Player: Jen M
Email: greta@disjunction.chaosdeathfish.com

Violence is not the Answer

Greta is a mature woman of considerable charm and a certain “on ne sait quoi” that invites you to know her better. She doesn't have all that high a profile, with perhaps a few stories circulating about the City, which are universally to her credit. Those who know her also testify to her quiet wit and personal beauty.

For a good few moments, as Greta held the hero Tycho Flyteworthy's hand and he stroked her cheek, they were the centre of the world.

For a few days, the Lord Protector was utterly redundant in his own City, and she blanked him before he walked into the Disjunction.

For years, she held on to Rask, Barnabus, and Argos, as examples of what she should have been. As her friends. As the fathers of her children.

And sometimes she found herself just staring at a box sealed with crystal chains.

Lady Greta, ruler of the Seventh House, once ruler of the last free City of the old world, spends her first little while helping acclimate the other survivors to the new world, and weaving ties between them that bind them as a group. Then, occasionally with Rask, occasionally with Barnabus, and sometimes on her own, or with children, she travels, looking for the New City, promised by the gods, and, eventually, all seven free cities as she remembers them. In the New City, she starts weaving her delicate but sturdy web of personal power, then extends it out to any other known outposts of civilization, forging a coalition and alliances that Richard Daverth would have been proud of, and over which Gideon Rask’s New World Watch guards.

She bears children to Gideon, Barnabus, and Argos and helps school them and others in the memory of all that has gone before. Throughout everything, even the first hard times, she comports herself with grace, excessive if not ruthless competence, and charm, and even becomes a poet of some note, with Barnabus’ encouragement. In turn she encourages the arts, and her inimitable salons move from City to City, always the hottest ticket in town, becoming legendary. She remains elegant to the last—and every fourth Wednesday without fail, for the rest of her life, she sets out the silver tea-set, and invites Bella to tea, whether or not Bella arrives, as she promised she would do before Bella ascended. Only a privileged few, her lovers amongst them, ever knowingly see the face behind the intricate and delicate masks she wears. She dies of a great old age, with ties of power none can equal, a delicate spider in the middle of an enormous web, her children and descendants around her, a figure of mystique and the stuff of legend–a woman who has been at the centre of worlds.