Friday 4 December 2015

Fates #3 (The Iconic One)

VII. The Chariot
OK, this is the last of my Fates previews, and I sort of had no choice about which one to post. It's the Chariot. It's my card, the card of victory through struggle.

It's also the character type that owes the most to a fiction outside of esoteric literature and my own juvenilia, namely The Metabarons, Jodorowsky's saga about that family of ultimate warriors who could destroy galaxies in the blink of an eye but who absolutely couldn't get their relationships in order. Ironically, if the game's played as the rules direct, the Charioteer is the one who gets to see the least combat (because if you're the Charioteer, you don't get to play out fight scenes).

7. The Chariot, 20. Judgement: The Invincible Charioteer
The one who will bring victory, if not see it.
Unlucky in love, scion of a family tree bedecked in tragedy and pain, you found early on that more than anything else, better than anyone else alive, you can fight, and oh, can you fight. You are a storm of injury and death, your speed and skill unparalleled, your brute force unmatched. You have the capacity to crush the thrones of the earth beneath your feet.

Before the Catastrophe comes the final war. Many will fight, but it is for you to endure to the very end, to see everything through to the bloody end. You will never know peace. Lightning is in your eyes, the reins of the sky-chariot in your hands. Your feats of arms will inspire vast armies who will never know your name; they will attribute your deeds to the heroes of myths as yet unwritten.

What you're like: In combat, no one is like you. It is in your nature to fight, and the weapons of war have always been entirely natural in your hands. In battle, you feel a wild joy; but when the battle is over and the myriad sons and daughters of the kingdoms lie in a sea of gore at your feet, you understand the cost. Of all the Fated, yours is perhaps the heaviest burden, and at times you envy those who can love, or work with their hands, or create things of beauty. Your only aptitude, the thing you are better at bringing than any other, is violence, death and ruin. You can show mercy, but the defeated must accept it. You tire of the endless stream of youths who seek to be the one who beat you, dispatch them in their dozens while barely thinking. You long to be the object of something other than fear. Your relationships are doomed to fail, your friendships will collapse under the weight of your destiny.

How you die: When the final battle is over, and the land sinks beneath you, you will stand at the climax of the final battle, alone yet victorious, when you will die, killed by a single lucky blow from an untested child.

Attributes: Add 1 point to Animal, 5 points to Body, and 3 points to Machines.

Your Boon is this: You are always victorious in battle.
Until the very final moment of the Catastrophe, no one will defeat you in a fight. You might, rarely, be wounded, but you will always, always win a fight, no matter how ridiculous the odds. It's entirely up to you how you win: your opponent might die, but you might wound, cripple, imprison or even inflict an absolute, humiliating defeat without shedding blood, if it's at all possible. You might have the entire War Host of Caiphul arrayed against you, but even so, you will bring ruin to them, and while you may choose to show mercy, there is never any question of your defeat.

The one proviso to this: they have to be fighting you. If they refuse to fight, or if they run, or hide, your victory is not assured at all.