“The rose petal bends the warmth of dawn, to shadow it in life’s royal hue, that, which has duly and with heaven ordained purpose, sheltered the shoulders of our most dear and beloved Crown.”

Henry V describing the colour purple

Tim Westhaven

Narrative Artist

“Tim and I were part of the Game Writing Master Class taught by Susan O’Connor.
Tim has a proven record of creating rich narratives with a clear passion for RPGs and the worlds they inspire. He has an excellent command of language with a keen insight on character motivations and behaviours. If I could, I’d have him look over all of my dialogue. He is incredibly dedicated and punctual, showing up to our classes at 4am in the morning (for him) for 6 weeks, which should tell you a lot about how motivated he is!”

Alex Kubodera, Game Designer, Death’s Gambit

Copyright © 2022, All rights reserved


SABTABIEL - Angel of Necromancy

Sabtabiel, is one of the fallen. Having gone to earth with the intention of aiding humanity, only to be ‘deceived’ and marked as tainted, never to be allowed into heaven once more.
Filled with anger and resentment towards the living world they sit at the edges of the material plane, Limbo and Hell, where they capture lost souls to use in necromantic practices; both on earth and in Hell, using the resulting puppets to cause mayhem and chaos.
While powerful in their own right Sabtabiel shies away from becoming one of Hell’s barons, preferring to sit on the sidelines, manipulating, influencing and toying with other’s ambitions.

TriggerV.O. DirectionLine
IdleAnnoyedI warned that imp! Steal my horn polish one more time...
IdlePerturbed/SniffingDoes anyone else smell kittens?
IdleResentfulWhat’s wrong with collecting toenails?
IdleEpiphanyA flaying! That’s what I need to relax
IdleThoughtful/AmusedHehehe - Tax returns! How utterly diabolical
Successful attackLustfulAh, sweet blood
Successful attackDefiantI herald your doom!
Successful attackCommandingI am your end - embrace me
Successful attackCheekyPiece by piece
Successful attackGiddyMore blood for me!
Successful attackProudNailed it!
Successful attackGoadingAre you so weary of life?
Successful attackConfidentYou will serve me in death
Failed defenseSelf-assuredEstote meum castellumque!
Failed defenseEncouragedSo you show your claws!
Failed defenseConcernedAbaddon protect me
Failed defenseWorriedBy the bloody thorns
Mortally woundedDefiantDeath has no dominion over me
Mortally woundedAcceptingGladi in omnium meum negotia regnas!
Mortally woundedDisbeliefAsh and bones!
Mortally woundedShockedBy the fires of Lethe!
Mortally woundedDefiantI’ll see you in Hell!
Self-aggrandisementConfidentBend the knee, maggot
Self-aggrandisementNarcissisticDeath becomes me, don’t you think?
Self-aggrandisementContemptuousNot even death will save you from me
Self-aggrandisementHumblebraggingIt is hard being this awe inspiring

Quest Tree: ThirdEye to Starlite
A Cyberpunk quest outline

ThirdEye to Starlite Quest Tree

Tim Westhaven Copyright © 2022, All rights reserved

ThirdEye to Starlite


“CLSS Radio - Bringing you all the classics Pre-Red, with an ‘A’ for Class!
With ‘Roddie’ Rodriguez Kiamatsu and Neisa Walkowski, all day, everyday - brought to you by ChaffChaff Kibble - hard on your teeth but great for your gut.
With ThirdEye Weather and Geoshift warning and our Starlite satellite. Bringing you the most up-to-the-minute weather, quake and rad readings, from across NightCity, with an eye on you.”

