Alex Practice
The boy who would be Alex Practice was always a risk-taker and a misfit. He never felt like he belonged in Olympia when he was growing up there, he dropped out of college in Portland and community college in Seattle, and he seemed to almost drift through life. Born into a wealthy family whom he despises, except for a weird and eccentric uncle who lived in Pine Mountain and got on with his family about as well as the boy did. A childless bachelor, when his uncle died suddenly two years ago he left the boy everything, and he took up residence in the large, ramshackle three-story house outside town. He inherited the house, a 1968 Ford Mustang GT in mint condition, and enough money to live on comfortably.
Things got weird almost right away.
His uncle's death was already mysterious - natural causes, they said - and the room he died in just felt
wrong. The whole house did. The boy kept finding himself in rooms without remembering how he got there. One of the stairs seemed to end in one of two different rooms. The house almost seemed to breathe, expand and contract slightly across a course of days. Books would come off shelves that were flush to the wall a day or two before. And more than that, some weird old man kept watching the place from outside. It felt like a horror movie, and anyone sensible would have been scared stiff.
The boy wasn't scared. He was
curious. He needed to know more. There was a dusty library of old, strange books in the attic, and though he'd never cared about studying before he tore through it - the ones in languages he could read were all strange occult texts - trying to know more about his uncle and his uncle's house. The more he read, the more he needed to know. But that wasn't all - the more obsessed he became, the more risks he took.
High stakes poker with shady characters in back-alley bars. Cat and mouse chases through Seattle streets with the local PD in hot pursuit because he'd done something petty but flagrantly illegal in front of a cop just for the joy of seeing them run. Games of chicken with oncoming traffic. No matter how many bruises, nights in a cell or near-death experiences, he knew it wasn't enough. He knew he was
on to something. Luck was his study. Eventually he went all-or-nothing, renting a dirt-bike and taking off out into the pinewoods at night, full speed. It was dark and he had no lights, loud aggressive music blaring through his ears so he couldn't work with hearing. The bike's throttle jammed in place. He rode, and rode. Twisting and turning on instinct, daring death or understanding to come to him.
He could have died. Instead, he Awoke. Though it was night he stood in a forest of indescribable beauty in bright sunlight at the foot of a silver tower. At its base, and all up its length, countless names, carved into the glowing silver. He knew exactly where his uncle's name was, and he carved his own name beneath it.
When he went back to the house he was ready for what dwelt there, infecting the magic energy of the place. The Cassidy felt his battle with the entity from halfway across town, and arrived in time to help him seal it away. He took him back to the bar, introduced him to the Free Council - for his uncle, whom he refused to let the boy speak the name of and simply referred to as Alexandros - and explained who and what the boy now was. Over three glasses of mead and a shot of whiskey Alex Practice took his uncle's Shadow Name for his own and claimed dominion of his Sanctum, though in time he would allow other Awakened - ones he trusted - to share his home and its power.
Alex is still something of an outsider, though the Free Council and its local leadership - The Cassidy and Luther Sweets - are largely happy to let him keep to his own devices while he setttles in to his power. He uses his powers and skills to run people, messages and valuables around the Northwest - he has a reputation as being discreet, reliable and cheaper than most with access to teleportation magic. He
loves being Awakened, something Luther is a little worried about. Alex's uncle loved it too, and it killed him. More studious now than he used to be Alex works to understand more of the mechanics of Awakening, so other sleepers may come to see past the Lie and in particular so those who are downtrodden by society can even the playing field.
Alex is a slight, scruffy white man in his early 20s. He usually looks tired, and he rarely sits still for long. He's most comfortable on the move. Outside of the cabal (all of whom can come and go from his Sanctum as they please, with some taking on permanent residence from time to time) he has few local friends except The Cassidy, Luther Sweets and his work contacts. He is on polite but decidedly distant terms with his family back in Olympia, and he likes it that way.
Professional Training (Courier): asset skills are Drive and Streetwise. Grants two one-dot contacts - One is Asebaiah (Seb for short), a Libertine in Seattle who facilitates courier orders for the Pentacle. The other is Daniel Hazimsque, a First Nations Canadian living in Portland who acts as a facilitator for Alex's work with local Sleepers. A Sleeper himself, Daniel knows to keep things at least vaguely legal, and can be relied on for reliable work.
Alex Practice.pdf
