http://primusdatabase.com/api.php?action=feedcontributions&user=Seth&feedformat=atomPRIMUS Database - User contributions [en]2024-03-28T19:06:36ZUser contributionsMediaWiki 1.23.6http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-11-05T19:10:41Z<p>Seth: </p>
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<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 298 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
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<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
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The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
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Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
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Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
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She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
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The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
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Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
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Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
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But it all went wrong after that. <br />
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For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
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There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
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Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
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A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
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"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
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He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
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"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
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"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
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"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
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For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
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Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
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Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
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'''Inquisitor'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Kalyani<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
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"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
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Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Josiah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
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At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
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For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
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Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Josiah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
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For a few days they had been safe, but when Josiah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Josiah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
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Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
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Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
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"I don't know."<br />
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"What is it for?"<br />
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"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
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"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
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"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
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"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
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Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
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Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
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"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
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"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
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The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
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All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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<br><br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
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However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
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Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
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Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
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Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
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Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
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Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
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As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
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One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
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At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
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"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
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"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
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"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
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"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
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"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
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"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
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"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
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It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
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So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
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Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
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All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
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Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
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A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
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She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
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'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
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<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
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<I>“Varel. To rhyme with ‘island’, I think at times. Often a woman at loss in a troubled sea; storm and thunder over head with nothing of the horizon behind the rain. Isolation comes with Pride at times, but also with fear; I think that so few take the time to understand her, that she is a cold mystery to most. The real reason I love that poor woman? She has a Heart—though it aches; she cares what happens to people even when they cannot care less for her, and callousness is just a guise for protection. Fragile things need a shell, and sometimes, these shells can have spikes. Did I over metaphor?” Asks the Golden Woman, [[Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Kahi''' </span>]], with a smirk.</I> Kahi’s opinion of Varel as of 2016.<br />
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<I>". . . I don't really know what to say,"</I> says the young adult in response. <I>"She's. . . helped me through a tougher part of my life, and she's definitely got my trust. I can't really. . . Thank her enough."</I> - Sarah.<br />
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Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
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Oh dear where to begin...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
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Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
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I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.<br />
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<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-04-13T00:39:19Z<p>Seth: /* EXILE */</p>
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{{PriceBox<br />
|Border=#000000<br />
|MidBorder=#800000<br />
|Background=#444444<br />
|Text=#e8e8e8<br />
|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
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<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
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Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
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There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
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A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
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"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
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"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
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</div><br />
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Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
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'''Inquisitor'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Kalyani<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
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"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Josiah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
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For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
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Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Josiah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
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For a few days they had been safe, but when Josiah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Josiah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
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Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
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Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
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"I don't know."<br />
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"What is it for?"<br />
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"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
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"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
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"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
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"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
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Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
<br />
"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
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However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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</div><br />
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<br />
Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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<br />
The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
<br />
One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
<br />
At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
<br />
"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
<br />
"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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</div><br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<I>“Varel. To rhyme with ‘island’, I think at times. Often a woman at loss in a troubled sea; storm and thunder over head with nothing of the horizon behind the rain. Isolation comes with Pride at times, but also with fear; I think that so few take the time to understand her, that she is a cold mystery to most. The real reason I love that poor woman? She has a Heart—though it aches; she cares what happens to people even when they cannot care less for her, and callousness is just a guise for protection. Fragile things need a shell, and sometimes, these shells can have spikes. Did I over metaphor?” Asks the Golden Woman, [[Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Kahi''' </span>]], with a smirk.</I> Kahi’s opinion of Varel as of 2016.<br />
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Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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</div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
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<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.<br />
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<br><br />
<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-04-03T07:47:10Z<p>Seth: /* FAMILY */</p>
<hr />
<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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{{PriceBox<br />
|Border=#000000<br />
|MidBorder=#800000<br />
|Background=#444444<br />
|Text=#e8e8e8<br />
|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
</div><br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
<br><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Inquisitor'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Kalyani<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
<br />
The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
<br />
"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
<br />
"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
<br />
For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
<br />
Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
<br />
For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
<br />
Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
<br />
Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
<br />
"I don't know."<br />
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"What is it for?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
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"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
<br />
"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
<br />
"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
<br />
Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
<br />
"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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<br />
This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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<br><br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
<br />
However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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</div><br />
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<br />
Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
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One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
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At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
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"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
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"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
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"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
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"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
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"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
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"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
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"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
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Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
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A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
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She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
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'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
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<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
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<I>“Varel. To rhyme with ‘island’, I think at times. Often a woman at loss in a troubled sea; storm and thunder over head with nothing of the horizon behind the rain. Isolation comes with Pride at times, but also with fear; I think that so few take the time to understand her, that she is a cold mystery to most. The real reason I love that poor woman? She has a Heart—though it aches; she cares what happens to people even when they cannot care less for her, and callousness is just a guise for protection. Fragile things need a shell, and sometimes, these shells can have spikes. Did I over metaphor?” Asks the Golden Woman, [[Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Kahi''' </span>]], with a smirk.</I> Kahi’s opinion of Varel as of 2016.<br />
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Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
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Oh dear where to begin...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
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Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
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I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.<br />
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<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Black_Sun_RisingBlack Sun Rising2016-03-05T19:07:45Z<p>Seth: </p>
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|Title=The Example<br />
|Name=Black Sun Rising<br />
|Badge= Inc.<br />
|Image=BSR Headquarters.jpg<br />
|MainArchetype=<br />
|Founder=Seth<br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black_Sun_Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|Members=Open<br />
|Allies=TBA<br />
|Leader=[http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Seth <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Seth''' </span>]<br />
|Base=Various<br />
|Website=[http://blacksunrising.shivtr.com/ <span style="color:#FFFFFF;">'''BSR Website''' </span>]<br />
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<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Current Open RP Intro</div><br />
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The first you notice is the smell of water, flat and cold upon your senses and the dry shift of sand upon your cheek. All is quiet and the gentle kiss of wind is not enough to stir the grains around you, leaving you in a world where even the sound of your breath is loud on the air. For one interminable heartbeat you lay there on the sand unsure whether your eyes are open or closed for no matter how you try the deepest darkness meets your gaze. <br />
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It does not last though and the night is fractured by the deepest blue that picks out the horizon, and illuminates the branches of the trees that mark the edge of the river that slowly makes its way past your resting place. A scene that would be desolate if not for the moving shapes that dot the landscape, people. You are not alone here.<br />
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This is enough to force you to your feet and the sand shifts through your fingers, the grains run smooth by the endless passing of the river and it captures your attention with rising shock. It is black like ash, yet it is no powder. The sand of this world is as black as the sun that begins to rise over the horizon. Yet still it lights this world.<br />
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The oddity of this place should concern you, you know, yet it speaks to something deep within you and you cannot help but feel a strange sort of peace. Almost as though the problems that burdened you in life have left you for your fleeting time here. Besides those who walk past you in a slow, but endless stream, seem unconcerned; their eyes finding yours before moving on. <br />
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Your hand drops and those black grains tumble back into the desert at your feet as a shadow falls over you. Your gaze rising to meet the face of a man who has seen so many years and wrinkled from every time his smile has graced him and, as though it is infectious, you feel yourself smile as well even though you cannot understand the words he speaks. You reply with a shrug that seems so universal as he laughs and only then you see it. <br />
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His hand extends towards you as if beckoning, calling you to join him on his journey. Yet through it you see the barest outline of the desert beneath you both. Your foot moves of its own accord and forces you back and away from this dead man; he travels a road that is not yet your own. You wish you could explain but your language divides you still so all you can do is shrug once more. <br />
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His face falls and he takes his own step back as his arm rails in your direction as he speaks in rushed, hoarse tones. You take a step towards him seeking to calm his temper even as he scrabbles back towards the river at his back. Was he truly so angry for you not joining him?<br />
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It is then you realise his gaze is not on you but behind you. <br />
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With growing fear you turn, not wanting to see what could scare a dead man so and you wish you had not looked. You barely have chance to take in the chaotic form, the evil in that gaze before the flash of metal approaches your face. <br />
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…<br />
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Far away from the desert of strange sand you wake caught in the memory of the place of the black sun.<br />
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The dream sticks with you well into the next day. Leaving you resolved that it was far from a normal dream. <br />
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You have to do something.<br />
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<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Information to Aid You</div><br />
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It is up to you how your character responds. <br />
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The dream would leave your character with a sense that they needed to find out what the dream/vision was all about. If just for your piece of mind. <br />
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Any research would lead you towards books and websites about Ancient Egypt and odd news clippings of Seth and Kahi in Millennium City.<br />
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Hacking UNTIL would reveal strange reports of their goings on (an industrious person that may be feeling very bored may find some on my DA gallery) and would provide ways of contacting them including mobile numbers and addresses in Millennium City.<br />
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Where you go from here, is up to you.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE HISTORY</div>=<br />
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Black Sun Rising Industries, or as it was known, BSR Inc, was founded during the first large economic boom of the industrial revolution. Backed by a family with large material wealth they cornered the market on several leading advances and quietly held sway at more than one leading university funding the research of any project that interested them. While buying shares in companies that resulted in their own business doing far better than it would without them.<br />
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A major player in the economic scene all public knowledge of them slowly began to disappear in the nineteen thirties and by the time the Second World War started they were far from the public eye. Apparently defunct, and completely left to the history books, they continued on with perfect secrecy on the same path as before. The rise of the superhero, from the meddling of the Nazis in forces they did not understand, only increased their range and their recruiting pool.<br />
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Their secrecy remains perfect and no stock market will show their presence on the trading floor, indeed they could not for it is still strictly a family affair. Though many rumours still whisper of a shadowy organisation working behind the scenes in research and in government. Half whispered tales of agents working to better the cause of some unknown group. Conspiracy mungers would call them the agents of the Illuminati, the free masons and even agents of Viper. Who knows how they would react if they knew the truth.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">CURRENT KNOWN MEMBERSHIP</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Leaders</div>==<br />
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[[Image:Seth_New_Portrait.jpg|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Seth</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Seth<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Seth|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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The enigmatic President and owner of Black Sun Rising Incorporated. Seth is a dark skinned, snappy dressed man of mystery whose polite manner and seemingly calm nature belie unbelievable truths about his person. With an often humorous, distant regard he claims to seek change and the betterment of this world.<br />
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[[Image:KahiHedrick1.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Kahi</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Kahi<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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Vice-President of a family owned business; it is not a secret that she claims to be Seth’s daughter. A polite woman of perfect poise she conducts herself with a cool professionalism when dealing with BSR’s business—in private life too she is a hard woman to get to know. Usually seen with a calm perfect smile, there is little that seems to phase her at all. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Officers</div>==<br />
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[[Image:Beth1.jpg|120px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Black Corsair</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Elizabeth McAllistair<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Black_Corsair|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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A member of BSR’s extreme situation Response Team, Elizabeth is one of the team’s Mission Captains. A reserved beauty of average height Elizabeth can often seem muted compared to other members of the Team, understated as her skin is pale she often only speaks when poignance has her words hit home with precision akin to her marksmanship. She is confident in her abilities, and often unflappable towards the dangers she faces on a daily basis, yet trouble always seems to dog her heels. She can be tricky to get to know, and is often full of surprises even once someone thinks they've figured her out.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Slickavatar.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Slick</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Slick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Slick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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The man in the red-racing suit; wearing a racing helmet as a rule he chooses to obscure his identity behind the opaque visor of his characteristic accessory. In his words, Slick is a weird one, but this fact of his biology has made him resilient to the problems and situations he faces as the Response Teams other Mission Captain. A young kind heart that always tries to do the right thing, Slick has in the past taken losses hard and yet to his deserved credit; he does always hold onto hope and return to his post with new determination.<br />
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[[Image:Varel_Pose_02.jpg|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Varel</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Varel<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Varel|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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The Pale Lady, Varel is an often dominating if cool presence in any conversation. She is BSR’s current head of Magical Research and Development and notably skilled in the area to suit her role. Her knowledge and experience make her a very valuable asset to the company, and indeed a very strong ally to the discerning hero. Her motives often stem from raw intellectual curiosity and on occasion she can seem cold to righteous motivations and the plight of others—she still does find it important to aid her current allies.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Security</div>==<br />
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<div style="position:relative; margin-right:10px; margin-bottom:10px; float:left; padding:10px; height: 410px; width:290px; border:3px solid #404040; background:#000000; color:#ffffff; font-size:90%;-webkit-border-radius: 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px; border-radius: 5px;"><br />
[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|120px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Cross</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Cross<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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Soldiers never change. The man with shaven head, rugged and well-built an individual known as Cross, or Mr. Cross dependent upon your need of him is BSR’s Security Chief with regard to the Response Team. He leads at least thirty men currently at the behest of his employers—all ex-military personnel in one sense or another, his precision and professionalism is a necessity he fills to Kahi and Seth’s appreciation. If a member of the Response Team finds themselves in hot water with any number of threats, it is Mr. Cross made responsible for keeping them safe. He has yet to lose a soul.<br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Lt Sholtz</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Lt Sholtz<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Deep Field Agents</div>==<br />
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[[Image:Frost.jpg|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Frost</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Frost<br><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Mitsuko</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Mitsuko<br><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Nemesis</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Nemesis<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Field Agents</div>==<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Scarlet Robe</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Cassandra Scarlet<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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The Response Team’s go-to ‘medic’, the white-haired woman is equipped with magical potential while hard earned, is now an intrinsic piece of her being. Often wearer of a dreadful looking mask, the Red Witch’s characteristic robes make her a point of interest in any gathering—close held ideals of Justice and new desire to do good make her a valuable practitioner of the Magic arts.<br />
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[[Image:Clear1.png|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Clear</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Clear<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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A tall, well-built woman whose obvious physical attributes are best described as buxom, even intimidatingly beautiful. Clear is a technological marvel—an Artificial Intelligence set up within the company to learn and grow in this modern world. Her manner often lacks the subtle nuances of social interaction expected of a person, yet the synthetic woman is learning more day-by day; she has recently mastered her smile. She is learning directly from several members of the organisation, including both Kahi and Seth.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Karn</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Karn<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Karn|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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Somewhat rough and ready, Karn or Karl as he often introduces himself is a well-groomed individual whom does give off the impression of secret fierceness in his manner. Disciplined, trained and while relatively new to the group at the time of this writing, Karn is already making loyal links to his fellow members and the management. He has been tipped for good things, given his effort and abilities.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Superia</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Superia<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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The cape-wearing super-powered woman is notable by her attractive dark skin, superbly muscled frame and femininity which does not dull the threat she might pose to any adversary. She holds a keen sense of combat and desire to test her abilities—she approaches any situation with a moral clarity not often seen in BSR. While it may put her at odds with some individuals, it has yet to spark any upset and Superia remains a welcome member of the Response Team.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">Gemini</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Gemini<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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A strong individual who often keeps to herself, her alien nature is some-what given away by her mode of dress and her manner of speech. This individual has proven her ability in several emergency situations, but more recently and markedly has been the target of terrible intentions. Unusually calm in any situation, Gemini is a worthy ally and a curiosity worth investigating.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">STANDING WITH UNTIL</div>=<br />
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BSR has always had an interesting and, at times somewhat strained, relationship with UNTIL. Viewed sometimes as a helpful ally that supples top of the range equipment and both scientific and magical knowledge; at others as a potential threat with the web of secrets that surrounds them. Their true loyalties are hard to understand through such impressive obfuscation and UNTIL would have revealed them long before now were it not for the worry that they would be angering a group with a far greater reach than its own. Enough of a thought to make any General blush.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">KNOWN FOCUS</div>=<br />
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While weapons development would be the usual focus of any company with this level of control BSR appears to care little for it and creates weapons more as a side effect to their other efforts and to aid them, rather than the goal. Instead the focus seems to be more on aspects that are more peculiar. <br />
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Behind the front that produces opiates for the masses on a grand scale and researches the important technologies you've never needed to know about inside your mobile phones, your cars and your homes, is curiosity. It is the only word to describe what truly occupies their mind.<br />
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Here magic is scrutinised as much as science, tearing it apart to find the secrets each spell held. Science and technology were pushed to their furthest and made to be a slave to the chained down and controlled breed of magic their labs became specialised in. Their research had only become easier after the Nazis had tipped the balance and allowed this universe to run with magic once more. <br />
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They are hoarders too. The greatest magical marvels are brought here to be inspected and stored away from those the company consider too 'amateur' for such things. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN BSR</div>=<br />
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Many roles are available for the interested in BSR. Each is unique and offers its own challenges and while some are listed below there is always the role that is never quite on their books. You have to wonder what role is so strange that not even BSR keeps adequate records of their activities. <br />
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==Mission Captain==<br />
BSR prides itself on its knowledge and skills, keeping those that work for it at the peak of their abilities and helping them learn new ones. As such the Captain's of the response team have to have shown the very peak of ability even to be considered for the role. Responsible for the leadership of the response team both on sight and on a day to day basis it is these individuals the rest will turn to; not only to survive but to find one of the many victories Black Sun has been favoured with over the years. <br />
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==Deep Field Agent==<br />
The Deep Field agent often works alone (although teamwork is usually necessary in the finale of any mission) to procure or investigate anything that takes the company's interest. The nature of the job often means they are left with copious amounts of free time interspersed with moments of extreme excitement. All Field Agents need to be able to defend themselves and the Deep Field Agent must have a proven track record of success and maturity in the face of danger. It is one thing to survive and it is quite another to come out on top against supposedly insurmountable odds. This is what a Deep Field Agent can do. Despite the dangers this is not a task for the reckless and if it is they do not have the job for long. Death often weeds out those who were not suitable. <br />
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==Field Agent==<br />
The mainstay of the organisation the field agent works on the front line of the organisation. They are under the direct command of the captains and are expected to follow those orders without question... within reason. Headhunted, or found on the streets of the city they work to defend, they fight the larger battles that UNTIL can't or won't fight. Yet such a large and powerful force as the agents become together can often bring terrible evils into their sights. The battlegrounds they walk can be dark and difficult but with the unique skills the agents bring to bear there is little they cannot achieve.<br />
<br />
==The Security==<br />
Any company needs security, BSR most of all. Those who join the security teams will have a life devoted to keeping the secrets and guarding the doors of a world they need not totally understand but can be thrilled by anyway. More than just the man behind the desk giving out security cards, they are the bodyguards, the security details and meetings that 'never happened' and the ones who ensure BSR stays exactly where it wants to. Often these are the ones who join UNTIL on their missions and keep up their public relations. Only the most skilled of fighters can join these ranks. <br />
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==Researcher==<br />
For those with an intellectual bent this is perhaps the perfect career. With openings in all areas of scientific endeavour any interest can be explored here. Indeed self exploration is encouraged for those who rise high enough to be trusted with such things. However any demonologist will be hindered here as summoning is strictly forbidden unless in a life or death situation. Technological research will take those with a passion for the new to any area of development that they want, giving them free reign to design and create the future.<br />
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The work may often involve long and often unsociable hours but it's because the researchers have no desire to leave their labs and not because they're chained there. While the mug of ever present coffee is optional it is usually how they manage to get through the day.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE SHADOW NEXUS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Broadcast_Satellite.jpg|right|300px|<font color=#444444>A Satellite of the Shadow Nexus</font>]]<br />
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With a desire to keep as much secret from UNTIL, and the world, as possible BSR had to find its own way to communicate as modern technology made much that they had used before too public. The Shadow Nexus, as it was named by its overly gothic creator, was the solution.<br />
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A network of satellites of BSR's own making, or software ghosting inside those of others, it creates a web that surrounds the planet allowing access for agents anywhere at anytime. With a rotating frequency it is as guarded as any modern signal can be. The usefulness of it means that members of BSR's organisation use it more for casual purposes than for actual official means.<br />
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This form of communication needed its own modified device, and so alongside the Shadow Nexus the Black Bracelet was born. A Technomancy project of the highest order it is part communicator, part holographic computer. While it isn't able to play snake or other once traditional mobile phone applications it does allow face to face communication, navigational controls, data recording and access to BSR's own range of software that makes each one a highly bespoke piece.<br />
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<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=SethSeth2016-02-14T22:05:10Z<p>Seth: </p>
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
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|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lord of Sepermeru</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Seth</font><br />
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|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
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|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
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|Rank= Leader<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= Set - Typhon - Sutekh - Setekh - Setesh<br />
|Birthdate= The First Rain<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= Nomadic<br />
|Residence= Millenium City, Alau<br />
|Occupation= Eternal Tourist<br />
|Legal= Of Great Interest to UNTIL<br />
|Marital= He was once married<br />
|Relatives= Amun-Ra - Kahi - Dominick - Methari - Cache - Allie<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Cosmic Intelligence<br />
|Sub-Type= Unclassifiable<br />
|Ethnicity= Kehmetian<br />
|Gender= Male<br />
|Age= Incalculable <br />
|Height= 12 Feet (366cm)<br />
|Weight= 352 lbs (160Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= Dark (Mostly)<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= His powers vary from witness to witness<br />
|Equipment= Uses hand forged swords out of fondness for them<br />
|Skills= Swordsman Archer Conversationalist Chef<br />
|}}<br />
<br />
<div style="max-height:430px; overflow:auto;"><div style="width:700px; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;"><br />
[[File:The Legend of Seth.png|Left|600px]]<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
<div style="padding:6px; border: 6px Solid #800000; color:#FFFFFF; border-radius: 20px; border-radius:5px; background-color: #000000"><br />
<div style="padding:6px; border: 4px Solid #990000; color:#FFFFFF; border-radius: 20px; border-radius:5px; background-color: #000000"><br />
<br />
<br />
For me there has always been time. The ebb and flow from tick to tock before such things ever had a name. For how do you describe time? <br />
<br />
Do you describe it from the elements and the life of such inorganic things? From how long it takes from atoms forged in stars so long ago to die? For they do. How can you measure them in half-life without giving them the honour of a death? Semantics of language perhaps, or I simply don’t understand you. It’s been thousands of years yet still those of your kind confuse me. Perhaps you always will.<br />
<br />
Should we then use you, in all your frailty? For with all of your strength and vibrancy it too will pass. A measure of time from the beat of life within your chest, the songs upon your tongue. Every life the tolling bell of passing years, decades… centuries. Yet even that is not enough and I can see how the thought that your very existence is but a passing second of my own makes you balk. Makes the divide between us that bit worse again.<br />
<br />
Yet what other choices do I have? Seconds pass into a blurring hum of ridiculous number by ridiculous number, the years and centuries following suit just with differing levels of insanity. How to explain to you how the passage of years is marked by the ever flickering shift of sun over sky. A blink of time measured not in lives but in civilisations because with every rise a fall follows so quickly. Their vibrancy brings them life and like all things brought life they die. <br />
<br />
So how to measure time? <br />
<br />
Tell me what would you choose? The death of the dust of atoms into the coming cold waste of the universe? The death of you? The death of your civilisation? The only measure of time is in the repeated loss of what is into what was. It is unconscionable and I am tired of its passage. The future is still a hopeful place to travel to. Yet now the line is drawn. You, your people, your civilisations; you are the heartbeat of humanity on a world that has long been my home. <br />
You have become the measure of my time.<br />
<br />
I will not see its end.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TimeAbyss <span style="color:#FFFFFF;">'''TimeAbyss'''</span>] - Seth has been alive for billions of years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - Seth only looks in his mid thirties despite his age.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CompleteImmortality <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Complete Immortality''' </span>] - A given alongside Time Abyss.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheSacredDarkness <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Sacred Darkness''' </span>] - Seth may have chaotic and dark powers but that does not make him evil.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AGodIAmNot <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A God I am Not''' </span>] - Whenever he is called a God he is the first to deny it, because he is not a god.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SharpDressedMan <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Sharp Dressed Man''' </span>] - Seth never dresses in any way other than his best.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GoodOldWays <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Good Old Ways''' </span>] - Despite the passage of time he will always reminisce about Ancient Egypt and the people he once knew there. <br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheOmniscient <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' The Omniscient''' </span>] - Simple age will do that to a guy. He's not so much Omniscient as very, very old.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HelpingWouldBeKillStealing <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Helping Would be Kill Stealing''' </span>] - At any time he could alter the events happening in his friends' lives, yet he does not.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassGrandpa <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Badass Grandpa''' </span>] - Acts the father figure to many characters, and works to increase their abilities. Mercy and Cache in particular.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassBaritone <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Badass Baritone''' </span>] - Every time he speaks and is a peculiar take on this as he's chosen to be this deep in tone.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WeatherDissonance <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Weather Dissonance''' </span>] - Seth can cause this at times when he actually flexes his powers. A rare event.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HeroesPreferSwords <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Heroes Prefer Swords''' </span>] - Seth has all his power, yet chooses to fight with swords.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DontMakeMeDestroyYou <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Don't make me Destroy you''' </span>] - Often Seth wishes to win a fight without the need to fight. Often works too...<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticGood <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Good''' </span>] - Seth will always do the right thing his way.<br />
<br style="clear:both"><br />
<br />
='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''=<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Dominick</div><br />
"Hmm… Where do I Start? He is one of the greatest friends of a figure to me. So strong and yet gentle in his nature. I cannot express how much this man means to me outside of just being under his service as Avatar. We hold the best bond, heh. He is one of the reasons why I stand today, healthy and stronger than ever before. He is literally the toughest I have ever fought to this day, and I'm very grateful he's on the good side otherwise we'd be in huge trouble, haha. But yeah, he's also a great teacher. In fact, I am glad I am part of his family, and will do whatever it takes to always make him proud. I am well honoured to call him a father." <br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Mercy</div><br />
"Ha… the fox? -My- fox? He inspires me and my motives to make me the better person I wanna become. He can be a little pain in the ass sometimes with his innocence, but that’s what I love about him. I learned not to fuck around with him when he's tight. Piss him off, and your ass is grass. Lesson well-grounded. But other than that, he's like the pops I never had. When I'm around him, just his presence assures me that everythin'll be alright. If I hadn't bumped into him for the first time when I did I probably wouldn’t' a' been alive today to even comment about him. Strong motherfucker he is, I envy his strength and power. But its only the better reason for me to push my limits to be as tough as he is. He'll get it soon enough. Love him tho'." <br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div><br />
The familiar patter of rain hitting glass rings out as the golden woman stares out into the grey city-scape. Sitting across from you, her legs crossed casually her posture is however perfect.<br />
<br />
“I love the rain. Don’t you? Ah, but of course. You do not want to hear about that now.”<br />
<br />
“So, what can I tell you about him? Much, everything perhaps; maybe nothing more than you know… I have known him for as long as I can remember and perhaps, I remember less than I should.”<br />
<br />
“He is the complete selfless protection of those of his people caught in alien places. Wrath to those that mean his heart harm and protection to those that find themselves in its warmth.” She smiles, the love in her lining her soft expression.<br />
<br />
“He is every meaning of safety and love I have ever known. My father…” She looks away now out into the city view, memory gripping her old heart.<br />
<br />
“Set, my Seth. Typhon to those that may know him by other names, in truth he has many, all correct but none of them true.” She grins as she looks back at you.<br />
<br />
“We’ve been to just so many places, met so many different people. Saved some and… Condemned others.” Even as her face twists slightly with bad memories she suddenly lights up again, bringing the entire tone of the conversation with her mood. She laughs a wonderful golden sound,“Ah, if you ever get the chance ask him about the ‘Prague Incident’.” She grins wickedly, “He’ll know what you’re talking about.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know what I would do without him. Often I fear I don’t show him I love him enough, don’t say it enough… Nefer ib.” She pauses, the final words a language long dead to the world but they have meaning to her.<br />
<br />
Eventually she smiles, “Don’t let me prattle on, I am sure you have more questions; don’t you?”<br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
OPEN TO ADDITIONS<br />
<br><br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This page is still undergoing changes, and the story is always changing. Because, in the end we are always changing.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br style="clear:both"><br />
<br />
[[Category:Character]] [[Category:Male]][[Category:Cosmic]][[Category:Immortal]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]<br />
[[Category:Hero]][[Category:UNTIL]][[Category:UNITY]][[Category:Tank]]</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=SethSeth2016-02-14T22:01:59Z<p>Seth: /* PUBLIC OPINIONS */</p>
<hr />
<div><div style="padding:4px; border: 15px Solid #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 300px; -moz-border-radius:400px; background-color: #444444"><br />
<div style="padding:4px; border: 10px Solid #800000; color:#C0C0C0; border-radius: 64px; -moz-border-radius:60px; background-color: #800000"><br />
<div style="padding:4px; border: 5px Solid #000000; color:#FFF; border-radius: 64px; -moz-border-radius:60px; background-color: #444444"><br />
<div style="padding:4px; border: 8px Solid #444444; color:#FFF; border-radius: 64px; -moz-border-radius:60px; background-color: #444444"><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
{{PriceBox<br />
|Border=#000000<br />
|MidBorder=#800000<br />
|Background=#444444<br />
|Text=#e8e8e8<br />
|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lord of Sepermeru</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Seth</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Seth_New_Portrait.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Leader<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= Set - Typhon - Sutekh - Setekh - Setesh<br />
|Birthdate= The First Rain<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= Nomadic<br />
|Residence= Millenium City, Alau<br />
|Occupation= Eternal Tourist<br />
|Legal= Of Great Interest to UNTIL<br />
|Marital= He was once married<br />
|Relatives= Amun-Ra - Kahi - Dominick - Methari - Cache - Allie<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Cosmic Intelligence<br />
|Sub-Type= Unclassifiable<br />
|Ethnicity= Kehmetian<br />
|Gender= Male<br />
|Age= Incalculable <br />
|Height= 12 Feet (366cm)<br />
|Weight= 352 lbs (160Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= Dark (Mostly)<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= His powers vary from witness to witness<br />
|Equipment= Uses hand forged swords out of fondness for them<br />
|Skills= Swordsman Archer Conversationalist Chef<br />
|}}<br />
