The Pythagoras Tree


Gender: None

Kit: Eldritch

Location: Unknown


Alignment: Villain

Team: Solo Villain


Strength: standard (rank 1)

Agility: standard (rank 1)

Mind: superior (rank 2)

Body: standard (rank 1)

Spirit: (rank )

Charisma: (rank )


Infamy Points: -22

Personal Wins: 10

Personal Losses: 12

Team Wins: 0

Team Losses: 0

Tourney Wins: 0

Tourney Losses: 0


Status: Active


"When was the last time you saw him?" Griffiths asks, screwing up his mouth a little tighter with each word, as if to blunt any cuts they might accidentally inflict.

"Several days," said Mrs. Patel.

"I'm not sure," Griffiths started, standing in the doorway of Mrs. Patel's kitchen clinking the ice cubes in his lemonade, "if I can really give you any sort of closure. I feel like you've maybe been misled as to what sort of actual help I can provide. I'm an English teacher--"

"--Yes, I know--"

"--I'm a chronicler. I take people's stories and I put them in a drawer so I can theoretically read them all one day, but I'm not an investigator. I'm not a ghost hunter or a UFOlogist."

"Carmine Allsopp said you had expertise," Mrs. Patel points vaguely at the empty space beside a table lamp, "in the," one of her eyebrow waggles unconsciously, "unknooown."

"Weird stuff is my hobby. Steaks falling out of the sky, that sort of thing. I just clip it or copy it and sometimes other people ask to look at it; Professor Allsopp is people. Anyway, that was academic, for the Journal of Folklore, actually" He smiles apologetically and sips his lemonade, also apologetically. "It's a misnomer I think to be an expert in something unknown. Not that I don't appreciate Carmine's enthusiasm for my work though, obviously! Mrs. Patel, I think the circumstances of your husband's disappearance are very interesting and if it would, um, be something you think would, uh, appropriately memorialize his life in some small way, I'd very much like to at least record it."

"For your drawer?"

Griffiths begins to choke on nothing in particular.

Mrs. Patel continues, "No, he would've liked that. There's something that I think you might appreciate; would you look at it for me?"

"If you don't do that again, yes."

She smiles and disappears up the stairs briefly before returning with a leather book.

"A journal?"

"It was my husband's journal. He wrote that last page the night before he ... was gone."

She opens it up and holds it out to Griffiths. He takes it by the spine in his Lemonade-less hand, adjusts his glasses with the rim of his cup, and looks.



The page is blank except for the neatly printed digits. "It's a date," Griffiths says, matter-of-factly.

"It could be, but we've been married for twenty-five years. It doesn't mean anything to me. Let me get that glass."

"Oh, thank you." He rubs the condensation between his thumb and forefinger and flips back a page. The entry begins "01/02/12" ... "Well," Griffiths says, and he thoughtfully pokes his tongue against his cheek. "You showed this to the police, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. There's another thing. Towards the, I suppose, the end ... he-- he started a website."

"A website?"

"Yes, the address is back just a few entries." She reaches over and rifles through several pages. "Right there."



     Commander: standard (rank 1)


Abraham Griffiths






email username



**Password torn out by Patel (?)


Circular Logic

     Mind Blast: superior (rank 2)


Abraham Griffiths






A circle is a powerful figure. A thing of transcendent unity upon whose face the whole world can be connected if you know the right points. It’s the shadow of a sphere, and to examine it further we must to define a canvas. Now, and here comes the symbolism, might I posit the world as a celestial sphere. If that is the case, then the circle might represent the natural world. Again, if that is the case, then a circle by the standards of my own definition must interact meaningfully with all objects. IT IS SIMPLY THE TURTLE'S SHELL IS THE MOST ACCOMODATING FORM! You can see the Seed of Life, the Fruit of Life, the Tree of Life. Therefore, mathematically, geometrically, and symbolically, we can prove the turtle is carrying the whole world on his back!



3 against 4, 4 against 5

     Healing: superior (rank 2)


Abraham Griffiths








**This picture was paperclipped onto to the page. I have no idea what this instrument is.

Hopefully, they can be of some assistance to me with regards to this case.


Drawing Lines

     Environmental Awareness: standard (rank 1)


Mrs. Patel's husband had the same dream 278 times before he disappeared.

Dunes of white cracked hard-pan rise against the shimmering horizon. A rather large tortoise is lumbering across this bleached landscape. Upon its back is Nyx, the primordial goddess of night. She loosely holds a long-handled rake and lets it scrape along beside them in the sand. "This is going to take a very long time," she says, sweat dribbling off her nose and over her lips. "To put lines in the whole thing."

"After we're done drawing them from side-to-side, we'll go up-and-down," says the miserably dry looking tortoise not particularly miserably. Nyx blows up her cheeks and sighs heavily. "It's quite necessary," says the tortoise, "this place hasn't been very well maintained, obviously."

"I know this rake, you know? It's like ones the Japanese use on their sand gardens. It's got bamboo teeth." She blows up her cheeks again and wipes her forehead. "Our priests use the ends of their swords," she adds.

"I think a sword is more aesthetically interesting, but just one pointy bit is much less efficient in this case."

"Why are we here?"

The tortoise tries to laugh, but due to probably a complete and total lack of moisture in its shriveled, scaly body, it mostly coughs instead. "That's a big question."

"No, I mean, why are we here? In this desert?"

"No, no, the other way is more fun. Why am I here?"

"I don't know?"

"No, you don’t understand. I mean, what is after all, a god for? I suppose I’m here to tell you why you’re here?"

"I suppose … that’s what you do?"

"I tell people why they’re here? That’s why I’m here, or that’s what I do while I’m here?"

"I don't understand."

"No, you're just not thinking. If you can tell a god why he’s here then maybe telling yourself why you’re here will be that much easier by comparison? Then again, if your answer is as lousy as I’m here to tell you why you’re here then I might as well say that you’re here to tell me why I’m here and that really isn’t very meaningful for either of us, now is it? I have feelings too. I can be sad, and unhappy, and want something more, can’t I? We look the same, don’t we? What’s the difference?"

"You're-- you're a tortoise."

"Oh, yes."