Fate Herself, and The Fool
Today, I was Fate Herself. I was also the Mark for the Royals to take down. Fate Herself told them this much:
The Clown Prince of Crime. He knows the name is taken by a fictional character, but The Fool doesn’t care. He liked it, he took it. That’s what he does. That’s what the Arcane always do. He discards lives like empty crisp packets. He drinks his way through power, snorts his way through political campaigns, laughs in the face of those under his boot. Nothing can touch him, not even hangovers. Not a care in the world, when the world can’t get you. Except, that isn’t entirely true. There is something he cares deeply for. Someone, in fact: his daughter – his mortal daughter. She’s getting married tonight, in the Gardens of the Fool’s massive estate: the House of Cards. And you’re going to do something about that, aren’t you?
It's 10th November 2025. She cannot wait to play again.