CLSS Radio Advertisement


CLSS Radio and ThirdEye weather are a cover for a pirate cross-continent transmission by the night city YAKUZA, transporting stolen and counterfeit ghosts for placement in androids. The dubbed victims are then shipped to a yakuza backed chopshop for spare parts/organs, etc.
The T-SOX are eager to close down the yakuza ghost dub market and have been planning an all-out assault against CLSS and ThirdEye for months (the altercation between a T-sox member and the gun runner in Matt’s B&G in story 1 – was one of many negotiations to secure arms for the attack). Their goal is to get into the Starlite control centre and destroy the uplink and the centre – and if possible reset the satellite on a trajectory to burn up on atmospheric collision.
JACOB (Smara Chabartti –Indian subcontinent background – child of political asylum?) having been embedded with the T-sox for some time and having received the notice from SINGLETON of activation, looks to the attack on Third Eye as an opportunity to not destroy the satellite but take control of it for Singleton at a future date.
Knowing that the character’s are no friends of BLACKLITE and will most likely become a focus of future Blacklite interest Jacob decides to use them, build a working relationship with them and develop their opposition to Blacklite to push them into a position where they can be pitted against any Blacklite opposition to Singleton at a future time. She begins to hatch a plan on the back of the T-sox assault to get the characters into the building during the assault and take control of the satellite before T-sox do, and then use the T-sox as cover for the ‘loss’ of the satellite. To this end she contacts MATT to hire the characters to do the job.


At 21:00hrs on Thursday nights the time lock to the control centre for the Starlite satellite deactivates. It is during these periodic access times that the Yakuza transmit the ghost dubbed imprints to their android imprint facilities in Asia.
It is the intention of the local chapter of T-sox to assault ThirdEye during the open window, defeat the Yakuza and destroy the ghost dubs before setting the satellite on a collision course with the atmosphere; after which they intend to destroy the control centre – creating a long term disruption to the Yakuza ghost dubbing activities on the west coast.
Thursday night at CLSS radio is ‘Throwback Thursdays’ when the radio station is unmanned and the station is managed by two AI: ‘Roddie’ Rodriguez Kiamatsu and Neisa Walkowski, playing old (pre-red) music sims. This gives the Yakuza uninterrupted access to the building (the maintenance crew are also given the night off and building security set to remote only).
Mission Ingress
Characters are directed to find and enter both the ThirdEye control centre as well as the GhostDub facility
ThirdEye control centre is on the fourth floor. Access is available via the elevator (for a 2-hour window during the scheduled yakuza visit) or a hackable fire escape (stairs) from the fourth to the third floor.
The elevator exit to the fourth floor can be accessed one of two ways:
¤ requires two passkey cards (yakuza lieutenants have one each)
¤ hacked (program provided to the players by Jacob)
There are no windows on the fourth floor and the roof is reinforced and only accessible via an external ladder from the third floor.
Mission progress
**— **The Yakuza typically arrive 20:55pm via two AV on the roof landing bays.
**— **Moving to the fourth floor the lieutenants and two techs and one Netrunner move to the control room to upload the dubbed ghost haul which normally takes anywhere from 30-100 minutes.
**— **Meanwhile the rest of the Yakuza transport a number of their latest victims to the dive-pods on the third floor (specially modified to act as ghost dub machines). The captives are placed in the pods and the process of the ghost dubs begun, while the yakuza grunts either, transfer used victims to the AV on the roof for transport to the chopshop, or move to the adjacent lounge and BTL room, awaiting orders to leave (once the lieutenants have completed their tasks in the control room.
**— **With the time lock inactive the T-sox are convinced they’ll be able to hack the elevator to the fourth floor (this is backed up by Jacob who has written the hack for the elevator – and gives a copy to Matt for the players).
**— **The T-sox do not intend to attack until the Yakuza have accessed the fourth floor. Jacob has not informed them that they will need the two key cards to access the control room, although the characters will have this information. This means if the characters can secure the cards then they will be the only ones able to access the control room.
**— **Jacob’s plan is for the characters to use the T-sox offensive to gain access to the control room; upload a command and control virus to the final level of the Starlite system and then set the satellite on a collision trajectory (or so they are lead to believe).
**— **Once the command and control virus is uploaded, Jacob will have access to the satellite and take control of its movements. Jacob already has control of an obsolete Chinese satellite to use as the patsy for the collision. The destruction of the dummy satellite should be enough to convince the Yakuza (and the players) of their satellite’s demise.
**— **Jacob intends to use the characters involvement in this mission to get to know them better and might be tempted to run a backhack on any Netrunners in the team and set a piggyback virus program on their cyberdeck to keep an eye on their activity. This requires that the character’s cyberdeck has room on their deck memory to support an additional program.

