IN MEDIA RES
A CAMPAIGN FOR NOBILIS: A GAME OF GREATER POWERS




"Meow."

    -Lord St. Chatelroy, prized American Shorthair, to Misty Sunrise Dew, registered Persian, in condolence upon learning of Misty's recent declawing.


THE POWER OF CATS, MIRANDA KINNIS

Revised 8/01/02

Player Name Laura Parkinson (e-mail)

ATTRIBUTE LEVELMIRACLE POINTS
Aspect1: Metahuman5
Domain2: Viscountess5
Realm1: Radiant5
Spirit4: Conflagration5



Gifts and Virtues Shapeshifting
Catlike Dodge


Limits/Restrictions Restriction: cannot use any Aspect miracles when physically (intentionally) bound. (1MP, Spirit)

Restriction: must grant one boon to one who has helped a cat and requests something of her, the scope of the granted boon being dependent on the help given the cat. (Variable MPs, Domain)

Affiliation: Code of the Wild




Bonds
StrengthSubject
4 Her Freedom
4 Her Estate (Cats)
3Bagheera - her pet cat (black cat)
3 Sammy (anchor)
2 Tim (anchor)
2 Imperator
1 Her Magic
1 Her Singing






"...And when the moon gets up and night comes, he is the Cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to him. Then he goes out to the Wet Wild Woods or up the Wet Wild Trees or on the Wet Wild Roofs, waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone."

    -Rudyard Kipling, "Just So Stories"


THE POWER OF CATS
MIRANDA KINNIS



Introductory text to follow

Estate

Text to follow

Weaknesses

Handicaps to follow

Design

A closed silver flower with whorled leaves in groups of four, twined around what appears to be white butterfly weed. The background is deep blue, with a crescent moon in the center, between the blossoms in the design.

Associated Non-Player Characters

Timothy Vahn - Renfaire seller (of puzzle boxes, etc.) and musician. Her mentor, and closest non-relative friend.

Samantha Kinnis - Cousin, also age 22, the person she's closest to. Grew up much like sisters, without all the negatives.

Appearance and Gifts

Slightly under average height (around 5'4"), slender. Her complexion is probably best described as "cafe au lait," which somewhat reflects her mixed heritage, while she still looks to most as "Caucasian." Her hair is straight, fine, and black. Her eyes are usually brown, with green flecks sometimes visible, making them seem more hazel.

Miranda carries around at all times a pouch with a good variety of dried flower petals, a bit of broken crystal, and anything else necessary for performing the simple Rites. Especially nettles.

Gifts blurb to follow.







"'How do you know she is a unicorn?' Molly demanded. 'And why were you afraid to let her touch you? I saw you. You were afraid of her.'

'I doubt that I will feel like talking for very long,' the cat replied without rancor. 'I would not waste time in foolishness if I were you. As to your first question, no cat out of its first fur can ever be deceived by appearances. Unlike human beings, who enjoy them. As for your second question-' Here he faltered, and suddenly became very interested in washing; nor would he speak until he had licked himself fluffy and then licked himself smooth again. Even then he would not look at Molly, but examined his claws.

'If she had touched me,' he said very softly, 'I would have been hers and not my own, not ever again. I wanted her to touch me, but I could not let her. No cat will. We let human beings caress us because it is pleasant enough and calms them- but not her. The price is more than a cat can pay.'"

    -Peter S. Beagle, "The Last Unicorn"


BIOGRAPHY

Miranda grew up with not uncaring, but not warm and obviously loving parents in the American South. Her family on the whole accepted her, especially the daughter of her father's brother, who was of the same age, Samantha. The two grew up about an hour's drive apart, but whenever they did manage to get together, the just slightly older Samantha would often take the lead, getting the two into all sorts of mischief, something that the reserved Miranda wouldn't tend to do on her own. And she loved it. The two were together just enough to form a bond that would last even through both moving away and starting their own lives, but not enough that they would get tired of seeing each other and being together, as actual siblings would do.

The other main living figure within Miranda's family growing up was her maternal grandmother, "Mere" as she grew up calling her, Rosalind. Rosalind was already seventy when Miranda was born, and died when the girl was still in her early teens, but Miranda still remembers sitting at Mere's feet, listening to her stories about growing up under segregation, and the lingering legacies and family histories of slavery. Rosalind was the African American wife, of a white Southerner, which put her right in the middle of a life of prejudice, hate, and oppression. These stories got passed down to the young Miranda, along with the older stories that had been passed down of her family's history as slaves brought in from Senegal, to a world and life that they could barely imagine. Thus, while Miranda's physical appearance only vaguely reflects her "quadroon" roots, as Mere would call her, the stories and deeper roots took hold more solidly, most especially giving Miranda the basis of her need, love, and reverence of Freedom. Of course, some of the old, soul-filled songs that Rosalind would Sing to her young granddaughter, sometimes as a lullabye, would also come back hauntingly into her adult life, later on.