<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TimeAbyss <span style="color:#FFFFFF;">'''TimeAbyss'''</span>] - Seth has been alive for billions of years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - Seth only looks in his mid thirties despite his age.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CompleteImmortality <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Complete Immortality''' </span>] - A given alongside Time Abyss.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheSacredDarkness <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Sacred Darkness''' </span>] - Seth may have chaotic and dark powers but that does not make him evil.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AGodIAmNot <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A God I am Not''' </span>] - Whenever he is called a God he is the first to deny it, because he is not a god.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SharpDressedMan <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Sharp Dressed Man''' </span>] - Seth never dresses in any way other than his best.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GoodOldWays <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Good Old Ways''' </span>] - Despite the passage of time he will always reminisce about Ancient Egypt and the people he once knew there. <br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheOmniscient <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' The Omniscient''' </span>] - Simple age will do that to a guy. He's not so much Omniscient as very, very old.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HelpingWouldBeKillStealing <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Helping Would be Kill Stealing''' </span>] - At any time he could alter the events happening in his friends' lives, yet he does not.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassGrandpa <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Badass Grandpa''' </span>] - Acts the father figure to many characters, and works to increase their abilities. Mercy and Cache in particular.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassBaritone <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Badass Baritone''' </span>] - Every time he speaks and is a peculiar take on this as he's chosen to be this deep in tone.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WeatherDissonance <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Weather Dissonance''' </span>] - Seth can cause this at times when he actually flexes his powers. A rare event.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HeroesPreferSwords <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Heroes Prefer Swords''' </span>] - Seth has all his power, yet chooses to fight with swords.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DontMakeMeDestroyYou <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Don't make me Destroy you''' </span>] - Often Seth wishes to win a fight without the need to fight. Often works too...<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticGood <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Good''' </span>] - Seth will always do the right thing his way.<br />
<br style="clear:both"><br />
<br />
='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''=<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Dominick</div><br />
"Hmm… Where do I Start? He is one of the greatest friends of a figure to me. So strong and yet gentle in his nature. I cannot express how much this man means to me outside of just being under his service as Avatar. We hold the best bond, heh. He is one of the reasons why I stand today, healthy and stronger than ever before. He is literally the toughest I have ever fought to this day, and I'm very grateful he's on the good side otherwise we'd be in huge trouble, haha. But yeah, he's also a great teacher. In fact, I am glad I am part of his family, and will do whatever it takes to always make him proud. I am well honoured to call him a father." <br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Mercy</div><br />
"Ha… the fox? -My- fox? He inspires me and my motives to make me the better person I wanna become. He can be a little pain in the ass sometimes with his innocence, but that’s what I love about him. I learned not to fuck around with him when he's tight. Piss him off, and your ass is grass. Lesson well-grounded. But other than that, he's like the pops I never had. When I'm around him, just his presence assures me that everythin'll be alright. If I hadn't bumped into him for the first time when I did I probably wouldn’t' a' been alive today to even comment about him. Strong motherfucker he is, I envy his strength and power. But its only the better reason for me to push my limits to be as tough as he is. He'll get it soon enough. Love him tho'." <br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div><br />
The familiar patter of rain hitting glass rings out as the golden woman stares out into the grey city-scape. Sitting across from you, her legs crossed casually her posture is however perfect.<br />
<br />
“I love the rain. Don’t you? Ah, but of course. You do not want to hear about that now.”<br />
<br />
“So, what can I tell you about him? Much, everything perhaps; maybe nothing more than you know… I have known him for as long as I can remember and perhaps, I remember less than I should.”<br />
<br />
“He is the complete selfless protection of those of his people caught in alien places. Wrath to those that mean his heart harm and protection to those that find themselves in its warmth.” She smiles, the love in her lining her soft expression.<br />
<br />
“He is every meaning of safety and love I have ever known. My father…” She looks away now out into the city view, memory gripping her old heart.<br />
<br />
“Set, my Seth. Typhon to those that may know him by other names, in truth he has many, all correct but none of them true.” She grins as she looks back at you.<br />
<br />
“We’ve been to just so many places, met so many different people. Saved some and… Condemned others.” Even as her face twists slightly with bad memories she suddenly lights up again, bringing the entire tone of the conversation with her mood. She laughs a wonderful golden sound,“Ah, if you ever get the chance ask him about the ‘Prague Incident’.” She grins wickedly, “He’ll know what you’re talking about.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know what I would do without him. Often I fear I don’t show him I love him enough, don’t say it enough… Nefer ib.” She pauses, the final words a language long dead to the world but they have meaning to her.<br />
<br />
Eventually she smiles, “Don’t let me prattle on, I am sure you have more questions; don’t you?”<br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
OPEN TO ADDITIONS<br />
<br><br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This page is still undergoing changes, and the story is always changing. Because, in the end we are always changing.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br style="clear:both"><br />
<br />
[[Category:Character]] [[Category:Male]][[Category:Cosmic]][[Category:Immortal]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]<br />
[[Category:Hero]][[Category:UNTIL]][[Category:UNITY]][[Category:Tank]]</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=SethSeth2016-02-14T22:01:26Z<p>Seth: </p>
<hr />
<div><div style="padding:4px; border: 15px Solid #000000; color:#000000; border-radius: 300px; -moz-border-radius:400px; background-color: #444444"><br />
<div style="padding:4px; border: 10px Solid #800000; color:#C0C0C0; border-radius: 64px; -moz-border-radius:60px; background-color: #800000"><br />
<div style="padding:4px; border: 5px Solid #000000; color:#FFF; border-radius: 64px; -moz-border-radius:60px; background-color: #444444"><br />
<div style="padding:4px; border: 8px Solid #444444; color:#FFF; border-radius: 64px; -moz-border-radius:60px; background-color: #444444"><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
{{PriceBox<br />
|Border=#000000<br />
|MidBorder=#800000<br />
|Background=#444444<br />
|Text=#e8e8e8<br />
|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lord of Sepermeru</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Seth</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Seth_New_Portrait.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Leader<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= Set - Typhon - Sutekh - Setekh - Setesh<br />
|Birthdate= The First Rain<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= Nomadic<br />
|Residence= Millenium City, Alau<br />
|Occupation= Eternal Tourist<br />
|Legal= Of Great Interest to UNTIL<br />
|Marital= He was once married<br />
|Relatives= Amun-Ra - Kahi - Dominick - Methari - Cache - Allie<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Cosmic Intelligence<br />
|Sub-Type= Unclassifiable<br />
|Ethnicity= Kehmetian<br />
|Gender= Male<br />
|Age= Incalculable <br />
|Height= 12 Feet (366cm)<br />
|Weight= 352 lbs (160Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= Dark (Mostly)<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= His powers vary from witness to witness<br />
|Equipment= Uses hand forged swords out of fondness for them<br />
|Skills= Swordsman Archer Conversationalist Chef<br />
|}}<br />
<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TimeAbyss <span style="color:#FFFFFF;">'''TimeAbyss'''</span>] - Seth has been alive for billions of years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - Seth only looks in his mid thirties despite his age.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CompleteImmortality <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Complete Immortality''' </span>] - A given alongside Time Abyss.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheSacredDarkness <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Sacred Darkness''' </span>] - Seth may have chaotic and dark powers but that does not make him evil.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AGodIAmNot <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A God I am Not''' </span>] - Whenever he is called a God he is the first to deny it, because he is not a god.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SharpDressedMan <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Sharp Dressed Man''' </span>] - Seth never dresses in any way other than his best.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GoodOldWays <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Good Old Ways''' </span>] - Despite the passage of time he will always reminisce about Ancient Egypt and the people he once knew there. <br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheOmniscient <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' The Omniscient''' </span>] - Simple age will do that to a guy. He's not so much Omniscient as very, very old.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HelpingWouldBeKillStealing <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Helping Would be Kill Stealing''' </span>] - At any time he could alter the events happening in his friends' lives, yet he does not.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassGrandpa <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Badass Grandpa''' </span>] - Acts the father figure to many characters, and works to increase their abilities. Mercy and Cache in particular.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassBaritone <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Badass Baritone''' </span>] - Every time he speaks and is a peculiar take on this as he's chosen to be this deep in tone.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WeatherDissonance <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Weather Dissonance''' </span>] - Seth can cause this at times when he actually flexes his powers. A rare event.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HeroesPreferSwords <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Heroes Prefer Swords''' </span>] - Seth has all his power, yet chooses to fight with swords.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DontMakeMeDestroyYou <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Don't make me Destroy you''' </span>] - Often Seth wishes to win a fight without the need to fight. Often works too...<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticGood <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Good''' </span>] - Seth will always do the right thing his way.<br />
<br style="clear:both"><br />
<br />
='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Dominick</div>==<br />
"Hmm… Where do I Start? He is one of the greatest friends of a figure to me. So strong and yet gentle in his nature. I cannot express how much this man means to me outside of just being under his service as Avatar. We hold the best bond, heh. He is one of the reasons why I stand today, healthy and stronger than ever before. He is literally the toughest I have ever fought to this day, and I'm very grateful he's on the good side otherwise we'd be in huge trouble, haha. But yeah, he's also a great teacher. In fact, I am glad I am part of his family, and will do whatever it takes to always make him proud. I am well honoured to call him a father." <br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Mercy</div>==<br />
"Ha… the fox? -My- fox? He inspires me and my motives to make me the better person I wanna become. He can be a little pain in the ass sometimes with his innocence, but that’s what I love about him. I learned not to fuck around with him when he's tight. Piss him off, and your ass is grass. Lesson well-grounded. But other than that, he's like the pops I never had. When I'm around him, just his presence assures me that everythin'll be alright. If I hadn't bumped into him for the first time when I did I probably wouldn’t' a' been alive today to even comment about him. Strong motherfucker he is, I envy his strength and power. But its only the better reason for me to push my limits to be as tough as he is. He'll get it soon enough. Love him tho'." <br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
The familiar patter of rain hitting glass rings out as the golden woman stares out into the grey city-scape. Sitting across from you, her legs crossed casually her posture is however perfect.<br />
<br />
“I love the rain. Don’t you? Ah, but of course. You do not want to hear about that now.”<br />
<br />
“So, what can I tell you about him? Much, everything perhaps; maybe nothing more than you know… I have known him for as long as I can remember and perhaps, I remember less than I should.”<br />
<br />
“He is the complete selfless protection of those of his people caught in alien places. Wrath to those that mean his heart harm and protection to those that find themselves in its warmth.” She smiles, the love in her lining her soft expression.<br />
<br />
“He is every meaning of safety and love I have ever known. My father…” She looks away now out into the city view, memory gripping her old heart.<br />
<br />
“Set, my Seth. Typhon to those that may know him by other names, in truth he has many, all correct but none of them true.” She grins as she looks back at you.<br />
<br />
“We’ve been to just so many places, met so many different people. Saved some and… Condemned others.” Even as her face twists slightly with bad memories she suddenly lights up again, bringing the entire tone of the conversation with her mood. She laughs a wonderful golden sound,“Ah, if you ever get the chance ask him about the ‘Prague Incident’.” She grins wickedly, “He’ll know what you’re talking about.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know what I would do without him. Often I fear I don’t show him I love him enough, don’t say it enough… Nefer ib.” She pauses, the final words a language long dead to the world but they have meaning to her.<br />
<br />
Eventually she smiles, “Don’t let me prattle on, I am sure you have more questions; don’t you?”<br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
OPEN TO ADDITIONS<br />
<br><br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This page is still undergoing changes, and the story is always changing. Because, in the end we are always changing.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br style="clear:both"><br />
<br />
[[Category:Character]] [[Category:Male]][[Category:Cosmic]][[Category:Immortal]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]<br />
[[Category:Hero]][[Category:UNTIL]][[Category:UNITY]][[Category:Tank]]</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Nicky_WraithNicky Wraith2016-02-09T00:59:59Z<p>Seth: </p>
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{{ReldinBox<br />
| header = #FFFFFF<br />
| font = #000000<br />
| bg1 = #000000<br />
| bg2 = #C0C0C0<br />
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| bg4 = #FFFFFF<br />
| border = #000000<br />
| cell1 = #C0C0C0<br />
| cell2 = #736F6E<br />
| name = Nicky Wraith<br />
| player = Dragonrider4000<br />
| image = Nicky Wraith Portrait.jpg<br />
| caption = Nicky Today<br />
| class_focus = Tank<br />
| level = 40<br />
| research = Science <br />
| realname = REDACTED<br />
| alias = Abyss<br />
| gender = Female<br />
| species = Human<br />
| ethnicity = Caucasian<br />
| birthplace = USA<br />
| operations = Earth<br />
| relatives = REDACTED<br />
| age = 26<br />
| height = 6' 4"<br />
| weight = 180lbs<br />
| eyes = Blue<br />
| hair = Black Dyed<br />
| complexion = Caucasian <br />
| build = Variable<br />
| features = Her eyes have a golden hue.<br />
| alignment = 4<br />
| reputation = 2<br />
| identity = Ghost like<br />
| years_active = REDACTED<br />
| citizenship = None <br />
| occupation = Mercenary<br />
| education = Extensive<br />
| marital = Single<br />
| powers = Electricity is only the beginning.<br />
| paraphernalia = QUEEN<br />
| strength = 6<br />
| endurance = 9<br />
| agility = 8<br />
| speed = 7<br />
| fighting = 8<br />
| projectiles = 9<br />
| durability = 7<br />
| resistance = 6<br />
| intelligence = 8<br />
| psyche = 3<br />
| intuition = 6<br />
| charisma = 4<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Name Plate.png|600px|centre]]<br />
<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">First Breath </div>==<br />
<br />
Few memories ever survive from those early years of tottering feet, tears and trials. An image, a voice, a smell; a brief flash of memory that can stay rooted in your soul held precious because it is the first you claim. Our memories shape us and define who we become. It could be anything or anyone.<br />
<br />
For Nicky it was the sky.<br />
<br />
An all-encompassing expanse of blue sky that filled her world and her young, so young heart. A bright shining moment that showed her the beauty in the world, and the freedom it could bring far before she could ever understand it, or the bars that blocked the way.<br />
<br />
Nicky was born to be an orphan, abandoned by her parents and left at an orphanage that could never be called reputable, let alone respectable. Thrown out into the world with an orphanage supplied name and nothing to hold to it beyond the sky. A nobody. Yet a nobody was what was required. Though the orphanage may have promised more of a sedate life than the place she ended up. <br />
<br />
For it was not long after she turned two that –he- found her. Chose her. She was subsumed into the RAVEN training programme and became 23. In time that view of blue would come to haunt her darkest days, a shining example of all she could not have.<br />
<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Lab Rat </div>==<br />
<br />
What is it to live your life as a number? Too many have experienced it in this world, the horror, the confinement and yet so few understand it. 23 does, any like her do. Perhaps 23 is one of the few who truly understand where those depths lie. She was not destined for the life she fought for, not when she first drew breath. She was destined to be nothing more than a science experiment. A curiosity. A trial. <br />
<br />
How the organisation ever came across the technology is unknown. Even today it is quite rare. A supercomputer neural interface prototype, designed for use by the richest and the most powerful as a hidden aid. The first was just a curiosity, but its computing power and ability to be concealed as a fine tracery inside the body itself while the heart resided in the brain gave it quite the advantage. The only drawback was the potential damage it would do to an adult mind, indeed the few attempts made by its creator resulted in permanent brain damage, the worst complete catatonia. <br />
<br />
Yet 23 was a child, with a more resilient mind and still growing and binding neural pathways. A child would certainly be more resistant to the rigours of the procedure, and with her they had all the time in the world. They could prolong it as much as they desired. She was taken from the blue sky into the depths and so the experiment began.<br />
<br />
Forced to learn during the day to keep her mind stimulated and growing, and subjected to their evils in the evening she slowly began to slip into darkness step by aching step. Never alone with <i>his</i> presence, even the sanctuary of her mind was breached as the computer they installed grew deeper, connections set into the still developing reaches of her mind, micron by painful micron. <br />
<br />
Years passed in that never ending torment, surrounded by those she could not trust, those that could not or would not provide her with comfort. Trapped in the artificial construct of what she was later to realise was RAVEN'S NEST she sank further into the creations of her mind. A cruel existence for it could not be called life. A terrible way for any. What would you do, if you were given the choice to run?<br />
<br><br />
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[[File:Young Abyss Nightmare.jpg|150px|right]]<br />
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The cold of the bed is like iron, each movement is agony, to breathe is painful, but yet she labours on. There in the darkness of her cell she breathes and by inches forgets that she was ever truly alive. Only for the visceral beat of her heart confirms her existence. She wished for no hope, she wished for no taste of freedom. Yet still so sweetly, so painfully it was given. <br />
<br />
She hears the door slide open and tenses where she lays; they had come for her again. There was no speech, she was simply shaken gruffly on the shoulder and she rose to her feet. She is no more than eight, though her body is frail, clad in simple grey trousers and shirt; unable to stop a slight tremor as she stands before them.<br />
<br />
"He normally wakes me before you arrive," she asks, hiding the fear with questions. The hand that covers her mouth is shocking but she does not cry out, she is long past that response. She stares at the woman in front of her, for it is a woman, she is close enough to tell that now. One of the newest nurses to have been brought in to aid her torment, indeed the tools of her trade still gleam in her pocket.<br />
<br />
"I'm Nicky, I'm here to save you," the woman breathes into her ear and how sweet that torture is, how those words infected her. She can barely swallow as that sickly hope passes through her, an opiate of happiness she can almost not bear and she feels faint. She doesn't resist as she is pulled by the hand out into the dark corridor, the metal achingly cold to hear bare feet, but she hardly feels it. Doesn't care. <br />
<br />
They race along that maze of corridors, running from nothing, no sound behind them only the spots of red in that small child's vision. The brief flashes perhaps of the exhaustion she is feeling. At last they reach a door and the vice like grip on her hand is loosened as her saviour works the lock, it budges but just a little. They must crawl.<br />
<br />
"I'll check it's clear," the woman whispers and slides beneath the door, a moment later her hands appear and the girl allows herself to be pulled through. She blinks a little, staring around at somewhere she has never been before, but then she notices what the lady hasn't.<br />
<br />
She presses back against the door, terror gripping her a squeak at her feet only making the bile rise as she realises they are but rats in a maze. With a shaking hand she does the only thing she can think of in that breathless moment, withdrawing the syringe poking from Nicky's pocket removing the greatest symbol of the daily pain she feels, to make it her own. <br />
<br />
"There has to be a way out." The lady mutters, sounding annoyed as she inspects a crudely drawn map held tight in her hand. "I was sure..."<br />
<br />
A moment later the lights slam on in that all-consuming presence of artificial light, and she knows he is here. Her shivers match the feeling of the door sliding down at her back, trapping her there.<br />
<br />
"You are in a restricted area Ms Burrows." <br />
<br />
The voice is calm, as always devoid of anything but then, it is him. The girl swallows; she understands their peril and wonders why Ms Burrows does not. How can anyone stand there looking defiant? Against him such is impossible. She is one of the lost ones. She will not be with her classmates tomorrow she knows.<br />
<br />
"You cannot expect to get away with this, I will not condone torture." Ms Burrows responds, her tone harsh with fear or anger the girl cannot tell, "I will not let you keep her."<br />
<br />
"Twenty-three," he says no longer apparently concerning himself with the woman, "this is your test."<br />
<br />
She freezes, her body matching the feel of ice that had already gripped her. With sudden sickly calm she realises she has one chance. Her breathing quickens and her pulse is loud in her ears, she is so young, yet she knows the stakes.<br />
<br />
"What do you mean?" Ms Burrows says suspiciously turning to look at her, and for a moment Twenty three is lost in the blue of those eyes, a flash of barely remembered sky in her mind and in that moment she hates her. Hates her for the hope. It is enough.<br />
<br />
No one expects what happens from a child.<br />
<br />
She steps towards the nurse, moving as if to embrace her but the needle's aim is swift and true. In shock the nurse staggers back, pulling the syringe from her arm, but it is too late.<br />
<br />
"A syringe is never empty," the girl says in a low monotone, staring up at the nurse through her long fringe, "bubbles in the blood break the flow. I learnt that in biology." <br />
<br />
The syringe clatters to the floor as the nurse drops to her knees staring at the girl with shocked eyes, almost begging her. Yet for what the child doesn’t know it is too late, far too late. Ms Nicky Burrows does not say a word as she slumps to the side, already quite dead; the air lock in her veins had done its job quite nicely.<br />
<br />
For an age the girl is left there, staring at the body in the light of the room, almost unseeing but oh she sees. She doesn't look away though, doesn't scream and doesn't cry. Her heart beats on, that is her only safety, her proof of life. At last she looks up, looking for him, for that gleaming camera, that sense of presence.<br />
<br />
"What next?" She asks voice cold and dead, turning her chin up a little trying to hide her fear. Then she cannot help but look down at the corpse again but her voice remains the same, "Who next?"<br />
<br />
"Congratulations twenty three, you have passed the test." His monotone voice calls and the door behind her screeches up. "Return to your room."<br />
<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
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</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Rat to Raven</div>==<br />
<br />
Returning from the precipice of death into the cold tomb of her cell was a turning point in her existence, if such could be called a blessing it perhaps was. A dark deed that set her on course for the one chance she would ever truly have at the opium of freedom. With the act of killing the nurse she showed she still wished to live, realised in herself that she still had the desire despite everything they had done to her. <br />
<br />
A revelation that could have drove her mad it instead drove her on. <br />
<br />
With an almost ferocious intent she threw herself into her classes, her focus sharpening to a great extent and, at last, as she stopped fighting it the computer they had forced into her mind began to work to her advantage. She poured her learning into that device as system after system slowly activated, using it to push herself further and further away from the death she had come all too close to receiving, to proving she was not a waste of space, a failure. What else could you choose when death was the only other option? <br />
<br />
For a time she lived in this focused driving of thought, letting them continue their cruel torments that through her perseverance became more and more infrequent as her mind accepted the computer into itself. Until, finally, she was just another RAVEN in his clutches. Another bird in a cage. Though life still had one more painful trick to play on our young 23, not yet a teenager.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Eye of the Storm</div>== <br />
<br />
She knew she was nearing the end of her treatments, nearing the end of her time as an experiment. She knew it. They were coming for her with less and less consistency and each time. She still felt that sense of dread though that tinged on fear. Had she done enough to survive? Was nearly being the top of her strange class of other captured children be enough? That, she did not know. So she waits, sat as before in a larger but identical grey top and trousers. Waiting for them to come for her, eyes staring vacantly at the wall opposite in the dark of her room and she forces back the wince as the lights flare on. Always so bright.<br />
<br />
"Make your way to the test chamber." His voice resounds as emotionless as her mind replays to her in her dreams. <br />
<br />
Even as she rises she is frowning a little, to be summoned can only mean they have something large in mind. That, or he simply knew she wouldn't refuse, though when had she ever had that choice? Never. In her usual silence she follows the lights that guide her through the maze of the complex, her eyes fixed straight ahead, not focusing on any details but the lights. Letting them lead her ever onwards.<br />
<br />
"Enter." he intones as she nears a door and she complies. <br />
<br />
23 doesn't cry out as they strap her down into the chair almost on her back. Never flinches as they fix her eyes open. Simply stares up at the ceiling, reeling off maths in her head, figures, dates. Anything to block out her presence, and the itching in her skin that flares every time she is worked on these days. She forces her thoughts of every reason why they would want her eyes open, she doesn't want to know and the truth will not let her escape anyway. The local anaesthetic is cold comfort at the fact she can still see and she takes a sudden breath in before forcing back any sound. She will not fail,she will keep her heart beating. The itching flares at this, almost as though her skin were crawling, seeking to leave her to her fate and she swallows down her rising emotions.<br />
<br />
Her attempt at control was almost enough to stop the flicker of fear in her as the scalpel descends to work along her eye, almost. Not a word has been spoken between her or those that work on her, and she is glad for it as panic sticks her in the chair. Skin aching along with each incision she is forced to watch as though it reaches to her heart. She hates them, hates them all and fears them too. <br />
<br />
It feels like an age to her panicked mind but it is the work of mere moments for them to add <i>something</i> to her eye. Another part that 23 will never be able to remove and she forces back the desire to blink her aching eyes, to move them and forces herself to breathe. She will not fail. She cannot. Her need though breaks through as they shift to the other, it is too much all at once. Far too much.<br />
<br />
The power when it flows from her is unexpected, strong and deadly. Coils of electricity, static and force shifting out to slam into those that work on her, burning skin, tearing flesh and throwing them out across the room. Their lives already ended before they hit the floor, they had not even had chance to scream. The power rocks through where she is bound, burning and frying through them until she is free. It is just an instant, a flare of unknown power by her need to survive, but it is one of those moments you can never take back. <br />
<br />
With barely a tremor she rises, looking over the bodies with shock she can't contain before raising her hands and looking at them with confusion, as the itching continues to crawl over them, but she knows what it is now. So unusual is it all to her that she forgets her fear for an instant. Then it returns to hard it nearly floors her, yet still he remains silent. A minute passes, then another before another enters. She recognises them immediately, 35, the bottom of her class and he stares at her in all too obvious confusion as his eyes dart quickly to the dead bodies and back to her.<br />
<br />
"Twenty three, repeat your demonstration." his cold voice says softly. <br />
<br />
It is almost with relief she stands, her one worked on eye aching, and leaving trails of blood down her cheek. She focuses on that itch as she walks, able to hate 35 for simply existing as she sees the fear in his eyes and the way he looked so pitiful and confused. The itch grows, flaring into pain down her arms and across her back and instinctively she raises her hand and lets it go. The power of the bolt stuns her and she stumbles back, but her aim was more than true, the arc of electricity catching him full in the chest and she sees the moment the lightening passes his eyes and snuffs him out. She almost manages a smile.<br />
<br />
"Congratulations Twenty three.You have passed the test."<br />
<br />
She does smile then, the voice is still as ever but she does not care. She has taken another step into not failing him as she had that night so long ago. Taken another step away from being a failure.<br />
<br />
They come for her again the following night, new faces but with the same desires. This time she controls herself, mind focused on the power she has found, a power that is all hers. A possession in that dark place.<br />
<br />
<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Electra</div>==<br />
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[[File:Electra Abyss.jpg|300px|centre]]<br />
</div><br />
If she was driven before now she becomes an inferno for becoming better, doing all that is demanded of her not because she fears but because she desire it. Driven to it, to explore her powers in any way he will give her, mind allowed to revel in thinking up her own ways to grow. Tentative suggestions barely whispered, growing into louder thoughts as she proves each one as the years pass. Her requests are rare, and not without great thought. <br />
<br />
She grows fast into herself, and her promise is perhaps her worst undoing. For when she steps out at last into the world, still very collared by the organisation that raised her, she is sheltered under the wing of the man that nearly breaks her. The one that could reach her in her hiding places where not even he could reach. Waveform, a Raven of high calibre, rated high on their lists a man of great standing but also twisted by the training he had undergone at their hands. Though he had grown into it like a sickly flower. <br />
<br />
23 made the most ideal candidate for him, perfect in every way as she fit his obsession, his driving force. For Waveform always loved technology and gadgets. She was both. There are no words to describe the tortures he inflicted upon that mind as he sought to work her out, his superior abilities through experience and not through training meant she was helpless against him, fear of <i>his</i> reaction if she killed this Raven held her back from unleashing her trained powers. No mind should ever be defiled in such a way, even if it is only the electronic shadow of your own. She became his toy. <br />
<br />
Though, she was defined by her desire to live.<br />
<br />
It did not take long for this desire to save her once again. <br />
<br />
So yet again she made a request of <i>him</i> a request that perhaps amused him because he granted it. A request to undertake the same dangerous mission as her mentor, her tormentor, not alongside but as a rival. A gamble for her existence and she took it. It is almost certain that Waveform never knew what hit him when the first electrically charged metal whip closed around his neck in that place, just as it is certain that he walked away from there. Though in the dark of that place, filled with enemies she showed why no man would ever be able to touch her like that again. <br />
<br />
Though her lifelong battle with her erstwhile mentor was just beginning. Her rise in the arena as Electra to be marked by her final end in continuous stalemates and position changes with him. An endless shadow in her strange, almost contented existence as <i>his</i> grip on her seemed to lessen. A numb never ceasing existence defined by mission after mission hidden in a world she couldn't ever truly stand in. Never free, but perhaps safe.<br />
<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">A Flash of Red and Blue</div>==<br />
<br />
[[File:CrimsonAzure2.png|400px|centre]]<br />
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Two other warriors changed that though. A rogue raven and her technopathic lover brought together in equally strange and impossible circumstances. Real life never played out like any those in the nest were brought up to expect. The two finding solace with each other and allowing Lana the one thing the leader of the nest would never allow. Love. <br />
<br />
Caught up in attempting to understand the emotion that would have driven Lana to seek freedom with Sam, she slips from her steady course drawn towards them as any lost wanderer to a warm fire. The burning Light of [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Samantha_Winters <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Samantha Winters''' </span>]and [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=16 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Lana Nielson''' </span>] as they worked together was too haunting to be ignored. A view into a world she had never truly seen before. How could she let him destroy that? No matter how dangerous she knew it to be, she hesitated. For a time she could not decide between the safety she had serving him, and the choice to let those two continue on.<br />
<br />
The hesitation cost her all she had. <br />
<br />
As she watched the explosion of that suit in the air, watched the battle from afar as he sent another RAVEN after them and that RAVEN lost, she knew. She knew the decision had been taken from her hands. He had decided her fate, she had failed him. She was finished. In that moment she forgets herself and her years of work, she forgets his reach. With despair she watches the other Raven arrive to fight them, to fight them in her stead, her mission and she knows her fate. Marked for death. No other options, no other choices. She marched towards that bright fire like a moth to a flame and seeks the end.<br />
<br />
Life is never that simple though. <br />
<br />
The sudden desired end never arrived and that enthralling flame saved her, given the chance of life by those she had been ordered to kill. Samantha diving into her mind to save her from herself and give her that cruel drug of hope. As is her way she cannot help but take it, and Nicky is born out of it all, stripping away all that remained of 23. Born out of pain and grief and the hope for a life. A new desire, a choice for freedom, in this cruel twisting story. Though this was, despite the horror it brought, the first few moments of freedom.<br />
<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">The Birth of QUEEN</div>==<br />
<br />
The touch of a Technopath into Nicky's mind could only have been possible with the computer ingrained into that mind, and such a pressure and application of force is never without consequence. Touched by life and impressed with the needs of freedom, justice and choosing for yourself, thoughts and ideals sent through it's circuitry in an attempt to reach twenty three all left an imprint in that computer. Quietly in the dark of Nicky's mind she awoke to the world, a sudden shift from an efficient computer with the pretense of life to a true being. <br />
<br />
So QUEEN was born.<br />
<br />
A surprise to everyone, even Nicky, this new presence has already sought to help those that helped create her. Offering aid to Sam and feeling a deep affinity with Nicky. What she will become no-one knows, a true unknown thrust into a near impossible situation. <br />
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<br />
-Nicky,- QUEEN says softly after a couple hours of tense silence. QUEEN had let Nicky have the privacy that was much needed after that touch from Sam, yet she could hold back no longer. There was only silence to her call though, the woman dropping another piece back into her suit, the change almost complete. Nicky could not have made it clearer how much she was choosing to jump into that dark.<br />
<br />
-Nicky.- She tries again at last and this time she is successful.<br />
<br />
"What?" The word that resounds in their joint headspace is cold, stilted and filled with potent embarrassment QUEEN realises. All QUEEN's processing tells her quite clearly just how strong Nicky had been to simply stand there passive rather than lash out at any that would touch her in such a way. More control than most would have had certainly.<br />
<br />
-You are not weak to have emotions.- QUEEN comments, testing the waters, unsure entirely how to negotiate such emotional turmoil now she has the barest understanding of it.<br />
<br />
"I appeared weak to them because he haunts me still." Nicky whispers, admitting the truth in the only place she can. The only place she could never be heard by the world and just by the one she trusts. Her one sanctum that even he had not quite managed to break through into.<br />
<br />
-He tortured you,- QUEEN says bluntly, -tortured us. He was far worse than our old master ever was. He ripped my programming apart just to see how I worked and used my connections to get to you. Your reaction was not about strength or weakness, just another piece of our past. A reaction to his rape of our joint mind...-<br />
<br />
Nicky physically jumps back at that dropping the part in her hands with a clang. Unwilling to accept the words used but she knows it is true, it cannot be denied. She had been mentally raped at his hands, and that had been just the start. <br />
<br />
He had attempted to add programming that would have given him control of Nicky entire and for a time it had nearly worked. He had acted so subtly she barely noticed the change; the orders given by a mentor were to be naturally obeyed, what would have felt wrong? If not for the natural self-protective instincts built into the computer which had become QUEEN he would have succeeded in taking her over as nothing more but a puppet. <br />
<br />
It hadn't been till later they had learnt to keep him out, the computer and the human finally gelling together against a joint enemy. The false experiences he had planted, false memories, had taken far longer to excise, each memory a terrible level of pain and anguish. Knowing it wasn’t real didn’t stop her from feeling each burst of agony, burst of despair as if it were. QUEEN was right; she had been tortured for months, almost a year by him. She wished he was dead again and the anger quelled her fears. With a harsh cry of rage she surges forward and sweeps all the equipment from the table, slamming it onto the floor.<br />
<br />
“I want to kill him, why can’t I kill him?” she screams loud into the cavern, “I want him dead. Yet every time he lives!”<br />
<br />
-We will one day,- QUEEN says softly, -One day he will burn completely.-<br />
<br />
Nicky nods once, hands gripping the table as she stares at the surface. She had not been totally without revenge she knew, though she yearned for that moment, even more so since Sam had now reminded her of that time twice.<br />
<br />
“Yes we will,” she nods again, her voice that firm tone of power that so defined her, before finally adding, “You were not wrong to help Sam.”<br />
<br />
-I am glad you think so, I would not have done it, had you not agreed.- QUEEN says softly, -But I feel we must find a way for me to communicate so I no longer subject you to such a confrontation with your past. Our past.-<br />
<br />
“What do you suggest?” Nicky questions, a frown of curiosity furrowing her brow as she thinks over what QUEEN could ever possibly want.<br />
<br />
-I would like to request we cannibalise the vocal unit from the remains of your last suit.- QUEEN asks, her tone almost nervous.<br />
<br />
“You want a voice.” Nicky qualifies simply; rather shocked by the idea, QUEEN had never been this gregarious before.<br />
<br />
-After what happened earlier, it seemed prudent,- QUEEN intones, before adding, -And, I would wish to talk to our friends without an interpreter. I would disturb you less.-<br />
<br />
Nicky goes silent a moment, sinking deep into her thoughts, wondering if QUEEN had taken the comments from her all too literally; Nicky knew her humour had always been poor. Would a computer, albeit a sentient one, understand hers? She sighs, leaning on the table a little.<br />
<br />
“I agree.” Nicky says at last, speaking the words aloud so much does she agree with that. Even with the strange ache of sharing QUEEN a little more with the world. “You are yourself, you need to speak for yourself too. I will not trap you.”<br />
<br />
-You could never trap me Nicky,- QUEEN whispers, and Nicky is gifted with the image of QUEEN’s sense of growing self and how similar she looks to herself, -We are one, no matter what happens. I would never wish to be free of you, you are my home.-<br />
<br />
Nicky feels strangely touched by the words and the image, silently moving to make what QUEEN has requested. No more words pass between them, simply an awareness of a duality that had grown since their imprisonment with Waveform. They moved as one, almost, through the creation of the device, their joint task allowing for easier passing of data between them as Nicky’s hands move over the circuit and eventually the piece has been completed.<br />
<br />
“Will this suit?” Nicky whispers at last, unwilling to fracture the strange peace. She lifts the small almost necklace like structure and ties it around her neck, a prototype to be sure, she knows they will be unable to avoid adding more if it works.<br />
<br />
-We can but try,- QUEEN replies, almost intense anticipation.<br />
<br />
“Then try.” Nicky grins, realising QUEEN must be almost nervous to test their created device.<br />
<br />
“I am QUEEN.” QUEEN manages at last, the necklace emitting a synthetic female voice that resonates with a similar power to Nicky’s, and Nicky cannot help but laugh a little in happiness. <br />
<br />
“Does it suit you?” Nicky asks, still smiling as QUEEN’s surge of happiness makes her eyes glow brightly, her vision almost tinged with a golden hue.<br />
<br />
“Oh indeed, and what shall we achieve together.” QUEEN comments, and there is the unmistakable feeling of a wicked grin.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
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[[File:QUEEN Portrait.jpg|280px|centre]]<br />
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[[File:QUEEN Pendant.jpg|150px|centre]]<br />
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<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Moving Forward</div>==<br />
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[[File:Abyss Pose.jpg|250px|centre]]<br />
</div><br />
Time has moved on. Enemies fallen and the dead counted. Yet still the fight remains. The past haunts Nicky still, memories of a foe once so much smaller than the master that could so easily have ended her life. Perhaps free for the first time in her life she fights to keep it, tasting now the true sense of fear that it could all too easily be lost. <br />
<br />
For Waveform remains. <br />
<br />
It is a hunt where only one will survive. Nicky will need to find friends if she is to survive the assault, and perhaps come to know what it is to have any that are not forced upon her. It will be a hard lesson, but it may just be all that stands between her and death.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Becoming the Hero</div>==<br />
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[[File:Abyss in MC.jpg|800px|centre]]<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Opinions</div>==<br />
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To be completed.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Tropes</div>==<br />
<br />
To be completed.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Themes</div>==<br />
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<div style="width: 1000px;"><br />
{{LiathTheme<br />
| artist = Jon Licht and Daniel Licht<br />
| track = Honor for All<br />
| tracklink = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFQwn6M1RMc<br />
| artistcolor = #FFFFFF<br />
| trackcolor = #FFFFFF<br />
| bordercolor = #000000<br />
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[[Category:Character]]<br />
[[Category:Female]]<br />
[[Category:Human]]<br />
[[Category:Electricity]]<br />
[[Category:Mercenary]]</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Nicky_WraithNicky Wraith2016-02-09T00:59:05Z<p>Seth: </p>
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{{ReldinBox<br />
| header = #FFFFFF<br />
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| bg2 = #C0C0C0<br />
| bg3 = #000000<br />
| bg4 = #FFFFFF<br />
| border = #000000<br />
| cell1 = #C0C0C0<br />
| cell2 = #736F6E<br />
| name = Nicky Wraith<br />
| player = Dragonrider4000<br />
| image = Nicky Wraith Portrait.jpg<br />
| caption = Nicky Today<br />
| class_focus = Tank<br />
| level = 40<br />
| research = Science <br />
| realname = REDACTED<br />
| alias = Abyss<br />
| gender = Female<br />
| species = Human<br />
| ethnicity = Caucasian<br />
| birthplace = USA<br />
| operations = Earth<br />
| relatives = REDACTED<br />
| age = 26<br />
| height = 6' 4"<br />
| weight = 180lbs<br />
| eyes = Blue<br />
| hair = Black Dyed<br />
| complexion = Caucasian <br />
| build = Variable<br />
| features = Her eyes have a golden hue.<br />
| alignment = 4<br />
| reputation = 2<br />
| identity = Ghost like<br />
| years_active = REDACTED<br />
| citizenship = None <br />
| occupation = Mercenary<br />
| education = Extensive<br />
| marital = Single<br />
| powers = Electricity is only the beginning.<br />
| paraphernalia = QUEEN<br />
| strength = 6<br />
| endurance = 9<br />
| agility = 8<br />
| speed = 7<br />
| fighting = 8<br />
| projectiles = 9<br />
| durability = 7<br />
| resistance = 6<br />
| intelligence = 8<br />
| psyche = 3<br />
| intuition = 6<br />
| charisma = 4<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Name Plate.png|600px|centre]]<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">First Breath </div>==<br />
<br />
Few memories ever survive from those early years of tottering feet, tears and trials. An image, a voice, a smell; a brief flash of memory that can stay rooted in your soul held precious because it is the first you claim. Our memories shape us and define who we become. It could be anything or anyone.<br />
<br />
For Nicky it was the sky.<br />
<br />
An all-encompassing expanse of blue sky that filled her world and her young, so young heart. A bright shining moment that showed her the beauty in the world, and the freedom it could bring far before she could ever understand it, or the bars that blocked the way.<br />
<br />
Nicky was born to be an orphan, abandoned by her parents and left at an orphanage that could never be called reputable, let alone respectable. Thrown out into the world with an orphanage supplied name and nothing to hold to it beyond the sky. A nobody. Yet a nobody was what was required. Though the orphanage may have promised more of a sedate life than the place she ended up. <br />
<br />
For it was not long after she turned two that –he- found her. Chose her. She was subsumed into the RAVEN training programme and became 23. In time that view of blue would come to haunt her darkest days, a shining example of all she could not have.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Lab Rat </div>==<br />
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What is it to live your life as a number? Too many have experienced it in this world, the horror, the confinement and yet so few understand it. 23 does, any like her do. Perhaps 23 is one of the few who truly understand where those depths lie. She was not destined for the life she fought for, not when she first drew breath. She was destined to be nothing more than a science experiment. A curiosity. A trial. <br />
<br />
How the organisation ever came across the technology is unknown. Even today it is quite rare. A supercomputer neural interface prototype, designed for use by the richest and the most powerful as a hidden aid. The first was just a curiosity, but its computing power and ability to be concealed as a fine tracery inside the body itself while the heart resided in the brain gave it quite the advantage. The only drawback was the potential damage it would do to an adult mind, indeed the few attempts made by its creator resulted in permanent brain damage, the worst complete catatonia. <br />
<br />
Yet 23 was a child, with a more resilient mind and still growing and binding neural pathways. A child would certainly be more resistant to the rigours of the procedure, and with her they had all the time in the world. They could prolong it as much as they desired. She was taken from the blue sky into the depths and so the experiment began.<br />
<br />
Forced to learn during the day to keep her mind stimulated and growing, and subjected to their evils in the evening she slowly began to slip into darkness step by aching step. Never alone with <i>his</i> presence, even the sanctuary of her mind was breached as the computer they installed grew deeper, connections set into the still developing reaches of her mind, micron by painful micron. <br />
<br />
Years passed in that never ending torment, surrounded by those she could not trust, those that could not or would not provide her with comfort. Trapped in the artificial construct of what she was later to realise was RAVEN'S NEST she sank further into the creations of her mind. A cruel existence for it could not be called life. A terrible way for any. What would you do, if you were given the choice to run?<br />
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[[File:Young Abyss Nightmare.jpg|150px|right]]<br />
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The cold of the bed is like iron, each movement is agony, to breathe is painful, but yet she labours on. There in the darkness of her cell she breathes and by inches forgets that she was ever truly alive. Only for the visceral beat of her heart confirms her existence. She wished for no hope, she wished for no taste of freedom. Yet still so sweetly, so painfully it was given. <br />
<br />
She hears the door slide open and tenses where she lays; they had come for her again. There was no speech, she was simply shaken gruffly on the shoulder and she rose to her feet. She is no more than eight, though her body is frail, clad in simple grey trousers and shirt; unable to stop a slight tremor as she stands before them.<br />
<br />
"He normally wakes me before you arrive," she asks, hiding the fear with questions. The hand that covers her mouth is shocking but she does not cry out, she is long past that response. She stares at the woman in front of her, for it is a woman, she is close enough to tell that now. One of the newest nurses to have been brought in to aid her torment, indeed the tools of her trade still gleam in her pocket.<br />
<br />
"I'm Nicky, I'm here to save you," the woman breathes into her ear and how sweet that torture is, how those words infected her. She can barely swallow as that sickly hope passes through her, an opiate of happiness she can almost not bear and she feels faint. She doesn't resist as she is pulled by the hand out into the dark corridor, the metal achingly cold to hear bare feet, but she hardly feels it. Doesn't care. <br />
<br />
They race along that maze of corridors, running from nothing, no sound behind them only the spots of red in that small child's vision. The brief flashes perhaps of the exhaustion she is feeling. At last they reach a door and the vice like grip on her hand is loosened as her saviour works the lock, it budges but just a little. They must crawl.<br />
<br />
"I'll check it's clear," the woman whispers and slides beneath the door, a moment later her hands appear and the girl allows herself to be pulled through. She blinks a little, staring around at somewhere she has never been before, but then she notices what the lady hasn't.<br />
<br />
She presses back against the door, terror gripping her a squeak at her feet only making the bile rise as she realises they are but rats in a maze. With a shaking hand she does the only thing she can think of in that breathless moment, withdrawing the syringe poking from Nicky's pocket removing the greatest symbol of the daily pain she feels, to make it her own. <br />
<br />
"There has to be a way out." The lady mutters, sounding annoyed as she inspects a crudely drawn map held tight in her hand. "I was sure..."<br />
<br />
A moment later the lights slam on in that all-consuming presence of artificial light, and she knows he is here. Her shivers match the feeling of the door sliding down at her back, trapping her there.<br />
<br />
"You are in a restricted area Ms Burrows." <br />
<br />
The voice is calm, as always devoid of anything but then, it is him. The girl swallows; she understands their peril and wonders why Ms Burrows does not. How can anyone stand there looking defiant? Against him such is impossible. She is one of the lost ones. She will not be with her classmates tomorrow she knows.<br />
<br />
"You cannot expect to get away with this, I will not condone torture." Ms Burrows responds, her tone harsh with fear or anger the girl cannot tell, "I will not let you keep her."<br />
<br />
"Twenty-three," he says no longer apparently concerning himself with the woman, "this is your test."<br />
<br />
She freezes, her body matching the feel of ice that had already gripped her. With sudden sickly calm she realises she has one chance. Her breathing quickens and her pulse is loud in her ears, she is so young, yet she knows the stakes.<br />
<br />
"What do you mean?" Ms Burrows says suspiciously turning to look at her, and for a moment Twenty three is lost in the blue of those eyes, a flash of barely remembered sky in her mind and in that moment she hates her. Hates her for the hope. It is enough.<br />
<br />
No one expects what happens from a child.<br />
<br />
She steps towards the nurse, moving as if to embrace her but the needle's aim is swift and true. In shock the nurse staggers back, pulling the syringe from her arm, but it is too late.<br />