Mission results

**— **The success of this mission means Jacob has access to a high speed transmission satellite that can support the transfer of Singleton’s data if the need or circumstances arise.
**— **In crossing the yakuza the characters have made some powerful enemies. The west coast Oyabun summons a ninja from Japan to hunt down and deal with the characters. If either of the two lieutenants are left alive, they suffer the humiliation of having a finger removed and will also be seeking the destruction of the characters to regain face (reputation).
**— **In pulling off the job the character’s own reputations will increase with the local underworld. Assuming the T-sox live and can identify any of the characters their reputation extends to fundamental organisations as well.
**— **During the upload of the virus to the satellite if the PC Netrunner takes the time to investigate the server they may identify a number of sensitive files that the Yakuza have on the network giving the character’s an opportunity for profit in selling the information to the Yakuza’s enemies – however this will increase the character’s reputations with the local underworld even further and only increase the yakuza’s desire for revenge.
**— **If the character’s hand back the files and agree to work for the Yakuza as reparations the Oyabun will dismiss the ninja; however, this bargain will place the PCs in indentured servitude to the yakuza for a long time to come.

Tim Westhaven Copyright © 2022, All rights reserved

A bard, a hitman and a tomb raider are in an elevator


A strange noise and flashing light announces the arrival of JASKIER [DANDELION].
TILT reveals down-lights and then the three figures of JOHN WICK, JASKIER and LARA CROFT, in a cargo elevator. Downlights cast intense, localised, shadows over the grime-embedded steel floor and peeling paint of the walls.
JASKIER is on his knees, dressed in a yellow velvet and red satin jerkin and matching breeches, clutching the wire mesh on the back of the elevator door. He looks like he’s been scuffling.


Oh, that was terribly unpleasant, I feel like I’ve been pressed through a Novigrad whore’s purse-strings.

LARA CROFT stands in the middle of the elevator, facing the door, but at an angle where she can see both men in her peripheral vision. She is dressed reminiscent of her combat outfit from Angel of Darkness. Her pistols remain holstered but her hands rest easily on the grips.


And you’re intimate with a lady’s purse-strings, are you?

JASKIER looks up sharply, realising he’s not alone, first at LARA and then, noticing JOHN, swallows nervously and struggles to stand with the shaking of the lift as it moves. <BEAT>


I have been known to be the cause for a lady to loosen a string or two if that is your implication. But I assure you my (PAUSES UNSURE HOW TO ADDRESS LARA), lady? (QUESTIONING TONE BEFORE FINDING A MORE CONFIDENT VOICE) I am ever the gentleman, nay! The very sculpture of a classic man to be found within th- (PAUSES TO WAVE OFF A BOUT OF RETCHING) - the Northern Kingdoms. That is to say, not your run of the mill, swamp lark from Vellen. (KEEPS EYEING JOHN SIDEWAYS)

JOHN WICK leans heavily against the back wall, dressed in his signature black suit, breathing under duress; his right arm hanging limp, but still clutching a Glock 34, blood dripping along the barrel to the floor.

jaskier (continued)

I hate to pry, well I don’t really, I quite enjoy it, but are you alright? It’s just that you’re bleeding and well I’m wearing velvet, gifted to me by the baroness herself, and blood can be awfully tricky to remove.


You don’t say


I do say, I do say. And don’t take this the wrong way but, as I seem to have arrived late to this illustrious gathering – would someone mind telling me...

