be leading a convoy of supplies to meet up with Captain Lawrence and his irregulars, and will be out of contact for several months.
Give my love to Mother, Father and young Nirrel.
Your Brother, Rupert”
[A letter in a cursive, quick hand, dated 1917, from one Lt DeVry under orders from Cpt Lawrence to British High Command]
“Sirs, it is my recommendation, and the Captain agrees, that one Sgt Rupert B Singh, currently serving under our command, be commended for his bravery and valour in the face of danger during combat with Ottoman forces and their irregular allies.
Three days ago, when faced with an Ottoman force sweeping his operational area within the Hejaz region, where he was leading a combined force of irregulars and Allied infantry, Sgt Singh, at no minor risk to his own life and with great bravery stayed in a rearguard action along with five volunteers. For several hours, while the remaining forces made a strategic withdrawl, they held the line, forcing the enemy to fight for every inch. Even after running out of ammunition, they did not break, holding the enemy off with bayonets and rifle butts for several key minutes. Sgt Singh was the only survivor, and may the casualties find their place with God.
-Lt DeVry”
[A letter in the neat hand, dated late 1918, once more from Sgt R.B. Singh to J. Singh of Birmingham]
“John, Peace at last! It is a grand shame that it cost us so many good men to reach it. Let us hope that it lasts, and that this was truely the last Great War!
Will be home soon. Do not tell Nirrel, we shall give him quite the suprise, eh, brother?
-Rupert”

“Cancion de Fuego y Corazon” (Canción de Fuego y Corazón/Song of the Fire and Heart)

[A set of white council reports, including several minor reports, a short report in an elegant, flowing hand from Wizard Elia Silva Torres (dated 1930) and a report in an untidy scrawl from Wizard Farahad, M.D. (dated 1933)]
“Jun, 1920 – Wizard Elia Silva Torres has taken a new apprentice, Rupert Singh.”
“Report, Mar 1930, Wizard E Silva Torres:
Dealt with that business with the ghost matadors. Tell Wizard Alvarez that he needs a better ghost dust recipe. Apprentice Singh’s training is progressing well. He shows a natural proficiency for devices, along with fire and earth evocations.”
“Apr, 1936 – Wizard Elia Silva Torres has recommend Apprentice Singh be tested as a full wizard as soon as is possible. Request forwarded to the appropriate Council office.”
“Sept, 1936: Therapy Notes – Aspprentice Singh, by Wizard Farahad, M.D.:
Subject displays clear signs of grief and anger. It appears that there has been a long running romantic liason between the subject and Wizard Silva Torres, including a recent marriage that was hidden from the Council. Despite this, subject appears surprisingly coherant and sane.
When asked about the locations of Wizard Silva Torres and the child, the subject gave the following tale:
‘Civil War erupted, and you know what the first thing she did, while I made ready to flee along side Sir Willem, the old butler? She went into the city, to help the people the army was fighting. She went to save them. She did not return for several hours, so I left the child with Willem in a warded safe room and went into the city, clutching my old service revolved, fraught with worry. She… She’d been trying to save a building full of innocents who the army were threatening, all because one of them was a possible suspect. Even with all the guns the soldiers had, she never struck them down, she never broke the laws. But then one of them, one of those bloody traitors, shot her in the back. Straight through the spine and lung. She didn’t stand a chance. I managed to scare them off with a quick evocation to make it sound like opposition was coming, barely quick enough to hear her last words. And I will keep those words with me until I die. They were words to keep a passionate heart burning. And I fled, burying her on her estate, leaving the child with my brother before coming to Edinburgh.’
In conclusion, I see no reason why the subject should not at least be tested for full wizardhood, for he is still remarkably sane after such a trauma. We should however, watch the child as she grows up.”

“Regular Ol’ Del Boy” (Feat. ‘Biran’ of the Winter Court)

