Specializations:
-Academics (Research)
-Occult (Kabbalah)
-Expression (Transcription)
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Description: Elizabeth is somewhat shorter than average, at only 5'3", with the pale glow of someone who spends virtually all their time indoors, and- to her chagrin- a mostly flat chest. She has brown hair down to her waist, and deep violet eyes.
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Born January 10th, 1993 an only child to a construction worker and a librarian, in a little backwoods town in the midwest, Elizabeth Karsten was pushed to succeed from an early age, and she spent most of her childhood voraciously reading and studying everything she could find, fact or fiction, in school, at home, or in long afternoons in the local library... even after it cost her the health of her eyes.

Unfortunately, the pressures of victimization in school due to her image as the classic overachieving, four-eyed nerd, the school scolding her and holding her back with the rest of the class despite her prodigy, and abuse from her cantankerous drunkard of a father (particularly whenever she brought home a less-than-perfect grade) left her a reclusive, but driven introvert, learning and achieving as much as possible while attracting as little attention as possible; despite adversity from all sides, she leapt years ahead of her 'peers', leaving home to attend Harvard University at only 15, just in time to avoid what would be a long and acrimonious divorce between her parents.

School continued much as it had; she was ridiculed for her age on top of everything else, lectures continued to bore her out of her skull, meaning teachers continued to give her grief about reading and doodling in class, and the biggest assholes on campus continued to thrive, with the most money, success, and influence, much to her chagrin.

As she had in high-school, though, she was able to connect with a clique of fellow outcasts- but instead of literary and tabletop RPG nerds, this group were self-described occultists, witches, and the like, getting together to study the arcane, perform "rituals", haze new members, and, in the darker and more mysterious depths of the big city, where everyone heard of strange goings-on at night, they searched for The Truth.

Most of them would live to regret it.

Although the university's so-called "Night Club" was never very large to begin with, by the end of her third year, membership had dropped by over half- although the whole thing wasn't really "serious" at first, as their search appeared to begin bearing fruit, and as older members graduated, without their expertise, many, and especially newer members, increasingly began receiving cryptic threats from unknown sources, felt as though they were being stalked on the streets, or fell victim to strange phenomenon; inexplicable experiences, apparent possessions, and for several of those who didn't bail out and wash their hands of the business, hospitalization or death to strange "accidents" or being driven to suicide... or simply up and disappearing without a trace. Naturally, all official investigations into the incidents turning up dry only hardened the resolve of the remaining members... but when personal hardship didn't drive them off, their families would pay the price.

Things were starting to look up for Elizabeth that summer, when her mother's monthly correspondence came in informing her that she'd finally settled the protracted series of legal battles with her father and gotten away from him, and that she'd soon be moving to Boston, so they'd finally be able to catch up.

That was, unfortunately, the point where everything really started to fall apart; mere days later, after the kidnapping of her best friend, one of the last core members of the group, she received notice that her father had been dipping into her college fund to support his habits and pay legal fees; and that, as one final "fuck you" to her and her mother, had just finished cleaning it out. Two days after that, a package came in from her mother, containing a couple hundred dollars, cash; the old, gnarled wooden staff that she'd received from her mother in turn, and had always carried with her as a walking stick; and a cryptic, hastily written apology letter. The next day, she was informed her mother had died under mysterious circumstances; while her father was the primary suspect, he had washed his hands of the family and headed west with a new-found rise up the social ladder while his ex-wife headed east; he was soon cleared of suspicion, and the case quickly went cold. The final letter had promised that it would be followed with documents, memoirs that would "explain everything", but they never arrived.

Stricken with equal parts shock, grief, and fury, fed up with school, and unwilling to dive into debt to complete her education, Elizabeth- and, faced with similar tragedies over the course of the summer, most of the rest of the group- finally caved into the pressure, many of them- Liz included- dropping out of college. With promises back and forth between friends to keep in touch, the Night Club dissolved.

But that doesn't mean that they all stopped searching. Armed with associate's degrees in History, Literature, and Anthropology, Elizabeth has since adopted a frugal, hermetic lifestyle, renting a cheap apartment, using no electricity, walking everywhere, and working several low-level, dead-end jobs to stay afloat- most recently, being hired part-time at a local curiosity shop- part occultist ritual tools and materials, part cheap paraphenalia for the "New Spiritual Enlightenment". With university obligations no longer an issue, she's launched herself full-time into her research, studying the secret societies, theories, and mechanics of magical power across time and culture, and the strange phenomenon that shroud Boston.

Virtually every free inch of her apartment is littered with borrowed books, transcriptions of those, charts, notes, and cross-references- if joining that crowd had turned her interest in the unknown and unexplained into a fascination, then it's dissolution turned it into an obsession.

For her friends- those that have been crippled or killed in the search, or are yet still missing; for the mysteries her mother left behind; and for it's own sake: With one hand she grasps at the edge of the curtain, and with the other, the power to survive what might lie on the other side.