The elevator jolts violently and there is the sound of metal on metal squealing.

jaskier (continued)

(SHRIEKING)– where in the four kingdoms are we and why are we in a metal pig pen? <BEAT>


I suspect you are here, from – wherever it is you’re from – because of a man named Pieter Van Eckhardt


Sounds like a right fiddle-fondler. Nilfgaardian? Sounds Nilfgaardian


I’m going to kill him

LARA and JASKIER look sideways at JOHN


Not before I find out where he’s hidden the Sanglyph.

JOHN snorts and spits a gob of blood onto the floor, straightening up a little to give LARA a withering glare.


People who get in my way have a habit of dying. And Eckhardt’s due a bullet.


You kill him before I find out what I need to know we are going to have words.


Ah! Words, now you’re speaking my mother tongue! This Ecktard…

Lara and John



Well, he may be as hard as a bull’s todger in heat but that’s no excuse for such appalling manners.


You can talk all you want. First shot I get I’m taking him down. End of story.


That’s NOT the end of the story, you blunt-stick, because, IF he’s already revived the Cubiculum Nephili then we need the Sanglyph to stop it.

JASKIER burps and waves an apology, turning to JOHN <BEAT>


I think I had that cubisilis nephilli thing once – couldn’t stop scratching my…


(RAISING HER VOICE SLIGHTLY BUT KEEPING AN EVEN TONE) No one is going to kill him until he tells me where the Sanglyph is. (SOUNDING AGREEABLE) Then you can kill him and save me the trouble.

JASKIER looks around him patting his head, belt and bottom.


Has anyone seen my hat? And why am I even here?
I’ve certainly never met this Ecklard -Oh! He’s not married to-


You are likely a side-effect of his experiments; with the Nephilim.


The Neffi-flim? Sounds like a rather baroque quartet. And I resent the thought of being anyone’s side-effect. I’m most assuredly a main!

<BEAT> JOHN stands up, seemingly having recovered, he checks his gun, expelling the magazine and slamming a full one into place. JASKIER flinches reflexively at the abrupt action. JOHN speaks to no one in particular.


You do what you got’ta do.


I intend to.

JOHN and LARA ride the motion of the elevator as it comes to a stop. JASKIER falls back against the wall nervously, then realising he’s leaning against the filthy wall pushes himself forward as the elevator settles. <BEAT>


Wha-what just happened?

JOHN chambers a round aggressively. LARA looks levelly at him and draws her pistols.


We're here.

JASKIER makes a surly, childish noise, drawing deadpan looks from LARA and JOHN.
JASKIER moans before realising LARA and JOHN are watching him, which causes him to make a pouty, churlish face as if to say, “I don’t care what you think”.


I looked magnificent in that hat.

Focus on elevator door, fade to black


Tim Westhaven Copyright © 2022, All rights reserved


Uron’s Gulch (Northern Prestor Valley)

