Paul Michael Ackworth

From Familia Niveum

Power of Three-Dimensional Art

A workshop lit by a haphazard mix of flourescent tubes, incandescent bulbs and candles is still save the tiny movements of one man's hand as he rubs an almost-completed marble statue with a stick of soft wood, bringing the final toe to imperceptibly perfect completion. He stands back, looks up at his work, and smiles. He has not worked with marble before, but it comes to him as naturally as breathing, and the weeping figure he has carved will make those who see it sorrowful, for they will know that it is a pure expression of a feeling in the artist's heart.


Personal Code

Paul is affiliated with Heaven.

Miraculous Abilities

  • Aspect 4
    • 5 Permanent Miracle Points
  • Domain 3
    • 6 Permanent Miracle Points
  • Realm 1
    • 5 Permanent Miracle Points
  • Spirit 1
    • 5 Permanent Miracle Points


Gifts are unique special abilities possessed by the Noble.

Paul does not have any gifts.


Limits are handicaps under which the Noble operates; but in adversity there is power, and limits grant extra miracle points.

Deep Sleep

A limit of Domain (+1DMP)

The lingering effects of the Excrucian plot against the Regina Nivea remain. All her nobles sleep deeply. During their normal hours of sleep, they will awaken for no sensation less than great pain. This makes guarding their estates a more difficult task.


Restrictions are much like limits, but less universally problematic; they grant extra miracle points only when they become a major problem.

Paul has no restrictions


  • Rachel Taggart, his ex-fiancee (5)
  • His artwork (7)
  • His boat on the River Cam in Cambridge, England. A continual mental sanctuary, an idealised place of comfort and peace more his than the Chancel, even though he rarely goes there now (3)
  • The Tate Modern gallery in London, England, place of his revelation (1)
  • His apartment in New York City, USA. Another mental sanctuary (2)
  • His galleries, aside from those pieces of his art that happen to be in them. One in Cambridge, England, and one in New York City (2)


Trustworthy: Paul will go to the very limits of his ability to keep a promise or a secret, and his loyalty, once given, never wavers.


You learn very little when you grow up the son of a film star, living in a big house in southern England. Private tutors meant Paul scored the very highest in almost every subject, but he rarely went outside their little world.

At eighteen he walked out and went to Cambridge, intending to study mathematics, but blood asserted itself and in less than a month he had managed to transfer to Art, with a hefty dose of amateur dramatics on the side. Four blissful years turned into seven, then nine. At twenty-seven he was living in a boat on the river, a celebrated sculptor, but his heart was empty and cold for his fiancee had left him.

He had his first exhibition in London, a massive installation in the turbine hall at the Tate Modern. The design and the making of it had taken all his love and his passion and his energy, and he worked as he had never worked before. When it was finished, he knew it was his best art, but he had drawn the energy for it from her love, and she disappeared. He knew not where she had gone, and sometimes, in the dark, long nights, he thought that perhaps he remembered her name.

But he didn't.

And that was where he was found. One long, dark night, he had gone back to London, hidden inside his own sculptures, in the curves and smoothness of the flower-people he had made, and waited for everyone to leave. He walked among them in the early hours of the morning, shapes looming in the shadows. More than once he laid hands upon one or other of the figures, to break it or move it or smash it.

But he could never touch what he'd burned her up to create.

So eventually he sat there, and lay upon the floor, and as dawn broke and the sunlight crept through the windows, he knew again. Her name was Rachel, and she had gone to her parents in Glasgow, saying he wasn't there, and neither was she. She needed to find herself again. She hoped he'd find him, but she didn't think there was a place for them at each others' sides anymore.

Glasgow. He was on the train before he really thought about it.

Her parents lived on the edge of the city centre, and he stood in front of their house, feeling the moment. What would he say? What would he do? A cold wind blew his coat, cut through his trousers. He put his hand on the gate.

The front door opened, and she came out, wrapped up for the cold weather. She opened the gate, walked down the street. She never saw him. He wasn't there. He would never be there. He bent, touched a hand to the ground. A flower bloomed then, in the frosty ground. A vivid red tulip, her favourite. She would know.

And he woke in the turbine hall, but he knew the flower was there in her garden in Glasgow, waiting for her to find it. When she did, she would know, perhaps she would come.

But he would be following his true purpose.


Rachel Taggart

Although Paul's ascension as a Power was unspectacular, Rachel knew after she found the flower and travelled back to Cambridge that he had changed. He wasn't hers any longer - he had never been hers, she'd realised - but now he was a man with true purpose, a true goal. Something to spread, something to teach. She walked the length of the boat, touching the new miniature sculptures which made the old ones look like the results of a four-year-old with a pottery wheel, and found one which showed her and Paul, facing away from each other, both with tears in their eyes. Somehow it conveyed the knowledge that they would never had the relationship that they once had, but the task which had been laid upon Paul - which, he said, he felt he had been asking for all his life - removed much of the sorrow from that parting. The tears, she told him, were unnecessary. She would be there and she would help him, but they would not be husband and wife. They had passed that possibility before they were born.

And so she became his Anchor.

Alex Jackson

An American sculptor who has frequently and publicly denounced Paul's art as trivial and substanceless. The core of their mutual hatred stems from when they were both students at Cambridge, and a rivalry built into a steady hatred fuelled by a succession of girls they both liked and some very, very petty actions. Now they can barely stand to be in the same room as each other, and always do their best to make sure their works are not exhibited together. Being an Anchor to Paul only makes Alex hate him more, but ultimately Alex is also affiliated with Heaven, despite being mortal, and mostly can be persuaded into doing what Paul wants, as it's what he himself would want in the same situation. He understands Paul's purpose as a Noble, and supports that cause - indeed, he volunteered to be a Anchor despite knowing it would tie the old rivals closer together than either would be entirely comfortable with. As acknowledgement of this, Paul only calls upon Alex as an Anchor when the situation truly requires it, and leaves him undisturbed for the rest of his time. This has allowed Alex to become more successful in the art world, as Paul now rarely exhibits his work publicly.

This similarity of purpose has led Paul to realise that their hatred may not be irreconcilable, but if they ever do make up, he'll lose a valuable Anchor, and as Nobilis he has to balance that loss against the harm it would cause his Domain. Alex lives alone in Manhatten, above his own gallery, which is only a few blocks from Paul's New York gallery.

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