This is for those who wish to make a Bastet character, but do not own a book to do it. Creating a Bastet character is not as easy as it looks, ladies and gents, but I am going to give you as much info on it as I can. Good luck to you all!
Prelude: Before the Change
From the beginning, you were different. Solitary. Aloof. You asked too many questions, spent too much time alone. This got you into trouble, of course; people whispered you were strange, an outsider. If you grew up among animals, they skirted you, aware that you were not quite right. Although daylight favored you, night was your preference. She held no terrors, only answers.
As you grew, you yearned to touch, to see, to learn. Folks claimed you were improper, a beautiful child, really, but too presumptuous, too eerie. In time, their wariness grated on your nerves. Others came too close, got too familiar, and you pushed yourself away. They might love you, but they would never understand you.
Then someone came who did.
When was the first time you felt the cat, stirring beneath the surface like a restless itch, like a panther pacing behind the bars? When was the first time you felt the human heat beneath your fur, singing clear through an animal haze? When was the first time you felt the two meld into one, becoming the panther, the cheetah, the lion, and tore yourself away from the echoes of your peers? How did the teacher first approach you, dangling the answers to the questions in your head like the keys to a jail cell door? Did you welcome her, or run in fear? And once you have the answers, will they ever be enough?
So many questions, so many lives. You know now what you are. What you do with that is up to you.
Who are You, and Why?
So you think you've got what it takes to play a cat? First, a Bastet isn't a cat. She's a rare and vital cross between a cat, a person and a spirit. This mixture makes her erratic, smug, enigmatic, and temperamental. She might lie in the sun like a living rug begging to be touched, then slash a caressing hand with a fast display of claws. When the blood flows, she might duck her head, apologize and lick the wound. Or she might laugh. No one knows what to expect from a cat, and a Bastet is a cat times 10.
But that's only where it begins. Like a human being, the werecat is articulate, cultured, clever and resourceful; like the cat, she is graceful, curious, confident and fastidious. Like the spirit, a Bastet carries mysteries older than time, and like the Moon, she glows cold with the power of distant sunlight. All these traits, and many others, come through in the werecat's bearing, in her words (or lack of same), in the enemies she chooses and the friends she stands beside. Let the dogs run in packs---the cat walks alone, and is damned proud of it.
The First Year
We all had our reasons to be there, We all had a thing or two to learn, We all needed something to cling to, So we did -Alanis Morissette, "Forgiven"
Most Bastet change for the first time during adolescence, when hormones surge to maturity. The First Year brings pain. It rips your body, mind and world apart. When the change finally comes and the Cat comes striding in, most Bastet already feel half crazy. And who knows? Maybe they are.
Your teacher came from nowhere. She seemed happy enough to see you, but didn't take any garbage. You had alot to learn, and she made it damned clear that you would learn it and you would like it or she would knock you through the nearest wall. Perhaps you embraced her lessons with an eager passion---everything suddenly seemed so interesting, so important. Like a drowning man, you may have latched on to your new teacher desperately---after all, she was the only one who seemed to know what was going on. You might have become cocky---God knows you had reason to be, especially if you were surrounded by people who thought you were some messenger from the Moon Mother or something. And maybe, just maybe, no teacher showed herself at all, and you had to puzzle things out for yourself.
Damn, the First Year is hard. Every sound is a new lesson; every circumstance, a new chance to screw up. Your new life sends you to the shadows---you aren't supposed to exist, let alone let others know what you really are---and you become a secret. One of many.
The world is full of secrets, thousands of them. As you progress, you find they're more than just bits of gossip. To your blood-kin, secrets are currency, items of trade. The better the secrets, the higher their value. Secrets are the key to your acceptance, so you gather them like a prospector, panning a shadowy world for glittering bits of lore. There are so many mysteries, so many truths, and some of them scare holy hell out of you. Everything you learned was a lie. There're ghosts and spirits and vampires and all kinds of shit in the darkness, and some of them seem more powerful than God. Speaking of God, they call Her Ahu, and she's worse than pissed. She's crazy. Her kids arerazy, too, and they're tearing the world apart. The things you learn set your head spinning; if it weren't for your teacher, you might just go crazy after all.
After a year or so, the kuasha leaves you. Her lessons are done. The rest is up to you. Sink or swim, my little friend, and you know what? You're just arrogant enough to think you can swim through the Great Flood itself. With a few kind words and a ceremony, your teacher entrusts you with a secret. Three of them, actually: The three Yava, signs of trust. Three secrets that can kill you and kill everyone else like you. That's it, then. The lessons are over. As the dawn comes, your mentor wanders off like the mist from which she's named, leaving you to make your own future. Maybe you'll stay in touch, maybe not. It depends on what happened between you both, and what happens from here on out. Either way, you're on your own. Isn't it glorious? Isn't it terrifying? Oh, jeez, there's so much out there to do...
The Creation Process
The Breeds
Personalities & Pryio
Merits/Flaws
The Tribes & Blessings & Curses
Gifts & Rites