Through the yellow shroud around him figures ran headlong, or staggered, visible only as silhouettes, paper puppets in a lamp-theatre, where the only play on offer was a cabot dreadful, a grim tale of blood and passion. The early morning Greelyf sun, breaking over the saddle between Karg Wermrah and Karg Fael to the west, reflected off the white caps of Karg Theg and Karg Sarlk to the north east and rendered the smoke-filled air a mostly opaque mass. And the chorus line wailed, shrieked and whimpered to the orchestra of cannon-ball booms, musket barks and chimes of clashing steel and splintered hafts.
Russ coughed involuntarily as his throat, caked in ash, tried to cast out the soil of the abyss. His ears were filled with a high-pitched ringing and an accompanied growl, like that of a large angry beast rearing up to eat the world. A fancy made him look at his hands; he could not feel his fingers any longer, but they were still gloved and wrapped about the hafts of his twin axes with unadorned windlass blades and switchback grips. He became aware of sweat running down from beneath his ash-blonde hair and under the gorget of iron, stamped with the sigil of Nebezzenatt; protecting his life blood and collared him as the nation’s loyal dog. A cannon bomb exploded nearby the hot wind from the blast not strong enough to knock Russ from his feet, but it took all sound from his world and he lost critical awareness, swaying in placid deafness as the barrage continued from the Nidarain siege mortars. His head felt heavy, like a conker shell tethered to a stick on a short rope, able to loll about but not fall away.
A rough hand in muddied and cracked leather grabbed his empty bandolier and yanked him forward till his heavy head rounded on the sight of Captain Staub Nebezzenatt Grosstein. The captain’s face, the colour of smashed tomatoes, parted to show tobacco-stained teeth, shouting something at him; and even though their faces were close enough that the captain’s spittle was landing on Russ’s beard all he could hear was the building drum of a million bee wings clamouring to drown out a high-pitched whistle. Had the captain always had a long mustache? Russ watched with a certain splendor as Captain Staub’s greasy, red-ringed, eyes, narrowed to incredulity with the realisation that Russ understood none of the captain’s rant. And it suddenly dawned on Russ that it wasn’t a mustache but dirt-crusted blood beneath the man’s nose.
An orange false sun foretold a wave of heat that lifted him up off his feet, spun him around and planted him down into the earth. There in the dark warmth of blood curdled mud he had a sudden wash of peace fill his body and mind as a blanket of displaced soil settled on his back and neck. Beyond the iron and phosphate smell of the earth, high explosive cannon shot was broiling the air, shattering bones, rupturing organs and removing limbs almost as cleanly as any triage bonesetter; and that hot hell would be followed by a rain of bastard iron pellets, birthed of grape-shot cannon balls fired with engineered malice to explode above the field of contention to ensure maximum spread and destruction.
His soldiers’ experience told him once the iron rain had settled into the stubborn flesh of the unfortunates below, the thunderous rumble of Donestra cataphracts would be felt riding down the gulch to mow and pulp all that remained of the Nebezzenatt forces; including Russ’s own company – the 148th Builders, The Angry Ants. He couldn’t hear any of that, but he could feel it in his bones through the mud, the rumbles, the shudders, and the staccato heartbeat of the continuing cascading barrage. The mud seeped into his nose and mouth, whispered to him; stay here, lay here and die quietly and at peace, rather than with the tearing of your flesh and wild abandon of tendons being shredded.
But his lungs expanded with the involuntary want to live, dragging a fist full of mud into his throat. Yet what his body pursued the war sought to deny, as a new world exploded around him in light and fury, roughly tearing him from his muddy sanctuary. What air was left in his lungs was pressed out, gusting the mud from his throat and nose in a horrid gritty puke that made him cry – but he could breathe once more. His sight was mired with tears and blood but a shadow loomed across him as a commanding tenor female voice directed from nearby;
“Sergeant Tourmaine! Leave him. Take the 23rd Blades and hold the left flank – we’ve got to withdraw the gun carriages.”
“Aye capt’n!” Came the breathless reply of a young man’s voice with perhaps a hint of a Torn Mount accent. A gloved hand slapped Russ’s breastplate twice, each time sending a new shockwave of agony through this bones that spoke of life less ordinary. As the shadow reared back the sudden diffuse morning light blinded him.
“You’ll live old father”, shouted the youth with staggered breath, “we’re your rear-guard – best clear out.” The voice trailed off into the sun bleached smoke with that ominous and decisive instruction. “Blades –with me!”
Russ felt upside down, as if swimming in a whirlpool, but as his churning stomach calmed and he managed a semblance of orientation his hearing began to return, but all was confusion; explosions, screams, musket shot and screeching steel. He looked at his hands, now empty of their axes, just worn, filthy leather with an outer chitin of rusting steel. When was the last time he’d cleaned his armour properly? Madgey would have had scarritts looking at the state of him. “Russ Nebezzenatt Harbden,” she’d say, “do me the honour of looking like a man and not a beast.” His throat constricted at the thought of her and he became aware of his upper lip trembling with emotion. Coughing he rolled over and pushed his arms underneath him, raising his head and chest above the bloody soil. He looked up the dirt slaw ridge and saw captain Staub laying on his back looking up at the sky with extraordinarily wide eyes. He dragged himself up till he was kneeling beside the captain whose fingers looked like they were ready to tear at someone’s throat. Russ pulled his body up.
“We h’got to go Capt-!” Staub’s head slumped forward onto Russ’s breastplate exposing the complete ruin to the back of the man’s skull.
Behind him Russ could hear the half-hearted war cries of his countrymen as they charged towards the chorus of death. Russ let his captain’s corpse fall back against the ridge; and rocking back on his calves, he knew without even looking around he was the last surviving member of the 148th Builders company. And that the third battle to hold the bridge at Uron’s gulch, was a rout.