<br />
"A syringe is never empty," the girl says in a low monotone, staring up at the nurse through her long fringe, "bubbles in the blood break the flow. I learnt that in biology." <br />
<br />
The syringe clatters to the floor as the nurse drops to her knees staring at the girl with shocked eyes, almost begging her. Yet for what the child doesn’t know it is too late, far too late. Ms Nicky Burrows does not say a word as she slumps to the side, already quite dead; the air lock in her veins had done its job quite nicely.<br />
<br />
For an age the girl is left there, staring at the body in the light of the room, almost unseeing but oh she sees. She doesn't look away though, doesn't scream and doesn't cry. Her heart beats on, that is her only safety, her proof of life. At last she looks up, looking for him, for that gleaming camera, that sense of presence.<br />
<br />
"What next?" She asks voice cold and dead, turning her chin up a little trying to hide her fear. Then she cannot help but look down at the corpse again but her voice remains the same, "Who next?"<br />
<br />
"Congratulations twenty three, you have passed the test." His monotone voice calls and the door behind her screeches up. "Return to your room."<br />
<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Rat to Raven</div>==<br />
<br />
Returning from the precipice of death into the cold tomb of her cell was a turning point in her existence, if such could be called a blessing it perhaps was. A dark deed that set her on course for the one chance she would ever truly have at the opium of freedom. With the act of killing the nurse she showed she still wished to live, realised in herself that she still had the desire despite everything they had done to her. <br />
<br />
A revelation that could have drove her mad it instead drove her on. <br />
<br />
With an almost ferocious intent she threw herself into her classes, her focus sharpening to a great extent and, at last, as she stopped fighting it the computer they had forced into her mind began to work to her advantage. She poured her learning into that device as system after system slowly activated, using it to push herself further and further away from the death she had come all too close to receiving, to proving she was not a waste of space, a failure. What else could you choose when death was the only other option? <br />
<br />
For a time she lived in this focused driving of thought, letting them continue their cruel torments that through her perseverance became more and more infrequent as her mind accepted the computer into itself. Until, finally, she was just another RAVEN in his clutches. Another bird in a cage. Though life still had one more painful trick to play on our young 23, not yet a teenager.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Eye of the Storm</div>== <br />
<br />
She knew she was nearing the end of her treatments, nearing the end of her time as an experiment. She knew it. They were coming for her with less and less consistency and each time. She still felt that sense of dread though that tinged on fear. Had she done enough to survive? Was nearly being the top of her strange class of other captured children be enough? That, she did not know. So she waits, sat as before in a larger but identical grey top and trousers. Waiting for them to come for her, eyes staring vacantly at the wall opposite in the dark of her room and she forces back the wince as the lights flare on. Always so bright.<br />
<br />
"Make your way to the test chamber." His voice resounds as emotionless as her mind replays to her in her dreams. <br />
<br />
Even as she rises she is frowning a little, to be summoned can only mean they have something large in mind. That, or he simply knew she wouldn't refuse, though when had she ever had that choice? Never. In her usual silence she follows the lights that guide her through the maze of the complex, her eyes fixed straight ahead, not focusing on any details but the lights. Letting them lead her ever onwards.<br />
<br />
"Enter." he intones as she nears a door and she complies. <br />
<br />
23 doesn't cry out as they strap her down into the chair almost on her back. Never flinches as they fix her eyes open. Simply stares up at the ceiling, reeling off maths in her head, figures, dates. Anything to block out her presence, and the itching in her skin that flares every time she is worked on these days. She forces her thoughts of every reason why they would want her eyes open, she doesn't want to know and the truth will not let her escape anyway. The local anaesthetic is cold comfort at the fact she can still see and she takes a sudden breath in before forcing back any sound. She will not fail,she will keep her heart beating. The itching flares at this, almost as though her skin were crawling, seeking to leave her to her fate and she swallows down her rising emotions.<br />
<br />
Her attempt at control was almost enough to stop the flicker of fear in her as the scalpel descends to work along her eye, almost. Not a word has been spoken between her or those that work on her, and she is glad for it as panic sticks her in the chair. Skin aching along with each incision she is forced to watch as though it reaches to her heart. She hates them, hates them all and fears them too. <br />
<br />
It feels like an age to her panicked mind but it is the work of mere moments for them to add <i>something</i> to her eye. Another part that 23 will never be able to remove and she forces back the desire to blink her aching eyes, to move them and forces herself to breathe. She will not fail. She cannot. Her need though breaks through as they shift to the other, it is too much all at once. Far too much.<br />
<br />
The power when it flows from her is unexpected, strong and deadly. Coils of electricity, static and force shifting out to slam into those that work on her, burning skin, tearing flesh and throwing them out across the room. Their lives already ended before they hit the floor, they had not even had chance to scream. The power rocks through where she is bound, burning and frying through them until she is free. It is just an instant, a flare of unknown power by her need to survive, but it is one of those moments you can never take back. <br />
<br />
With barely a tremor she rises, looking over the bodies with shock she can't contain before raising her hands and looking at them with confusion, as the itching continues to crawl over them, but she knows what it is now. So unusual is it all to her that she forgets her fear for an instant. Then it returns to hard it nearly floors her, yet still he remains silent. A minute passes, then another before another enters. She recognises them immediately, 35, the bottom of her class and he stares at her in all too obvious confusion as his eyes dart quickly to the dead bodies and back to her.<br />
<br />
"Twenty three, repeat your demonstration." his cold voice says softly. <br />
<br />
It is almost with relief she stands, her one worked on eye aching, and leaving trails of blood down her cheek. She focuses on that itch as she walks, able to hate 35 for simply existing as she sees the fear in his eyes and the way he looked so pitiful and confused. The itch grows, flaring into pain down her arms and across her back and instinctively she raises her hand and lets it go. The power of the bolt stuns her and she stumbles back, but her aim was more than true, the arc of electricity catching him full in the chest and she sees the moment the lightening passes his eyes and snuffs him out. She almost manages a smile.<br />
<br />
"Congratulations Twenty three.You have passed the test."<br />
<br />
She does smile then, the voice is still as ever but she does not care. She has taken another step into not failing him as she had that night so long ago. Taken another step away from being a failure.<br />
<br />
They come for her again the following night, new faces but with the same desires. This time she controls herself, mind focused on the power she has found, a power that is all hers. A possession in that dark place.<br />
<br />
<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Electra</div>==<br />
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[[File:Electra Abyss.jpg|300px|centre]]<br />
</div><br />
If she was driven before now she becomes an inferno for becoming better, doing all that is demanded of her not because she fears but because she desire it. Driven to it, to explore her powers in any way he will give her, mind allowed to revel in thinking up her own ways to grow. Tentative suggestions barely whispered, growing into louder thoughts as she proves each one as the years pass. Her requests are rare, and not without great thought. <br />
<br />
She grows fast into herself, and her promise is perhaps her worst undoing. For when she steps out at last into the world, still very collared by the organisation that raised her, she is sheltered under the wing of the man that nearly breaks her. The one that could reach her in her hiding places where not even he could reach. Waveform, a Raven of high calibre, rated high on their lists a man of great standing but also twisted by the training he had undergone at their hands. Though he had grown into it like a sickly flower. <br />
<br />
23 made the most ideal candidate for him, perfect in every way as she fit his obsession, his driving force. For Waveform always loved technology and gadgets. She was both. There are no words to describe the tortures he inflicted upon that mind as he sought to work her out, his superior abilities through experience and not through training meant she was helpless against him, fear of <i>his</i> reaction if she killed this Raven held her back from unleashing her trained powers. No mind should ever be defiled in such a way, even if it is only the electronic shadow of your own. She became his toy. <br />
<br />
Though, she was defined by her desire to live.<br />
<br />
It did not take long for this desire to save her once again. <br />
<br />
So yet again she made a request of <i>him</i> a request that perhaps amused him because he granted it. A request to undertake the same dangerous mission as her mentor, her tormentor, not alongside but as a rival. A gamble for her existence and she took it. It is almost certain that Waveform never knew what hit him when the first electrically charged metal whip closed around his neck in that place, just as it is certain that he walked away from there. Though in the dark of that place, filled with enemies she showed why no man would ever be able to touch her like that again. <br />
<br />
Though her lifelong battle with her erstwhile mentor was just beginning. Her rise in the arena as Electra to be marked by her final end in continuous stalemates and position changes with him. An endless shadow in her strange, almost contented existence as <i>his</i> grip on her seemed to lessen. A numb never ceasing existence defined by mission after mission hidden in a world she couldn't ever truly stand in. Never free, but perhaps safe.<br />
<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">A Flash of Red and Blue</div>==<br />
<br />
[[File:CrimsonAzure2.png|400px|centre]]<br />
<br />
<br><br />
Two other warriors changed that though. A rogue raven and her technopathic lover brought together in equally strange and impossible circumstances. Real life never played out like any those in the nest were brought up to expect. The two finding solace with each other and allowing Lana the one thing the leader of the nest would never allow. Love. <br />
<br />
Caught up in attempting to understand the emotion that would have driven Lana to seek freedom with Sam, she slips from her steady course drawn towards them as any lost wanderer to a warm fire. The burning Light of [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Samantha_Winters <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Samantha Winters''' </span>]and [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=16 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Lana Nielson''' </span>] as they worked together was too haunting to be ignored. A view into a world she had never truly seen before. How could she let him destroy that? No matter how dangerous she knew it to be, she hesitated. For a time she could not decide between the safety she had serving him, and the choice to let those two continue on.<br />
<br />
The hesitation cost her all she had. <br />
<br />
As she watched the explosion of that suit in the air, watched the battle from afar as he sent another RAVEN after them and that RAVEN lost, she knew. She knew the decision had been taken from her hands. He had decided her fate, she had failed him. She was finished. In that moment she forgets herself and her years of work, she forgets his reach. With despair she watches the other Raven arrive to fight them, to fight them in her stead, her mission and she knows her fate. Marked for death. No other options, no other choices. She marched towards that bright fire like a moth to a flame and seeks the end.<br />
<br />
Life is never that simple though. <br />
<br />
The sudden desired end never arrived and that enthralling flame saved her, given the chance of life by those she had been ordered to kill. Samantha diving into her mind to save her from herself and give her that cruel drug of hope. As is her way she cannot help but take it, and Nicky is born out of it all, stripping away all that remained of 23. Born out of pain and grief and the hope for a life. A new desire, a choice for freedom, in this cruel twisting story. Though this was, despite the horror it brought, the first few moments of freedom.<br />
<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">The Birth of QUEEN</div>==<br />
<br />
The touch of a Technopath into Nicky's mind could only have been possible with the computer ingrained into that mind, and such a pressure and application of force is never without consequence. Touched by life and impressed with the needs of freedom, justice and choosing for yourself, thoughts and ideals sent through it's circuitry in an attempt to reach twenty three all left an imprint in that computer. Quietly in the dark of Nicky's mind she awoke to the world, a sudden shift from an efficient computer with the pretense of life to a true being. <br />
<br />
So QUEEN was born.<br />
<br />
A surprise to everyone, even Nicky, this new presence has already sought to help those that helped create her. Offering aid to Sam and feeling a deep affinity with Nicky. What she will become no-one knows, a true unknown thrust into a near impossible situation. <br />
<br><br />
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<div style="max-height:530px; overflow:auto;"><div style="width:800px; margin-left:10px; margin-right:800px;"><br />
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<div style="position:left; margin-right:10px; margin-bottom:10px; float:left; padding:10px; height: 1100px; width:800px; border:3px solid #404040; background:#000000; color:#ffffff; font-size:90%;-webkit-border-radius: 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px; border-radius: 5px;"><br />
<br />
-Nicky,- QUEEN says softly after a couple hours of tense silence. QUEEN had let Nicky have the privacy that was much needed after that touch from Sam, yet she could hold back no longer. There was only silence to her call though, the woman dropping another piece back into her suit, the change almost complete. Nicky could not have made it clearer how much she was choosing to jump into that dark.<br />
<br />
-Nicky.- She tries again at last and this time she is successful.<br />
<br />
"What?" The word that resounds in their joint headspace is cold, stilted and filled with potent embarrassment QUEEN realises. All QUEEN's processing tells her quite clearly just how strong Nicky had been to simply stand there passive rather than lash out at any that would touch her in such a way. More control than most would have had certainly.<br />
<br />
-You are not weak to have emotions.- QUEEN comments, testing the waters, unsure entirely how to negotiate such emotional turmoil now she has the barest understanding of it.<br />
<br />
"I appeared weak to them because he haunts me still." Nicky whispers, admitting the truth in the only place she can. The only place she could never be heard by the world and just by the one she trusts. Her one sanctum that even he had not quite managed to break through into.<br />
<br />
-He tortured you,- QUEEN says bluntly, -tortured us. He was far worse than our old master ever was. He ripped my programming apart just to see how I worked and used my connections to get to you. Your reaction was not about strength or weakness, just another piece of our past. A reaction to his rape of our joint mind...-<br />
<br />
Nicky physically jumps back at that dropping the part in her hands with a clang. Unwilling to accept the words used but she knows it is true, it cannot be denied. She had been mentally raped at his hands, and that had been just the start. <br />
<br />
He had attempted to add programming that would have given him control of Nicky entire and for a time it had nearly worked. He had acted so subtly she barely noticed the change; the orders given by a mentor were to be naturally obeyed, what would have felt wrong? If not for the natural self-protective instincts built into the computer which had become QUEEN he would have succeeded in taking her over as nothing more but a puppet. <br />
<br />
It hadn't been till later they had learnt to keep him out, the computer and the human finally gelling together against a joint enemy. The false experiences he had planted, false memories, had taken far longer to excise, each memory a terrible level of pain and anguish. Knowing it wasn’t real didn’t stop her from feeling each burst of agony, burst of despair as if it were. QUEEN was right; she had been tortured for months, almost a year by him. She wished he was dead again and the anger quelled her fears. With a harsh cry of rage she surges forward and sweeps all the equipment from the table, slamming it onto the floor.<br />
<br />
“I want to kill him, why can’t I kill him?” she screams loud into the cavern, “I want him dead. Yet every time he lives!”<br />
<br />
-We will one day,- QUEEN says softly, -One day he will burn completely.-<br />
<br />
Nicky nods once, hands gripping the table as she stares at the surface. She had not been totally without revenge she knew, though she yearned for that moment, even more so since Sam had now reminded her of that time twice.<br />
<br />
“Yes we will,” she nods again, her voice that firm tone of power that so defined her, before finally adding, “You were not wrong to help Sam.”<br />
<br />
-I am glad you think so, I would not have done it, had you not agreed.- QUEEN says softly, -But I feel we must find a way for me to communicate so I no longer subject you to such a confrontation with your past. Our past.-<br />
<br />
“What do you suggest?” Nicky questions, a frown of curiosity furrowing her brow as she thinks over what QUEEN could ever possibly want.<br />
<br />
-I would like to request we cannibalise the vocal unit from the remains of your last suit.- QUEEN asks, her tone almost nervous.<br />
<br />
“You want a voice.” Nicky qualifies simply; rather shocked by the idea, QUEEN had never been this gregarious before.<br />
<br />
-After what happened earlier, it seemed prudent,- QUEEN intones, before adding, -And, I would wish to talk to our friends without an interpreter. I would disturb you less.-<br />
<br />
Nicky goes silent a moment, sinking deep into her thoughts, wondering if QUEEN had taken the comments from her all too literally; Nicky knew her humour had always been poor. Would a computer, albeit a sentient one, understand hers? She sighs, leaning on the table a little.<br />
<br />
“I agree.” Nicky says at last, speaking the words aloud so much does she agree with that. Even with the strange ache of sharing QUEEN a little more with the world. “You are yourself, you need to speak for yourself too. I will not trap you.”<br />
<br />
-You could never trap me Nicky,- QUEEN whispers, and Nicky is gifted with the image of QUEEN’s sense of growing self and how similar she looks to herself, -We are one, no matter what happens. I would never wish to be free of you, you are my home.-<br />
<br />
Nicky feels strangely touched by the words and the image, silently moving to make what QUEEN has requested. No more words pass between them, simply an awareness of a duality that had grown since their imprisonment with Waveform. They moved as one, almost, through the creation of the device, their joint task allowing for easier passing of data between them as Nicky’s hands move over the circuit and eventually the piece has been completed.<br />
<br />
“Will this suit?” Nicky whispers at last, unwilling to fracture the strange peace. She lifts the small almost necklace like structure and ties it around her neck, a prototype to be sure, she knows they will be unable to avoid adding more if it works.<br />
<br />
-We can but try,- QUEEN replies, almost intense anticipation.<br />
<br />
“Then try.” Nicky grins, realising QUEEN must be almost nervous to test their created device.<br />
<br />
“I am QUEEN.” QUEEN manages at last, the necklace emitting a synthetic female voice that resonates with a similar power to Nicky’s, and Nicky cannot help but laugh a little in happiness. <br />
<br />
“Does it suit you?” Nicky asks, still smiling as QUEEN’s surge of happiness makes her eyes glow brightly, her vision almost tinged with a golden hue.<br />
<br />
“Oh indeed, and what shall we achieve together.” QUEEN comments, and there is the unmistakable feeling of a wicked grin.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
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[[File:QUEEN Portrait.jpg|280px|centre]]<br />
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[[File:QUEEN Pendant.jpg|150px|centre]]<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Moving Forward</div>==<br />
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<div style="position:relative; margin-right:10px; margin-bottom:10px; float:right; padding:10px; height: 370px; width:250px; border:3px solid #404040; background:#000000; color:#ffffff; font-size:90%;-webkit-border-radius: 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px; border-radius: 5px;"><br />
[[File:Abyss Pose.jpg|250px|centre]]<br />
</div><br />
Time has moved on. Enemies fallen and the dead counted. Yet still the fight remains. The past haunts Nicky still, memories of a foe once so much smaller than the master that could so easily have ended her life. Perhaps free for the first time in her life she fights to keep it, tasting now the true sense of fear that it could all too easily be lost. <br />
<br />
For Waveform remains. <br />
<br />
It is a hunt where only one will survive. Nicky will need to find friends if she is to survive the assault, and perhaps come to know what it is to have any that are not forced upon her. It will be a hard lesson, but it may just be all that stands between her and death.<br />
<br><br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Becoming the Hero</div>==<br />
<div style="position:relative; margin-right:10px; margin-bottom:10px; float:centre; padding:10px; height: 555px; width:800px; border:3px solid #404040; background:#000000; color:#ffffff; font-size:90%;-webkit-border-radius: 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px; border-radius: 5px;"><br />
[[File:Abyss in MC.jpg|800px|centre]]<br />
</div><br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Opinions</div>==<br />
<br />
To be completed.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Tropes</div>==<br />
<br />
To be completed.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Themes</div>==<br />
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<div style="width: 1000px;"><br />
{{LiathTheme<br />
| artist = Jon Licht and Daniel Licht<br />
| track = Honor for All<br />
| tracklink = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFQwn6M1RMc<br />
| artistcolor = #FFFFFF<br />
| trackcolor = #FFFFFF<br />
| bordercolor = #000000<br />
| borderwidth = 2<br />
| backcolor =#000000<br />
|}}<br />
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[[Category:Character]]<br />
[[Category:Female]]<br />
[[Category:Human]]<br />
[[Category:Electricity]]<br />
[[Category:Mercenary]]</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Nicky_WraithNicky Wraith2016-02-09T00:58:07Z<p>Seth: </p>
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{{ReldinBox<br />
| header = #FFFFFF<br />
| font = #000000<br />
| bg1 = #000000<br />
| bg2 = #C0C0C0<br />
| bg3 = #000000<br />
| bg4 = #FFFFFF<br />
| border = #000000<br />
| cell1 = #C0C0C0<br />
| cell2 = #736F6E<br />
| name = Nicky Wraith<br />
| player = Dragonrider4000<br />
| image = Nicky Wraith Portrait.jpg<br />
| caption = Nicky Today<br />
| class_focus = Tank<br />
| level = 40<br />
| research = Science <br />
| realname = REDACTED<br />
| alias = Abyss<br />
| gender = Female<br />
| species = Human<br />
| ethnicity = Caucasian<br />
| birthplace = USA<br />
| operations = Earth<br />
| relatives = REDACTED<br />
| age = 26<br />
| height = 6' 4"<br />
| weight = 180lbs<br />
| eyes = Blue<br />
| hair = Black Dyed<br />
| complexion = Caucasian <br />
| build = Variable<br />
| features = Her eyes have a golden hue.<br />
| alignment = 4<br />
| reputation = 2<br />
| identity = Ghost like<br />
| years_active = REDACTED<br />
| citizenship = None <br />
| occupation = Mercenary<br />
| education = Extensive<br />
| marital = Single<br />
| powers = Electricity is only the beginning.<br />
| paraphernalia = QUEEN<br />
| strength = 6<br />
| endurance = 9<br />
| agility = 8<br />
| speed = 7<br />
| fighting = 8<br />
| projectiles = 9<br />
| durability = 7<br />
| resistance = 6<br />
| intelligence = 8<br />
| psyche = 3<br />
| intuition = 6<br />
| charisma = 4<br />
|}}<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">First Breath </div>==<br />
<br />
Few memories ever survive from those early years of tottering feet, tears and trials. An image, a voice, a smell; a brief flash of memory that can stay rooted in your soul held precious because it is the first you claim. Our memories shape us and define who we become. It could be anything or anyone.<br />
<br />
For Nicky it was the sky.<br />
<br />
An all-encompassing expanse of blue sky that filled her world and her young, so young heart. A bright shining moment that showed her the beauty in the world, and the freedom it could bring far before she could ever understand it, or the bars that blocked the way.<br />
<br />
Nicky was born to be an orphan, abandoned by her parents and left at an orphanage that could never be called reputable, let alone respectable. Thrown out into the world with an orphanage supplied name and nothing to hold to it beyond the sky. A nobody. Yet a nobody was what was required. Though the orphanage may have promised more of a sedate life than the place she ended up. <br />
<br />
For it was not long after she turned two that –he- found her. Chose her. She was subsumed into the RAVEN training programme and became 23. In time that view of blue would come to haunt her darkest days, a shining example of all she could not have.<br />
<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Lab Rat </div>==<br />
<br />
What is it to live your life as a number? Too many have experienced it in this world, the horror, the confinement and yet so few understand it. 23 does, any like her do. Perhaps 23 is one of the few who truly understand where those depths lie. She was not destined for the life she fought for, not when she first drew breath. She was destined to be nothing more than a science experiment. A curiosity. A trial. <br />
<br />
How the organisation ever came across the technology is unknown. Even today it is quite rare. A supercomputer neural interface prototype, designed for use by the richest and the most powerful as a hidden aid. The first was just a curiosity, but its computing power and ability to be concealed as a fine tracery inside the body itself while the heart resided in the brain gave it quite the advantage. The only drawback was the potential damage it would do to an adult mind, indeed the few attempts made by its creator resulted in permanent brain damage, the worst complete catatonia. <br />
<br />
Yet 23 was a child, with a more resilient mind and still growing and binding neural pathways. A child would certainly be more resistant to the rigours of the procedure, and with her they had all the time in the world. They could prolong it as much as they desired. She was taken from the blue sky into the depths and so the experiment began.<br />
<br />
Forced to learn during the day to keep her mind stimulated and growing, and subjected to their evils in the evening she slowly began to slip into darkness step by aching step. Never alone with <i>his</i> presence, even the sanctuary of her mind was breached as the computer they installed grew deeper, connections set into the still developing reaches of her mind, micron by painful micron. <br />
<br />
Years passed in that never ending torment, surrounded by those she could not trust, those that could not or would not provide her with comfort. Trapped in the artificial construct of what she was later to realise was RAVEN'S NEST she sank further into the creations of her mind. A cruel existence for it could not be called life. A terrible way for any. What would you do, if you were given the choice to run?<br />
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The cold of the bed is like iron, each movement is agony, to breathe is painful, but yet she labours on. There in the darkness of her cell she breathes and by inches forgets that she was ever truly alive. Only for the visceral beat of her heart confirms her existence. She wished for no hope, she wished for no taste of freedom. Yet still so sweetly, so painfully it was given. <br />
<br />
She hears the door slide open and tenses where she lays; they had come for her again. There was no speech, she was simply shaken gruffly on the shoulder and she rose to her feet. She is no more than eight, though her body is frail, clad in simple grey trousers and shirt; unable to stop a slight tremor as she stands before them.<br />
<br />
"He normally wakes me before you arrive," she asks, hiding the fear with questions. The hand that covers her mouth is shocking but she does not cry out, she is long past that response. She stares at the woman in front of her, for it is a woman, she is close enough to tell that now. One of the newest nurses to have been brought in to aid her torment, indeed the tools of her trade still gleam in her pocket.<br />
<br />
"I'm Nicky, I'm here to save you," the woman breathes into her ear and how sweet that torture is, how those words infected her. She can barely swallow as that sickly hope passes through her, an opiate of happiness she can almost not bear and she feels faint. She doesn't resist as she is pulled by the hand out into the dark corridor, the metal achingly cold to hear bare feet, but she hardly feels it. Doesn't care. <br />
<br />
They race along that maze of corridors, running from nothing, no sound behind them only the spots of red in that small child's vision. The brief flashes perhaps of the exhaustion she is feeling. At last they reach a door and the vice like grip on her hand is loosened as her saviour works the lock, it budges but just a little. They must crawl.<br />
<br />
"I'll check it's clear," the woman whispers and slides beneath the door, a moment later her hands appear and the girl allows herself to be pulled through. She blinks a little, staring around at somewhere she has never been before, but then she notices what the lady hasn't.<br />
<br />
She presses back against the door, terror gripping her a squeak at her feet only making the bile rise as she realises they are but rats in a maze. With a shaking hand she does the only thing she can think of in that breathless moment, withdrawing the syringe poking from Nicky's pocket removing the greatest symbol of the daily pain she feels, to make it her own. <br />
<br />
"There has to be a way out." The lady mutters, sounding annoyed as she inspects a crudely drawn map held tight in her hand. "I was sure..."<br />
<br />
A moment later the lights slam on in that all-consuming presence of artificial light, and she knows he is here. Her shivers match the feeling of the door sliding down at her back, trapping her there.<br />
<br />
"You are in a restricted area Ms Burrows." <br />
<br />
The voice is calm, as always devoid of anything but then, it is him. The girl swallows; she understands their peril and wonders why Ms Burrows does not. How can anyone stand there looking defiant? Against him such is impossible. She is one of the lost ones. She will not be with her classmates tomorrow she knows.<br />
<br />
"You cannot expect to get away with this, I will not condone torture." Ms Burrows responds, her tone harsh with fear or anger the girl cannot tell, "I will not let you keep her."<br />
<br />
"Twenty-three," he says no longer apparently concerning himself with the woman, "this is your test."<br />
<br />
She freezes, her body matching the feel of ice that had already gripped her. With sudden sickly calm she realises she has one chance. Her breathing quickens and her pulse is loud in her ears, she is so young, yet she knows the stakes.<br />
<br />
"What do you mean?" Ms Burrows says suspiciously turning to look at her, and for a moment Twenty three is lost in the blue of those eyes, a flash of barely remembered sky in her mind and in that moment she hates her. Hates her for the hope. It is enough.<br />
<br />
No one expects what happens from a child.<br />
<br />
She steps towards the nurse, moving as if to embrace her but the needle's aim is swift and true. In shock the nurse staggers back, pulling the syringe from her arm, but it is too late.<br />
<br />
"A syringe is never empty," the girl says in a low monotone, staring up at the nurse through her long fringe, "bubbles in the blood break the flow. I learnt that in biology." <br />
<br />
The syringe clatters to the floor as the nurse drops to her knees staring at the girl with shocked eyes, almost begging her. Yet for what the child doesn’t know it is too late, far too late. Ms Nicky Burrows does not say a word as she slumps to the side, already quite dead; the air lock in her veins had done its job quite nicely.<br />
<br />
For an age the girl is left there, staring at the body in the light of the room, almost unseeing but oh she sees. She doesn't look away though, doesn't scream and doesn't cry. Her heart beats on, that is her only safety, her proof of life. At last she looks up, looking for him, for that gleaming camera, that sense of presence.<br />
<br />
"What next?" She asks voice cold and dead, turning her chin up a little trying to hide her fear. Then she cannot help but look down at the corpse again but her voice remains the same, "Who next?"<br />
<br />
"Congratulations twenty three, you have passed the test." His monotone voice calls and the door behind her screeches up. "Return to your room."<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Rat to Raven</div>==<br />
<br />
Returning from the precipice of death into the cold tomb of her cell was a turning point in her existence, if such could be called a blessing it perhaps was. A dark deed that set her on course for the one chance she would ever truly have at the opium of freedom. With the act of killing the nurse she showed she still wished to live, realised in herself that she still had the desire despite everything they had done to her. <br />
<br />
A revelation that could have drove her mad it instead drove her on. <br />
<br />
With an almost ferocious intent she threw herself into her classes, her focus sharpening to a great extent and, at last, as she stopped fighting it the computer they had forced into her mind began to work to her advantage. She poured her learning into that device as system after system slowly activated, using it to push herself further and further away from the death she had come all too close to receiving, to proving she was not a waste of space, a failure. What else could you choose when death was the only other option? <br />
<br />
For a time she lived in this focused driving of thought, letting them continue their cruel torments that through her perseverance became more and more infrequent as her mind accepted the computer into itself. Until, finally, she was just another RAVEN in his clutches. Another bird in a cage. Though life still had one more painful trick to play on our young 23, not yet a teenager.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Eye of the Storm</div>== <br />
<br />
She knew she was nearing the end of her treatments, nearing the end of her time as an experiment. She knew it. They were coming for her with less and less consistency and each time. She still felt that sense of dread though that tinged on fear. Had she done enough to survive? Was nearly being the top of her strange class of other captured children be enough? That, she did not know. So she waits, sat as before in a larger but identical grey top and trousers. Waiting for them to come for her, eyes staring vacantly at the wall opposite in the dark of her room and she forces back the wince as the lights flare on. Always so bright.<br />
<br />
"Make your way to the test chamber." His voice resounds as emotionless as her mind replays to her in her dreams. <br />
<br />
Even as she rises she is frowning a little, to be summoned can only mean they have something large in mind. That, or he simply knew she wouldn't refuse, though when had she ever had that choice? Never. In her usual silence she follows the lights that guide her through the maze of the complex, her eyes fixed straight ahead, not focusing on any details but the lights. Letting them lead her ever onwards.<br />
<br />
"Enter." he intones as she nears a door and she complies. <br />
<br />
23 doesn't cry out as they strap her down into the chair almost on her back. Never flinches as they fix her eyes open. Simply stares up at the ceiling, reeling off maths in her head, figures, dates. Anything to block out her presence, and the itching in her skin that flares every time she is worked on these days. She forces her thoughts of every reason why they would want her eyes open, she doesn't want to know and the truth will not let her escape anyway. The local anaesthetic is cold comfort at the fact she can still see and she takes a sudden breath in before forcing back any sound. She will not fail,she will keep her heart beating. The itching flares at this, almost as though her skin were crawling, seeking to leave her to her fate and she swallows down her rising emotions.<br />
<br />
Her attempt at control was almost enough to stop the flicker of fear in her as the scalpel descends to work along her eye, almost. Not a word has been spoken between her or those that work on her, and she is glad for it as panic sticks her in the chair. Skin aching along with each incision she is forced to watch as though it reaches to her heart. She hates them, hates them all and fears them too. <br />
<br />
It feels like an age to her panicked mind but it is the work of mere moments for them to add <i>something</i> to her eye. Another part that 23 will never be able to remove and she forces back the desire to blink her aching eyes, to move them and forces herself to breathe. She will not fail. She cannot. Her need though breaks through as they shift to the other, it is too much all at once. Far too much.<br />
<br />
The power when it flows from her is unexpected, strong and deadly. Coils of electricity, static and force shifting out to slam into those that work on her, burning skin, tearing flesh and throwing them out across the room. Their lives already ended before they hit the floor, they had not even had chance to scream. The power rocks through where she is bound, burning and frying through them until she is free. It is just an instant, a flare of unknown power by her need to survive, but it is one of those moments you can never take back. <br />
<br />
With barely a tremor she rises, looking over the bodies with shock she can't contain before raising her hands and looking at them with confusion, as the itching continues to crawl over them, but she knows what it is now. So unusual is it all to her that she forgets her fear for an instant. Then it returns to hard it nearly floors her, yet still he remains silent. A minute passes, then another before another enters. She recognises them immediately, 35, the bottom of her class and he stares at her in all too obvious confusion as his eyes dart quickly to the dead bodies and back to her.<br />
<br />
"Twenty three, repeat your demonstration." his cold voice says softly. <br />
<br />
It is almost with relief she stands, her one worked on eye aching, and leaving trails of blood down her cheek. She focuses on that itch as she walks, able to hate 35 for simply existing as she sees the fear in his eyes and the way he looked so pitiful and confused. The itch grows, flaring into pain down her arms and across her back and instinctively she raises her hand and lets it go. The power of the bolt stuns her and she stumbles back, but her aim was more than true, the arc of electricity catching him full in the chest and she sees the moment the lightening passes his eyes and snuffs him out. She almost manages a smile.<br />
<br />
"Congratulations Twenty three.You have passed the test."<br />
<br />
She does smile then, the voice is still as ever but she does not care. She has taken another step into not failing him as she had that night so long ago. Taken another step away from being a failure.<br />
<br />
They come for her again the following night, new faces but with the same desires. This time she controls herself, mind focused on the power she has found, a power that is all hers. A possession in that dark place.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Electra</div>==<br />
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If she was driven before now she becomes an inferno for becoming better, doing all that is demanded of her not because she fears but because she desire it. Driven to it, to explore her powers in any way he will give her, mind allowed to revel in thinking up her own ways to grow. Tentative suggestions barely whispered, growing into louder thoughts as she proves each one as the years pass. Her requests are rare, and not without great thought. <br />
<br />
She grows fast into herself, and her promise is perhaps her worst undoing. For when she steps out at last into the world, still very collared by the organisation that raised her, she is sheltered under the wing of the man that nearly breaks her. The one that could reach her in her hiding places where not even he could reach. Waveform, a Raven of high calibre, rated high on their lists a man of great standing but also twisted by the training he had undergone at their hands. Though he had grown into it like a sickly flower. <br />
<br />
23 made the most ideal candidate for him, perfect in every way as she fit his obsession, his driving force. For Waveform always loved technology and gadgets. She was both. There are no words to describe the tortures he inflicted upon that mind as he sought to work her out, his superior abilities through experience and not through training meant she was helpless against him, fear of <i>his</i> reaction if she killed this Raven held her back from unleashing her trained powers. No mind should ever be defiled in such a way, even if it is only the electronic shadow of your own. She became his toy. <br />
<br />
Though, she was defined by her desire to live.<br />
<br />
It did not take long for this desire to save her once again. <br />
<br />
So yet again she made a request of <i>him</i> a request that perhaps amused him because he granted it. A request to undertake the same dangerous mission as her mentor, her tormentor, not alongside but as a rival. A gamble for her existence and she took it. It is almost certain that Waveform never knew what hit him when the first electrically charged metal whip closed around his neck in that place, just as it is certain that he walked away from there. Though in the dark of that place, filled with enemies she showed why no man would ever be able to touch her like that again. <br />
<br />
Though her lifelong battle with her erstwhile mentor was just beginning. Her rise in the arena as Electra to be marked by her final end in continuous stalemates and position changes with him. An endless shadow in her strange, almost contented existence as <i>his</i> grip on her seemed to lessen. A numb never ceasing existence defined by mission after mission hidden in a world she couldn't ever truly stand in. Never free, but perhaps safe.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">A Flash of Red and Blue</div>==<br />
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[[File:CrimsonAzure2.png|400px|centre]]<br />
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Two other warriors changed that though. A rogue raven and her technopathic lover brought together in equally strange and impossible circumstances. Real life never played out like any those in the nest were brought up to expect. The two finding solace with each other and allowing Lana the one thing the leader of the nest would never allow. Love. <br />
<br />
Caught up in attempting to understand the emotion that would have driven Lana to seek freedom with Sam, she slips from her steady course drawn towards them as any lost wanderer to a warm fire. The burning Light of [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Samantha_Winters <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Samantha Winters''' </span>]and [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=16 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Lana Nielson''' </span>] as they worked together was too haunting to be ignored. A view into a world she had never truly seen before. How could she let him destroy that? No matter how dangerous she knew it to be, she hesitated. For a time she could not decide between the safety she had serving him, and the choice to let those two continue on.<br />
<br />
The hesitation cost her all she had. <br />
<br />
As she watched the explosion of that suit in the air, watched the battle from afar as he sent another RAVEN after them and that RAVEN lost, she knew. She knew the decision had been taken from her hands. He had decided her fate, she had failed him. She was finished. In that moment she forgets herself and her years of work, she forgets his reach. With despair she watches the other Raven arrive to fight them, to fight them in her stead, her mission and she knows her fate. Marked for death. No other options, no other choices. She marched towards that bright fire like a moth to a flame and seeks the end.<br />
<br />
Life is never that simple though. <br />
<br />
The sudden desired end never arrived and that enthralling flame saved her, given the chance of life by those she had been ordered to kill. Samantha diving into her mind to save her from herself and give her that cruel drug of hope. As is her way she cannot help but take it, and Nicky is born out of it all, stripping away all that remained of 23. Born out of pain and grief and the hope for a life. A new desire, a choice for freedom, in this cruel twisting story. Though this was, despite the horror it brought, the first few moments of freedom.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">The Birth of QUEEN</div>==<br />
<br />
The touch of a Technopath into Nicky's mind could only have been possible with the computer ingrained into that mind, and such a pressure and application of force is never without consequence. Touched by life and impressed with the needs of freedom, justice and choosing for yourself, thoughts and ideals sent through it's circuitry in an attempt to reach twenty three all left an imprint in that computer. Quietly in the dark of Nicky's mind she awoke to the world, a sudden shift from an efficient computer with the pretense of life to a true being. <br />
<br />
So QUEEN was born.<br />
<br />
A surprise to everyone, even Nicky, this new presence has already sought to help those that helped create her. Offering aid to Sam and feeling a deep affinity with Nicky. What she will become no-one knows, a true unknown thrust into a near impossible situation. <br />
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-Nicky,- QUEEN says softly after a couple hours of tense silence. QUEEN had let Nicky have the privacy that was much needed after that touch from Sam, yet she could hold back no longer. There was only silence to her call though, the woman dropping another piece back into her suit, the change almost complete. Nicky could not have made it clearer how much she was choosing to jump into that dark.<br />
<br />
-Nicky.- She tries again at last and this time she is successful.<br />
<br />
"What?" The word that resounds in their joint headspace is cold, stilted and filled with potent embarrassment QUEEN realises. All QUEEN's processing tells her quite clearly just how strong Nicky had been to simply stand there passive rather than lash out at any that would touch her in such a way. More control than most would have had certainly.<br />
<br />
-You are not weak to have emotions.- QUEEN comments, testing the waters, unsure entirely how to negotiate such emotional turmoil now she has the barest understanding of it.<br />
<br />
"I appeared weak to them because he haunts me still." Nicky whispers, admitting the truth in the only place she can. The only place she could never be heard by the world and just by the one she trusts. Her one sanctum that even he had not quite managed to break through into.<br />
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-He tortured you,- QUEEN says bluntly, -tortured us. He was far worse than our old master ever was. He ripped my programming apart just to see how I worked and used my connections to get to you. Your reaction was not about strength or weakness, just another piece of our past. A reaction to his rape of our joint mind...-<br />
<br />
Nicky physically jumps back at that dropping the part in her hands with a clang. Unwilling to accept the words used but she knows it is true, it cannot be denied. She had been mentally raped at his hands, and that had been just the start. <br />
<br />
He had attempted to add programming that would have given him control of Nicky entire and for a time it had nearly worked. He had acted so subtly she barely noticed the change; the orders given by a mentor were to be naturally obeyed, what would have felt wrong? If not for the natural self-protective instincts built into the computer which had become QUEEN he would have succeeded in taking her over as nothing more but a puppet. <br />
<br />
It hadn't been till later they had learnt to keep him out, the computer and the human finally gelling together against a joint enemy. The false experiences he had planted, false memories, had taken far longer to excise, each memory a terrible level of pain and anguish. Knowing it wasn’t real didn’t stop her from feeling each burst of agony, burst of despair as if it were. QUEEN was right; she had been tortured for months, almost a year by him. She wished he was dead again and the anger quelled her fears. With a harsh cry of rage she surges forward and sweeps all the equipment from the table, slamming it onto the floor.<br />
<br />
“I want to kill him, why can’t I kill him?” she screams loud into the cavern, “I want him dead. Yet every time he lives!”<br />
<br />
-We will one day,- QUEEN says softly, -One day he will burn completely.-<br />
<br />
Nicky nods once, hands gripping the table as she stares at the surface. She had not been totally without revenge she knew, though she yearned for that moment, even more so since Sam had now reminded her of that time twice.<br />
<br />
“Yes we will,” she nods again, her voice that firm tone of power that so defined her, before finally adding, “You were not wrong to help Sam.”<br />
<br />
-I am glad you think so, I would not have done it, had you not agreed.- QUEEN says softly, -But I feel we must find a way for me to communicate so I no longer subject you to such a confrontation with your past. Our past.-<br />
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“What do you suggest?” Nicky questions, a frown of curiosity furrowing her brow as she thinks over what QUEEN could ever possibly want.<br />
<br />
-I would like to request we cannibalise the vocal unit from the remains of your last suit.- QUEEN asks, her tone almost nervous.<br />
<br />
“You want a voice.” Nicky qualifies simply; rather shocked by the idea, QUEEN had never been this gregarious before.<br />
<br />
-After what happened earlier, it seemed prudent,- QUEEN intones, before adding, -And, I would wish to talk to our friends without an interpreter. I would disturb you less.-<br />
<br />
Nicky goes silent a moment, sinking deep into her thoughts, wondering if QUEEN had taken the comments from her all too literally; Nicky knew her humour had always been poor. Would a computer, albeit a sentient one, understand hers? She sighs, leaning on the table a little.<br />
<br />
“I agree.” Nicky says at last, speaking the words aloud so much does she agree with that. Even with the strange ache of sharing QUEEN a little more with the world. “You are yourself, you need to speak for yourself too. I will not trap you.”<br />
<br />
-You could never trap me Nicky,- QUEEN whispers, and Nicky is gifted with the image of QUEEN’s sense of growing self and how similar she looks to herself, -We are one, no matter what happens. I would never wish to be free of you, you are my home.-<br />
<br />
Nicky feels strangely touched by the words and the image, silently moving to make what QUEEN has requested. No more words pass between them, simply an awareness of a duality that had grown since their imprisonment with Waveform. They moved as one, almost, through the creation of the device, their joint task allowing for easier passing of data between them as Nicky’s hands move over the circuit and eventually the piece has been completed.<br />
<br />
“Will this suit?” Nicky whispers at last, unwilling to fracture the strange peace. She lifts the small almost necklace like structure and ties it around her neck, a prototype to be sure, she knows they will be unable to avoid adding more if it works.<br />
<br />
-We can but try,- QUEEN replies, almost intense anticipation.<br />
<br />
“Then try.” Nicky grins, realising QUEEN must be almost nervous to test their created device.<br />
<br />
“I am QUEEN.” QUEEN manages at last, the necklace emitting a synthetic female voice that resonates with a similar power to Nicky’s, and Nicky cannot help but laugh a little in happiness. <br />
<br />
“Does it suit you?” Nicky asks, still smiling as QUEEN’s surge of happiness makes her eyes glow brightly, her vision almost tinged with a golden hue.<br />
<br />
“Oh indeed, and what shall we achieve together.” QUEEN comments, and there is the unmistakable feeling of a wicked grin.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Moving Forward</div>==<br />
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[[File:Abyss Pose.jpg|250px|centre]]<br />
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Time has moved on. Enemies fallen and the dead counted. Yet still the fight remains. The past haunts Nicky still, memories of a foe once so much smaller than the master that could so easily have ended her life. Perhaps free for the first time in her life she fights to keep it, tasting now the true sense of fear that it could all too easily be lost. <br />
<br />
For Waveform remains. <br />
<br />
It is a hunt where only one will survive. Nicky will need to find friends if she is to survive the assault, and perhaps come to know what it is to have any that are not forced upon her. It will be a hard lesson, but it may just be all that stands between her and death.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Becoming the Hero</div>==<br />
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[[File:Abyss in MC.jpg|800px|centre]]<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Opinions</div>==<br />
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To be completed.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Tropes</div>==<br />
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To be completed.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Themes</div>==<br />
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| artist = Jon Licht and Daniel Licht<br />
| track = Honor for All<br />
| tracklink = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFQwn6M1RMc<br />
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[[Category:Character]]<br />
[[Category:Female]]<br />
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[[Category:Electricity]]<br />
[[Category:Mercenary]]</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Nicky_WraithNicky Wraith2016-02-09T00:57:40Z<p>Seth: </p>
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| bg4 = #FFFFFF<br />
| border = #000000<br />
| cell1 = #C0C0C0<br />
| cell2 = #736F6E<br />
| name = Nicky Wraith<br />
| player = Dragonrider4000<br />
| image = Nicky Wraith Portrait.jpg<br />
| caption = Nicky Today<br />
| class_focus = Tank<br />
| level = 40<br />
| research = Science <br />
| realname = REDACTED<br />
| alias = Abyss<br />
| gender = Female<br />
| species = Human<br />
| ethnicity = Caucasian<br />
| birthplace = USA<br />
| operations = Earth<br />
| relatives = REDACTED<br />
| age = 26<br />
| height = 6' 4"<br />
| weight = 180lbs<br />
| eyes = Blue<br />
| hair = Black Dyed<br />
| complexion = Caucasian <br />
| build = Variable<br />
| features = Her eyes have a golden hue.<br />
| alignment = 4<br />
| reputation = 2<br />
| identity = Ghost like<br />
| years_active = REDACTED<br />
| citizenship = None <br />
| occupation = Mercenary<br />
| education = Extensive<br />
| marital = Single<br />
| powers = Electricity is only the beginning.<br />
| paraphernalia = QUEEN<br />
| strength = 6<br />
| endurance = 9<br />
| agility = 8<br />
| speed = 7<br />
| fighting = 8<br />
| projectiles = 9<br />
| durability = 7<br />
| resistance = 6<br />
| intelligence = 8<br />
| psyche = 3<br />
| intuition = 6<br />
| charisma = 4<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Name Plate.png|600px|centre]]<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">First Breath </div>==<br />
