Editing Cain - Bodhisattva of Murder

A Nobilis 3rd Edition character played by MrPrim in the game [[NobilisRaziel]].

''"Then the Lord replied to him, "Therefore, whosoever slayeth Cain vengeance will suffer vengeance seven times over." And the Lord set a Mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kill him. Then Cain went out from the Lord's presence and lived in the land of Nod, east of Eden."''

==The Estate of Murder==
*Murder is the intentional taking of life (2)
*Murder makes things worse (3)
*Murder is momentous and significant (1)
*Murder will out (1)

==Passions/Skills==
*Passion:  I think the only thing anyone should try to do is be happy (2)
*Passion:  I want my brother to forgive me(0)
*Passion:  I want to be left alone (1)
*Skill:  Millennia of experience (5)
*Cool (0+0 Aspect)
*Shine (0+4 Persona)
==Aspect 0==

==Domain 3==
*''Domain 0''
**Knowing when something endangers Murder
*''Domain 1''
**Make someone feel murderous for an hour
**Give someone the feeling that they’re going to be murdered
**Make a place look like the scene of a murder for a short time
*''Domain 2''
**Learn the facts about a murder
**Find out things about a murderer
*''Domain 3''
**Make it so that a person is driven to murder over minor issues
**Turn a petty crook into a serial killer
**Turn a minor murder into national news
**Protect the evidence and details of a murder scene from being obscured or destroyed
*''Domain 4''
**Create a murder weapon
**Summon a famous murder weapon
**Create a murderer
**Summon a specific murderer
**Give a normal person homicidal thoughts
**Make the world try to murder an opponent
*''Domain 5''
**End someone else’s murderous intentions
**Bring a murder victim back to life
**Learn about all of the murders and other deaths in San Francisco
**See the future in the entrails of a killed animal
*''Domain 6''
**Move one person homicidal thoughts to someone else
**Change the target of an intended homicide
**Change the perpetrator or victim of an already committed homicide
**Create/enhance a serial killer whose homicidal nature will bring him back from the dead
**Make a murderous meme that spawns copycats
**Make a simple murder into something that will go down in history
*''Domain 7''
**Turn an entire society into murderous psychopaths
**Create a weapon that can murder an entire civilization
**Transform a death by natural causes into a murder
**Change the politics of the world to be pro-death penalty
*''Domain 8''
**Turn the whole world vegetarian
**Make a country where no one kills anyone else
**Redefine murder in a society to not apply to a certain ethnic group
*''Domain 9''
**Make an image that instantly and intentionally kills all who look upon it
**Make it so that nothing in the world will die from intentional actions

==Persona 4==

==Treasure 1==

==Bonds and Afflictions==
*Bond: I love my brother, even if he is a ghost (2)
*Bond: Thou shalt not kill (2)
*Bond:  I have a cult of followers, though I try not to encourage them (1)
*Affliction: I can never die or be brought to harm (5)
*Affliction: I am protected and loved by my Estate (3)
*Affliction: I am Marked and can never hide who I am or what I’ve done (1)

==Gifts==
*None

==MP and such==
*Aspect 5
*Domain 5
*Persona 5
*Treasure 5
*Will 8

==Fiction==
On the fifteenth day of Thermidor, I reached my destination.
The stair of one hundred and fifteen-thousand steps was behind me. I’d passed the field of ruinous blossoms and the singing stones whose melodies warn mendicants to turn back. Before that I’d sailed the ocean of fruit, and dug deep beneath the hill of regret. When I met myself coming the other way, I knew to tell myself only two things and these I listened to wordlessly. The yawning maw, where the path wended off of the world and into the sky, I traversed nearly without incident. The hall of wanton women was a struggle, I will confess. For a time, in the land of lost dreams, I forgot myself and lived as an accountant for a small rural bank in Idaho, but I remembered myself again and moved on.
I arrived at my goal.
”Another one then,” he said, turning around.
The man I met at the top of the mountain turned to me. On his forehead danced a glyph of blue flame, a word in the language of the Angels. When I glanced upon that mark, his mark, I knew without question, this was the one whom I sought. I sank to me knees before him and placed my head on the ground, wordlessly.
”Yes, yes, very nice. So, which type are you?”
I responded that I was his humble servant and this did not please him.
”Well of course you are. You’ve come all this way. But two types of men come to see me. Which are you?”

- From the journal of Yoritoku Robespierre, who was never heard from again


----


Once upon a time, there were two field mice named Al and Cal.
One day, the Cat came down upon Al and Cal and showed them his teeth.
“Bring me food, or I will eat you!” growled the Cat.
So Al and Cal went back to their holes and brought the Cat their food.
Cal brought the Cat all of the corn he had saved up for the winter. The Cat sniffed the corn and growled. “Corn? Am I a pig?” it snarled, “Bring me something better! Bring me meat!”
Al, on the other hand, had found a grasshopper and brought that to the Cat. The Cat sniffed the grasshopper and ate it on gulp. “Delicious,” it purred.
Cal had no grasshopper to give the cat, nor any other bugs. The Cat wanted meat. And 
Cal only knew one place to get meat.
And so Cal brought Al to the Cat, and the Cat smiled its kitty smile and swallowed up Al in one bite.
“You’ve done a bad thing, Cal,” the Cat said, still smiling and licking its paws, “You shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t have done what I said.” And the Cat smiled and walked away.
And Cal was all alone.
The End.

- An excerpt from Fairy Tales for Nimble Children by Orson Scott Card


----


”Another one then,” 
He turned around and I knew him instantly, by his mark and by the age and wisdom in his eyes. I dropped to one knee, pulling off my helm and averting my eyes so that he would see that I was respectful.
”Yes, yes, very nice. So, which type are you?”
I showed him my sword hand then. Blood dripped from it; blood that would never wash away.
”Ah,” he said without smiling, ”You want to be absolved?”
Yes, yes, a thousand times yes, I wanted to scream. The ghosts following me wailed in my ears, wailed that I would never wash away their stains, would never truly be free of my crimes. But I did not scream. Instead, I nodded once, never bringing my eyes up to meet his.
”Alright,” he said after the longest of pauses, ”Would you like some tea?”

- From the diary of Sir Edmund Forlorgan, who would one day become Brother Porolius of the Utopia at World’s End