[A white council report, filed by phone in Nov 1946 by Wizard R.B. Singh]
“Alright, Harris, got a pen? Here’s the report for Alvarez on that Tibet business. Point the first, it’s bloody cold up here, and Alvarez should know that after freezing my arse cheeks off up here for him, we’re square. Anyway. I made contact with the monastery, as per his instructions, and it was the usual story, bloody battalion of Nazis led by some creepy SS officer looking for Shambala or some cache of magic – as if the Council would leave something like that lying about. The monks – nice fellows, actually, surprisingly calm, given the circumstances – said that because those daft Nazis decided that digging with TNT was a good idea, one of the old Yeti tribal shrine slash burial grounds got disturbed, waking up some downright mean old Yeti ghosts, who promptly killed off those bloody Jerries and then started hasseling the locals. Turns out the Yetis had sought their own help, and you wouldn’t even guess who turned up – a Winter Sidhe with his sword and mail and the rest of it. Called himself ‘Biran’, though it’s probably a diminutive or an alias, still might want to look him up in the library, though. Took a fair bit of convincing, but we decided that rather than knocking each other about for a while, we’d just go and fix the shrine and hopefully put the ghosts back to sleep. Monks, helpful to the end, pointed us along towards it, so we got to trudge through a few miles of snow. I say we, but that pesky fae git can walk on snow as if it were stone and don’t give a damn about the cold, so it’s mostly just me who suffered. And then we ended up in a fight, and I got my chance to be a smug git, because Winter magic isn’t so hot against Yeti ghosts. Fire worked alright, but I end up having to restore the stone seal to it’s original condition piece by bloody piece while Biran held off the ghosts with that wicked fey blade of his. Gotta get me one of them, they’re rather nice. Anyway, I managed to reset the wards and the ghosts promptly went back to being quiet. Monks said to thank the council for them. End of report, Wizard R.B. Singh signing off. Oh, wait. Add this. P.S, Bloody Cold.”

“Our Last Link” (Feat. Warden Olivia Singh Silva)

[A White Council Report from 1995 by Wizard Alvarez]
“This follows is an eye witness account by one Elaine Acosta, resident of Gibraltar, of the incident at the Cathedral of St. Mary the Crowned. Collected, Translated and Recorded by Wizard Alvarez:
‘Well, old timer, it went a bit like this. I had just stopped to light a candle for poor old Bernard – nasty flu, you see – when I spotted a pair of folks arguing towards the back of the chapel, and I thought it was a bit odd, because the indian fellow, he was well dressed, presentable, in his early fourties, so I thought to myself, what is he doing arguing with a wild looking woman in her twenties dressed in jeans and a shirt like some lumberjack? Now, my English isn’t the best, so I don’t know exactly what they were arguing about, but I distinctly heard some downright nasty stuff. Something about Wardens being hardnosed with no heart, and something about someone letting someone die. Fellow looked sad after that, actually. Poor fellow. Anyway, he gives her a small jewelery box, the kind you get pendants in. It’s at this point, they start getting distracted by people coming out of the inner chapel looking downright dreadful. Why, poor old Bill Carnes looked worse than when his son had died. So these two start heading towards the priest and it’s at this point that I see the young lady was carrying a sword with her! A sword, in this day and age! These youths, I just don’t get them. And then this new priest, Father Skavian, well he clocks the old fellow in the chest, sending him crashing into some pews a few rows back. It’s at this point I decide that I need something a bit solid between me and them, so I ducked behind the old stone font, still trying to look like I’m lighting candles. And then fire starts flying, which was downright odd! After a few minutes though, and some nasty grunts and groans, I peek back out and the Father is being escorted out, a blade pointed at his back, with all three of them battered and scorched to heck. Shame about the property damage, and now we find out Father Skavian wasn’t even a real priest! Say, old timer, what department did you say you were from, again?”

“Early Retirement” (Feat. Wardens Warne and Deng)
[Letter, Provenance Unknown]
“Daughter,
By the time you read this, I will have fled the country. Do not look for me, and do not follow. I have done black deeds, and I will not have them fall upon you as well.
Earlier today, Wardens Warne and Deng asked me to set up a safe location with wards. Given the short notice, I did as best I could with an old abandoned warehouse. They arrived with a young child with a bag upon his head, a boy of not more than twelve. His only crime was slowing the effects of time on himself alone. This execution was wrong. I know we have disagreed on the ways of the Wardens before, but you must know that this was the act of two bullies raised to their rank in war, who thought themselves right. But I acted.
I shot Deng in the back of the head, thrice, with my old revolver, before opening on Warne. But he was too quick, or perhaps I was too slow, and he took but a single shot to the belly. I was forced to strike him down with my magic, and the worst part is that I truely must have believed that lashing out with blind fury was right, and this alone is enough to damn me.
Do not worry, for I have hidden the bodies and burnt the warehouse, and false trails have been laid. Do not come after me, for if the Council finds out, they will name me Murderer, Traitor, Coward. I have damned myself with my own rage, and I am sorry.
-R.”