Tim Westhaven Copyright © 2022, All rights reserved

object descriptions

(excerpt from Rogue Marshal RPG)



This cloak once belonged to the Gaeraithu Numora, remembered for her part in the crusade of Avou Svar against Shiok. Numora received this gift from her DaiShei’An mentor and it became synonymous with her legend, as did her spear Yourinsepht.
Neverindal appears as a finely-woven, neutral-grey cloak, extremely light and smooth to the touch. When worn the wearer gains a +6 resistance to heat/cold, starvation and fatigue as well as all Stealth AP. In addition, the wearer has the option of activating Neverindal’s function of Ignored. The weave upon Neverindal does not suffer from the weave’s normal penalties for movement and offensive action. As such the wearer of Neverindal may attack and move as normal and should the target or those around them fail to pass the AR necessary to see the wearer, then the wearer will remain unseen. Those attacked by the wearer may attempt to counter or negate the wearer, after an initial attack, but will be at -6AP on all attempts.



This Torgen’mae, in the form of a flute, was granted to a DaiShei’An who brought it too Rhythlys during the Age of Grace. It then came into the possession of the Lyuth’tanae Taraen before the Lyuth’tanae were scattered (some blame the flute itself) and the flute lost. Regardless, it has become a legend, and the inspiration and template upon which most bonechimers make their Necrophelite instruments.
The Nomiane has the ability to create various weave functions, but all require the sacrifice of large values of assea. Each weave execution time must be played out upon the flute as if the weave itself were being executed by the wielder of the flute.
The strength of Nomiane is such that it is even capable of bringing a recently deceased creature back to life although this must be accomplished within a day of the creature’s death and using the Revive corpse function immediately after the Recall shade function. There are few who have the stamina to carry out these two functions one after the other, constantly playing the flute.
Nomiane is thought to be indestructible and appears as a slim flute of carved petrified wood.

Pherosone's Philter


Pherosone was an asseath dedicated to the healing arts. He was instrumental in the
creation of the House of Luhm hospice for the care of the ill in Ashendrya and was known to spend time preparing arcane curatives for those in need. Those who follow in his footsteps try to continue his good works and there are many young asseath who train at the hospice as healers.
This brass ring philter is inscribed around its circumference with the binding weave which grants its function. When used to pour a liquid through the philter it will neutralise any toxin, drug and poison present within the liquid. Should artesian water be used through the filter it may then be drunk as a curative for a drug addiction without incurring any penalty.

Shadow Lantern


These lanterns have been found in various designs and styles but all seem to do the same thing. When lit and uncovered the light projected by the lantern (usually in a radius of 4Bs from the lantern) will cause a similar effect to the Capture shadows weave. Only the one holding the lantern at the time it was uncovered is immune to this effect and while they remain holding the lantern. Should the lantern be dropped or put down then the wielder will become trapped by the light as well. The action involved in activating the lantern is to either light the lantern (which can be done with the shutters closed) or open the shutters.
These lanterns are usually fashioned of brass with glass windows and wooden or brass shutters on the outside to contain the light.
These lanterns are prized by wardens and night watchmen, and some Cabals have hired asseath to manufacture such lanterns for their sentries and wardens.

