*OSIRS Notation Start*
File Number: 24-04-87112
Status: Probationary Agent, Second ClassRank: 0 Band: 010 01-18 Clearance: Restricted
*OSIRS Notation End*
Oswald Ellis 56798C-0 Base of Operations Chicago Species Human Description Male Caucasian, brown hair, hazel eyes, stubble, narrow black-rimmed glasses, nice suits. Age 29 Rad. Dose -
Physical Characteristics STR ength 5 DEX terity 6 END urance 7 INT ellect 9 EDU cation 8 SOC ial 12 PSI -
Dice Modifier Table Ability 0 1-2 3-5 6-8 9-11 12-14 DM -3 -2 -1 0 +1 +2
SKILLS AND TALENTS
(EDU + INT) * 3 Skill Points MAX /Used: -/[MAX NUMBER HERE]
Skill (specialty) Rank Admin 1 Advocate 0 Alchemy Animals Athletics (STR) Athletics (DEX) 0 Athletics (END) Art Art ( ) Art ( ) Broker 1 Carouse 0 Deception 3 Diplomat Drive Drive(wheeled) Electronics 0 Electronics (Comms) Electronics (Computers) 2 Electronics (Remote Ops) Electronics (sensors) Engineer Engineer ( ) Explosives Flyer Flyer(Winged) Flyer(Rotor) Gambler Gunner Gunner(Turret) Gun Combat 0 Gun Combat ( ) Heavy Weapons Heavy Weapons ( ) Investigate 1 Jack of all Trades Language Language ( ) Leadership Mechanic Medic 0 Melee 0 Melee (Blade) Melee (Unarmed) 1 Navigation Persuade 1 Pilot Pilot(Small Craft) Profession Profession () Recon Science 0 Science (Economics) 1 Science (Psychology) 1 Sorcery () Seafarer Stealth 0 Steward 0 Streetwise 2 Survival Tactics Tactics ( ) Vacc Suit Untrained -3
TALENTS Name Description Rapport - - I - - -
ATTACK ACTIONS
HAND TO HAND AND MELEE WEAPONS
Weapon TL Cost Wgt Range Damage Type LL Unarmed Strike — — — melee (close quarters) 1D6 —
RANGED AND HEAVY WEAPONS
Weapon TL Cost Wgt Range Damage Type LL Revolver 4 Cr150 900g 1 ranged (pistol) 2D6 P
GEAR
Leather Coat, Pistol (standard issue), shotgun (standard issue)
Background When the FBI stormed the Transcendent Light compound in 2007, they found thirty-one dead bodies, and two survivors.
One of the survivors was me. An agent found me hiding under a storage rack in one of the underground bunkers. His official report noted the basics: approximately ten years old, male caucasian boy, brown hair, hazel eyes. Signs of dehydration and malnourishment. Non-verbal. Extensive scarring on back, half-healed radial fracture of left arm.
The second survivor was my biological father. Daniel Lee Colvin, forty-five years old, no priors, self-proclaimed leader of the Transcendent Light commune located in Marin County, California. He had eleven “wives” and twenty-four children, and all but me were dead. If you’re thinking the math seems off there, it’s because some of his wives were his children.
Nowadays, Daniel Lee Colvin is serving thirty-two consecutive life sentences at a men’s supermax in an undisclosed location. He has a roof over his head, three squares a day, books to read, an hour of exercise in the yard, and the constitutional right to healthcare. Otherwise, he’s in solitary confinement in a six by nine cell. Visitors have to be approved by the warden himself, and visits can be no longer than fifteen minutes. None of the prison staff are allowed to be alone with him for any reason, and his guards rotate out monthly.
If that seems like overkill, it’s really not. You see, he didn’t murder thirty-one people, per se. He simply asked them to do it themselves, and all of them did, willingly. Even the children. Everyone except me.
In the old days, people would say he has the gift of gab. Charisma. Magnetism. A sociopath to end all sociopaths. In modern parlance, a psychologist might diagnose him with antisocial personality disorder, but that would be…imprecise. So-called sociopaths don’t really care about others other than for what they can use them for. But Daniel Lee Colvin cares.
That’s the secret, he used to tell me. The secret to manipulating people. People will sense on some level if you secretly hold back your contempt, if you see them as things to be used. What you have to do instead, is care about them. You have to be genuinely interested in people and what makes them tick. You have to get to know them, their hopes and dreams, the secret wishes they hold in their hearts, and you have to want those things for them too. You have to admire them, support them, love them. Do those things, and you have the key to everything.
I’ve seen reports that describe his level of influence over others with the word “supernatural”, but you know, that’s just hyperbole, right?
Who am I, you might ask? My name is Oswald Ellis. My given name is from my biological father. He said he named me after one of his heroes; I don’t think it’s hard to figure out who that would be. My surname is from the man who adopted me, the FBI agent who found me in the cellar, Hank Ellis. My actual father, you could say. Hank is old school, stoic and gruff, the proverbial tough guy with a heart of gold, the diametric opposite of everything Daniel Lee Colvin is.
Anyway, I was talking about myself. I’m twenty-nine years old, six feet even, still brown-haired and hazel-eyed, athletic, the spitting image of my biological father from back in the day, though I guess it’s not hard to understand why. I dual majored at Berkeley, criminal justice and computer science. Some of my classmates loved computers, were more comfortable with code than people. I wasn’t one of those. For me, computer science was a means to an end, a skill I could bring to the table. After graduation, I did a short stint in the San Francisco county sheriff’s department, then followed in my adoptive father’s footsteps and joined the bureau.The FBI figured out pretty quickly I was well-suited for undercover work.
See, you might say I’m a people person.
Lying, fast-talking, convincing, cold-reading, it’s all second nature, and as long as I’m using those skills in service of the greater good, then we’re good, right? A lot of criminal organizations need a hacker type, so opportunities to get in good with a group aren’t hard to come by. A few sting operations and commendations under my belt, and things were going well.
That’s when things get…weird. You might say my life is already pretty weird, but trust me, it gets weirder.
I was under in a drug smuggling ring in Chicago when I met the vampire. That’s a whole thing I won’t get into now, but suffice it to say it got pretty bad. At the end of it, I left the FBI and went to work for the Hoffmann Institute.
Hank doesn’t understand why I left, and I can’t tell him. Best case scenario, he thinks I went private for the money, and the protect and serve part of him won’t forgive me for that. Worst case scenario, he thinks I’m finally embracing my bloodline and becoming my biological father’s son, that I’m going off the rails and Hoffmann is some kind of cult. Doesn’t help that HI is so mysterious.
There’s a quote from Aldous Huxley that Daniel Lee Colvin used quote in his sermons, back at the compound: “Morality is always the product of terror; its chains and strait-waistcoats are fashioned by those who dare not trust others, because they do not dare to trust themselves, to walk in liberty”.
I don’t think the author meant it the same way as Colvin interpreted it, but maybe he did.
In any case, the way I see it, Hoffmann is working toward the greater good, and I’m working for Hoffman, so maybe that says something about me.
If it doesn’t, then maybe I’m still in the right place.
Last edited by case; Jul 16th, 2024 at 02:05 AM .