Eric Nidleheim


The Saint of Spiders, a Cold War spy before Commencement, Eric went into deep cover in the Lands Beyond Creation soon after swearing fealty to Misenchronic Engine. He pretended to be a Deceiver and his eyes are just like theirs now. His cover was blown and now he's back in Creation, feeling a little estranged, ostensibly on vacation, but still dealing with the experiences he had out there.


Aspect 5 5 AMP 15 CP
Domain 0 5 DMP 0 CP
3 … weave webs
1 … skitter on eight legs
1 … observe with eight eyes
1 … poison with a bite
1 … set traps
Persona 2 5 PMP 3 CP
Treasure 0 5 TMP 0 CP
The Wicked Webs of Milford Ananse…
1 … trap virtue and light
1 … cannot be escaped
1 … cut like razors
1 … grow stronger from your struggles
1 … weave woe and wickedness
1 … are all around you and you didn't even notice until it was too late
1 … spell bleak prophecies of the not and the never was
Persona (The Wicked Webs of Milford Ananse) 1 5 PMP 1 CP


The Sovereign's Gift

1 CP

Soul Cutting Sword

1 CP


Affliction: My eyes are filled with falling stars 1
Affliction: I cannot be rid of this Abhorrent Blade named "Regret" 2
Affliction: Spiders naturally congregate where I am 1
Affliction: I am bound to the Accords of Babylon and Misenchronic Engine 1
Bond: "Like a fly in my web" 2
Bond: I have spies hidden everywhere 1
Bond: I sympathize with Excrucians and have weird experiences with them 2
Bond: I must be the perfect spy, seeing all and revealing nothing 2
Bond: I seek peace of mind and good strong drink 1


Superior Spinnerets 3
Skill: Excrucian Flower Magic 2
Skill: Spy 3
Skill: Lore of the Lands Beyond 2
Skill: Tall, dark and handsome 2
Skill: Drinking and brooding 1
Skill: Cool 5
Skill: Shine 2


What is this, my debriefing? I'm not going on without something to drink. Something from Earth. Prosaic EARTH. Thanks…

Ah, vodka, the milk of the Russian communist. Sweet potato water, do your job. It doesn't help, really; I can act drunk if I like but I can't stop being awake and aware. I can't forget. My mind and body are made of light.

I've seen too much.

Probably why I got these. Pretty creepy right? I don't know when they went from a convenient disguise to some metaphysical stain on my perceptions but, here we are, the Dominus Aranea with Deceiver's eyes. That's not the only thing that stained me from my time there. I carry the glory and raiment of the beyond now, so I got that going for me.

And then there's the blade "Regret". I'd rather not talk about it.

It was an important mission, way more important than any of that child's play I was a part of before my Commencement. I have a feeling the Cold War was a Cammoran money making scheme and Joktan just laughs at the ticking Doomsday Clock while Baalhermon sharpens his scimitar. The KGB weren't easy to infiltrate but they were a piece of cake compared to turning myself into an Excrucian for a intents and purposes and venturing out beyond the Weirding Wall. But it had to be done and I was the perfect Sovereign for the job. I became Milford Ananse, who wove wicked webs of woe out in the darkness with the rest of Harumaph's Riders. I had an Imperial Miracle at my back, from Entropy himself no less.

I can't really tell you what happened out there. Even now it is ineffable to me. Words fail to trap the experience in the net of comprehension. Time and space mean very little there and I feel like I spent lifetimes living, loving and hating among the Excrucians. My adopted people. I learned things out there, bent my mind at non-Euclidean angles to keep my sanity and I must admit, at times I felt confused about who I really was and whose side I was on.

Misenchronic Engine was my salvation. At night I dreamed of it, of the Society of Flowers watching me swear upon the sacred Accords of Babylon. It was my downfall too. A terrible Strategist who could never get into this world smelled the oath on me and revealed my true nature to the host of Riders.

Naked and exposed, people who had been my friends now my enemies. Naturally I was useless as a spy any longer and came back home. The things I've learned and told you here will save Estates, will keep the war going against their unfortunate advantage in us at the moment.

I'm spent. I need time to just sort out my head, undo the knots they tired in it, and the barriers I put up myself. Wash the bleak off of my soul. I haven't seen the cities or my Chancel in decades. It should be good to be home.

But this blade, Regret… it reminds me of what I had, what I did, what I lost. I don't feel like I'm all here yet.

Is that enough? Can I go home?

Oh, a little spider told me the Estate of Guardians should look out for a Welken Rite in Toronto.

I'm taking the bottle with me.

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