Tim Westhaven Copyright © 2022, All rights reserved

NPC descriptions

(excerpt from Shattered Moon RPG)




Calibankin are also known as hobgoblins or beastmen. They typically resemble humanoid animal hybrids and, while some are similar, they are all unique.
Some believe the calibankin are the mutations of sub-sidhe spirits that were left over from the age of Arcadia and have reverted in a similar manner to the nuo-Sidhe, only as lesser spirits their forms are mutations of what was available at the time of transformation. As such there are dogmen, goatmen, cowmen, catmen, lizardmen and birdmen; but all are considered calibankin.
They often band together in a motley crew terrorising an area of land and living off whatever they can kill or steal. Intelligent enough to wear clothes, use weapons and manufacture basic items and structures they can pose a real threat to small settlements or wandering caravans. Their lifestyle, culture and social structures are barbaric in nature, but they survive through forming communities.
While they can be negotiated with, they only do so if it is clearly in their interest (which usually means they don’t have the strength to take what they want in the first place). However, they prefer a straight-up fight to talking and will turn violent at the slightest provocation. They favour primative weapons and will usually wrap their bodies in various skins, furs and materials to form improvised armour.
Some calibankin possess abilities associated with their animal natures, such as limited flight (gliding), poisonous fangs, amphibian breathing or prehensile appendages. The prowess listed are not always available to all Calibankin and the Fate should determine on an individual basis which prowess a Calibankin has.
Calibankin are extremely jealous and respectful of nuoSidhe and the powers they possess, this can lead to them being intimidated by an elf using authority backed up by force.

(excerpt from VANGUARD RPG)

Princess Pickleseed, a.k.a. The Night Strawberry

Athea 'Princess Pickleseed'

A.K.A. 'The Night Strawberry'

Athea Pickleseed, last of the royal line of Belshandale, in the Oris archipelago west of Rushkah, was forced into exile when the molen forces of Rushkah annexed Belshandale. Fleeing with little more than the clothes on their backs; the royal family relied on the goodwill of mausers in Herth and Nansk, but soon they were little more than well-mannered refugees.
Athea had a trust fund that allowed her to attend the collegium in Elebrue, because of this she had somewhere to live after the death of her remaining family. While a gifted esper, Athea was bent on revenge. Attending enough classes to maintain her place in the collegium, the rest of her time was spent undermining the molen socialist society and becoming a thorn in the MSS’s side.

The Night Strawberry
Athea has became extremely wealthy through theft of MSS secrets and wealthy molen citizens’ treasures (Athea has a great love of gems and art objects), but most of her wealth is kept safe and secret, used only in her pursuit of revenge.
Known as The Night Strawberry, she leaves a single night strawberry as her calling card after a heist, the night strawberry being found only in the isles of Oris. These resilient fruits taste sour if harvested during the day, but those harvested at night have a delicate rich taste renowned throughout Ashen.

Tim Westhaven Copyright © 2022, All rights reserved


An award winning team member; publisher of multiple RPG systems; successful Kickstarter manager and dog owner. Seeks to join a creative team compelled to build worlds where others experience moving stories that become legend.
I understand that in the context of games the writing has to adapt to the needs of the project and the team; that the narrative and the writing are the most flexible contribution bending to the dictates of the world, economy, mechanics and ultimately the concept.
Whether I’m writing an asset description, developing a new culture to explore, collaborating on a new game mechanic, laying out quest flow charts or sketching out some quick concept art– I’m always thinking how it will feed the possibility engine of the player’s experience.
I’m currently seeking a role where my years of experience, deep appreciation of fantasy and science fiction, love of art and story and lifelong involvement in world building for games is encouraged and appreciated.

Currently residing Melbourne Australiatymotzues@gmail.com