<br />
Few memories ever survive from those early years of tottering feet, tears and trials. An image, a voice, a smell; a brief flash of memory that can stay rooted in your soul held precious because it is the first you claim. Our memories shape us and define who we become. It could be anything or anyone.<br />
<br />
For Nicky it was the sky.<br />
<br />
An all-encompassing expanse of blue sky that filled her world and her young, so young heart. A bright shining moment that showed her the beauty in the world, and the freedom it could bring far before she could ever understand it, or the bars that blocked the way.<br />
<br />
Nicky was born to be an orphan, abandoned by her parents and left at an orphanage that could never be called reputable, let alone respectable. Thrown out into the world with an orphanage supplied name and nothing to hold to it beyond the sky. A nobody. Yet a nobody was what was required. Though the orphanage may have promised more of a sedate life than the place she ended up. <br />
<br />
For it was not long after she turned two that –he- found her. Chose her. She was subsumed into the RAVEN training programme and became 23. In time that view of blue would come to haunt her darkest days, a shining example of all she could not have.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Lab Rat </div>==<br />
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What is it to live your life as a number? Too many have experienced it in this world, the horror, the confinement and yet so few understand it. 23 does, any like her do. Perhaps 23 is one of the few who truly understand where those depths lie. She was not destined for the life she fought for, not when she first drew breath. She was destined to be nothing more than a science experiment. A curiosity. A trial. <br />
<br />
How the organisation ever came across the technology is unknown. Even today it is quite rare. A supercomputer neural interface prototype, designed for use by the richest and the most powerful as a hidden aid. The first was just a curiosity, but its computing power and ability to be concealed as a fine tracery inside the body itself while the heart resided in the brain gave it quite the advantage. The only drawback was the potential damage it would do to an adult mind, indeed the few attempts made by its creator resulted in permanent brain damage, the worst complete catatonia. <br />
<br />
Yet 23 was a child, with a more resilient mind and still growing and binding neural pathways. A child would certainly be more resistant to the rigours of the procedure, and with her they had all the time in the world. They could prolong it as much as they desired. She was taken from the blue sky into the depths and so the experiment began.<br />
<br />
Forced to learn during the day to keep her mind stimulated and growing, and subjected to their evils in the evening she slowly began to slip into darkness step by aching step. Never alone with <i>his</i> presence, even the sanctuary of her mind was breached as the computer they installed grew deeper, connections set into the still developing reaches of her mind, micron by painful micron. <br />
<br />
Years passed in that never ending torment, surrounded by those she could not trust, those that could not or would not provide her with comfort. Trapped in the artificial construct of what she was later to realise was RAVEN'S NEST she sank further into the creations of her mind. A cruel existence for it could not be called life. A terrible way for any. What would you do, if you were given the choice to run?<br />
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The cold of the bed is like iron, each movement is agony, to breathe is painful, but yet she labours on. There in the darkness of her cell she breathes and by inches forgets that she was ever truly alive. Only for the visceral beat of her heart confirms her existence. She wished for no hope, she wished for no taste of freedom. Yet still so sweetly, so painfully it was given. <br />
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She hears the door slide open and tenses where she lays; they had come for her again. There was no speech, she was simply shaken gruffly on the shoulder and she rose to her feet. She is no more than eight, though her body is frail, clad in simple grey trousers and shirt; unable to stop a slight tremor as she stands before them.<br />
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"He normally wakes me before you arrive," she asks, hiding the fear with questions. The hand that covers her mouth is shocking but she does not cry out, she is long past that response. She stares at the woman in front of her, for it is a woman, she is close enough to tell that now. One of the newest nurses to have been brought in to aid her torment, indeed the tools of her trade still gleam in her pocket.<br />
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"I'm Nicky, I'm here to save you," the woman breathes into her ear and how sweet that torture is, how those words infected her. She can barely swallow as that sickly hope passes through her, an opiate of happiness she can almost not bear and she feels faint. She doesn't resist as she is pulled by the hand out into the dark corridor, the metal achingly cold to hear bare feet, but she hardly feels it. Doesn't care. <br />
<br />
They race along that maze of corridors, running from nothing, no sound behind them only the spots of red in that small child's vision. The brief flashes perhaps of the exhaustion she is feeling. At last they reach a door and the vice like grip on her hand is loosened as her saviour works the lock, it budges but just a little. They must crawl.<br />
<br />
"I'll check it's clear," the woman whispers and slides beneath the door, a moment later her hands appear and the girl allows herself to be pulled through. She blinks a little, staring around at somewhere she has never been before, but then she notices what the lady hasn't.<br />
<br />
She presses back against the door, terror gripping her a squeak at her feet only making the bile rise as she realises they are but rats in a maze. With a shaking hand she does the only thing she can think of in that breathless moment, withdrawing the syringe poking from Nicky's pocket removing the greatest symbol of the daily pain she feels, to make it her own. <br />
<br />
"There has to be a way out." The lady mutters, sounding annoyed as she inspects a crudely drawn map held tight in her hand. "I was sure..."<br />
<br />
A moment later the lights slam on in that all-consuming presence of artificial light, and she knows he is here. Her shivers match the feeling of the door sliding down at her back, trapping her there.<br />
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"You are in a restricted area Ms Burrows." <br />
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The voice is calm, as always devoid of anything but then, it is him. The girl swallows; she understands their peril and wonders why Ms Burrows does not. How can anyone stand there looking defiant? Against him such is impossible. She is one of the lost ones. She will not be with her classmates tomorrow she knows.<br />
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"You cannot expect to get away with this, I will not condone torture." Ms Burrows responds, her tone harsh with fear or anger the girl cannot tell, "I will not let you keep her."<br />
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"Twenty-three," he says no longer apparently concerning himself with the woman, "this is your test."<br />
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She freezes, her body matching the feel of ice that had already gripped her. With sudden sickly calm she realises she has one chance. Her breathing quickens and her pulse is loud in her ears, she is so young, yet she knows the stakes.<br />
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"What do you mean?" Ms Burrows says suspiciously turning to look at her, and for a moment Twenty three is lost in the blue of those eyes, a flash of barely remembered sky in her mind and in that moment she hates her. Hates her for the hope. It is enough.<br />
<br />
No one expects what happens from a child.<br />
<br />
She steps towards the nurse, moving as if to embrace her but the needle's aim is swift and true. In shock the nurse staggers back, pulling the syringe from her arm, but it is too late.<br />
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"A syringe is never empty," the girl says in a low monotone, staring up at the nurse through her long fringe, "bubbles in the blood break the flow. I learnt that in biology." <br />
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The syringe clatters to the floor as the nurse drops to her knees staring at the girl with shocked eyes, almost begging her. Yet for what the child doesn’t know it is too late, far too late. Ms Nicky Burrows does not say a word as she slumps to the side, already quite dead; the air lock in her veins had done its job quite nicely.<br />
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For an age the girl is left there, staring at the body in the light of the room, almost unseeing but oh she sees. She doesn't look away though, doesn't scream and doesn't cry. Her heart beats on, that is her only safety, her proof of life. At last she looks up, looking for him, for that gleaming camera, that sense of presence.<br />
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"What next?" She asks voice cold and dead, turning her chin up a little trying to hide her fear. Then she cannot help but look down at the corpse again but her voice remains the same, "Who next?"<br />
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"Congratulations twenty three, you have passed the test." His monotone voice calls and the door behind her screeches up. "Return to your room."<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Rat to Raven</div>==<br />
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Returning from the precipice of death into the cold tomb of her cell was a turning point in her existence, if such could be called a blessing it perhaps was. A dark deed that set her on course for the one chance she would ever truly have at the opium of freedom. With the act of killing the nurse she showed she still wished to live, realised in herself that she still had the desire despite everything they had done to her. <br />
<br />
A revelation that could have drove her mad it instead drove her on. <br />
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With an almost ferocious intent she threw herself into her classes, her focus sharpening to a great extent and, at last, as she stopped fighting it the computer they had forced into her mind began to work to her advantage. She poured her learning into that device as system after system slowly activated, using it to push herself further and further away from the death she had come all too close to receiving, to proving she was not a waste of space, a failure. What else could you choose when death was the only other option? <br />
<br />
For a time she lived in this focused driving of thought, letting them continue their cruel torments that through her perseverance became more and more infrequent as her mind accepted the computer into itself. Until, finally, she was just another RAVEN in his clutches. Another bird in a cage. Though life still had one more painful trick to play on our young 23, not yet a teenager.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Eye of the Storm</div>== <br />
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She knew she was nearing the end of her treatments, nearing the end of her time as an experiment. She knew it. They were coming for her with less and less consistency and each time. She still felt that sense of dread though that tinged on fear. Had she done enough to survive? Was nearly being the top of her strange class of other captured children be enough? That, she did not know. So she waits, sat as before in a larger but identical grey top and trousers. Waiting for them to come for her, eyes staring vacantly at the wall opposite in the dark of her room and she forces back the wince as the lights flare on. Always so bright.<br />
<br />
"Make your way to the test chamber." His voice resounds as emotionless as her mind replays to her in her dreams. <br />
<br />
Even as she rises she is frowning a little, to be summoned can only mean they have something large in mind. That, or he simply knew she wouldn't refuse, though when had she ever had that choice? Never. In her usual silence she follows the lights that guide her through the maze of the complex, her eyes fixed straight ahead, not focusing on any details but the lights. Letting them lead her ever onwards.<br />
<br />
"Enter." he intones as she nears a door and she complies. <br />
<br />
23 doesn't cry out as they strap her down into the chair almost on her back. Never flinches as they fix her eyes open. Simply stares up at the ceiling, reeling off maths in her head, figures, dates. Anything to block out her presence, and the itching in her skin that flares every time she is worked on these days. She forces her thoughts of every reason why they would want her eyes open, she doesn't want to know and the truth will not let her escape anyway. The local anaesthetic is cold comfort at the fact she can still see and she takes a sudden breath in before forcing back any sound. She will not fail,she will keep her heart beating. The itching flares at this, almost as though her skin were crawling, seeking to leave her to her fate and she swallows down her rising emotions.<br />
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Her attempt at control was almost enough to stop the flicker of fear in her as the scalpel descends to work along her eye, almost. Not a word has been spoken between her or those that work on her, and she is glad for it as panic sticks her in the chair. Skin aching along with each incision she is forced to watch as though it reaches to her heart. She hates them, hates them all and fears them too. <br />
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It feels like an age to her panicked mind but it is the work of mere moments for them to add <i>something</i> to her eye. Another part that 23 will never be able to remove and she forces back the desire to blink her aching eyes, to move them and forces herself to breathe. She will not fail. She cannot. Her need though breaks through as they shift to the other, it is too much all at once. Far too much.<br />
<br />
The power when it flows from her is unexpected, strong and deadly. Coils of electricity, static and force shifting out to slam into those that work on her, burning skin, tearing flesh and throwing them out across the room. Their lives already ended before they hit the floor, they had not even had chance to scream. The power rocks through where she is bound, burning and frying through them until she is free. It is just an instant, a flare of unknown power by her need to survive, but it is one of those moments you can never take back. <br />
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With barely a tremor she rises, looking over the bodies with shock she can't contain before raising her hands and looking at them with confusion, as the itching continues to crawl over them, but she knows what it is now. So unusual is it all to her that she forgets her fear for an instant. Then it returns to hard it nearly floors her, yet still he remains silent. A minute passes, then another before another enters. She recognises them immediately, 35, the bottom of her class and he stares at her in all too obvious confusion as his eyes dart quickly to the dead bodies and back to her.<br />
<br />
"Twenty three, repeat your demonstration." his cold voice says softly. <br />
<br />
It is almost with relief she stands, her one worked on eye aching, and leaving trails of blood down her cheek. She focuses on that itch as she walks, able to hate 35 for simply existing as she sees the fear in his eyes and the way he looked so pitiful and confused. The itch grows, flaring into pain down her arms and across her back and instinctively she raises her hand and lets it go. The power of the bolt stuns her and she stumbles back, but her aim was more than true, the arc of electricity catching him full in the chest and she sees the moment the lightening passes his eyes and snuffs him out. She almost manages a smile.<br />
<br />
"Congratulations Twenty three.You have passed the test."<br />
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She does smile then, the voice is still as ever but she does not care. She has taken another step into not failing him as she had that night so long ago. Taken another step away from being a failure.<br />
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They come for her again the following night, new faces but with the same desires. This time she controls herself, mind focused on the power she has found, a power that is all hers. A possession in that dark place.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Electra</div>==<br />
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[[File:Electra Abyss.jpg|300px|centre]]<br />
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If she was driven before now she becomes an inferno for becoming better, doing all that is demanded of her not because she fears but because she desire it. Driven to it, to explore her powers in any way he will give her, mind allowed to revel in thinking up her own ways to grow. Tentative suggestions barely whispered, growing into louder thoughts as she proves each one as the years pass. Her requests are rare, and not without great thought. <br />
<br />
She grows fast into herself, and her promise is perhaps her worst undoing. For when she steps out at last into the world, still very collared by the organisation that raised her, she is sheltered under the wing of the man that nearly breaks her. The one that could reach her in her hiding places where not even he could reach. Waveform, a Raven of high calibre, rated high on their lists a man of great standing but also twisted by the training he had undergone at their hands. Though he had grown into it like a sickly flower. <br />
<br />
23 made the most ideal candidate for him, perfect in every way as she fit his obsession, his driving force. For Waveform always loved technology and gadgets. She was both. There are no words to describe the tortures he inflicted upon that mind as he sought to work her out, his superior abilities through experience and not through training meant she was helpless against him, fear of <i>his</i> reaction if she killed this Raven held her back from unleashing her trained powers. No mind should ever be defiled in such a way, even if it is only the electronic shadow of your own. She became his toy. <br />
<br />
Though, she was defined by her desire to live.<br />
<br />
It did not take long for this desire to save her once again. <br />
<br />
So yet again she made a request of <i>him</i> a request that perhaps amused him because he granted it. A request to undertake the same dangerous mission as her mentor, her tormentor, not alongside but as a rival. A gamble for her existence and she took it. It is almost certain that Waveform never knew what hit him when the first electrically charged metal whip closed around his neck in that place, just as it is certain that he walked away from there. Though in the dark of that place, filled with enemies she showed why no man would ever be able to touch her like that again. <br />
<br />
Though her lifelong battle with her erstwhile mentor was just beginning. Her rise in the arena as Electra to be marked by her final end in continuous stalemates and position changes with him. An endless shadow in her strange, almost contented existence as <i>his</i> grip on her seemed to lessen. A numb never ceasing existence defined by mission after mission hidden in a world she couldn't ever truly stand in. Never free, but perhaps safe.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">A Flash of Red and Blue</div>==<br />
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[[File:CrimsonAzure2.png|400px|centre]]<br />
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Two other warriors changed that though. A rogue raven and her technopathic lover brought together in equally strange and impossible circumstances. Real life never played out like any those in the nest were brought up to expect. The two finding solace with each other and allowing Lana the one thing the leader of the nest would never allow. Love. <br />
<br />
Caught up in attempting to understand the emotion that would have driven Lana to seek freedom with Sam, she slips from her steady course drawn towards them as any lost wanderer to a warm fire. The burning Light of [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Samantha_Winters <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Samantha Winters''' </span>]and [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=16 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Lana Nielson''' </span>] as they worked together was too haunting to be ignored. A view into a world she had never truly seen before. How could she let him destroy that? No matter how dangerous she knew it to be, she hesitated. For a time she could not decide between the safety she had serving him, and the choice to let those two continue on.<br />
<br />
The hesitation cost her all she had. <br />
<br />
As she watched the explosion of that suit in the air, watched the battle from afar as he sent another RAVEN after them and that RAVEN lost, she knew. She knew the decision had been taken from her hands. He had decided her fate, she had failed him. She was finished. In that moment she forgets herself and her years of work, she forgets his reach. With despair she watches the other Raven arrive to fight them, to fight them in her stead, her mission and she knows her fate. Marked for death. No other options, no other choices. She marched towards that bright fire like a moth to a flame and seeks the end.<br />
<br />
Life is never that simple though. <br />
<br />
The sudden desired end never arrived and that enthralling flame saved her, given the chance of life by those she had been ordered to kill. Samantha diving into her mind to save her from herself and give her that cruel drug of hope. As is her way she cannot help but take it, and Nicky is born out of it all, stripping away all that remained of 23. Born out of pain and grief and the hope for a life. A new desire, a choice for freedom, in this cruel twisting story. Though this was, despite the horror it brought, the first few moments of freedom.<br />
<br />
== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">The Birth of QUEEN</div>==<br />
<br />
The touch of a Technopath into Nicky's mind could only have been possible with the computer ingrained into that mind, and such a pressure and application of force is never without consequence. Touched by life and impressed with the needs of freedom, justice and choosing for yourself, thoughts and ideals sent through it's circuitry in an attempt to reach twenty three all left an imprint in that computer. Quietly in the dark of Nicky's mind she awoke to the world, a sudden shift from an efficient computer with the pretense of life to a true being. <br />
<br />
So QUEEN was born.<br />
<br />
A surprise to everyone, even Nicky, this new presence has already sought to help those that helped create her. Offering aid to Sam and feeling a deep affinity with Nicky. What she will become no-one knows, a true unknown thrust into a near impossible situation. <br />
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-Nicky,- QUEEN says softly after a couple hours of tense silence. QUEEN had let Nicky have the privacy that was much needed after that touch from Sam, yet she could hold back no longer. There was only silence to her call though, the woman dropping another piece back into her suit, the change almost complete. Nicky could not have made it clearer how much she was choosing to jump into that dark.<br />
<br />
-Nicky.- She tries again at last and this time she is successful.<br />
<br />
"What?" The word that resounds in their joint headspace is cold, stilted and filled with potent embarrassment QUEEN realises. All QUEEN's processing tells her quite clearly just how strong Nicky had been to simply stand there passive rather than lash out at any that would touch her in such a way. More control than most would have had certainly.<br />
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-You are not weak to have emotions.- QUEEN comments, testing the waters, unsure entirely how to negotiate such emotional turmoil now she has the barest understanding of it.<br />
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"I appeared weak to them because he haunts me still." Nicky whispers, admitting the truth in the only place she can. The only place she could never be heard by the world and just by the one she trusts. Her one sanctum that even he had not quite managed to break through into.<br />
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-He tortured you,- QUEEN says bluntly, -tortured us. He was far worse than our old master ever was. He ripped my programming apart just to see how I worked and used my connections to get to you. Your reaction was not about strength or weakness, just another piece of our past. A reaction to his rape of our joint mind...-<br />
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Nicky physically jumps back at that dropping the part in her hands with a clang. Unwilling to accept the words used but she knows it is true, it cannot be denied. She had been mentally raped at his hands, and that had been just the start. <br />
<br />
He had attempted to add programming that would have given him control of Nicky entire and for a time it had nearly worked. He had acted so subtly she barely noticed the change; the orders given by a mentor were to be naturally obeyed, what would have felt wrong? If not for the natural self-protective instincts built into the computer which had become QUEEN he would have succeeded in taking her over as nothing more but a puppet. <br />
<br />
It hadn't been till later they had learnt to keep him out, the computer and the human finally gelling together against a joint enemy. The false experiences he had planted, false memories, had taken far longer to excise, each memory a terrible level of pain and anguish. Knowing it wasn’t real didn’t stop her from feeling each burst of agony, burst of despair as if it were. QUEEN was right; she had been tortured for months, almost a year by him. She wished he was dead again and the anger quelled her fears. With a harsh cry of rage she surges forward and sweeps all the equipment from the table, slamming it onto the floor.<br />
<br />
“I want to kill him, why can’t I kill him?” she screams loud into the cavern, “I want him dead. Yet every time he lives!”<br />
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-We will one day,- QUEEN says softly, -One day he will burn completely.-<br />
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Nicky nods once, hands gripping the table as she stares at the surface. She had not been totally without revenge she knew, though she yearned for that moment, even more so since Sam had now reminded her of that time twice.<br />
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“Yes we will,” she nods again, her voice that firm tone of power that so defined her, before finally adding, “You were not wrong to help Sam.”<br />
<br />
-I am glad you think so, I would not have done it, had you not agreed.- QUEEN says softly, -But I feel we must find a way for me to communicate so I no longer subject you to such a confrontation with your past. Our past.-<br />
<br />
“What do you suggest?” Nicky questions, a frown of curiosity furrowing her brow as she thinks over what QUEEN could ever possibly want.<br />
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-I would like to request we cannibalise the vocal unit from the remains of your last suit.- QUEEN asks, her tone almost nervous.<br />
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“You want a voice.” Nicky qualifies simply; rather shocked by the idea, QUEEN had never been this gregarious before.<br />
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-After what happened earlier, it seemed prudent,- QUEEN intones, before adding, -And, I would wish to talk to our friends without an interpreter. I would disturb you less.-<br />
<br />
Nicky goes silent a moment, sinking deep into her thoughts, wondering if QUEEN had taken the comments from her all too literally; Nicky knew her humour had always been poor. Would a computer, albeit a sentient one, understand hers? She sighs, leaning on the table a little.<br />
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“I agree.” Nicky says at last, speaking the words aloud so much does she agree with that. Even with the strange ache of sharing QUEEN a little more with the world. “You are yourself, you need to speak for yourself too. I will not trap you.”<br />
<br />
-You could never trap me Nicky,- QUEEN whispers, and Nicky is gifted with the image of QUEEN’s sense of growing self and how similar she looks to herself, -We are one, no matter what happens. I would never wish to be free of you, you are my home.-<br />
<br />
Nicky feels strangely touched by the words and the image, silently moving to make what QUEEN has requested. No more words pass between them, simply an awareness of a duality that had grown since their imprisonment with Waveform. They moved as one, almost, through the creation of the device, their joint task allowing for easier passing of data between them as Nicky’s hands move over the circuit and eventually the piece has been completed.<br />
<br />
“Will this suit?” Nicky whispers at last, unwilling to fracture the strange peace. She lifts the small almost necklace like structure and ties it around her neck, a prototype to be sure, she knows they will be unable to avoid adding more if it works.<br />
<br />
-We can but try,- QUEEN replies, almost intense anticipation.<br />
<br />
“Then try.” Nicky grins, realising QUEEN must be almost nervous to test their created device.<br />
<br />
“I am QUEEN.” QUEEN manages at last, the necklace emitting a synthetic female voice that resonates with a similar power to Nicky’s, and Nicky cannot help but laugh a little in happiness. <br />
<br />
“Does it suit you?” Nicky asks, still smiling as QUEEN’s surge of happiness makes her eyes glow brightly, her vision almost tinged with a golden hue.<br />
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“Oh indeed, and what shall we achieve together.” QUEEN comments, and there is the unmistakable feeling of a wicked grin.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Moving Forward</div>==<br />
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[[File:Abyss Pose.jpg|250px|centre]]<br />
</div><br />
Time has moved on. Enemies fallen and the dead counted. Yet still the fight remains. The past haunts Nicky still, memories of a foe once so much smaller than the master that could so easily have ended her life. Perhaps free for the first time in her life she fights to keep it, tasting now the true sense of fear that it could all too easily be lost. <br />
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For Waveform remains. <br />
<br />
It is a hunt where only one will survive. Nicky will need to find friends if she is to survive the assault, and perhaps come to know what it is to have any that are not forced upon her. It will be a hard lesson, but it may just be all that stands between her and death.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Becoming the Hero</div>==<br />
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[[File:Abyss in MC.jpg|800px|centre]]<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Opinions</div>==<br />
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To be completed.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Tropes</div>==<br />
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To be completed.<br />
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== '''''<div style="color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000">Themes</div>==<br />
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<div style="width: 1000px;"><br />
{{LiathTheme<br />
| artist = Jon Licht and Daniel Licht<br />
| track = Honor for All<br />
| tracklink = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFQwn6M1RMc<br />
| artistcolor = #FFFFFF<br />
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[[Category:Character]]<br />
[[Category:Female]]<br />
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[[Category:Electricity]]<br />
[[Category:Mercenary]]</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T10:35:38Z<p>Seth: </p>
<hr />
<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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{{PriceBox<br />
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|Font=Red Circle<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
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The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
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Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
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Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
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She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
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The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
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| artist = Thao Nguyen Xanh<br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
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Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
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Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
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But it all went wrong after that. <br />
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For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
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There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
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Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
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A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
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"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
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He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
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"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
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"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
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"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
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For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
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Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
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Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
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'''Inquisitor'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
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"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
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Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
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At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
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For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
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Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
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For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
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Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
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Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
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"I don't know."<br />
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"What is it for?"<br />
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"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
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"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
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"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
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"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
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Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
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Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
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"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
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"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
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The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
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The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
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All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
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However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
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Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
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Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
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Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
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Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
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Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
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As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
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One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
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At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
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"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
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"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
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"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
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"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
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"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
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"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
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"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
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It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
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So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
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Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
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All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
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This blade is always good.<br />
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Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
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Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
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A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
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She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
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'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
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<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
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<I>“Varel. To rhyme with ‘island’, I think at times. Often a woman at loss in a troubled sea; storm and thunder over head with nothing of the horizon behind the rain. Isolation comes with Pride at times, but also with fear; I think that so few take the time to understand her, that she is a cold mystery to most. The real reason I love that poor woman? She has a Heart—though it aches; she cares what happens to people even when they cannot care less for her, and callousness is just a guise for protection. Fragile things need a shell, and sometimes, these shells can have spikes. Did I over metaphor?” Asks the Golden Woman, [[Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Kahi''' </span>]], with a smirk.</I> Kahi’s opinion of Varel as of 2016.<br />
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<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.<br />
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<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=MitsukoMitsuko2016-02-07T02:42:19Z<p>Seth: </p>
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Under constuction.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T02:09:14Z<p>Seth: </p>
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<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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{{PriceBox<br />
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|Shadows=<br />
|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Inquisitor'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
<br />
There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
<br />
Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
<br />
The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
<br />
"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
<br />
"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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<br><br />
Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
<br />
For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
<br />
Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
<br />
For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
<br />
Then the running began.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
<br />
The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
<br />
Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
<br />
"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
<br />
"I don't know."<br />
<br />
"What is it for?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
<br />
"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
<br />
"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
<br />
"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
<br />
Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
<br />
"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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</div><br />
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</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
<br><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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<br><br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
<br />
However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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</div><br />
<br />
<br />
Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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<br />
The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
<br />
One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
<br />
At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
<br />
"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
<br />
"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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</div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.<br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T02:08:20Z<p>Seth: /* Beth */</p>
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<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
</div><br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
<br><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Inquisitor'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
<br />
There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
<br />
Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Magister'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
<br />
'''History'''<br />
<br />
The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
<br />
"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
<br />
"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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<br><br />
<br><br />
Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
<br />
For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
<br />
Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
<br />
For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
<br />
Then the running began.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
<br />
The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
<br />
Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
<br />
"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
<br />
"I don't know."<br />
<br />
"What is it for?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
<br />
"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
<br />
"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
<br />
"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
<br />
Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
<br />
"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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</div><br />
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<br />
This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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<br><br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
<br />
However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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</div><br />
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<br />
Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
<br />
One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
<br />
At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
<br />
"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
<br />
"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
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<br><br />
At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
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<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
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<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Beth</div>==<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I><br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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</div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.<br />
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<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T02:07:26Z<p>Seth: /* Beth */</p>
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<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
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|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
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<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
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The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
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Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
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Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
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She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
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The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
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Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
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Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
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But it all went wrong after that. <br />
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For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
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There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
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Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
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A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
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"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
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He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
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"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
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"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
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"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
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For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
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Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
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Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
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'''Inquisitor'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
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"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
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Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
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At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
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For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
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Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
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For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
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Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
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Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
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"I don't know."<br />
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"What is it for?"<br />
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"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
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"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
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"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
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"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
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Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
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Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
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"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
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"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
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The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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<br><br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
<br />
However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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</div><br />
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Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
<br />
One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
<br />
At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
<br />
"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
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"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
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<br><br />
<br><br />
At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
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<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
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<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Beth</div>==<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I><br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.<br />
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<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T02:07:13Z<p>Seth: /* Kahi */</p>
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<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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{{PriceBox<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
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<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
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The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
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Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
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Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
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She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
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The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
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Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
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Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
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But it all went wrong after that. <br />
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For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
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There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
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Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
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A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
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"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
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He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
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"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
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"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
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"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
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For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
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Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
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Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
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'''Inquisitor'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
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"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
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Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
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At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
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For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
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Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
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For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
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Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
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Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
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"I don't know."<br />
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"What is it for?"<br />
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"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
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"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
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"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
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"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
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Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
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Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
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"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
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"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
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The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
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The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
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All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
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However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
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Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br />
Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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<br />
