The Falstead Mysteries
A failed academic turned amateur porn star turned goddamn wizard
Academics: 3 (Specialty in psychology)
Occult: 4 (Specialty in demonology)
Animal Ken: 0
Persuasion: 2 (specialty in seduction)
Initiative Mod: +6
Sanctum: 3 (bookstore: size 2, security 1)
Library: 3 (demons, mythology, history)
Mentor: 1 (“Sleazy G,” the amateur porn director)
Jason Abigor had dreams, once.
He dreamed of a college classroom filled with ambitious students, hanging on his every word. He dreamed of being renowned, respected, and notorious. He dreamed of brilliance – a reputation of shattered conventions and new paths blazed.
He was an academic, dammit. Majoring in psychology at UNH Falstead and prepared to rise to the top and claim tenure at the same university.
But Jason learned that dreams end abruptly. His ended in a cold sweat, covered with cheap lubricant and shame.
Graduate programs were not impressed with Jason’s GPA, and jobs were scarce. His father died and left him ownership of his failing bookshop, filled with curiosities and obscure reference materials. The inheritance did little to aid his finances. After several months of defaulted student loans and ramen noodle dinners, Jason began opening the dusty scotch bottles in the bottom drawer of his father’s old desk.
Jason fell into a spiral of depression and impotent self-hatred, at best able to summon an occasional chuckle at his pathetic lot in life. Bills accumulated and bottles began to empty.
Jason’s pride kept him from bagging groceries, flipping burgers, and selling cars. But when amateur porn director “Sleazy G” knocked on the door of the dilapidated bookstore, Jason’s pride had dried up. A flat rate of $50 a day to rent the bookstore basement for “occult fantasy” videos was too good to pass up. It was inevitable that he’d eventually accept the commission for actually BEING in the videos . . .
In his private moments, Jason pursues a zen-like quest for inner-peace, seeking to separate his “pure” mind from his desecrated body. What began as an escape mechanism has become a crutch; he feels his mind is exempt from the sins of his body. “It’s just to pay the rent,” he tells himself, but it’s hard to deny that selling antiques never got him laid.