Virtual Adept sacrificial infomancer.
He doesn't remember his real name, or if he even has a name. To the Virtual Adepts, he is simply Number Six, though he has gone by many handles and pseudonyms in the past. It's not his fault, of course, it's the price of the power he draws, the toll on the magical road he has chosen for himself. No real friends. No real enemies. Just lists of SelfPlexes, reams of people he could have been, trailing off into the night.
Number Six wasn't always like that. There was a time before, when he had an identity. Before he had got deep into information theory and logic and twised ideas of the world. He cannot remember what that life was like anymore.
He does remember his first sacrifice, very clearly. It was soon after he started experimenting with alternate selves. He had been wearing the fictionsuit for a week, breathing life into a narrative that described a person that he was not but that he lived as. He was working with a group of information theorists, conspiracy nuts and hackers, rooting out a Nephandic cell. Rather than waiting for assistance, they marched in to the disused porn shop that the group had located. What they found there blew their minds.
There were three people all men who were bleeding a lamb and a child dry, using the power of the blood to initialise something terrible. It wasn't fully created, but the targetted entropy warped the local information field enough to taint the very idea of the place. None of the other Adepts could handle the situation. Number Six looked upon their methods and knew what he had to do.
He threw down everything he had. Sunglasses, watch, the fake passport he had been carrying. Every artefact that reinforced his fictionsuit. His companions didn't realise what he was going to do, but they did their best to give him time to work. Lighter fluid and matches destroyed all evidence of the personality's existance. In that one instant Brian Jones, the failing systems analyst from Brighton, ceased to be.For all intents and purposes, he was dead. Just like the child and the lamb and the altar.
Sacrifices produce power by changing strands of information. Effectively, the power gained from any sacrifice is using the information that is freed by the death of a creature before it can be locked down. Brian was dead in all the ways that mattered, there was no doubting it. The free information swirling around, all of those datums which would need updating in databases and filing cabinets, could be harnessed at that moment. Number Six turned that free information on the abcess, using it to neutralise the weaponised entropy that was leaking through and disrupting the flow of the Nephandic ritual. Since then he has never looked back.