The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
<br />
One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
<br />
At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
<br />
"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
<br />
"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
<br />
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<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
<br />
<br><br />
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<br><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
<br />
<br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Beth</div>==<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.<br />
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<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T02:06:48Z<p>Seth: /* MISC */</p>
<hr />
<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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{{PriceBox<br />
|Border=#000000<br />
|MidBorder=#800000<br />
|Background=#444444<br />
|Text=#e8e8e8<br />
|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
</div><br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
<br><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Inquisitor'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
<br />
The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
<br />
"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
<br />
"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
<br />
For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
<br />
Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
<br />
For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
<br />
Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
<br />
Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
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"I don't know."<br />
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"What is it for?"<br />
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"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
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"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
<br />
"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
<br />
"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
<br />
Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
<br />
"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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<br />
This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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<br><br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
<br />
However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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</div><br />
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<br />
Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
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One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
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At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
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"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
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"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
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"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
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At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
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She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
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'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
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Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
</div><br />
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Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
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Oh dear where to begin...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
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Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
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I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.<br />
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<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T02:06:19Z<p>Seth: </p>
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<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
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<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
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The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
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Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
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She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
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</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
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'''Inquisitor'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
<br />
"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
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"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
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For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
<br />
Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
<br />
For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
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Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
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Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
<br />
"I don't know."<br />
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"What is it for?"<br />
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"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
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"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
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"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
<br />
"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
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Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
<br />
"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
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The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
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However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
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Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
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Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
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Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
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Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
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As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
<br />
One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
<br />
At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
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"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
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"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
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"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
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"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
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<div style="position:realative; margin-right:10px; margin-bottom:10px; float:center; padding:10px; height: 80px; width:1220px; border:3px solid #000000; background:#000000; color:#ffffff; font-size:100%;-webkit-border-radius: 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px; b4order-radius: 5px;"><br />
"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
<br />
<br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br><br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T02:05:18Z<p>Seth: /* POWERS */</p>
<hr />
<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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{{PriceBox<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
</div><br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Inquisitor'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
'''History'''<br />
<br />
There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
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"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
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Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
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At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
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For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
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Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
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For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
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Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
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Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
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"I don't know."<br />
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"What is it for?"<br />
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"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
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"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
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"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
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"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
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Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
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Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
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"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
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"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
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The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
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The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
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All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
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However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
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Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
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Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
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Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
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Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
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Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
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As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
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One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
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At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
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"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
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"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
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"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
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"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
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"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
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"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
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"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
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It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
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So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
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Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
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All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
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This blade is always good.<br />
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Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
<br />
<br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T02:04:50Z<p>Seth: /* POWERS */</p>
<hr />
<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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{{PriceBox<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
</div><br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Inquisitor'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
'''History'''<br />
<br />
There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
<div style="position:absolute; left:0px;bottom:0px; width:100%; background:#990000; text-align:right;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
<br />
Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Magister'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
<br />
'''History'''<br />
<br />
The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
<br />
"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
<br />
"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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</div><br />
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<br><br />
Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
<br />
For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
<br />
Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
<br />
For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
<br />
Then the running began.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
<br />
The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
<br />
Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
<br />
"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
<br />
"I don't know."<br />
<br />
"What is it for?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
<br />
"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
<br />
"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
<br />
"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
<br />
Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
<br />
"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
<br><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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<br><br />
<br><br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
<br />
However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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</div><br />
<br />
<br />
Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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<br />
The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
<br />
One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
<br />
At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
<br />
"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
<br />
"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
<br />
<br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
</div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
<br><br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T02:01:19Z<p>Seth: /* EXILE */</p>
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<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
</div><br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
<br><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Inquisitor'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
<br />
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'''History'''<br />
<br />
There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
<br />
Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Magister'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
<br />
'''History'''<br />
<br />
The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
<br />
"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
<br />
"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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<br><br />
<br><br />
Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
<br />
For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
<br />
Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
<br />
For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
<br />
Then the running began.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
<br />
The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
<br />
Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
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"I don't know."<br />
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"What is it for?"<br />
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"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
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"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
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"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
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"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
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Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
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"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
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"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
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The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
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The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
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All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
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However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
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Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
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Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
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Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
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Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
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Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
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As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
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One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
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At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
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"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
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"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
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"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
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"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
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"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
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"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
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"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
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It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
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So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
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Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
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All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
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This blade is always good.<br />
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Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
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Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
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A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
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She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
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'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
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Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
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Oh dear where to begin...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
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Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
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I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T02:00:56Z<p>Seth: /* EXILE */</p>
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<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
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|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
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<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
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The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
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Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
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Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
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She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
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The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
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Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
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Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
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But it all went wrong after that. <br />
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For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
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There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
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Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
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A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
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"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
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He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
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"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
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"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
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"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
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For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
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Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
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Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
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'''Inquisitor'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
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"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
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Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
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At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
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For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
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Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
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For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
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Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
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Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
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"I don't know."<br />
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"What is it for?"<br />
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"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
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"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
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"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
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"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
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Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
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Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
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"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
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"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
<br />
However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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</div><br />
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<br />
Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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<br />
The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
<br />
One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
<br />
At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
<br />
"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
<br />
"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
<br />
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<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
<br />
<br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T02:00:20Z<p>Seth: /* EXILE */</p>
<hr />
<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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{{PriceBox<br />
|Border=#000000<br />
|MidBorder=#800000<br />
|Background=#444444<br />
|Text=#e8e8e8<br />
|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
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</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
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'''Inquisitor'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
<br />
"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
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"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
<br />
For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
<br />
Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
<br />
For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
<br />
Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
<br />
Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
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"I don't know."<br />
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"What is it for?"<br />
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"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
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"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
<br />
"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
<br />
"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
<br />
Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
<br />
"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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<br />
This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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<br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
<br />
However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
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Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
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Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
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As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
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One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
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At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
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"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
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"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
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"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
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"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
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"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
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"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
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At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
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A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
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She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
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'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
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<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
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Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T01:59:43Z<p>Seth: /* EXILE */</p>
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<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
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The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
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The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
<br><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Inquisitor'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
<br />
"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
<br />
"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
<br />
For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
<br />
Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
<br />
For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
<br />
Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
<br />
Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
<br />
"I don't know."<br />
<br />
"What is it for?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
<br />
"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
<br />
"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
<br />
"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
<br />
Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
<br />
"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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<br />
This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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<br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
<br />
However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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</div><br />
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<br />
Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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<br />
The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
<br />
One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
<br />
At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
<br />
"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
<br />
"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
<br />
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<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
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<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
<br />
<br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T01:55:30Z<p>Seth: /* UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS */</p>
<hr />
<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
</div><br />
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There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Inquisitor'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
<br />
Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Magister'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
<br />
'''History'''<br />
<br />
The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
<br />
"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
<br />
"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
<br />
For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
<br />
Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
<br />
For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
<br />
Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
<br />
The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
<br />
Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
<br />
"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
<br />
"I don't know."<br />
<br />
"What is it for?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
<br />
"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
<br />
"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
<br />
"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
<br />
Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
<br />
"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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</div><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
</div><br />
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</div><br />
<br />
This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
<br />
However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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</div><br />
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Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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<br />
The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
<br />
One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
<br />
At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
<br />
"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
<br />
"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
<br />
<br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T01:54:32Z<p>Seth: /* UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS */</p>
<hr />
<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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{{PriceBox<br />
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|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
<br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
</div><br />
<br />
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<br />
There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Inquisitor'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
'''History'''<br />
<br />
There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
<div style="position:absolute; left:0px;bottom:0px; width:100%; background:#990000; text-align:right;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
'''History'''<br />
<br />
Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
<div style="position:absolute; left:0px;bottom:0px; width:100%; background:#990000; text-align:right;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Magister'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
<br />
'''History'''<br />
<br />
The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
<br />
<div style="position:absolute; left:0px;bottom:0px; width:100%; background:#990000; text-align:right;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
<br />
"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
<br />
"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
<br />
For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
<br />
Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
<br />
For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
<br />
Then the running began.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
<br />
The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
<br />
Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
<br />
"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
<br />
"I don't know."<br />
<br />
"What is it for?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
<br />
"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
<br />
"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
<br />
"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
<br />
Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div><br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
<br />
"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<div style="position:absolute; left:0px;bottom:0px; width:100%; background:#800000; text-align:right;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
<br />
However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br />
Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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<br />
The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
<br />
One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
<br />
At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
<br />
"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
<br />
"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
<br />
<br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
<br><br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T01:19:03Z<p>Seth: /* LIFE IN THE CITY */</p>
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<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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{{PriceBox<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
</div><br />
<br />
There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Inquisitor'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
<br />
Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
<br />
'''History'''<br />
<br />
The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
<br />
"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
<br />
"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
<br />
For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
<br />
Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
<br />
For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
<br />
Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
<br />
The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
<br />
Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
<br />
"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
<br />
"I don't know."<br />
<br />
"What is it for?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
<br />
"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
<br />
"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
<br />
"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
<br />
Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
<br />
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</div><br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
<br />
"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<div style="position:absolute; left:0px;bottom:0px; width:100%; background:#800000; text-align:right;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
<br />
However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
<br />
<div style="position:realative; margin-right:10px; margin-bottom:10px; float:center; padding:10px; height: 220px; width:1220px; border:3px solid #000000; background:#000000; color:#ffffff; font-size:100%;-webkit-border-radius: 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px; b4order-radius: 5px;"><br />
<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br />
Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
<br />
<div style="position:realative; margin-right:10px; margin-bottom:10px; float:center; padding:10px; height: 620px; width:1220px; border:3px solid #000000; background:#000000; color:#ffffff; font-size:100%;-webkit-border-radius: 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px; b4order-radius: 5px;"><br />
<br />
The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
<br />
One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
<br />
At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
<br />
"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
<br />
"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
<div style="position:relative; margin-right:10px; margin-bottom:10px; float:left; padding:10px; height: 440px; width:400px; border:3px solid #000000; background:#000000; color:#ffffff; font-size:100%;-webkit-border-radius: 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px; b4order-radius: 5px;"><br />
[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
<br />
<div style="position:relative; margin-right:10px; margin-bottom:10px; float:left; padding:10px; height:280px; width:200px; border:3px solid #000000; background:#000000; color:#ffffff; font-size:100%;-webkit-border-radius: 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px; b4order-radius: 5px;"><br />
[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
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<div style="position:realative; margin-right:10px; margin-bottom:10px; float:center; padding:10px; height: 80px; width:1220px; border:3px solid #000000; background:#000000; color:#ffffff; font-size:100%;-webkit-border-radius: 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px; b4order-radius: 5px;"><br />
"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
<br />
<br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T01:18:21Z<p>Seth: /* LIFE IN THE CITY */</p>
<hr />
<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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{{PriceBox<br />
|Border=#000000<br />
|MidBorder=#800000<br />
|Background=#444444<br />
|Text=#e8e8e8<br />
|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
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The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
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Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
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Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
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She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
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The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
</div><br />
<br />
There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
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Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
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Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
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But it all went wrong after that. <br />
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For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
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There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
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Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
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A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
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"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
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He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
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"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
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"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
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"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
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For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
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</div><br />
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Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
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Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
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'''Inquisitor'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
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"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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</div><br />
Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
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Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
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At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
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For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
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Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
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For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
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Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
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Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
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"I don't know."<br />
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"What is it for?"<br />
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"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
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"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
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"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
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"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
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Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
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Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
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"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
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"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
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The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
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The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
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All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
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However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
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Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
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Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
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Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was a point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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</div><br />
<br />
<br />
Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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<br />
The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
<br />
One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
<br />
At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
<br />
"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
<br />
"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
<br />
</div><br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
<br />
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<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
<br />
<br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T01:13:48Z<p>Seth: /* SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN */</p>
<hr />
<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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{{PriceBox<br />
|Border=#000000<br />
|MidBorder=#800000<br />
|Background=#444444<br />
|Text=#e8e8e8<br />
|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
</div><br />
<br />
There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
<br><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Inquisitor'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
<br />
Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
<br />
The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
<br />
"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
<br />
"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
<br />
For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
<br />
Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
<br />
For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
<br />
Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
<br />
Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
<br />
"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
<br />
"I don't know."<br />
<br />
"What is it for?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
<br />
"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
<br />
"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
<br />
"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
<br />
Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
<br />
"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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<br />
This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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<br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
<br />
However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
<br />
Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
<br />
Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
<br />
Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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</div><br />
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<br />
Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
<br />
As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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<br />
The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
<br />
One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
<br />
At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
<br />
"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
<br />
"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
<br />
"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
<br />
"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<div style="position:realative; margin-right:10px; margin-bottom:10px; float:center; padding:10px; height: 80px; width:1220px; border:3px solid #000000; background:#000000; color:#ffffff; font-size:100%;-webkit-border-radius: 5px; -moz-border-radius: 5px; b4order-radius: 5px;"><br />
"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
<br />
She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
<br />
'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
<br />
<br />
<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T01:13:24Z<p>Seth: /* SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN */</p>
<hr />
<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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{{PriceBox<br />
|Border=#000000<br />
|MidBorder=#800000<br />
|Background=#444444<br />
|Text=#e8e8e8<br />
|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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<div style="padding:6px; border: 4px Solid #990000; color:#FFFFFF; border-radius: 20px; border-radius:5px; background-color: #000000"><br />
[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
</div><br />
<br />
There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Inquisitor'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
'''History'''<br />
<br />
There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
<div style="position:absolute; left:0px;bottom:0px; width:100%; background:#990000; text-align:right;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
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'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
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'''Magister'''<br />
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'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
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'''History'''<br />
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The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
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"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
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</div><br />
Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
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At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
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For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
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Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
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For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
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Then the running began.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
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The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
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Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
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"I don't know."<br />
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"What is it for?"<br />
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"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
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"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
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"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
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"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
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Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
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"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
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"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
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The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
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The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
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However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
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Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
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Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
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Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
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Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
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Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
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As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
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One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
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At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
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"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
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"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
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"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
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"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
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"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
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"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
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"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
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It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
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So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
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Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
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Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
<br />
A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
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She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
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'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
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Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
