Corporeal Forces: 2 Strength: 4 Agility: 4

Ethereal Forces: 5 Intelligence: 12 Precision: 8

Celestial Forces: 5 Will: 12 Perception: 8

Word-Forces: 5 (But give it time, my friends. Give it time.)

Vessels: human male/1

Skills: Artistry/3 (writing) Computer Operation/3, Electronics/3, Emote/3, Knowledge (Netiquette/3, Cyber-Communities/3, Science Fiction references/3)

Songs: Charm (Ethereal/3, Celestial/3), Hysteria/6, Opening (Celestial/3), Sensation (Ethereal/3), Sleep (Corporeal/3)

Role: (Your favorite troll. You know: the one that always posts the stuff that you can't help but read. The one that can turn "Good morning" into an amusing five-day digital war to the knife that everybody else just has to get involved in. The one who apparently has an independent source of income, because he or she posts those amazingly sarcastic, wonderfully bitter responses twenty-six hours a day. Look, deny it publicly all you like: that's cool. But you do have one. Admit it to yourself, at least.)/6, Status/1

Attunements: Habbalite of Drugs, Acid Flashback, Bad Trip, Angel of Net-Addiction

Angel of Net-Addiction: Psyber can use his resonance on anyone who's currently subscribed to the same newsgroup, chat room, and actively looking at one of his posts. His usual tactic is to post, look for someone that responds, then start playing.

Rites: Cause someone to stay online, constantly posting and responding, for two hours straight.

Fleurity is, of course, a modern Habbalite. Many things can be drugs, even if you can't smoke, snort, ingest or shoot it up. Psyber is one of his experiments along those lines.

Psyber loves computers and the Internet. He loves the way that, with just the right nudge, a bunch of otherwise rational and presumably intelligent people can spend three weeks arguing over a misplaced comma. Even when they don't argue, the monkeys will spend hours and hours staring at a bright screen, tapping at keys and squinting and ignoring everything else. And the look they get on their pitiful faces when the Internet goes away… they twitch, and get shaky hands, and whine about how they can't check their e-mail. Oh yes, they're hooked.

Good: Psyber needs the company. He's pretty sure that God's in the Net, somewhere, and Psyber isn't a proud Habbalite. Possibly one of the monkeys out there, by their continual tapping on keys, will inadvertently reveal a key part of the truth. If it would work for Shakespeare, it'll work on the Net. Of course, to accomplish this, everyone will have to stay on the Net: preferably, forever.

The ironic thing about it all is, of course, that Psyber's worse than any one of the mortals he cheerfully despises. He's been constantly surfing for the last 2 years, 3 months, 5 days, and just now getting to 12 hours exactly. Psyber hasn't even left his chair in that time. The demon is currently ensconced in a surprisingly clean apartment (he doesn't eat, drink, sleep or sweat), except of course for the two feet of dust. Fleurity's organization pays the rent, the electric, the phone, and the regular upgrades. Other than that, nobody deals with him face to face: he's kind of weird, even for a Punisher.

Note that Psyber doesn't really have any combat skills (although he has plenty of opinions about them). This shouldn't be rectified: frankly, it'll be more fun for the PCs that way…