His Clan Curse manifests as megalomania, believing himself to be the greatest magus to have ever lived.
The Renaissance brought a rebirth in many fields of scholarship, including the occult. As a Jew in Britain, Abraham Mellon failed to attract the patronage other scholars found. His dreary life consisted largely of long hours cataloguing books in the personal library of an indolent scholar. To reflect the whims of a would-be Renaissance man, the librarian was forced to continually shift the organization of tomes in the collection. Abraham's vocation was especially frustrating because he was more studious than his employer. A voracious appetite for learning allowed him to rapidly exhaust many of the conventional scholarly subjects of the age. At liberty in one of the most educated cities in the Western world, Abraham gradually turned his attention to the occult. A mastery of Middle Eastern languages facilitated his studies in Gematria and the Kabbalah.
His eloquence in correspondence allowed him the chance to exchange his insights with other paragons of the age – including an esteemed associate known to work as an agent of the queen herself. Dr. John Dee was impressed with Abraham's insights. He hinted that several august personages might be interested in acting as a patron for such an accomplished and promising visionary. Yet Abraham had made more questionable associates as well; some of London's occult dabblers had stranger practices than he had yet seen.
Abraham's perspicacity amused an Elizabethan magus conversant in a most unusual application of blood magic. This correspondent, known only as Primus Magister, wanted to patronize Abraham's scholarship, but could not be as convincing as Dee. The man's correspondence rambled in turgid prose, advancing arguments that seemed to have no basis in logic. To convince Abraham of his sincerity, he offered to show first-hand the thaumaturgical mastery he was capable of performing. Abraham agreed to participate in one of the unknown magi's more elaborate rituals.
At the consummation of the ill-fated and ill-considered ceremony, he balked at the idea of consuming blood. Magister Primus then decided to convert his guest to his deviant beliefs through force. The ceremonies that followed were hellish, for a Malkavian vampire had chosen Abraham for the Embrace. He had carefully contemplated the particulars of an elaborate ritual that would shatter the scholar's sanity. But at the height of the ceremony, Abraham plunged a magical dagger into his sire's heart – leaving him insane and alone in the occult library of a paralyzed madman. Sacrificing him was all too easy, and the act of diablerie came to Abraham as if by instinct.
Cursed and alone, Abraham turned to Dr. Dee for help, but he could only hint at what had happened him. Dee soon considered Abraham insane, yet did his best to help his associate fathom the mysteries he had discovered. Upon various occasions, Abraham found deciphering the tomes of the library easier when he tried to consider them from Dee's point of view. In a revelation both shocking and liberating, he found that he could actually assume Dee's likeness through the use of his undead powers, impersonating him during some of his more unusual rituals. Although the thought of Embracing Dee was tempting, he knew that he could never condemn such a brilliant man to an unkind fate that promised centuries of torment. When Dee disappeared, Abraham silently and subtly acquired the magi's personal library. Unaware of the resources other Kindred, most notably the Tremere, could place at his disposal, he developed a system of occult knowledge so circuitous and elaborate that few could decipher his writings.
Almost two centuries later, an incautious ritual of his own invention forced perturbations in the heavens over London. Through a bastardized version of Weather Control, he attracted the attention of London's Tremere. He was terrified to discover that other "Un-Dead" who sustained themselves on human blood had developed entire cabals devoted to blood magic. At first, Abraham preferred to affect an alternate identity when confronting them, attempting to intimidate the Tremere by actually claiming to be Dr. John Dee. The subterfuge backfired, summoning scions from Vienna to meet with such a luminary of the occult world. Abraham fled to Scotland, where he quickly and brutally suborned the owners of a highland castle to make a new haven. Consumed with paranoia, he began the practice of astrally projecting to the depths of Scottish lochs when performing his most elaborate rituals.
As the centuries passed, Abraham found more subtle ways of interacting with London's Tremere. The thought of others possessing rituals of Thaumaturgy fascinated him, but the power of the Viennese Tremere terrified him. Cautious correspondence through conditioned messengers allowed enough brief contact for him to make an introduction. When he learned of the Tradition of Domain, he appealed to Mithras himself, requesting enough amnesty to make proper introductions and visit London. The scion of the largest London chantry, Monsieur Pachard, was horrified to learn that the master of magic he encountered was not Tremere, yet he was impressed enough to avoid challenging him. Instead, he dutifully reported the occurrence to Vienna.
By the mid-19th century, Abraham Mellon had made almost a dozen visits to London. After meeting the illustrious Malkavian primogen, Dr. Timothy, he obtained promises that the primogen would help defend him against any intrigues of the local Tremere. After all, a Malkavian with such an extensive command of Thaumaturgy would be a definite asset to the clan. Abraham took up a modest haven in London, and even began to study the various occult and spiritualist movements of this new age — along with their mortal practitioners. In particular, the innovations of the Golden Dawn fascinated him, though he knew that if he attracted the interest of the actual founders, he would come into conflict with the Tremere. Obfuscated and unseen, he chose to observe some of the more peripheral members of the sect. On several occasions, he gained the distinct impression that some of them could actually see him through their sorcery. During one of his astral jaunts through London, he encountered a singularly promising mortal, one who later had the audacity to attempt to summon him.
Mellon's supreme triumph concerns this aspiring mortal magus. With a bit of prompting, the mortal scholar performed an elaborate ceremony beside a loch in Scotland to appease an astral essence named "Abra-Melin." In the corridors of Boleskine Manor, Abraham manifested before a magus named Aleister Crowley, then attempted to slowly twist him to his will. Although unsure how to proceed with such a visionary, he has resumed one of his old habits. When sequestered with his latest bibliographic acquisitions, he asks himself how Dee would perform the ritual – and sometimes, what Crowley would do. In moments of supreme frustration, he even assumes the guise of Aleister Crowley while attempting some of his more innovative rituals.
Abraham is far too solitary to traffic with anything as ephemeral as influence in the Camarilla. If the Tremere harass him, however, he may decide to contest a cabal of them for primacy in a chantry, especially the knowledge and power contained within it. He has already begun to scout Edward Bainbridge's haven astrally, easily overpowering its wards. He has even gone so far as to leave a trail of rambling tomes and letters to frustrate Tremere who try to track his activities. Some are attributed to Dee, Crowley, and other occult luminaries, leading to wild speculations about their respective fates. These imitations are less than perfect, however.
When Mellon tires of these diversions, he roams the astral plane. Eventually, he will face the same dilemma Blavatsky envisioned for the secret masters of the Golden Dawn. He aspires to become entirely astral, merging with infinity, yet his physical form and concerns within the mortal world trap him. To attain the infinite, he dreams of performing a ritual of surpassing brilliance — and widespread destruction.
When dealing with matters outside his sanctum sanctorum, Abraham usually prefers his astral form. Even then, he appears to have the vibrancy and power of a Renaissance magus. Flowing robes, long white hair, and a hoary beard complete the image. If he must walk about in the realm of mortals, he assumes the guise of a frail, old, scholarly man. An immaculately tailored suit fifty years out of a fashion, dusty spectacles, and a wicked wooden cane complete the image.
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