<br><br />
<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
</div><br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
<br><br />
<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
<br />
This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
<br />
I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=VarelVarel2016-02-07T01:08:17Z<p>Seth: </p>
<hr />
<div>[[category:character]]<br />
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{{PriceBox<br />
|Border=#000000<br />
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|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lady</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Varel</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Varel_Pose_02.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Associate<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= The Magistrate<br />
|Birthdate= 1777<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= UNTIL Citizen<br />
|Residence= Millenium City<br />
|Occupation= Ex-Magistrate<br />
|Legal= UNTIL Registered<br />
|Marital= Single<br />
|Relatives= Exiled<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Warlock/Mistress Hybrid<br />
|Sub-Type= Demonic<br />
|Ethnicity= N/A<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= 294 years old<br />
|Height= 6' 2" (187cm)<br />
|Weight= 170 lbs (77Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= White<br />
|Features= Wears heavy Kohl around the eyes<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Able to wield magic, claim souls and spread poisons<br />
|Equipment= Extreme Fashion Sense<br />
|Skills= Many and Varied<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Loading Explosion.gif|centre]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
<br>So who am I?<br><br><br />
You’ve accessed this file so I feel it’s something you want to know. Truthfully, and I think the truth is something you want you have come through so many checks to get here after all… Truthfully, I don’t know who I am any more.<br><br><br />
Born into two different worlds I was the hybrid child everyone wanted to pretend didn't exist. Half-cast, half-this… half everything… and never anything at all. So I tried to fit in, you have to in a world like that. You have to be what everyone else thought was normal, yet I had two views of normality. That’s no way to live.<br><br><br />
Yet I did.<br><br><br />
For over two hundred years I lived that life, finding a place amongst those that had judged me, as a judge. Oh irony. Indeed, more than just a judge, but the jury and the executioner as well. I was good at it, enjoyed it even. It was an escape. Because the people who I rid my world of were even more awkward and unwanted than I was. To remove them made me feel I’d found a home. <br><br><br />
It was perfect.<br><br><br />
Then he happened. My mother always warned me it was that way, how else would I have happened; the one stain on her existence. Yet I didn't, mother like daughter. He walked into my life, shook it up, made me question… In the end it destroyed my existence and led me here, to the life of an outcast. To this world with its myriad of people, weak laws and a strange view on my kind I never thought possible.<br><br><br />
My name is Varel and I’m on the run, from well, everything.<br><br></div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">UNLIKELY BEGINNINGS</div>=<br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Storms of Life</h3><br />
<br />
The storm raged through the valley, shaking the trees and whistling around the eaves of the manor. A manor that took up a vast portion of where valley curved up to meet both mountain and the source of the river that had been its destruction. Those caught in the force of it had anything not securely tied to them lost to the winds, a sacrifice to the anger that brought such dark skies.<br />
<br />
Inside though all was quiet. The only sign of the storm the guttering of the candles with the strongest of the gusts, more in sympathy than any breeze those within the manor could feel. The only sound that whispered through the grand hallway that ran the length of the building was the quiet turning of paper on paper. A solitary figure sat reading, lounging almost, on the ledge of one of the many high windows. Even higher than the two landings that marked out the grandest floors as the staircase curved its graceful way upwards.<br />
<br />
Red eyes glance up from the book and out the window to the valley beyond as the first flash of lightning illuminates the room and the courtyard outside. It cannot hold their attention though and with a soft smile they return to the book. The owner of them losing herself in the words.<br />
<br />
She seems no more than thirteen, young, especially here in this old place. Long red hair hides her face from view as she leans over the book, leaving it propped up on one knee as her other leg rests along the length of the frame. Pale white skin, the true white of alabaster, another clue beyond the crimson eyes that she is far from human. <br />
<br />
The room darkens further and that perfect brow is creased by a frown, torn again from that book to glower at the rain that begins a staccato dance against the glass. Shadows of raindrops give her face a little colour at last, even if the worsening weather cannot hold her gaze. A hand shifts from that book and the fingers twist upwards like a set of claws. Between those arched fingers an orb is born and light fills her window as the orb of pale yellow light floats up from her fingers to glide circles above her in the air. Satisfied at last she sits back again, ignoring the weather outside and the sadness within her heart.<br />
</div><br />
<br />
There is not much to be said for the prospects of a hybrid in a world where so many races intermingle. The purity of each species was considered above reproach and to dirty the bloodlines with another... The idea was just unthinkable. Oh, it happened from time to time; yet the offspring were always treated with some suspicion or spirited away into secretive locations and never allowed out into polite society again. No family could bare the scandal. At least, no family that conformed to the old ways could.<br />
<br />
Varel's was far from normal and she was raised in the scorching light of the public domain of her world. Each milestone of her life marked by increasing rhetoric or disdain from the others around her. A neglected child in many ways, lacking in friends through her early years and far too well burdened with those who would use her. It left her jaded about the nature of people and all too groomed for the role she was soon to take.<br />
<br />
Her mother in no small part could be considered the root of all problems. Considered a wayward and headstrong individual even by the standards of her own species, Kaena was able to sway people to her cause with little difficulty, and Kaena's cause was always a simple one. Power. With such a goal in mind it can be no surprise that Varel's father Theramus would have become her target. A major player in the Warlock Council he was powerful and, she had no doubt, have connections to even more power she could utilise. For a few months it even seemed that she would be right. <br />
<br />
But it all went wrong after that. <br />
<br />
For Kaena never thought that she would fall in love. Though denial is never enough to stop the consequences that love has for her people and she became pregnant. From a careful power play her scheme became one of the greatest scandal's their world had known. Even more so when she refused to lose the child, a moment of insanity to others and a desperate play to have continued connections to the Warlocks. After a fashion it worked.<br />
<br />
There is no greater connection than the mark of blood and even if she regrets it now Varel was the outcome. A half-caste, half-breed child with a foot in two vastly different cultures and not able to truly join either. Kaena had her wish, no-one will ever forget her forever. Or Theramus.<br />
<br />
Now Theramus was far different from Kaena and not just in apparent species. At first he attempted to ignore all traces of his unusual daughter but, curiosity and his hidden better nature one him over at least enough to have her brought to somewhere safe to be attended. In his mind that should have been the end of it, yet it was not. A child after is own heart in more ways than one Varel would always be able to find where he was working. Not even his guarded and logical self was safe from her attentions and it was not long before he was teaching her all he knew.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
<br />
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"She's your daughter." <br />
<br />
A lady tall and refined stands proud with a wide streak of defiant, as she speaks. Her words emphasised with a slight sway of her hips and the click of one heeled boot as she taps it against the wood flooring beneath her feet. It was going to leave marks he knew, she always enjoyed inconveniencing him in many ways. With a sigh he leant back in the chair and tuned out her further diatribe, he knew it all by heart these days. This was what, the seventh, or maybe the eighth time he had managed to drag her here for this little talk. It pained him to be away from his studies to deal with this, but it pained him more to see his daughter upset too.<br />
<br />
"-my home is hardly fitting and there is my business. She can hardly be expected to stay underfoot. I mean really-"<br />
<br />
He tunes her out again and has to fight back a smile. He remembers when Varel truly did get underfoot. Back when the powers that be had stopped the feud that had formed over his daughter and forced him to take her. His home was most suitable of course, but he had hated children... He still did to be honest but his daughter was different. It was as though she had known the world had not wanted her so she had become so little, so quiet. It would have been the perfect environment for him to simply forget about her. Yet she had found a way to sneak into his office time after time. Eventually she had snuck into his heart. <br />
<br />
"Are you even listening to me?" The words are harsh and they bring him back to his surroundings for just a moment. He nearly winces as that all too sharp a heel slams down into his floor again.<br />
<br />
"Oh yes indeed." He replies smoothly, waving one hand in a manner to suggest that anything else would be quite foolish to expect. <br />
<br />
"Somehow I doubt that," the pale lady sniffs, her disdain for him shown clearly on her face. Then it cracks and that usually so imperious form sinks into a chair. "I'm just not suited to have a child..."<br />
<br />
For a moment he stares at her, wondering if this was some ploy or game by her. Yet he realises it is the truth, this usually so in control women now looked lost... Adrift.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Her family show the same eclectic nature and sardonic personality that so infuse Varel. No matter how much they deny it Varel's parents love her as best they can. If she was born out of the quest for power neither would say they regret the decision. Not even Kaena despite her all too often public denouncements of what her daughter has become... she is still her daughter after all.<br />
<br />
Only her half sister is a danger to Varel. A 'pure' member of her species she has always viewed Varel as her greatest problem, and so with Varel's exile from their world she has gained what she wanted. Were Varel to return or have a chance at regaining her safety it is likely Angelita will try to find some way to stop her.<br />
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[[Image:Mother pose 02.jpg|140px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Mother]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Inquisitor'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Kaena<br><br />
'''Age:''' 1503 Years<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
'''History'''<br />
<br />
There are few who know of her beginnings and Kaena works had to keep it that way. In her profession there is no need to stand on family values and family pride, a boon to someone who's parents met with an all too curious a fate. Free from their, interference, Kaena made quite a name for herself and all seemed quite perfect for her. It is unclear when she and Theramus met but their attraction was immediate and far reaching. Her career was shaken by her unusual choice of partner but still remains sturdy.<br />
<div style="position:absolute; left:0px;bottom:0px; width:100%; background:#990000; text-align:right;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
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[[Image:Varel Father Pose.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Father]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Warlock of the Inner Council'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Theramus<br><br />
'''Age:''' 2462 Years<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
'''History'''<br />
<br />
Born during the later reformation of his world he was always considered a radical. A child of unusual parents himself he relates to Varel's plight, at least in part. Unable to truly move past his calling his studies fill his time more than devotion to his lover or his daughter. Some often remark on how surprising it was that Varel came into existence at all. However, underneath his apparent distraction lies a doting father who is simply unable, or unwilling, to show his true care. His meddling may be one of the main reasons his daughter is still free.<br />
<div style="position:absolute; left:0px;bottom:0px; width:100%; background:#990000; text-align:right;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:RGNoImgiconpic.png|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Sister]]</h3><br />
<br />
'''Magister'''<br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Angelita<br><br />
'''Age:''' 472 Years<br />
<br />
'''History'''<br />
<br />
The elder sister of Varel she is somewhat cold to her half-sister, an understandable reaction when relations between the different species are strained at best.. A taboo at worst. She views her sister as a stain on her otherwise flawless lifestyle and finds her current predicament both hilarious and a possible way to rid herself of that stain. A true future problem should she ever find Varel.<br />
<br />
<div style="position:absolute; left:0px;bottom:0px; width:100%; background:#990000; text-align:right;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
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</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">EXILE</div>=<br />
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[[File:Exiled.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
<br />
"You massacred your own people!" he whispers.<br />
<br />
"No, I saved you," Varel replies with a strange calm, never seeing the disgust on his face.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
Even though she has left it behind her she still finds trust difficult. A difficulty only made worse by how seriously she was burnt by the one person she had allowed herself to trust. Yet there is still room in her heart for more, if someone were to reach out it is likely she would respond. It would only take the right person. Though it would take much to overcome the damage that was done.<br />
<br />
Once Varel had trusted another completely. He had been an enemy, someone she should have killed on sight yet the accident that had trapped them both together between dimensions had led them to work together. An accident caused by their own opposing magics that tore at each other so greatly that the universe fractured around them. They had needed each other, and with no other company they had needed the conversation too. His name was Jebediah and he was a monk for the lighter gods of their world, a staunch fighter for the light.<br />
<br />
At first he had tried to convert her and had been confused by the continued atheism of a creature of the dark. Finally having no choice but to ask her why she thought such things, her explanations had shaken his blind loyalty and his accepting ways and kind heart had shaken hers to the masters she served. Theological discussion had fractured into casual conversation and their eyes were opened to the ways of the other, neither choosing to change sides but an acceptance was brokered at least that once between creatures of such opposing natures.<br />
<br />
For a while they had even harboured hopes of changing the mindset of their world.<br />
<br />
Their hopes were dashed when it was Varel's people that had found them first. Ordered to complete her mission to remove Jebediah from the world Varel had refused. This alone would not have been enough to have caused her exile, not even her censure but her brutal slaying of the people who had come to rescue her was. <br />
<br />
For a few days they had been safe, but when Jebediah's people had found them her heart had been betrayed. He had not fought to try to save her from his friends, instead he had stood silent as they came for her, stood silent as she pleaded for him to tell them how they both had changed. Only her broken anger had saved her that day, tapping into her raw magic to free her from the soldiers and the monks who would have ended her life that day. Ending the life of Jebediah in turn, for she had seen the fickle nature of the human heart and knew it could not be trusted.<br />
<br />
Then the running began.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">HIDDEN HOME</div>=<br />
<br />
The one dimension that has hidden her the longest is the one inhabited by the heroes known as 'The Champions'. This universe has become a nexus point for creatures of more than one realm and in this great diversity she has become just one among the many. Her talents have found other uses than evading her captors, and she has returned to hew old pastime of tracking down the criminal underbelly of the place she now calls home. <br />
<br />
Working as a Liaison Officer with the Millennium City Police Department she helped this still relatively underfunded force counteract the magical forces at work in their city. Summoning gone wrong; they called Varel.<br />
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[[Image:Varel with the Police.jpg|550px|right]]<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#800000; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Case of the Enchanted Skull</h3><br />
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"What does it do?" The officer asks, his name escapes her, and not for the first time that evening Varel misses Andrews. He never asked incessant questions. <br />
<br />
"I don't know."<br />
<br />
"What is it for?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know that either," she replies with a sigh, not turning to look at the police officer behind her, Varel's gaze instead stays focused on the skull. Her brow furrowing as she can almost sense the man opening his mouth to ask another asinine question, "I can't know these things after only being here a few moments. I am not the one who set this up and there is much to be done before I can give you any conclusive answers, and that's what you want isn't it? Conclusive answers?"<br />
<br />
"You're meant to be the expert." Varel can't help but feel he sounds defensive and petulant, so like a child. She wonders if she ever sounded like that at his age, she supposed she must have.<br />
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"I am yes, so let me do my job." she grinds out, her tone overly cool as she prepares another spell to battle the ones before her. Her power flowing out to create runes that shimmer into life in the air. Their colour is softer and less sickly than those that surround the engraved skull, a visual tell to the meaning behind such magics. They tell her that the skull is dark indeed and whatever ritual it is for it cannot be good. <br />
<br />
"I don't see what the harm is, it's just a skull," the officer gripes and he steps closer. <br />
<br />
Varel barely sees his arm before he is reaching over the edge of the circle to pick up the ominous piece. His skin runs over the engraving as he picks it up and the outpouring of malevolence is immediate. <br />
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The carvings stretch out to consume the man, racing over his flesh to mark him to match the skull, the screams of pain calling the other police on duty over to help. <br />
Yet there is nothing to be done.<br />
<br />
Not even Varel can free him from the skull's grip as it eats into his flesh and consumes him. Every ounce of energy that once was he lost into that bottomless, dark pit. For a moment it hangs in the air where he had once stood before collapsing to the ground as the glow fades. Not a trace of the man remains.<br />
<br />
"What was that?" Another nameless face she doesn't care to know asks and she sighs. Some days Varel wonders if she is getting too old for this.<br />
<br />
"That was an idiot. If anyone cares to join him they can pick up the skull."<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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This working relationship began to fall apart when Seth found her. Strained and eventually cracked because you can only be pulled in so many directions at once. Eventually a choice had to be made and, she chose Black Sun. Waltzing away into, if not a sunset, pastures new that might at least have some form of grass she could bare.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">BLACK SUN RISING</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel in Office Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
Black Sun Rising. First impressions of the company were interesting to say the least. Thrust into a department that neither wanted or cared for this usurper to the ruling throne. Yet she persisted and with her eternal pride and outward cool they fell at her ruthless efficiency and actual fairness. Some even found they liked this strange, pale traveler that had reached them from other dimensions. Even if she was unorthodox and, mostly because she was unorthodox.<br />
<br />
The first to fall to her 'charms' was Francois. A Roman Catholic monk by profession his desires for the occult and his determination in investigating them had led him first astray then to a hasty excommunication. An extreme measure in this day and age but no-one, especially not the Catholic Church, wants anyone to know one of their number burnt down a building because they summoned a demon. It doesn't look good on their record. With her own determination that rivaled his own Varel swayed him to her cause then schooled him on just what it was that had first made him a liability waiting to happen and now made him their best records keeper and Personal Assistant.<br />
<br />
The next were more unusual. Twins Marco and Alexia. Yet they were nothing alike and often at arms, fighting from two ends of the spectrum. As were their magics. Perhaps the truest representation of yin and yang. Delightfully anomalous and just as intelligent. The one thing they had agreed on was that Varel knew what she was talking about and with them on her side the research department fell into Varel's clutches; and the twins fell further. Falling for that power that so drew people to Varel. Becoming more than just employees but apprentices. They are her voice, especially in the London branch, and they terrorise everyone they meet. It's only fair in their eyes, Varel terrorises them when she is around. <br />
<br />
All this happened years ago and now the Magical Research Department is just as tight and efficient as its technological counterpart. A tentative alliance between the two sections that had been at war has yielded some interesting results. One can only hope, or fear, what this continued alliance between two once opposing branches could produce.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">POWERS</div>=<br />
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[[File:Varel_Mid_Cast.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Varel has a vast set of magical knowledge and experience to call upon in battle. Trained by her father to be able to defend herself against almost all that their world could throw at them, and more besides, Varel is a force to be reckoned with on any battlefield. Her magical prowess extends to all defensive magic and to ways to fight back with it. She uses no tools in her casting as she considers wands and staves too crude a measure, instead she summons the power of any ritual or spell directly through her. <br />
<br />
However, her magic does not extend to the healing arts. She is able to heal superficial wounds yes and conjure a splint for a broken bone, but she does not have the spirit for such things. In battle she will seek to avoid injury rather than deal with the consequences and she is not the person to turn to if you need such help yourself. <br />
<br />
Technology is also not her strong suit, indeed prolonged exposure to her magical energies tend to break any beyond reasonable use and those devices which have managed to survive have quirks that can be maddening to others and render Varel incapable of anything but a superficial understanding of their workings. Technological attacks confuse her also, and while she has learnt to counter many with magical means, she still considers the use of technology a strange tool all too many of the Champion's world use.<br />
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Beyond her prowess on the battlefield Varel's magical knowledge extends into it's histories and tales, into the research of magic and it's function. Able to see the path of it through history, if not always to understand its consequences. Her father was an excellent teacher, and while not as astute as he, she has an able mind to put to any problem. Indeed any team would be improved by her magical understanding. Just do not ask her to rewire a plug.<br />
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Recently reports have emerged of a new range of powers wielded by her hands and it seems that Varel has begun to meddle with the passage of time, not a usual subject for a magic wielder, and dangerous. Perhaps too dangerous. One can only hope that she has not strayed too deep in her search for power to wield against those that would come against her and her own self interests.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">LIFE IN THE CITY</div>=<br />
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<br />
The Penthouse was surrounded in the finest spell work Varel could achieve. A vast spider’s web of incantations to defend, attack and conceal. To most the magic would be completely undetectable and any outside gaze would see a normal apartment with normal occupants. This apartment was far from normal. It sat as the high point for one of the Black Sun housing complexes. The building guarded as all were by an obelisk of modern construction that was just as alive and as soulful as any that had been in Kehmet. <br />
<br />
Sunset had come quickly to the city and the apartment was point of light that chased some of the gloom from the place. Not from electrical means but magical orbs held contained within ornate metal structures against walls and hovering above tables. This was Varel’s sanctuary and it showed with the dark woods that defined bookshelves and every table. Walls the colour of blood and Earth added to the feel of the darkness those lights never quite shook off. It was Varel through and through.<br />
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Some life did filter into the place though. The kitchen was not just for food preparation and plants from more than one world grew beneath stairs and along the window. Trees too grew impossibly well and clear above the seating in the main room. The above ground mixed well with below. She had been a being of more than one world even before her exile. Those shields were designed to keep all out, defining a space where none came or went without Varel’s leave. She held dominion here as any mage would over their home ground.<br />
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Some might find the thought of such an obvious home in the city goes against the running Varel has done for decades and they would be right. In part the brash obviousness is because this realm is far beyond any her old associates would think her comfortable in and because the powers she works for are so extreme there's a sense of... security here. An obvious home, if defensible one, is a statement to any who may come after her with the magical aptitude that she is no longer afraid. Though it is unlikely that they themselves will come here such intricate magic would make any bounty hunter pause.<br />
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As for other magical users in the city? Like most mages anywhere, Appearance is everything.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">A MATTER OF SYN</div>=<br />
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<br />
The heels of Varel’s high boots clicked with cold force onto the chilled floor of the foyer as her magic stretched out around her in an icy wave that darkened the halls and deactivated the security cameras as she went. She moved in a well of secrecy towards the wing of the building that was all hers. This was the London office and the main research building for Black Sun Rising and the one place that feared and loved her arrival in equal measure. <br />
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One sleek sign announced that she had made her way to the Magical wing and she passed through the barrier that defended it as if it were naught but the air she had travelled through before. Her magic fell into a darkened robe about her; a swirling mark of her status that made the leather shimmer with her power and affect an appearance so like an older self she tried so hard to deny. <br />
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At this hour few of the researchers were about as sleep called even the most obsessed to their beds when the hour of the wolf arrived. Yet a few offices were still lit along the strangely ornate corridor and a hooded figure stood waiting to meet her. <br />
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"Director," the man greets her and his bow is the creak of old tomes, "We have been expecting you." <br />
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"Yes Francois I know," Varel’s tone as cold as her step, and somewhat distracted, as she falls into step next to the monk. She knows she should not be prejudiced against him because of his profession, yet some old hang ups never leave her. She still remembers the way the monks of her world had once viewed her, and the monks of this one come to that. <br />
<br />
"Have all the arrangements been made?"<br />
<br />
"Yes... They have," and the hesitancy in his tone is undeniable.<br />
<br />
"You do not approve I take it?" she asks, her grin cold and as icy as all her actions that evening.<br />
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"No, I do not." and his tone is hissed, low, as if the corridor can hear them, "You are going to sully our work!"<br />
<br />
"I'm sure the Vatican will be pleased to know you just practice magic in a good way," and her gaze is as pointed as her tone as she glances to him. Varel does not mention his excommunication, she does not have to. The old man breathes in sharply quite obviously feeling the slap, going quiet as they approach the main lab, though some of the researchers insisted on calling it the Hall of Carathusa.<br />
<br />
It was called the Hall of Carathusa after the man who had both set it up and created the web of circles that covered its floor. The magic of the world was enhanced here, swept around the circles and brushed up; the power of it bullied to become something like the magic Varel remembered from her world. This room was used but rarely, the power in it feeding the rest of their work out in the further labs beyond, not to be toyed with, but not today. The great oak doors swept back at their approach to reveal the vast open area that was the Hall of Carathusa, and hall it was. Vast open columns filled the windowless space, stretching back before them at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Arcing lines of marble and gold swept across the floor filled with the power this room called upon and coiling along the metal traceries into the air. Even Varel had not dared to push such power through circles in the air. Yet Carathusa had, it made her wish that she could have met such an innovator. <br />
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[[File:Varel on Rooftop Posed.jpg|400px|left]]<br />
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<br />
Varel was always a creature of pride. It had been her shield growing up against those that would have scorned her for being such a dirty thing as a half breed. It was her defense against those that continued to deny her for those who were weaker, more middling. With Syn, it was to become her offense. A being of pride with an edge to cut and drink it down from enemies a bond was forged between Varel and the greatest of Sins. Warned of such deals it took the vicious pull of anger and revenge to have her go against advice she had nurtured from birth, yet it was the skills she had cultivated and grown in that same time which ensured she came out the Mistress of such a weapon. <br />
<br />
So far she has managed to do what few other wielders of the sword have done. To control her pride, to temper it and to force it to conform to her rules and whims. <br />
<br />
Whether this deal will remain as needed or as accepted by Varel as it is now when her anger cools is unknown. If so then she will continue to wield a blade that is both a danger to its enemies but also will be to Varel should she ever fall from such prideful grace. Yet if she turns from the power she now holds will she ever be allowed to go free?<br />
<br />
All that lies in the future. For now they stalk the rooftops of Millennium City together, tracking down many an unwary criminal to fall to Syn's prideful clutches. Training together and learning as much about the other as they can both for their own survival and any future battle that may take place between them. At times though they disappear from even the reach of the Shadow Nexus, stepping from this world to another and always they return smiling. What can two so disparate and prideful beings find that can so appease them both? All that can be known is every time Varel comes back just that little bit stronger.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Cutting Edge</div>==<br />
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[[File:Syn.jpg|400px|right]]<br />
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At first glance the sword may appear a simple Katana, an innocuous weapon on the hip or in the hand of someone who should surely know more magic than martial skills. A white scabbard with white hilt laced in black. The blade itself though is something different, something beyond the mundane. Wrought in a shade of black that the eyes seem to slide away from as if the surface were an oil so slick not even a gaze could hold. So dark it seems to eat up the light as readily as the pride it is fed when it has been very, very good. <br />
<br />
This blade is always good.<br />
<br />
Indeed it thinks itself the best and with such skills as it possesses perhaps it is. It is enough that such great pride creates an aura about both it and its bearer, an unsettling aura. A creeping sensation you might be hard pressed to put a name to; except for the purest knowledge that you are being watched. And judged. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SENTIMENT FOR SUSAN</div>=<br />
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[[File:Susan.jpg|200px|left]]<br />
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"You're not dreaming," Susan says with beaming smile as she scrambles up onto the warrior's shoulders, hugging his head tightly with her short arms, "Nope, nope nope. You've woken up, you just...can't go home yet." she flails a little, no doubt an awkward experience when she's round your own shoulders, "This is where the dreamers go, I'm first of my kind to be here!" one little fist rises into the air triumphant. <br />
</div><br />
<br />
Susan was never meant to be a long term resident in Varel's life. Yet once the china homunculus was brought to life she had an infectious staying power on those who knew her that the thought of her 'life' coming to an end was never brought up. Not even by Varel. Created to act as a fearless guardian of dreams during a terrible attack of nightmares that ended in a series of traumatic deaths around the city, such freedoms brought her a sense of self few of her kind ever gain.<br />
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A homunculus has been many things over the centuries but first and foremost was known to be an artificially created, small human. In Susan's case it has never been more true. Since the moment of her creation she has been the very active, very curious representation of a young girl. With the added issues of knowing she isn't actually one, is made of china and has a very distinct dislike of people who are mean to others. <br />
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She is quite definitely a pacifist and is perhaps the polar opposite of her creator, which is probably why they've formed some strange family together. Varel is, in affect, a single mother in extreme denial. <br />
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'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
<div style="border: 0px solid rgb(4, 8, 7); height: 400px; overflow: auto;"><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
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<br><br />
Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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<I>"Varel is like kin to me. She has my trust, my gratitude, and my confidence. If one were to threaten or harm her, then they must also deal with me."</I> - Elizabeth<br />
</div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - It's impolite to ask a young lady's age after all.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LongLived <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Long Lived''' </span>] - It's mortal Jim, just not as we know it.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RunOrDie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Run or Die''' </span>] - Her indeed, because...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/YouCantGoHomeAgain <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''You Can't go Home Again''' </span>] - An exile with a price on her head. Need I say more?<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OccultDetective <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Occult Detective''' </span>] - A Detective after a fashion but freelance, and once she worked for the MCPD.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WasItAllALie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Was It All a Lie?''' </span>] - Has been in love, once. It did not end well and ended on just such a moment.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveInterestTraitor <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Live Interest Traitor''' </span>] - Relates to the point above. In her story, her love interest was indeed a traitor.<br />
<br><br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FemmeFatale <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Femme Fatale''' </span>] - Taking it literally for over two hundred years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WellIntentionedExtremist <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Well Intentioned Extremist''' </span>] - Certainly an anti-villain, perhaps more of a recovering villain. She once worked for bad side but now works for the good. Mostly.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RedEyesTakeWarning <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Red Eyes Take Warning'''</span>] - Not her fault, she was just born that way.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MarkedChange <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Marked Change''' </span>] - Because glowing runic tattoos are cool when needed.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ImpossiblyCoolClothes <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Impossibly Cool Clothes''' </span>] - A battle is no reason to not wear what you like. It's clothing she finds cool at least.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RavenHairIvorySkin <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Raven Hair Ivory Skin''' </span>] - Though Varel does rather nifty things with her hair.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LoveHurts <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Love Hurts''' </span>] - Love got her into this mess, and it certainly won't get her out. Yet her heart is not as guarded as she would like.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DeadpanSnarker<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Deadpan Snarker''' </span>] - Sarcasm is one of her favourite pastimes. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
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Oh dear where to begin...<br />
<br><br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicIsMental <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magic is Mental''' </span>] - Handwaving, mental discipline and a brain... Check.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MagicalGesture <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Magical Gesture''' </span>] - Because it just emphasises a point so well.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GeometricMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Geometric Magic''' </span>] - It just looks so pretty...<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FunctionalMagic <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Functional Magic''' </span>] - Everything should have rules.<br />
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<br><br />
Let's just say this is a selection and move on.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticNeutral <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Neutral'''</span>] - I am sure Freud would have a field day, but in this case she is a solid Type 4 Chaotic Neutral.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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This bio is a continuous work in progress as rp occurs and her life moves forwards. <br />
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I am currently looking for offers to give character's views on Varel to add to the page.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=File:Susan.jpgFile:Susan.jpg2016-02-07T00:20:01Z<p>Seth: From Oz the Great and Powerful is a 2013 American fantasy adventure film directed by Sam Raimi. This image is a publicity image of the China Girl from said film.</p>
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<div>From Oz the Great and Powerful is a 2013 American fantasy adventure film directed by Sam Raimi. This image is a publicity image of the China Girl from said film.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=SethSeth2016-02-03T01:04:28Z<p>Seth: /* FAMILY */</p>
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|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lord of Sepermeru</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Seth</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Seth_New_Portrait.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Leader<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= Set - Typhon - Sutekh - Setekh - Setesh<br />
|Birthdate= The First Rain<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= Nomadic<br />
|Residence= Millenium City, Alau<br />
|Occupation= Eternal Tourist<br />
|Legal= Of Great Interest to UNTIL<br />
|Marital= He was once married<br />
|Relatives= Amun-Ra - Kahi - Dominick - Methari - Cache - Allie<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Cosmic Intelligence<br />
|Sub-Type= Unclassifiable<br />
|Ethnicity= Kehmetian<br />
|Gender= Male<br />
|Age= Incalculable <br />
|Height= 12 Feet (366cm)<br />
|Weight= 352 lbs (160Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= Dark (Mostly)<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= His powers vary from witness to witness<br />
|Equipment= Uses hand forged swords out of fondness for them<br />
|Skills= Swordsman Archer Conversationalist Chef<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:The Legend of Seth.png|Left|600px]]<br />
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<div style="font-size:20px">Awakenings</div><br />
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'''The storm raged across the desert, and for the first time there were eyes to witness it.<br />
He looked out at the electric filled sky and the parched land below.<br />
All was sand; it had been so long since water had touched this place that all was dead.<br />
Only the presence was there to witness the chaos that raged in the sky above.<br />
It knew it was daytime though no light graced the ground below.<br />
Only the lightning made the desert visible.<br />
The gaze turned down to look at the desert, and sudden purpose filled it.<br />
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“Rain.”<br />
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It’s first word spread out across the waste with a finality of decision that could not be disobeyed, and with a sound of sudden thunder water fell at last on the desert once more.<br />
It smiled and took a first step forward into the world.'''<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE HISTORY</div>=<br />
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Set /sɛt/ or Seth (/sɛθ/) is a god of the desert, storms, and foreigners in ancient Egyptian religion. In later myths he is also the god of darkness and chaos. In Ancient Greek, the god's name is given as Sēth (Σήθ).The meaning of the name Seth is unknown, though it may first have been pronounced Sutah based on his name in the first language, [[File:Seth Name.png]].<br />
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The myths speak of a being that defended all from the tyranny of Apep. The importance of it so great that it became a nightly occurrence to the people who followed him. The story of Seth's defense of Amun-Ra's Barque is one few know today yet is a defining feature of who he was. Too many focus on the battle between Horus and Seth, forgetting that the Council of the Gods, led by Amun-Ra would have chosen Seth as the ruler of Egypt if not for Ma'at. Few realise the reasons why he sought leadership and the demonising of his name during Greek Occupation of Egypt was catastrophic.<br />
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Seth was worshipped in the metropolitan city of Sepermeru and it was there he made his first home among the humans. To this day the remains of a temple still stand at this site called 'The House of Seth' and the walls of the temple and the scrolls found their speak of his daughter, though little else remains to show where this daughter came from as no similar record is present in the House of Nepthys who was supposedly his wife at the time. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Demonisation</div>==<br />
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With the end of the Egyptian civilization, at the hand of the Greeks, Seth's true standing was demonised and his protective role forgotten. A revenge attack perhaps by a nation still reeling from the final act of protection Seth and Amun-Ra enacted for their people. It remains a closely guarded secret to this day, but no-one who has questioned the great being about it has ever received anything more than cryptic answers in return. Whatever it was though, it was enough for the Greeks to turn him into the evil character to many think of him as today. <br />
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If the Greeks had sought to rile him up into action of any kind they were mistaken. Indeed any record of Seth in the country vanished almost as soon as the Greek's stepped foot in the capital. He has returned but rarely to the place once called Kehmet, the wounds perhaps to painful to examine once more. For what is two thousand years to such an old being? <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Long Journey</div>==<br />
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Since the fall of Kehmet there have been whispers and rumours about a man with blood, red hair and crimson eyes from many countries around the world. All speaking of a man set apart from the rest, a distant watcher. Yet also of someone who acted to defend the unfortunate, stepping up to defend the weakest, only to vanish at the end of the troubles. Sometimes accompanied by a woman, at other times alone, there was never any record for more than a year before he moved on again.<br />
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Seen as far afield as India and the Americas; an inscription in a Mayan Temple talks of a red eyed demon that came out of a storm and destroyed the priests sacrificing a beaten army to their god. The people talking in fear of the being who had walked away with over a hundred suddenly freed captives as the temple collapsed into ruins.<br />
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Another legend speaks of a man who visited the great swordsmith Masamune in Japan, staying for month after month until finally the great man relented and taught the traveller the Soshu tradition of making swords. This was the longest appearance of 'Seth' since the myths of Kehmet, for he stayed for nearly twenty years with the Priest. Indeed, some records from the time write that Seth stayed until Masamune died. "''The traveller having become the shadow of the Smith, always in his presence; The two quite inseparable,''" as a leading writer of the time described in his diaries. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Reemergence</div>==<br />
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[[File:Golden Lane.jpg|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Golden Lane</font>]]<br />
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Perhaps only seth could reemerge with the aplomb and 'style' as he. Returning into public view as a Lord under the reign of Francis II, Kahi returning once more to his side. Living in what was once the Hradčany, the Castle District, they were surrounded by the height of culture and intrigue. Slipping seamlessly into society and into the hidden world's of the little people. They were always where the stories were. <br />
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Kahi was a frequent visitor to a street in the Hradčany called Golden street. This was one of the highlights of the city at the time, filled with curios and tales of other places. In other words, the perfect place to visit. Here,she met the Philosopher Uhle; considered an eccentric by many, that spent his entire income on books about magic and alchemy. For a few years there was nothing untoward about their stay in the city. Unfortunately, this was not to remain the case. <br />
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On the day that Lord Seth and Lady Kahi vanished from the city there was a large detonation under Uhle's house in Golden Street. When the house was finally made safe, and the fire put out, they found Uhle's body still intact and clutching a large nugget of what later proved to be gold. The locals still say to this day that he had to have been successful in his search for the Philospher's stone. Modern day alchemists disagree though, anyone who would have succeeded should have survived the process. Visitors to Seth's Mansion in Alau however may see a figure resembling Uhle's description wandering the halls, but it may just be a passing resemblance. Indeed, whenever any difficult situation or catastrophe happens around Seth or Kahi they often refer to "''The Prague Incident''". They are never forth coming on the actual details though.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Modern Day</div>==<br />
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[[File:Millenium City Centre.jpg|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Millennium City RenCen</font>]]<br />
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Seth's most recent appearance is in Millenium City however, drawn as he was to that city after the Battle of Detroit. He has been a resident on and off for many years now, a regular at many of the city's attractions and outlets. His continued need to defend those that most need it has led him to the attention of many different organisations. In this technological age with it's power-savy people many are beginning to question who this man really is. For the moment he finds this entertaining, though it is unlikely it would remain so were someone to attempt to make life difficult for him.<br />
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Living in the Downtown area he is often seen about the city taking an interest in the life there; curious about all the different lifeforms than now pass through this nexus point. He feels there is much that he is grateful to the city for, including his ever growing family. Despite all the wandering he may have found somewhere to settle for a time. He does still wander the globe and further afield at times, yet he always returns to those he has met here. <br />
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After thousands of years it is this place which has driven him to become more active again, appearing more as who he is to the others. Gathering people together, and in some instances joining supergroups to experience the ambiance they bring. Now though he simply gathers those he is closest to into Black Sun, drawing a line against the true darkness that always threatens to take the home he holds most dear. The Earth on which he was born.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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{{LiathTheme<br />
| artist = Rhian Sheehan<br />
| track = The Upper Sky<br />
| tracklink = http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXGnbEf-QLA<br />
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[[File:320px-Geb and Nut03.png|frame|Center|<font color=#444444>Geb and Nut</font>]]<br />
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The Myths would have you believe that Seth is the son of the goddess of the sky Nut and the God of the Earth Geb. However this is not entirely true. The real story is something far greater, something far weirder, than even the Ancient Egyptians ever managed to understand.<br />
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Seth has no true family and only calls the being nowadays called as 'Amun-Ra' father because of their long existence together and the others marginally greater age. It has nothing to do with anything beyond their emotions for each other. <br />
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Created during the formation of the planet both have had a tumultuous and somewhat lonely existence as they watched the evolution of life and attempted to find the reasons for their 'creation'. Neither believe in the need of a higher deity to have led to their creation, but even after billions of years they still find themselves adrift of a true purpose. Indeed, in the first years of his association with Amun-Ra, Seth voices the opinion that their purpose was served when they were created; an opinion based solely on the yearning he had felt for there to be rain in his first conscious moments. Whether this is true is unknown, but it is likely there is far more to them than is suspected by even them in this much later years.<br />
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[[Image:Kahi_Pose_02.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Sphinx</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Kahi<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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Brought to Seth as a mere infant she quickly became the most important part of Seth's life. Living in Seth's house in Sepermeru she grew up surrounded by the priests of Seth's order and in the knowledge that she was to be something more than the human she was. Seth though was reluctant to change her, despite having been the one to inform her of her possible abilities, for he had grown to love her as if she were his own. Time has shown her to ever be loved by his heart. <br />
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[[Image:Dominick_Pose.png|160px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Saiyan</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Dominick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Dominick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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Dominick was one of the first people Seth ever met in Millennium City and his forthright innocence and determination led Seth into a new lease of life and it was rare indeed when they were not seen together. He proved himself to him time and again with his strength in battle, and could not be parted from him. Offered the chance to become Seth's Avatar he took it, and through that ritual he was linked to them both and gained an effectively immortal life.<br />
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[[Image:Amun-Ra Pose.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Grandfather</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Amun-Ra<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Needed not<br />
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Amun-Ra, father... More truly a brother to the odd Seth in actuality. Born before Seth he found him as the storm raged on the surface of a turbulent new world. The two lost and adrift without meaning or purpose. Thrust together by the simple need to not be alone. They have spent the past eons walking the universe together, trying to find a way to live when all they had was never ending existence. Together they made a family they grew to love. Both are father to Kahi and love her dearly.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FRIENDS</div>=<br />