After the death of her grandmother, Samantha (or "Sammy" to Miranda) eventually moved farther away to Arizona, where her father had taken a job, leaving Miranda completely alone to her eyes around the age of sixteen. She had always been reserved, but at this point she closed herself off from the world and others even more, except for brief thaws when Sammy's family would make the long trip to visit "home," or when she was involved in the few hobbies that she really enjoyed, mostly attempts at sleight-of-hand and such magic, or reading or watching stories where "real" magic would take a role. It's not too surprising that, shortly after her graduation, Sammy herself moved away in search of her own life.

At this point, she's chased such a life to various corners in the U.S., trying to make a living with her level head and her few real gifts, such as her soft, soulful voice, or her quick hands. Most recently, she's travelled to (general location of Chancel) to try to eke out a living. Her luck turned for the better when she met up with Timothy Vahn one day as he was playing at a local festival, who quickly became her friend, and mentor. The only slightly-older man is also a gifted musician, although in his case it's really in playing instruments, mostly woodwinds, although he's still a good singer. He quickly convinced her that her voice is a real talent, and managed to get her some fairly steady work singing at a few local clubs, sometimes with his own accompaniment among the musicians. He also has an interest in puzzles and tricks, although not so much magic on the whole as in Miranda's case, and managed to help her find a part-time job as a stage magician's assistant, to help pay the bills that the singing won't cover.

Thanks to these talents, and an attraction toward a more romantic life, Tim has found himself through his years very much drawn to the Rennaisance Faires and the like, and is by now a fairly established musician at the local Ren Faire, as well as helping to fabricate and sell some of the various puzzle-boxes at one of the booths. Knowing Miranda's own enjoyment of a "fantasy" setting, where magic often goes hand-in-hand with such a time period, he's just recently talked her into accompanying him to one of the Faires, on a date which coincides with a visit from Sammy, who comes along with her cousin. Which is when all three of their lives turn inside-out...




"Molly's breath came like rope, fretting against her harsh throat. 'Damn you, why won't you help me?' she cried. 'Why must you always speak in riddles?'

One eye opened slowly, green and gold as sunlight in the woods. The cat said, 'I am what I am. I would tell you what you want to know if I could, for you have been kind to me. But I am a cat, and no cat anywhere ever gave anyone a straight answer.'"

    -Peter S. Beagle, "The Last Unicorn"


VISION CARDS

A lady in noble medieval dress reclines upon a throne, smiling mysteriously, holding in her hands and her lap a wealth of golden jigsaw puzzle pieces. The lady is half-human, half-jaguar, and stunninging beautiful.

    "I've always felt a connection to the feline, and known that cats were of all animals most regal and worthy of rule. I feel it even more keenly now, although I realize now that they are truly more fit to rule *themselves*. No one person or being can see how all the pieces fit for another, and thus no one has the right to truly control another for long, no matter how regal and wise they may otherwise be."

A volcano is erupting in the distance. As the molten lava spews into the air, it is transformed into living, flame-colored birds which flock towards the viewer.

    "Many simply fear that which would destroy them utterly at a touch. Very few will stop to consider how much more beautiful and unrestrained something is, which cannot be bound or fettered or even touched without danger. It may be beautiful in itself, and it is doubly beautiful because by its very nature it celebrates and protects its freedom."

Two cats are chasing each other, forming the image of the ancient Aes Sedai symbol, against the background of a deep blue sky. The cats are a black panther and a white tiger.

    "Many have called me independent, hard to know, even cold. Many others have used these characterizations to say that I feel no bonds to others, that I *cannot* be touched or known. I will agree with the former, but not the latter. Even something independent and individual can, in its own way, make up a balance, half of a bond, part of a whole."

A sword and shield lay leaning against the wall of a hay barn. The sword is rusted from age and damaged from hard use, the shield shines like new.

    "I've tended through much of my life to lash out without thinking, to try to defend myself with a good offense against those who would hurt me, to keep those at a distance that I though even potentially might bring me harm. It's only very recently, after becoming an adult, that I've realized that sometimes you get so swept up in a defensive attack, that you don't even realize that there's nothing even trying to hurt you in the first place. I still struggle with bringing this realization to bear on my life."

A songbird sits on the leafless branch of a tree, looking as if it were just preparing to leap into flight, wings outstretched. It is encased completely in a thin and transparent layer of ice.

    "Some find comfort, even beauty, in perfect, delicate stasis. In being safe behind the transparent prisons of others. I myself hate the mere thought. Without change, without motion, can we truly be alive? Even if the next breath rains destruction upon our heads, wouldn't it be better to take that breath in the joy of knowing that, for that heartbeat, you are free to sing, to spread your wings and fly?"

A beautiful emerald-coloured feather quill lying across an elegant, gold-tipped slim pen, both resting on a sparkling-clean computer keyboard.

    "There are almost always many ways to achieve the same end. It is the method that you yourself use, that you may even see as the only way, that may speak volumes about you. I myself usually tend toward the more elegant - usually - but that may give way to expediency and directness on a whim."

A man and a woman face each other, each holding the strings of puppets. The puppets are streaked with blood.

    "Binding another's will brings with it injury and pain, even when for the best of reasons. Such coersion or control may perhaps be excused briefly, for expediency, allowing the small wounds of the soul and mind to heal. But there is a fine line between coercing another for expediency, and turning one into a wooden, bloodied marrionette. It is a line that, with my own new abilities and bonds, I must learn to walk quickly and carefully."