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Despite this, or perhaps because of it, from the moment they have first met humans they have sought to surround themselves with them, guide them and generally meddle in their affairs. This led to the birth of the Ancient Egyptian Civilization and with their help it was maintained for thousands of years. The belief in their guidance led to the creation of the other Egyptian Gods, lesser beings to themselves that were fed off human belief in them and they only ever increased in number. Till there were nearly 300 other deities in the Egyptian Pantheon. This was their first family, and while not all were close to them, there were many that were dear to them and remain with them to this day.<br />
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[[Image:Mercyface.png|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Fighter</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Mercy<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Mercy_Madison|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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Perhaps one of the most hot headed of people he knows Mercy has become someone close to him indeed. A surprise for many considering their many first meetings, when not knowing who or what he was Mercy attacked him repeatedly. It was through these battles they came to know one another and a somewhat forced friendship began. Mercy admits that Seth taught her how to find a place to find balance in her life, a lesson that was hard won for himself as well. He always admits to seeing so much of his younger self in the woman. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Slickavatar.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Altered</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Slick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Slick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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It is possible that Seth considers him to be his closest friend in this time. Seth has never once regretted meeting this individual and finds his talks with this being to be calming and rather cathartic. There are few who are willing to accept Seth for all he is outside his family, and there are many times Seth has found himself sharing secrets. He hopes, dares to dream, that his friend will prove to be immortal. <br />
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[[Image:Xeraysa 01.jpg|160px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Rebel</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Lynn<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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While tumultuous at best, and at other times simply argumentative, the relationship with Lynn and Seth has always been an odd one. Recently though they have come to a mutual understanding and ground has been covered. Important ground if recent developments within the family are to come to pass. Their mutual interests are sure to bolster up this growing friendship in the future. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Frost.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Assassin</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Miss. Frost<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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A new friend that has quickly become close to the group, Miss Frost has shown an accepting personality with perhaps just the right touch of dark past to mix her in with the odd group. Introduced through Methari the two have found they have much in common. Future adventures to Babylon are sure to cement this.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Blaq.jpg|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Shifter</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Blaq<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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An old friend of Seth's he is happy she has come back into their lives after a long absence. With so much in common many a long evening is spent simply talking and relaxing in each others company. Able to share many stories without fear of being judged. A once difficult thing to do. A kind hearted soul Seth is always warmed by her appearance and always finds her opinions to be wise.<br />
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[[Image:Mitsuko.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Guardian</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Mitsuko<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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Mitsuko is one of the few friends that Seth has met in Millenium City that have stayed the passage of time, perhaps because she is so aware of what it is like to be a walker through it. And of what can be lost. He finds his heart reaches out to this person who has lost so much simply because of the effects time, and the idiocy of people, can have on a place. He hopes that he can aid her as much as she has aided him in feeling at home as he does now in Millenium City.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PROVEN POWERS AND ABILITIES</div>=<br />
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Seth's most usual style of fighting is with a pair of dual swords. Handcrafted in his own workshop they are fashioned similarly to Katanas though the metal is not the usual folded steel. A special alloy that incorporates his own strange essence means the blades are wicked sharp and never in need of the dull task of polishing after their initial creation. A skill he has had time to hone over centuries it is one he is well versed in, and utilises with ease, mixing magic into his fighting abilities to put him on par with the super-humans and Mages that surround him. If perhaps a little more indestructible. <br />
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It is clear though that his powers far extend beyond the simple magic and swords that he uses on a daily basis. When called upon his powers have been known to change the very world around him. This usage seems controlled though and only used in dire circumstances, when pressed Seth will mention only vaguely a set of rules that seem to guide him. Perhaps this is the reason why he doesn't 'cheat' as often as he could.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">WEAKNESSES</div>=<br />
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It is often discussed whether a being such as Seth could have weaknesses. Here people talk about powers, about strengths, abilities and the tools at his disposal, very rarely do they talk about the heart of Seth. For Seth's greatest weakness is his heart and his emotions. Despite how cold and aloof he may seem on first meeting he cares deeply for those close to him and for the plight of those he meets. In most situations this is a benefit, a sign of strength, but too easily it can be used against him. His heart is scarred from all the times it has led him into pain. As he has said many times his heart is more fragile from the burdens he has had to bear, not stronger. <br />
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Any being vicious enough to attempt to strike a blow to him would go for those he holds dear. Though they should be cautious, any attempt is likely to bring Seth's anger and few have seen such ferocity and lived. <br />
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='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MEMORABLE EVENTS</div>'''''=<br />
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Here you will find many short tales and scenes from the life of Seth. Feel free to browse, or not browse, at your leisure. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Creation of a Sword|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Creation of a Sword''' </span>]]</h3><br />
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The forge was dark save for the glow of the fire and the glow of power in the smith’s eyes. His gaze was cool and concentrated on a heated length of metal protruding out of the fire. Time passed interminably as the tall figure simply watches the fire, occasionally turning the length this way or that way.<br />
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“This must be perfect.” He says at last, slowly withdrawing the alloy and heading towards the anvil...<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Visiting Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Visiting Kahi''' </span>]]</h3><br />
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“Kahi,” Itennu says softly, then he sighs, voice becoming louder, “Kahi.”<br />
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“What?” she asks, looking towards him with a sigh.<br />
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“You are not paying attention.” He says sternly, trying to glare at the six year old before him and failing.<br />
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“But I’m bored It-en-nu!” she replies, banging her sandaled feet onto the steps where she sat with every kick of her legs emphasising her boredom.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Fighting as One|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Fighting as One''' </span>]]</h3><br />
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Nothing of such scale, grandeur or such complete devastation could be called anything but a violent storm of anger.<br />
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The army poured towards the small band making their way through the centre, their power terrible to behold, all falling before them. However the strain was beginning to show, their blades bloodied, sweat for once appearing on their brow and still their enemy came down upon them.<br />
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“There are too many!” <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Shifting-Dawn-342186992 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Shifting Dawn''' </span>] </h3><br />
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All was quiet as Seth sat listening to the gentle shift of sand around him in the breeze. A soft smile playing on his face as he lets the sound fill him. This was a moment he always enjoyed, the time dawn approached in Alau, a time of shifting powers, a moment of the pure balance. It helped him remember happier times. It helped him find the balance all said that someone such as he would be unable to find. Almost without notice a gentle glow shimmers over his frame, an outward sign of the <br />
strange peace...<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/A-Light-Breakfast-355058335 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A Light Breakfast''' </span>]</h3><br />
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This is the universe. <br />
<br />
A confusing tumult of particles shifting out in all directions, creating eddies on the shifting tide of gravity that presses outwards, growing into the ever present darkness of the nothing between worlds. A new universe, vibrant with energy and blindingly bright. A joyous thing to behold as the light sears its way through the passage of creation. The laws that bind only the successful on their journey snap into being...<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Apep-Returns-355869068 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Apep Returns''' </span>]</h3><br />
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In the quiet afternoon of the city two dear friends stand talking. The crowds move around the two unnoticed as Dominick and Seth continue their conversation, smiles flickering on their faces as they talk. It is clear they are quite comfortable in each other’s presence, truly at ease. A peaceful scene indeed as they discuss those they had thought they’d lost. Both vaguely aware of a third presence watching them, the paper doll of Mitsuko sitting on the wall but remaining quiet as she watches on... <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Hesitant-Steps-355545676 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Hesitant Steps''' </span>]</h3><br />
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The chaos of the hospital rang loud in his mind as Seth forced himself to step into the foyer. The press of people around his form made him shudder a little, the edges of his control raw with fatigue and fear for the one he came to see. In defence he shifts, returning to his older forms, his Anubite face appearing and his robes swirling around him in a deep red hue. A safety net he almost clings to. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Reforged-Power-355696300 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Hesitant Steps''' </span>]</h3><br />
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The small forge echoes to the sound of Seth’s measured hammer blows, his red eyes watching the metal carefully for imperfections with every hit. Never before has this being concentrated so on his crafting, but then it has never meant as much as this. Seth pauses as there is a quiet knock at the door; he looks over the metal, debating his move before fixing it back into the coals. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/The-Call-356229103 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Call''' </span>]</h3><br />
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“Dominick,” The whisper comes to him, echoing around him in the hospital, “Dominick.”<br />
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The words intoned with a pressing need to follow that voice to where it calls for. Unable to avoid it and even as he questions himself and his hearing he is standing. His eyes widen and he gives a cry of surprise as his own body betrays him and begins to follow. Despite the force of the pull it is benevolent and almost beseeching. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Returning-Home-356236623 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Returning Home''' </span>]</h3><br />
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Warm light flows into a peaceful room. White drapes fluttering in the air in the cool breeze as the first hints of a fine summer make the day beautiful. Beautiful to all except the form that lies limp on the bed, golden light shimmering around her as she heals. It has been a long time since she has been in this state, caught on the brink of death and only returning because of the powers that bind her. A twice bound soul to both her nature and her master. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Vigil-356663486 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Vigil''' </span>]</h3><br />
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The look on Kahi’s face was harrowing as she took in Seth’s condition. It had been two days since she had awoken after her rebirth, two days since she had learned of Seth’s poisoning and those two days had felt the longest of her existence for some time. Amun-Ra and Dominick had tried to keep her distracted with training, idle chatter and even a long walk into the nearest small town of workers. Yet everything had reminded her of this man. Her father.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Maelstrom-363190024 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Maelstrom''' </span>]</h3><br />
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“If you think you are so powerful why don’t you fight him.”<br />
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The words said in frustration echo in the courtyard as Kahi turns to glare at Seth. Her face is set with determination and sudden anger at her father who had done nothing but laugh quietly while she and Dominick trained. The quiet sounds of amusement an ever present distraction after every failed attempt to land a blow on Amun-Ra, every annoying moment...<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TimeAbyss <span style="color:#FFFFFF;">'''TimeAbyss'''</span>] - Seth has been alive for billions of years.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - Seth only looks in his mid thirties despite his age.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CompleteImmortality <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Complete Immortality''' </span>] - A given alongside Time Abyss.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheSacredDarkness <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Sacred Darkness''' </span>] - Seth may have chaotic and dark powers but that does not make him evil.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AGodIAmNot <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A God I am Not''' </span>] - Whenever he is called a God he is the first to deny it, because he is not a god.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SharpDressedMan <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Sharp Dressed Man''' </span>] - Seth never dresses in any way other than his best.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GoodOldWays <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Good Old Ways''' </span>] - Despite the passage of time he will always reminisce about Ancient Egypt and the people he once knew there. <br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheOmniscient <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' The Omniscient''' </span>] - Simple age will do that to a guy. He's not so much Omniscient as very, very old.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HelpingWouldBeKillStealing <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Helping Would be Kill Stealing''' </span>] - At any time he could alter the events happening in his friends' lives, yet he does not.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassGrandpa <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Badass Grandpa''' </span>] - Acts the father figure to many characters, and works to increase their abilities. Mercy and Cache in particular.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassBaritone <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Badass Baritone''' </span>] - Every time he speaks and is a peculiar take on this as he's chosen to be this deep in tone.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WeatherDissonance <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Weather Dissonance''' </span>] - Seth can cause this at times when he actually flexes his powers. A rare event.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HeroesPreferSwords <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Heroes Prefer Swords''' </span>] - Seth has all his power, yet chooses to fight with swords.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DontMakeMeDestroyYou <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Don't make me Destroy you''' </span>] - Often Seth wishes to win a fight without the need to fight. Often works too...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticGood <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Good''' </span>] - Seth will always do the right thing his way.<br />
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='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Dominick</div>==<br />
"Hmm… Where do I Start? He is one of the greatest friends of a figure to me. So strong and yet gentle in his nature. I cannot express how much this man means to me outside of just being under his service as Avatar. We hold the best bond, heh. He is one of the reasons why I stand today, healthy and stronger than ever before. He is literally the toughest I have ever fought to this day, and I'm very grateful he's on the good side otherwise we'd be in huge trouble, haha. But yeah, he's also a great teacher. In fact, I am glad I am part of his family, and will do whatever it takes to always make him proud. I am well honoured to call him a father." <br />
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...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Mercy</div>==<br />
"Ha… the fox? -My- fox? He inspires me and my motives to make me the better person I wanna become. He can be a little pain in the ass sometimes with his innocence, but that’s what I love about him. I learned not to fuck around with him when he's tight. Piss him off, and your ass is grass. Lesson well-grounded. But other than that, he's like the pops I never had. When I'm around him, just his presence assures me that everythin'll be alright. If I hadn't bumped into him for the first time when I did I probably wouldn’t' a' been alive today to even comment about him. Strong motherfucker he is, I envy his strength and power. But its only the better reason for me to push my limits to be as tough as he is. He'll get it soon enough. Love him tho'." <br />
<br><br />
...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
The familiar patter of rain hitting glass rings out as the golden woman stares out into the grey city-scape. Sitting across from you, her legs crossed casually her posture is however perfect.<br />
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“I love the rain. Don’t you? Ah, but of course. You do not want to hear about that now.”<br />
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“So, what can I tell you about him? Much, everything perhaps; maybe nothing more than you know… I have known him for as long as I can remember and perhaps, I remember less than I should.”<br />
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“He is the complete selfless protection of those of his people caught in alien places. Wrath to those that mean his heart harm and protection to those that find themselves in its warmth.” She smiles, the love in her lining her soft expression.<br />
<br />
“He is every meaning of safety and love I have ever known. My father…” She looks away now out into the city view, memory gripping her old heart.<br />
<br />
“Set, my Seth. Typhon to those that may know him by other names, in truth he has many, all correct but none of them true.” She grins as she looks back at you.<br />
<br />
“We’ve been to just so many places, met so many different people. Saved some and… Condemned others.” Even as her face twists slightly with bad memories she suddenly lights up again, bringing the entire tone of the conversation with her mood. She laughs a wonderful golden sound,“Ah, if you ever get the chance ask him about the ‘Prague Incident’.” She grins wickedly, “He’ll know what you’re talking about.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know what I would do without him. Often I fear I don’t show him I love him enough, don’t say it enough… Nefer ib.” She pauses, the final words a language long dead to the world but they have meaning to her.<br />
<br />
Eventually she smiles, “Don’t let me prattle on, I am sure you have more questions; don’t you?”<br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
OPEN TO ADDITIONS<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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This page is still undergoing changes, and the story is always changing. Because, in the end we are always changing.<br />
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...<br />
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[[Category:Character]] [[Category:Male]][[Category:Cosmic]][[Category:Immortal]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]<br />
[[Category:Hero]][[Category:UNTIL]][[Category:UNITY]][[Category:Tank]]</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=SethSeth2016-02-02T23:31:42Z<p>Seth: /* MEMORABLE EVENTS */</p>
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|Background=#444444<br />
|Text=#e8e8e8<br />
|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lord of Sepermeru</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Seth</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Seth_New_Portrait.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Leader<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= Set - Typhon - Sutekh - Setekh - Setesh<br />
|Birthdate= The First Rain<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= Nomadic<br />
|Residence= Millenium City, Alau<br />
|Occupation= Eternal Tourist<br />
|Legal= Of Great Interest to UNTIL<br />
|Marital= He was once married<br />
|Relatives= Amun-Ra - Kahi - Dominick - Methari - Cache - Allie<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Cosmic Intelligence<br />
|Sub-Type= Unclassifiable<br />
|Ethnicity= Kehmetian<br />
|Gender= Male<br />
|Age= Incalculable <br />
|Height= 12 Feet (366cm)<br />
|Weight= 352 lbs (160Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= Dark (Mostly)<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= His powers vary from witness to witness<br />
|Equipment= Uses hand forged swords out of fondness for them<br />
|Skills= Swordsman Archer Conversationalist Chef<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:The Legend of Seth.png|Left|600px]]<br />
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<div style="font-size:20px">Awakenings</div><br />
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'''The storm raged across the desert, and for the first time there were eyes to witness it.<br />
He looked out at the electric filled sky and the parched land below.<br />
All was sand; it had been so long since water had touched this place that all was dead.<br />
Only the presence was there to witness the chaos that raged in the sky above.<br />
It knew it was daytime though no light graced the ground below.<br />
Only the lightning made the desert visible.<br />
The gaze turned down to look at the desert, and sudden purpose filled it.<br />
<br />
“Rain.”<br />
<br />
It’s first word spread out across the waste with a finality of decision that could not be disobeyed, and with a sound of sudden thunder water fell at last on the desert once more.<br />
It smiled and took a first step forward into the world.'''<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE HISTORY</div>=<br />
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Set /sɛt/ or Seth (/sɛθ/) is a god of the desert, storms, and foreigners in ancient Egyptian religion. In later myths he is also the god of darkness and chaos. In Ancient Greek, the god's name is given as Sēth (Σήθ).The meaning of the name Seth is unknown, though it may first have been pronounced Sutah based on his name in the first language, [[File:Seth Name.png]].<br />
<br />
The myths speak of a being that defended all from the tyranny of Apep. The importance of it so great that it became a nightly occurrence to the people who followed him. The story of Seth's defense of Amun-Ra's Barque is one few know today yet is a defining feature of who he was. Too many focus on the battle between Horus and Seth, forgetting that the Council of the Gods, led by Amun-Ra would have chosen Seth as the ruler of Egypt if not for Ma'at. Few realise the reasons why he sought leadership and the demonising of his name during Greek Occupation of Egypt was catastrophic.<br />
<br />
Seth was worshipped in the metropolitan city of Sepermeru and it was there he made his first home among the humans. To this day the remains of a temple still stand at this site called 'The House of Seth' and the walls of the temple and the scrolls found their speak of his daughter, though little else remains to show where this daughter came from as no similar record is present in the House of Nepthys who was supposedly his wife at the time. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Demonisation</div>==<br />
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With the end of the Egyptian civilization, at the hand of the Greeks, Seth's true standing was demonised and his protective role forgotten. A revenge attack perhaps by a nation still reeling from the final act of protection Seth and Amun-Ra enacted for their people. It remains a closely guarded secret to this day, but no-one who has questioned the great being about it has ever received anything more than cryptic answers in return. Whatever it was though, it was enough for the Greeks to turn him into the evil character to many think of him as today. <br />
<br />
If the Greeks had sought to rile him up into action of any kind they were mistaken. Indeed any record of Seth in the country vanished almost as soon as the Greek's stepped foot in the capital. He has returned but rarely to the place once called Kehmet, the wounds perhaps to painful to examine once more. For what is two thousand years to such an old being? <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Long Journey</div>==<br />
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Since the fall of Kehmet there have been whispers and rumours about a man with blood, red hair and crimson eyes from many countries around the world. All speaking of a man set apart from the rest, a distant watcher. Yet also of someone who acted to defend the unfortunate, stepping up to defend the weakest, only to vanish at the end of the troubles. Sometimes accompanied by a woman, at other times alone, there was never any record for more than a year before he moved on again.<br />
<br />
Seen as far afield as India and the Americas; an inscription in a Mayan Temple talks of a red eyed demon that came out of a storm and destroyed the priests sacrificing a beaten army to their god. The people talking in fear of the being who had walked away with over a hundred suddenly freed captives as the temple collapsed into ruins.<br />
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Another legend speaks of a man who visited the great swordsmith Masamune in Japan, staying for month after month until finally the great man relented and taught the traveller the Soshu tradition of making swords. This was the longest appearance of 'Seth' since the myths of Kehmet, for he stayed for nearly twenty years with the Priest. Indeed, some records from the time write that Seth stayed until Masamune died. "''The traveller having become the shadow of the Smith, always in his presence; The two quite inseparable,''" as a leading writer of the time described in his diaries. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Reemergence</div>==<br />
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[[File:Golden Lane.jpg|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Golden Lane</font>]]<br />
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Perhaps only seth could reemerge with the aplomb and 'style' as he. Returning into public view as a Lord under the reign of Francis II, Kahi returning once more to his side. Living in what was once the Hradčany, the Castle District, they were surrounded by the height of culture and intrigue. Slipping seamlessly into society and into the hidden world's of the little people. They were always where the stories were. <br />
<br />
Kahi was a frequent visitor to a street in the Hradčany called Golden street. This was one of the highlights of the city at the time, filled with curios and tales of other places. In other words, the perfect place to visit. Here,she met the Philosopher Uhle; considered an eccentric by many, that spent his entire income on books about magic and alchemy. For a few years there was nothing untoward about their stay in the city. Unfortunately, this was not to remain the case. <br />
<br />
On the day that Lord Seth and Lady Kahi vanished from the city there was a large detonation under Uhle's house in Golden Street. When the house was finally made safe, and the fire put out, they found Uhle's body still intact and clutching a large nugget of what later proved to be gold. The locals still say to this day that he had to have been successful in his search for the Philospher's stone. Modern day alchemists disagree though, anyone who would have succeeded should have survived the process. Visitors to Seth's Mansion in Alau however may see a figure resembling Uhle's description wandering the halls, but it may just be a passing resemblance. Indeed, whenever any difficult situation or catastrophe happens around Seth or Kahi they often refer to "''The Prague Incident''". They are never forth coming on the actual details though.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Modern Day</div>==<br />
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[[File:Millenium City Centre.jpg|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Millennium City RenCen</font>]]<br />
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Seth's most recent appearance is in Millenium City however, drawn as he was to that city after the Battle of Detroit. He has been a resident on and off for many years now, a regular at many of the city's attractions and outlets. His continued need to defend those that most need it has led him to the attention of many different organisations. In this technological age with it's power-savy people many are beginning to question who this man really is. For the moment he finds this entertaining, though it is unlikely it would remain so were someone to attempt to make life difficult for him.<br />
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Living in the Downtown area he is often seen about the city taking an interest in the life there; curious about all the different lifeforms than now pass through this nexus point. He feels there is much that he is grateful to the city for, including his ever growing family. Despite all the wandering he may have found somewhere to settle for a time. He does still wander the globe and further afield at times, yet he always returns to those he has met here. <br />
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After thousands of years it is this place which has driven him to become more active again, appearing more as who he is to the others. Gathering people together, and in some instances joining supergroups to experience the ambiance they bring. Now though he simply gathers those he is closest to into Black Sun, drawing a line against the true darkness that always threatens to take the home he holds most dear. The Earth on which he was born.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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[[File:320px-Geb and Nut03.png|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Geb and Nut</font>]]<br />
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The Myths would have you believe that Seth is the son of the sky goddess Nut and the earth god Geb however this is not entirely true. Seth's true father is Amun-Ra the only other being like himself on Earth. <br />
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Created during the formation of the planet both have had a tumultuous and somewhat lonely existence as they watched the evolution of life and attempted to find the reasons for their 'creation'. Neither believe in the need of a higher deity to have led to their creation, but even after billions of years they still find themselves adrift of a true purpose. Indeed in the first years of his association with Amun-Ra Seth voices the opinion that their purpose was served when they were created; an opinion based solely on the yearning he had felt for there to be rain in his first moments. <br />
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[[Image:Kahi_Pose_02.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Sphinx</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Kahi<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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Brought to Seth as a mere infant she quickly became the most important part of Seth's life. Living in Seth's house in Sepermeru she grew up surrounded by the priests of Seth's order and in the knowledge that she was to be something more than the human she was. Seth though was reluctant to change her, despite having been the one to inform her of her possible abilities, for he had grown to love her as if she were his own. Time has shown her to ever be loved by his heart. <br />
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[[Image:Dominick_Pose.png|160px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Saiyan</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Dominick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Dominick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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Dominick was one of the first people Seth ever met in Millennium City and his forthright innocence and determination led Seth into a new lease of life and it was rare indeed when they were not seen together. He proved himself to him time and again with his strength in battle, and could not be parted from him. Offered the chance to become Seth's Avatar he took it, and through that ritual he was linked to them both and gained an effectively immortal life.<br />
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[[Image:Amun-Ra Pose.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Grandfather</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Amun-Ra<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Needed not<br />
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Amun-Ra, father... More truly a brother to the odd Seth in actuality. Born before Seth he found him as the storm raged on the surface of a turbulent new world. The two lost and adrift without meaning or purpose. Thrust together by the simple need to not be alone. They have spent the past eons walking the universe together, trying to find a way to live when all they had was never ending existence. Together they made a family they grew to love. Both are father to Kahi and love her dearly.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FRIENDS</div>=<br />
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Despite this, or perhaps because of it, from the moment they have first met humans they have sought to surround themselves with them, guide them and generally meddle in their affairs. This led to the birth of the Ancient Egyptian Civilization and with their help it was maintained for thousands of years. The belief in their guidance led to the creation of the other Egyptian Gods, lesser beings to themselves that were fed off human belief in them and they only ever increased in number. Till there were nearly 300 other deities in the Egyptian Pantheon. This was their first family, and while not all were close to them, there were many that were dear to them and remain with them to this day.<br />
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[[Image:Mercyface.png|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Fighter</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Mercy<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Mercy_Madison|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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Perhaps one of the most hot headed of people he knows Mercy has become someone close to him indeed. A surprise for many considering their many first meetings, when not knowing who or what he was Mercy attacked him repeatedly. It was through these battles they came to know one another and a somewhat forced friendship began. Mercy admits that Seth taught her how to find a place to find balance in her life, a lesson that was hard won for himself as well. He always admits to seeing so much of his younger self in the woman. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Slickavatar.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Altered</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Slick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Slick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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It is possible that Seth considers him to be his closest friend in this time. Seth has never once regretted meeting this individual and finds his talks with this being to be calming and rather cathartic. There are few who are willing to accept Seth for all he is outside his family, and there are many times Seth has found himself sharing secrets. He hopes, dares to dream, that his friend will prove to be immortal. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Xeraysa 01.jpg|160px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Rebel</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Lynn<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
<br />
While tumultuous at best, and at other times simply argumentative, the relationship with Lynn and Seth has always been an odd one. Recently though they have come to a mutual understanding and ground has been covered. Important ground if recent developments within the family are to come to pass. Their mutual interests are sure to bolster up this growing friendship in the future. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Frost.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Assassin</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Miss. Frost<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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A new friend that has quickly become close to the group, Miss Frost has shown an accepting personality with perhaps just the right touch of dark past to mix her in with the odd group. Introduced through Methari the two have found they have much in common. Future adventures to Babylon are sure to cement this.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Blaq.jpg|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Shifter</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Blaq<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
<br />
An old friend of Seth's he is happy she has come back into their lives after a long absence. With so much in common many a long evening is spent simply talking and relaxing in each others company. Able to share many stories without fear of being judged. A once difficult thing to do. A kind hearted soul Seth is always warmed by her appearance and always finds her opinions to be wise.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Mitsuko.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Guardian</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Mitsuko<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
<br />
Mitsuko is one of the few friends that Seth has met in Millenium City that have stayed the passage of time, perhaps because she is so aware of what it is like to be a walker through it. And of what can be lost. He finds his heart reaches out to this person who has lost so much simply because of the effects time, and the idiocy of people, can have on a place. He hopes that he can aid her as much as she has aided him in feeling at home as he does now in Millenium City.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PROVEN POWERS AND ABILITIES</div>=<br />
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Seth's most usual style of fighting is with a pair of dual swords. Handcrafted in his own workshop they are fashioned similarly to Katanas though the metal is not the usual folded steel. A special alloy that incorporates his own strange essence means the blades are wicked sharp and never in need of the dull task of polishing after their initial creation. A skill he has had time to hone over centuries it is one he is well versed in, and utilises with ease, mixing magic into his fighting abilities to put him on par with the super-humans and Mages that surround him. If perhaps a little more indestructible. <br />
<br />
It is clear though that his powers far extend beyond the simple magic and swords that he uses on a daily basis. When called upon his powers have been known to change the very world around him. This usage seems controlled though and only used in dire circumstances, when pressed Seth will mention only vaguely a set of rules that seem to guide him. Perhaps this is the reason why he doesn't 'cheat' as often as he could.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">WEAKNESSES</div>=<br />
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It is often discussed whether a being such as Seth could have weaknesses. Here people talk about powers, about strengths, abilities and the tools at his disposal, very rarely do they talk about the heart of Seth. For Seth's greatest weakness is his heart and his emotions. Despite how cold and aloof he may seem on first meeting he cares deeply for those close to him and for the plight of those he meets. In most situations this is a benefit, a sign of strength, but too easily it can be used against him. His heart is scarred from all the times it has led him into pain. As he has said many times his heart is more fragile from the burdens he has had to bear, not stronger. <br />
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Any being vicious enough to attempt to strike a blow to him would go for those he holds dear. Though they should be cautious, any attempt is likely to bring Seth's anger and few have seen such ferocity and lived. <br />
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='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MEMORABLE EVENTS</div>'''''=<br />
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Here you will find many short tales and scenes from the life of Seth. Feel free to browse, or not browse, at your leisure. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Creation of a Sword|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Creation of a Sword''' </span>]]</h3><br />
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The forge was dark save for the glow of the fire and the glow of power in the smith’s eyes. His gaze was cool and concentrated on a heated length of metal protruding out of the fire. Time passed interminably as the tall figure simply watches the fire, occasionally turning the length this way or that way.<br />
<br />
“This must be perfect.” He says at last, slowly withdrawing the alloy and heading towards the anvil...<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Visiting Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Visiting Kahi''' </span>]]</h3><br />
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“Kahi,” Itennu says softly, then he sighs, voice becoming louder, “Kahi.”<br />
<br />
“What?” she asks, looking towards him with a sigh.<br />
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“You are not paying attention.” He says sternly, trying to glare at the six year old before him and failing.<br />
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“But I’m bored It-en-nu!” she replies, banging her sandaled feet onto the steps where she sat with every kick of her legs emphasising her boredom.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Fighting as One|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Fighting as One''' </span>]]</h3><br />
<br />
Nothing of such scale, grandeur or such complete devastation could be called anything but a violent storm of anger.<br />
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The army poured towards the small band making their way through the centre, their power terrible to behold, all falling before them. However the strain was beginning to show, their blades bloodied, sweat for once appearing on their brow and still their enemy came down upon them.<br />
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“There are too many!” <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Shifting-Dawn-342186992 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Shifting Dawn''' </span>] </h3><br />
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All was quiet as Seth sat listening to the gentle shift of sand around him in the breeze. A soft smile playing on his face as he lets the sound fill him. This was a moment he always enjoyed, the time dawn approached in Alau, a time of shifting powers, a moment of the pure balance. It helped him remember happier times. It helped him find the balance all said that someone such as he would be unable to find. Almost without notice a gentle glow shimmers over his frame, an outward sign of the <br />
strange peace...<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/A-Light-Breakfast-355058335 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A Light Breakfast''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
This is the universe. <br />
<br />
A confusing tumult of particles shifting out in all directions, creating eddies on the shifting tide of gravity that presses outwards, growing into the ever present darkness of the nothing between worlds. A new universe, vibrant with energy and blindingly bright. A joyous thing to behold as the light sears its way through the passage of creation. The laws that bind only the successful on their journey snap into being...<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Apep-Returns-355869068 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Apep Returns''' </span>]</h3><br />
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In the quiet afternoon of the city two dear friends stand talking. The crowds move around the two unnoticed as Dominick and Seth continue their conversation, smiles flickering on their faces as they talk. It is clear they are quite comfortable in each other’s presence, truly at ease. A peaceful scene indeed as they discuss those they had thought they’d lost. Both vaguely aware of a third presence watching them, the paper doll of Mitsuko sitting on the wall but remaining quiet as she watches on... <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Hesitant-Steps-355545676 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Hesitant Steps''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
The chaos of the hospital rang loud in his mind as Seth forced himself to step into the foyer. The press of people around his form made him shudder a little, the edges of his control raw with fatigue and fear for the one he came to see. In defence he shifts, returning to his older forms, his Anubite face appearing and his robes swirling around him in a deep red hue. A safety net he almost clings to. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Reforged-Power-355696300 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Hesitant Steps''' </span>]</h3><br />
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The small forge echoes to the sound of Seth’s measured hammer blows, his red eyes watching the metal carefully for imperfections with every hit. Never before has this being concentrated so on his crafting, but then it has never meant as much as this. Seth pauses as there is a quiet knock at the door; he looks over the metal, debating his move before fixing it back into the coals. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/The-Call-356229103 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Call''' </span>]</h3><br />
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“Dominick,” The whisper comes to him, echoing around him in the hospital, “Dominick.”<br />
<br />
The words intoned with a pressing need to follow that voice to where it calls for. Unable to avoid it and even as he questions himself and his hearing he is standing. His eyes widen and he gives a cry of surprise as his own body betrays him and begins to follow. Despite the force of the pull it is benevolent and almost beseeching. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Returning-Home-356236623 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Returning Home''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
Warm light flows into a peaceful room. White drapes fluttering in the air in the cool breeze as the first hints of a fine summer make the day beautiful. Beautiful to all except the form that lies limp on the bed, golden light shimmering around her as she heals. It has been a long time since she has been in this state, caught on the brink of death and only returning because of the powers that bind her. A twice bound soul to both her nature and her master. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Vigil-356663486 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Vigil''' </span>]</h3><br />
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The look on Kahi’s face was harrowing as she took in Seth’s condition. It had been two days since she had awoken after her rebirth, two days since she had learned of Seth’s poisoning and those two days had felt the longest of her existence for some time. Amun-Ra and Dominick had tried to keep her distracted with training, idle chatter and even a long walk into the nearest small town of workers. Yet everything had reminded her of this man. Her father.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Maelstrom-363190024 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Maelstrom''' </span>]</h3><br />
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“If you think you are so powerful why don’t you fight him.”<br />
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The words said in frustration echo in the courtyard as Kahi turns to glare at Seth. Her face is set with determination and sudden anger at her father who had done nothing but laugh quietly while she and Dominick trained. The quiet sounds of amusement an ever present distraction after every failed attempt to land a blow on Amun-Ra, every annoying moment...<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TimeAbyss <span style="color:#FFFFFF;">'''TimeAbyss'''</span>] - Seth has been alive for billions of years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - Seth only looks in his mid thirties despite his age.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CompleteImmortality <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Complete Immortality''' </span>] - A given alongside Time Abyss.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheSacredDarkness <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Sacred Darkness''' </span>] - Seth may have chaotic and dark powers but that does not make him evil.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AGodIAmNot <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A God I am Not''' </span>] - Whenever he is called a God he is the first to deny it, because he is not a god.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SharpDressedMan <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Sharp Dressed Man''' </span>] - Seth never dresses in any way other than his best.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GoodOldWays <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Good Old Ways''' </span>] - Despite the passage of time he will always reminisce about Ancient Egypt and the people he once knew there. <br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheOmniscient <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' The Omniscient''' </span>] - Simple age will do that to a guy. He's not so much Omniscient as very, very old.<br />
<br><br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HelpingWouldBeKillStealing <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Helping Would be Kill Stealing''' </span>] - At any time he could alter the events happening in his friends' lives, yet he does not.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassGrandpa <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Badass Grandpa''' </span>] - Acts the father figure to many characters, and works to increase their abilities. Mercy and Cache in particular.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassBaritone <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Badass Baritone''' </span>] - Every time he speaks and is a peculiar take on this as he's chosen to be this deep in tone.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WeatherDissonance <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Weather Dissonance''' </span>] - Seth can cause this at times when he actually flexes his powers. A rare event.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HeroesPreferSwords <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Heroes Prefer Swords''' </span>] - Seth has all his power, yet chooses to fight with swords.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DontMakeMeDestroyYou <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Don't make me Destroy you''' </span>] - Often Seth wishes to win a fight without the need to fight. Often works too...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticGood <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Good''' </span>] - Seth will always do the right thing his way.<br />
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='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Dominick</div>==<br />
"Hmm… Where do I Start? He is one of the greatest friends of a figure to me. So strong and yet gentle in his nature. I cannot express how much this man means to me outside of just being under his service as Avatar. We hold the best bond, heh. He is one of the reasons why I stand today, healthy and stronger than ever before. He is literally the toughest I have ever fought to this day, and I'm very grateful he's on the good side otherwise we'd be in huge trouble, haha. But yeah, he's also a great teacher. In fact, I am glad I am part of his family, and will do whatever it takes to always make him proud. I am well honoured to call him a father." <br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Mercy</div>==<br />
"Ha… the fox? -My- fox? He inspires me and my motives to make me the better person I wanna become. He can be a little pain in the ass sometimes with his innocence, but that’s what I love about him. I learned not to fuck around with him when he's tight. Piss him off, and your ass is grass. Lesson well-grounded. But other than that, he's like the pops I never had. When I'm around him, just his presence assures me that everythin'll be alright. If I hadn't bumped into him for the first time when I did I probably wouldn’t' a' been alive today to even comment about him. Strong motherfucker he is, I envy his strength and power. But its only the better reason for me to push my limits to be as tough as he is. He'll get it soon enough. Love him tho'." <br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
The familiar patter of rain hitting glass rings out as the golden woman stares out into the grey city-scape. Sitting across from you, her legs crossed casually her posture is however perfect.<br />
<br />
“I love the rain. Don’t you? Ah, but of course. You do not want to hear about that now.”<br />
<br />
“So, what can I tell you about him? Much, everything perhaps; maybe nothing more than you know… I have known him for as long as I can remember and perhaps, I remember less than I should.”<br />
<br />
“He is the complete selfless protection of those of his people caught in alien places. Wrath to those that mean his heart harm and protection to those that find themselves in its warmth.” She smiles, the love in her lining her soft expression.<br />
<br />
“He is every meaning of safety and love I have ever known. My father…” She looks away now out into the city view, memory gripping her old heart.<br />
<br />
“Set, my Seth. Typhon to those that may know him by other names, in truth he has many, all correct but none of them true.” She grins as she looks back at you.<br />
<br />
“We’ve been to just so many places, met so many different people. Saved some and… Condemned others.” Even as her face twists slightly with bad memories she suddenly lights up again, bringing the entire tone of the conversation with her mood. She laughs a wonderful golden sound,“Ah, if you ever get the chance ask him about the ‘Prague Incident’.” She grins wickedly, “He’ll know what you’re talking about.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know what I would do without him. Often I fear I don’t show him I love him enough, don’t say it enough… Nefer ib.” She pauses, the final words a language long dead to the world but they have meaning to her.<br />
<br />
Eventually she smiles, “Don’t let me prattle on, I am sure you have more questions; don’t you?”<br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
OPEN TO ADDITIONS<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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This page is still undergoing changes, and the story is always changing. Because, in the end we are always changing.<br />
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...<br />
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[[Category:Character]] [[Category:Male]][[Category:Cosmic]][[Category:Immortal]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]<br />
[[Category:Hero]][[Category:UNTIL]][[Category:UNITY]][[Category:Tank]]</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=SethSeth2016-02-02T22:59:54Z<p>Seth: /* FAMILY */</p>
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{{PriceBox<br />
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|Background=#444444<br />
|Text=#e8e8e8<br />
|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
|ShadowColor=<br />
<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lord of Sepermeru</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Seth</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Seth_New_Portrait.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Leader<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= Set - Typhon - Sutekh - Setekh - Setesh<br />
|Birthdate= The First Rain<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= Nomadic<br />
|Residence= Millenium City, Alau<br />
|Occupation= Eternal Tourist<br />
|Legal= Of Great Interest to UNTIL<br />
|Marital= He was once married<br />
|Relatives= Amun-Ra - Kahi - Dominick - Methari - Cache - Allie<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Cosmic Intelligence<br />
|Sub-Type= Unclassifiable<br />
|Ethnicity= Kehmetian<br />
|Gender= Male<br />
|Age= Incalculable <br />
|Height= 12 Feet (366cm)<br />
|Weight= 352 lbs (160Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= Dark (Mostly)<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= His powers vary from witness to witness<br />
|Equipment= Uses hand forged swords out of fondness for them<br />
|Skills= Swordsman Archer Conversationalist Chef<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:The Legend of Seth.png|Left|600px]]<br />
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<div style="font-size:20px">Awakenings</div><br />
<br />
'''The storm raged across the desert, and for the first time there were eyes to witness it.<br />
He looked out at the electric filled sky and the parched land below.<br />
All was sand; it had been so long since water had touched this place that all was dead.<br />
Only the presence was there to witness the chaos that raged in the sky above.<br />
It knew it was daytime though no light graced the ground below.<br />
Only the lightning made the desert visible.<br />
The gaze turned down to look at the desert, and sudden purpose filled it.<br />
<br />
“Rain.”<br />
<br />
It’s first word spread out across the waste with a finality of decision that could not be disobeyed, and with a sound of sudden thunder water fell at last on the desert once more.<br />
It smiled and took a first step forward into the world.'''<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE HISTORY</div>=<br />
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| track = Borrowing the Past<br />
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Set /sɛt/ or Seth (/sɛθ/) is a god of the desert, storms, and foreigners in ancient Egyptian religion. In later myths he is also the god of darkness and chaos. In Ancient Greek, the god's name is given as Sēth (Σήθ).The meaning of the name Seth is unknown, though it may first have been pronounced Sutah based on his name in the first language, [[File:Seth Name.png]].<br />
<br />
The myths speak of a being that defended all from the tyranny of Apep. The importance of it so great that it became a nightly occurrence to the people who followed him. The story of Seth's defense of Amun-Ra's Barque is one few know today yet is a defining feature of who he was. Too many focus on the battle between Horus and Seth, forgetting that the Council of the Gods, led by Amun-Ra would have chosen Seth as the ruler of Egypt if not for Ma'at. Few realise the reasons why he sought leadership and the demonising of his name during Greek Occupation of Egypt was catastrophic.<br />
<br />
Seth was worshipped in the metropolitan city of Sepermeru and it was there he made his first home among the humans. To this day the remains of a temple still stand at this site called 'The House of Seth' and the walls of the temple and the scrolls found their speak of his daughter, though little else remains to show where this daughter came from as no similar record is present in the House of Nepthys who was supposedly his wife at the time. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Demonisation</div>==<br />
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With the end of the Egyptian civilization, at the hand of the Greeks, Seth's true standing was demonised and his protective role forgotten. A revenge attack perhaps by a nation still reeling from the final act of protection Seth and Amun-Ra enacted for their people. It remains a closely guarded secret to this day, but no-one who has questioned the great being about it has ever received anything more than cryptic answers in return. Whatever it was though, it was enough for the Greeks to turn him into the evil character to many think of him as today. <br />
<br />
If the Greeks had sought to rile him up into action of any kind they were mistaken. Indeed any record of Seth in the country vanished almost as soon as the Greek's stepped foot in the capital. He has returned but rarely to the place once called Kehmet, the wounds perhaps to painful to examine once more. For what is two thousand years to such an old being? <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Long Journey</div>==<br />
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Since the fall of Kehmet there have been whispers and rumours about a man with blood, red hair and crimson eyes from many countries around the world. All speaking of a man set apart from the rest, a distant watcher. Yet also of someone who acted to defend the unfortunate, stepping up to defend the weakest, only to vanish at the end of the troubles. Sometimes accompanied by a woman, at other times alone, there was never any record for more than a year before he moved on again.<br />
<br />
Seen as far afield as India and the Americas; an inscription in a Mayan Temple talks of a red eyed demon that came out of a storm and destroyed the priests sacrificing a beaten army to their god. The people talking in fear of the being who had walked away with over a hundred suddenly freed captives as the temple collapsed into ruins.<br />
<br />
Another legend speaks of a man who visited the great swordsmith Masamune in Japan, staying for month after month until finally the great man relented and taught the traveller the Soshu tradition of making swords. This was the longest appearance of 'Seth' since the myths of Kehmet, for he stayed for nearly twenty years with the Priest. Indeed, some records from the time write that Seth stayed until Masamune died. "''The traveller having become the shadow of the Smith, always in his presence; The two quite inseparable,''" as a leading writer of the time described in his diaries. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Reemergence</div>==<br />
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[[File:Golden Lane.jpg|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Golden Lane</font>]]<br />
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Perhaps only seth could reemerge with the aplomb and 'style' as he. Returning into public view as a Lord under the reign of Francis II, Kahi returning once more to his side. Living in what was once the Hradčany, the Castle District, they were surrounded by the height of culture and intrigue. Slipping seamlessly into society and into the hidden world's of the little people. They were always where the stories were. <br />
<br />
Kahi was a frequent visitor to a street in the Hradčany called Golden street. This was one of the highlights of the city at the time, filled with curios and tales of other places. In other words, the perfect place to visit. Here,she met the Philosopher Uhle; considered an eccentric by many, that spent his entire income on books about magic and alchemy. For a few years there was nothing untoward about their stay in the city. Unfortunately, this was not to remain the case. <br />
<br />
On the day that Lord Seth and Lady Kahi vanished from the city there was a large detonation under Uhle's house in Golden Street. When the house was finally made safe, and the fire put out, they found Uhle's body still intact and clutching a large nugget of what later proved to be gold. The locals still say to this day that he had to have been successful in his search for the Philospher's stone. Modern day alchemists disagree though, anyone who would have succeeded should have survived the process. Visitors to Seth's Mansion in Alau however may see a figure resembling Uhle's description wandering the halls, but it may just be a passing resemblance. Indeed, whenever any difficult situation or catastrophe happens around Seth or Kahi they often refer to "''The Prague Incident''". They are never forth coming on the actual details though.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Modern Day</div>==<br />
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[[File:Millenium City Centre.jpg|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Millennium City RenCen</font>]]<br />
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Seth's most recent appearance is in Millenium City however, drawn as he was to that city after the Battle of Detroit. He has been a resident on and off for many years now, a regular at many of the city's attractions and outlets. His continued need to defend those that most need it has led him to the attention of many different organisations. In this technological age with it's power-savy people many are beginning to question who this man really is. For the moment he finds this entertaining, though it is unlikely it would remain so were someone to attempt to make life difficult for him.<br />
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Living in the Downtown area he is often seen about the city taking an interest in the life there; curious about all the different lifeforms than now pass through this nexus point. He feels there is much that he is grateful to the city for, including his ever growing family. Despite all the wandering he may have found somewhere to settle for a time. He does still wander the globe and further afield at times, yet he always returns to those he has met here. <br />
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After thousands of years it is this place which has driven him to become more active again, appearing more as who he is to the others. Gathering people together, and in some instances joining supergroups to experience the ambiance they bring. Now though he simply gathers those he is closest to into Black Sun, drawing a line against the true darkness that always threatens to take the home he holds most dear. The Earth on which he was born.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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| track = The Upper Sky<br />
| tracklink = http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXGnbEf-QLA<br />
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[[File:320px-Geb and Nut03.png|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Geb and Nut</font>]]<br />
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The Myths would have you believe that Seth is the son of the sky goddess Nut and the earth god Geb however this is not entirely true. Seth's true father is Amun-Ra the only other being like himself on Earth. <br />
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Created during the formation of the planet both have had a tumultuous and somewhat lonely existence as they watched the evolution of life and attempted to find the reasons for their 'creation'. Neither believe in the need of a higher deity to have led to their creation, but even after billions of years they still find themselves adrift of a true purpose. Indeed in the first years of his association with Amun-Ra Seth voices the opinion that their purpose was served when they were created; an opinion based solely on the yearning he had felt for there to be rain in his first moments. <br />
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[[Image:Kahi_Pose_02.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Sphinx</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Kahi<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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Brought to Seth as a mere infant she quickly became the most important part of Seth's life. Living in Seth's house in Sepermeru she grew up surrounded by the priests of Seth's order and in the knowledge that she was to be something more than the human she was. Seth though was reluctant to change her, despite having been the one to inform her of her possible abilities, for he had grown to love her as if she were his own. Time has shown her to ever be loved by his heart. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Dominick_Pose.png|160px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Saiyan</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Dominick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Dominick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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Dominick was one of the first people Seth ever met in Millennium City and his forthright innocence and determination led Seth into a new lease of life and it was rare indeed when they were not seen together. He proved himself to him time and again with his strength in battle, and could not be parted from him. Offered the chance to become Seth's Avatar he took it, and through that ritual he was linked to them both and gained an effectively immortal life.<br />
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[[Image:Amun-Ra Pose.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Grandfather</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Amun-Ra<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Needed not<br />
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Amun-Ra, father... More truly a brother to the odd Seth in actuality. Born before Seth he found him as the storm raged on the surface of a turbulent new world. The two lost and adrift without meaning or purpose. Thrust together by the simple need to not be alone. They have spent the past eons walking the universe together, trying to find a way to live when all they had was never ending existence. Together they made a family they grew to love. Both are father to Kahi and love her dearly.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FRIENDS</div>=<br />
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Despite this, or perhaps because of it, from the moment they have first met humans they have sought to surround themselves with them, guide them and generally meddle in their affairs. This led to the birth of the Ancient Egyptian Civilization and with their help it was maintained for thousands of years. The belief in their guidance led to the creation of the other Egyptian Gods, lesser beings to themselves that were fed off human belief in them and they only ever increased in number. Till there were nearly 300 other deities in the Egyptian Pantheon. This was their first family, and while not all were close to them, there were many that were dear to them and remain with them to this day.<br />
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[[Image:Mercyface.png|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Fighter</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Mercy<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Mercy_Madison|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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<br />
Perhaps one of the most hot headed of people he knows Mercy has become someone close to him indeed. A surprise for many considering their many first meetings, when not knowing who or what he was Mercy attacked him repeatedly. It was through these battles they came to know one another and a somewhat forced friendship began. Mercy admits that Seth taught her how to find a place to find balance in her life, a lesson that was hard won for himself as well. He always admits to seeing so much of his younger self in the woman. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Slickavatar.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Altered</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Slick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Slick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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It is possible that Seth considers him to be his closest friend in this time. Seth has never once regretted meeting this individual and finds his talks with this being to be calming and rather cathartic. There are few who are willing to accept Seth for all he is outside his family, and there are many times Seth has found himself sharing secrets. He hopes, dares to dream, that his friend will prove to be immortal. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Xeraysa 01.jpg|160px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Rebel</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Lynn<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
<br />
While tumultuous at best, and at other times simply argumentative, the relationship with Lynn and Seth has always been an odd one. Recently though they have come to a mutual understanding and ground has been covered. Important ground if recent developments within the family are to come to pass. Their mutual interests are sure to bolster up this growing friendship in the future. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Frost.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Assassin</h3><br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Miss. Frost<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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A new friend that has quickly become close to the group, Miss Frost has shown an accepting personality with perhaps just the right touch of dark past to mix her in with the odd group. Introduced through Methari the two have found they have much in common. Future adventures to Babylon are sure to cement this.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Blaq.jpg|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Shifter</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Blaq<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
<br />
An old friend of Seth's he is happy she has come back into their lives after a long absence. With so much in common many a long evening is spent simply talking and relaxing in each others company. Able to share many stories without fear of being judged. A once difficult thing to do. A kind hearted soul Seth is always warmed by her appearance and always finds her opinions to be wise.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Mitsuko.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Guardian</h3><br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Mitsuko<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
<br />
Mitsuko is one of the few friends that Seth has met in Millenium City that have stayed the passage of time, perhaps because she is so aware of what it is like to be a walker through it. And of what can be lost. He finds his heart reaches out to this person who has lost so much simply because of the effects time, and the idiocy of people, can have on a place. He hopes that he can aid her as much as she has aided him in feeling at home as he does now in Millenium City.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PROVEN POWERS AND ABILITIES</div>=<br />
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Seth's most usual style of fighting is with a pair of dual swords. Handcrafted in his own workshop they are fashioned similarly to Katanas though the metal is not the usual folded steel. A special alloy that incorporates his own strange essence means the blades are wicked sharp and never in need of the dull task of polishing after their initial creation. A skill he has had time to hone over centuries it is one he is well versed in, and utilises with ease, mixing magic into his fighting abilities to put him on par with the super-humans and Mages that surround him. If perhaps a little more indestructible. <br />
<br />
It is clear though that his powers far extend beyond the simple magic and swords that he uses on a daily basis. When called upon his powers have been known to change the very world around him. This usage seems controlled though and only used in dire circumstances, when pressed Seth will mention only vaguely a set of rules that seem to guide him. Perhaps this is the reason why he doesn't 'cheat' as often as he could.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">WEAKNESSES</div>=<br />
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It is often discussed whether a being such as Seth could have weaknesses. Here people talk about powers, about strengths, abilities and the tools at his disposal, very rarely do they talk about the heart of Seth. For Seth's greatest weakness is his heart and his emotions. Despite how cold and aloof he may seem on first meeting he cares deeply for those close to him and for the plight of those he meets. In most situations this is a benefit, a sign of strength, but too easily it can be used against him. His heart is scarred from all the times it has led him into pain. As he has said many times his heart is more fragile from the burdens he has had to bear, not stronger. <br />
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Any being vicious enough to attempt to strike a blow to him would go for those he holds dear. Though they should be cautious, any attempt is likely to bring Seth's anger and few have seen such ferocity and lived. <br />
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='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MEMORABLE EVENTS</div>'''''=<br />
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Here you will find many short tales and scenes from the life of Seth. Feel free to browse, or not browse, at your leisure. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Creation of a Sword|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Creation of a Sword''' </span>]]</h3><br />
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The forge was dark save for the glow of the fire and the glow of power in the smith’s eyes. His gaze was cool and concentrated on a heated length of metal protruding out of the fire. Time passed interminably as the tall figure simply watches the fire, occasionally turning the length this way or that way.<br />
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“This must be perfect.” He says at last, slowly withdrawing the alloy and heading towards the anvil. With deft fingers he picks up the hammer and begins, the sound of his blows reverberating outside the darkened forge.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Visiting Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Visiting Kahi''' </span>]]</h3><br />
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“Kahi,” Itennu says softly, then he sighs, voice becoming louder, “Kahi.”<br />
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“What?” she asks, looking towards him with a sigh.<br />
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“You are not paying attention.” He says sternly, trying to glare at the six year old before him and failing.<br />
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“But I’m bored It-en-nu!” she replies, banging her sandaled feet onto the steps where she sat with every kick of her legs emphasising her boredom.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Fighting as One|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Fighting as One''' </span>]]</h3><br />
<br />
Nothing of such scale, grandeur or such complete devastation could be called anything but a violent storm of anger.<br />
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The army poured towards the small band making their way through the centre, their power terrible to behold, all falling before them. However the strain was beginning to show, their blades bloodied, sweat for once appearing on their brow and still their enemy came down upon them.<br />
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“There are too many!” One of the great fighters called, a gun rising suddenly to fire into the writhing, nightmarish shaped mass coming down upon them, “It was stupid to fight here.”<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Shifting-Dawn-342186992 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Shifting Dawn''' </span>] </h3><br />
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All was quiet as Seth sat listening to the gentle shift of sand around him in the breeze. A soft smile playing on his face as he lets the sound fill him. This was a moment he always enjoyed, the time dawn approached in Alau, a time of shifting powers, a moment of the pure balance. It helped him remember happier times. It helped him find the balance all said that someone such as he would be unable to find. Almost without notice a gentle glow shimmers over his frame, an outward sign of the <br />
strange peace that has filled his life in recent months. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/A-Light-Breakfast-355058335 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A Light Breakfast''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
This is the universe. <br />
<br />
A confusing tumult of particles shifting out in all directions, creating eddies on the shifting tide of gravity that presses outwards, growing into the ever present darkness of the nothing between worlds. A new universe, vibrant with energy and blindingly bright. A joyous thing to behold as the light sears its way through the passage of creation. The laws that bind only the successful on their journey snap into being, defining the dimensions of this place, stabilising the particles that sparkle in that new space.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Apep-Returns-355869068 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Apep Returns''' </span>]</h3><br />
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In the quiet afternoon of the city two dear friends stand talking. The crowds move around the two unnoticed as Dominick and Seth continue their conversation, smiles flickering on their faces as they talk. It is clear they are quite comfortable in each other’s presence, truly at ease. A peaceful scene indeed as they discuss those they had thought they’d lost. Both vaguely aware of a third presence watching them, the paper doll of Mitsuko sitting on the wall but remaining quiet as she watches on. A familiar and comforting presence as they talk. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Hesitant-Steps-355545676 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Hesitant Steps''' </span>]</h3><br />
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The chaos of the hospital rang loud in his mind as Seth forced himself to step into the foyer. The press of people around his form made him shudder a little, the edges of his control raw with fatigue and fear for the one he came to see. In defence he shifts, returning to his older forms, his Anubite face appearing and his robes swirling around him in a deep red hue. A safety net he almost clings to. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Reforged-Power-355696300 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Hesitant Steps''' </span>]</h3><br />
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The small forge echoes to the sound of Seth’s measured hammer blows, his red eyes watching the metal carefully for imperfections with every hit. Never before has this being concentrated so on his crafting, but then it has never meant as much as this. Seth pauses as there is a quiet knock at the door; he looks over the metal, debating his move before fixing it back into the coals. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/The-Call-356229103 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Call''' </span>]</h3><br />
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“Dominick,” The whisper comes to him, echoing around him in the hospital, “Dominick.”<br />
<br />
The words intoned with a pressing need to follow that voice to where it calls for. Unable to avoid it and even as he questions himself and his hearing he is standing. His eyes widen and he gives a cry of surprise as his own body betrays him and begins to follow. Despite the force of the pull it is benevolent and almost beseeching. He lets himself be taken out of the hospital, and towards the parkland of the Renaissance Centre beyond, only coming to a stop behind a golden figure in white robes that stands looking over the waterfall beyond.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Returning-Home-356236623 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Returning Home''' </span>]</h3><br />
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Warm light flows into a peaceful room. White drapes fluttering in the air in the cool breeze as the first hints of a fine summer make the day beautiful. Beautiful to all except the form that lies limp on the bed, golden light shimmering around her as she heals. It has been a long time since she has been in this state, caught on the brink of death and only returning because of the powers that bind her. A twice bound soul to both her nature and her master. <br />
<br />
Her dark hair falls over her closed golden eyes as she shifts, brow furrowed with the memories that force their way through her mind. Returning from the borders is never a pleasant experience. To return she must remember. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Vigil-356663486 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Vigil''' </span>]</h3><br />
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The look on Kahi’s face was harrowing as she took in Seth’s condition. It had been two days since she had awoken after her rebirth, two days since she had learned of Seth’s poisoning and those two days had felt the longest of her existence for some time. Amun-Ra and Dominick had tried to keep her distracted with training, idle chatter and even a long walk into the nearest small town of workers. Yet everything had reminded her of this man. Her father.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Maelstrom-363190024 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Maelstrom''' </span>]</h3><br />
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“If you think you are so powerful why don’t you fight him.”<br />
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The words said in frustration echo in the courtyard as Kahi turns to glare at Seth. Her face is set with determination and sudden anger at her father who had done nothing but laugh quietly while she and Dominick trained. The quiet sounds of amusement an ever present distraction after every failed attempt to land a blow on Amun-Ra, every annoying moment when the greatest of them showed his true power. Showed how much they were being toyed with. It reminded her far too much of her fight with Apep; something she could quite do without remembering thank you very much. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TimeAbyss <span style="color:#FFFFFF;">'''TimeAbyss'''</span>] - Seth has been alive for billions of years.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - Seth only looks in his mid thirties despite his age.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CompleteImmortality <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Complete Immortality''' </span>] - A given alongside Time Abyss.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheSacredDarkness <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Sacred Darkness''' </span>] - Seth may have chaotic and dark powers but that does not make him evil.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AGodIAmNot <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A God I am Not''' </span>] - Whenever he is called a God he is the first to deny it, because he is not a god.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SharpDressedMan <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Sharp Dressed Man''' </span>] - Seth never dresses in any way other than his best.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GoodOldWays <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Good Old Ways''' </span>] - Despite the passage of time he will always reminisce about Ancient Egypt and the people he once knew there. <br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheOmniscient <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' The Omniscient''' </span>] - Simple age will do that to a guy. He's not so much Omniscient as very, very old.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HelpingWouldBeKillStealing <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Helping Would be Kill Stealing''' </span>] - At any time he could alter the events happening in his friends' lives, yet he does not.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassGrandpa <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Badass Grandpa''' </span>] - Acts the father figure to many characters, and works to increase their abilities. Mercy and Cache in particular.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassBaritone <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Badass Baritone''' </span>] - Every time he speaks and is a peculiar take on this as he's chosen to be this deep in tone.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WeatherDissonance <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Weather Dissonance''' </span>] - Seth can cause this at times when he actually flexes his powers. A rare event.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HeroesPreferSwords <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Heroes Prefer Swords''' </span>] - Seth has all his power, yet chooses to fight with swords.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DontMakeMeDestroyYou <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Don't make me Destroy you''' </span>] - Often Seth wishes to win a fight without the need to fight. Often works too...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticGood <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Good''' </span>] - Seth will always do the right thing his way.<br />
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='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Dominick</div>==<br />
"Hmm… Where do I Start? He is one of the greatest friends of a figure to me. So strong and yet gentle in his nature. I cannot express how much this man means to me outside of just being under his service as Avatar. We hold the best bond, heh. He is one of the reasons why I stand today, healthy and stronger than ever before. He is literally the toughest I have ever fought to this day, and I'm very grateful he's on the good side otherwise we'd be in huge trouble, haha. But yeah, he's also a great teacher. In fact, I am glad I am part of his family, and will do whatever it takes to always make him proud. I am well honoured to call him a father." <br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Mercy</div>==<br />
"Ha… the fox? -My- fox? He inspires me and my motives to make me the better person I wanna become. He can be a little pain in the ass sometimes with his innocence, but that’s what I love about him. I learned not to fuck around with him when he's tight. Piss him off, and your ass is grass. Lesson well-grounded. But other than that, he's like the pops I never had. When I'm around him, just his presence assures me that everythin'll be alright. If I hadn't bumped into him for the first time when I did I probably wouldn’t' a' been alive today to even comment about him. Strong motherfucker he is, I envy his strength and power. But its only the better reason for me to push my limits to be as tough as he is. He'll get it soon enough. Love him tho'." <br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
The familiar patter of rain hitting glass rings out as the golden woman stares out into the grey city-scape. Sitting across from you, her legs crossed casually her posture is however perfect.<br />
<br />
“I love the rain. Don’t you? Ah, but of course. You do not want to hear about that now.”<br />
<br />
“So, what can I tell you about him? Much, everything perhaps; maybe nothing more than you know… I have known him for as long as I can remember and perhaps, I remember less than I should.”<br />
<br />
“He is the complete selfless protection of those of his people caught in alien places. Wrath to those that mean his heart harm and protection to those that find themselves in its warmth.” She smiles, the love in her lining her soft expression.<br />
<br />
“He is every meaning of safety and love I have ever known. My father…” She looks away now out into the city view, memory gripping her old heart.<br />
<br />
“Set, my Seth. Typhon to those that may know him by other names, in truth he has many, all correct but none of them true.” She grins as she looks back at you.<br />
<br />
“We’ve been to just so many places, met so many different people. Saved some and… Condemned others.” Even as her face twists slightly with bad memories she suddenly lights up again, bringing the entire tone of the conversation with her mood. She laughs a wonderful golden sound,“Ah, if you ever get the chance ask him about the ‘Prague Incident’.” She grins wickedly, “He’ll know what you’re talking about.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know what I would do without him. Often I fear I don’t show him I love him enough, don’t say it enough… Nefer ib.” She pauses, the final words a language long dead to the world but they have meaning to her.<br />
<br />
Eventually she smiles, “Don’t let me prattle on, I am sure you have more questions; don’t you?”<br />
<br><br />
...<br />
<br><br />
OPEN TO ADDITIONS<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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This page is still undergoing changes, and the story is always changing. Because, in the end we are always changing.<br />
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...<br />
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[[Category:Character]] [[Category:Male]][[Category:Cosmic]][[Category:Immortal]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]<br />
[[Category:Hero]][[Category:UNTIL]][[Category:UNITY]][[Category:Tank]]</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=SethSeth2016-02-02T22:58:17Z<p>Seth: </p>
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|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lord of Sepermeru</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Seth</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Seth_New_Portrait.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Leader<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= Set - Typhon - Sutekh - Setekh - Setesh<br />
|Birthdate= The First Rain<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= Nomadic<br />
|Residence= Millenium City, Alau<br />
|Occupation= Eternal Tourist<br />
|Legal= Of Great Interest to UNTIL<br />
|Marital= He was once married<br />
|Relatives= Amun-Ra - Kahi - Dominick - Methari - Cache - Allie<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Cosmic Intelligence<br />
|Sub-Type= Unclassifiable<br />
|Ethnicity= Kehmetian<br />
|Gender= Male<br />
|Age= Incalculable <br />
|Height= 12 Feet (366cm)<br />
|Weight= 352 lbs (160Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= Dark (Mostly)<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= His powers vary from witness to witness<br />
|Equipment= Uses hand forged swords out of fondness for them<br />
|Skills= Swordsman Archer Conversationalist Chef<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:The Legend of Seth.png|Left|600px]]<br />
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<div style="font-size:20px">Awakenings</div><br />
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'''The storm raged across the desert, and for the first time there were eyes to witness it.<br />
He looked out at the electric filled sky and the parched land below.<br />
All was sand; it had been so long since water had touched this place that all was dead.<br />
Only the presence was there to witness the chaos that raged in the sky above.<br />
It knew it was daytime though no light graced the ground below.<br />
Only the lightning made the desert visible.<br />
The gaze turned down to look at the desert, and sudden purpose filled it.<br />
<br />
“Rain.”<br />
<br />
It’s first word spread out across the waste with a finality of decision that could not be disobeyed, and with a sound of sudden thunder water fell at last on the desert once more.<br />
It smiled and took a first step forward into the world.'''<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE HISTORY</div>=<br />
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Set /sɛt/ or Seth (/sɛθ/) is a god of the desert, storms, and foreigners in ancient Egyptian religion. In later myths he is also the god of darkness and chaos. In Ancient Greek, the god's name is given as Sēth (Σήθ).The meaning of the name Seth is unknown, though it may first have been pronounced Sutah based on his name in the first language, [[File:Seth Name.png]].<br />
<br />
The myths speak of a being that defended all from the tyranny of Apep. The importance of it so great that it became a nightly occurrence to the people who followed him. The story of Seth's defense of Amun-Ra's Barque is one few know today yet is a defining feature of who he was. Too many focus on the battle between Horus and Seth, forgetting that the Council of the Gods, led by Amun-Ra would have chosen Seth as the ruler of Egypt if not for Ma'at. Few realise the reasons why he sought leadership and the demonising of his name during Greek Occupation of Egypt was catastrophic.<br />
<br />
Seth was worshipped in the metropolitan city of Sepermeru and it was there he made his first home among the humans. To this day the remains of a temple still stand at this site called 'The House of Seth' and the walls of the temple and the scrolls found their speak of his daughter, though little else remains to show where this daughter came from as no similar record is present in the House of Nepthys who was supposedly his wife at the time. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Demonisation</div>==<br />
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With the end of the Egyptian civilization, at the hand of the Greeks, Seth's true standing was demonised and his protective role forgotten. A revenge attack perhaps by a nation still reeling from the final act of protection Seth and Amun-Ra enacted for their people. It remains a closely guarded secret to this day, but no-one who has questioned the great being about it has ever received anything more than cryptic answers in return. Whatever it was though, it was enough for the Greeks to turn him into the evil character to many think of him as today. <br />
<br />
If the Greeks had sought to rile him up into action of any kind they were mistaken. Indeed any record of Seth in the country vanished almost as soon as the Greek's stepped foot in the capital. He has returned but rarely to the place once called Kehmet, the wounds perhaps to painful to examine once more. For what is two thousand years to such an old being? <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Long Journey</div>==<br />
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Since the fall of Kehmet there have been whispers and rumours about a man with blood, red hair and crimson eyes from many countries around the world. All speaking of a man set apart from the rest, a distant watcher. Yet also of someone who acted to defend the unfortunate, stepping up to defend the weakest, only to vanish at the end of the troubles. Sometimes accompanied by a woman, at other times alone, there was never any record for more than a year before he moved on again.<br />
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Seen as far afield as India and the Americas; an inscription in a Mayan Temple talks of a red eyed demon that came out of a storm and destroyed the priests sacrificing a beaten army to their god. The people talking in fear of the being who had walked away with over a hundred suddenly freed captives as the temple collapsed into ruins.<br />
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Another legend speaks of a man who visited the great swordsmith Masamune in Japan, staying for month after month until finally the great man relented and taught the traveller the Soshu tradition of making swords. This was the longest appearance of 'Seth' since the myths of Kehmet, for he stayed for nearly twenty years with the Priest. Indeed, some records from the time write that Seth stayed until Masamune died. "''The traveller having become the shadow of the Smith, always in his presence; The two quite inseparable,''" as a leading writer of the time described in his diaries. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Reemergence</div>==<br />
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[[File:Golden Lane.jpg|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Golden Lane</font>]]<br />
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Perhaps only seth could reemerge with the aplomb and 'style' as he. Returning into public view as a Lord under the reign of Francis II, Kahi returning once more to his side. Living in what was once the Hradčany, the Castle District, they were surrounded by the height of culture and intrigue. Slipping seamlessly into society and into the hidden world's of the little people. They were always where the stories were. <br />
<br />
Kahi was a frequent visitor to a street in the Hradčany called Golden street. This was one of the highlights of the city at the time, filled with curios and tales of other places. In other words, the perfect place to visit. Here,she met the Philosopher Uhle; considered an eccentric by many, that spent his entire income on books about magic and alchemy. For a few years there was nothing untoward about their stay in the city. Unfortunately, this was not to remain the case. <br />
<br />
On the day that Lord Seth and Lady Kahi vanished from the city there was a large detonation under Uhle's house in Golden Street. When the house was finally made safe, and the fire put out, they found Uhle's body still intact and clutching a large nugget of what later proved to be gold. The locals still say to this day that he had to have been successful in his search for the Philospher's stone. Modern day alchemists disagree though, anyone who would have succeeded should have survived the process. Visitors to Seth's Mansion in Alau however may see a figure resembling Uhle's description wandering the halls, but it may just be a passing resemblance. Indeed, whenever any difficult situation or catastrophe happens around Seth or Kahi they often refer to "''The Prague Incident''". They are never forth coming on the actual details though.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Modern Day</div>==<br />
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[[File:Millenium City Centre.jpg|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Millennium City RenCen</font>]]<br />
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Seth's most recent appearance is in Millenium City however, drawn as he was to that city after the Battle of Detroit. He has been a resident on and off for many years now, a regular at many of the city's attractions and outlets. His continued need to defend those that most need it has led him to the attention of many different organisations. In this technological age with it's power-savy people many are beginning to question who this man really is. For the moment he finds this entertaining, though it is unlikely it would remain so were someone to attempt to make life difficult for him.<br />
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Living in the Downtown area he is often seen about the city taking an interest in the life there; curious about all the different lifeforms than now pass through this nexus point. He feels there is much that he is grateful to the city for, including his ever growing family. Despite all the wandering he may have found somewhere to settle for a time. He does still wander the globe and further afield at times, yet he always returns to those he has met here. <br />
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After thousands of years it is this place which has driven him to become more active again, appearing more as who he is to the others. Gathering people together, and in some instances joining supergroups to experience the ambiance they bring. Now though he simply gathers those he is closest to into Black Sun, drawing a line against the true darkness that always threatens to take the home he holds most dear. The Earth on which he was born.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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[[File:320px-Geb and Nut03.png|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Geb and Nut</font>]]<br />
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The Myths would have you believe that Seth is the son of the sky goddess Nut and the earth god Geb however this is not entirely true. Seth's true father is Amun-Ra the only other being like himself on Earth. <br />
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Created during the formation of the planet both have had a tumultuous and somewhat lonely existence as they watched the evolution of life and attempted to find the reasons for their 'creation'. Neither believe in the need of a higher deity to have led to their creation, but even after billions of years they still find themselves adrift of a true purpose. Indeed in the first years of his association with Amun-Ra Seth voices the opinion that their purpose was served when they were created; an opinion based solely on the yearning he had felt for there to be rain in his first moments. <br />
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[[Image:Kahi_Pose_02.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Sphinx</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Kahi<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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Brought to Seth as a mere infant she quickly became the most important part of Seth's life. Living in Seth's house in Sepermeru she grew up surrounded by the priests of Seth's order and in the knowledge that she was to be something more than the human she was. Seth though was reluctant to change her, despite having been the one to inform her of her possible abilities, for he had grown to love her as if she were his own. Time has shown her to ever be loved by his heart. <br />
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[[Image:Dominick_Pose.png|160px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Saiyan</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Dominick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Dominick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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Now, several thousand years later Kahi and Seth still travel the world together to find others they could call a family on their now joint quest to escape the lonely monotony of eternity. In Dominick they have found a certainty in this. Dominick was one of the first people they ever met in Millennium City and his forthright innocence and determination led them into a new lease of life and it was rare indeed when they were not seen together. He proved himself to them time and again with his strength in battle, and they knew they could not be parted from him. Offered the chance to become Seth's Avatar he took it, and through that ritual he was linked to them both and gained an effectively immortal life.<br />
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[[Image:Amun-Ra Pose.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Grandfather</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Amun-Ra<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Needed not<br />
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Amun-Ra, father... More truly a brother to the odd Seth in actuality. Born before Seth he found him as the storm raged on the surface of a turbulent new world. The two lost and adrift without meaning or purpose. Thrust together by the simple need to not be alone. They have spent the past eons walking the universe together, trying to find a way to live when all they had was never ending existence. Together they made a family they grew to love. Both are father to Kahi and love her dearly.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FRIENDS</div>=<br />
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Despite this, or perhaps because of it, from the moment they have first met humans they have sought to surround themselves with them, guide them and generally meddle in their affairs. This led to the birth of the Ancient Egyptian Civilization and with their help it was maintained for thousands of years. The belief in their guidance led to the creation of the other Egyptian Gods, lesser beings to themselves that were fed off human belief in them and they only ever increased in number. Till there were nearly 300 other deities in the Egyptian Pantheon. This was their first family, and while not all were close to them, there were many that were dear to them and remain with them to this day.<br />
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[[Image:Mercyface.png|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Fighter</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Mercy<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Mercy_Madison|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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Perhaps one of the most hot headed of people he knows Mercy has become someone close to him indeed. A surprise for many considering their many first meetings, when not knowing who or what he was Mercy attacked him repeatedly. It was through these battles they came to know one another and a somewhat forced friendship began. Mercy admits that Seth taught her how to find a place to find balance in her life, a lesson that was hard won for himself as well. He always admits to seeing so much of his younger self in the woman. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Slickavatar.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Altered</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Slick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Slick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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It is possible that Seth considers him to be his closest friend in this time. Seth has never once regretted meeting this individual and finds his talks with this being to be calming and rather cathartic. There are few who are willing to accept Seth for all he is outside his family, and there are many times Seth has found himself sharing secrets. He hopes, dares to dream, that his friend will prove to be immortal. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Xeraysa 01.jpg|160px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Rebel</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Lynn<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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While tumultuous at best, and at other times simply argumentative, the relationship with Lynn and Seth has always been an odd one. Recently though they have come to a mutual understanding and ground has been covered. Important ground if recent developments within the family are to come to pass. Their mutual interests are sure to bolster up this growing friendship in the future. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Frost.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Assassin</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Miss. Frost<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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A new friend that has quickly become close to the group, Miss Frost has shown an accepting personality with perhaps just the right touch of dark past to mix her in with the odd group. Introduced through Methari the two have found they have much in common. Future adventures to Babylon are sure to cement this.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Blaq.jpg|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Shifter</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Blaq<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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An old friend of Seth's he is happy she has come back into their lives after a long absence. With so much in common many a long evening is spent simply talking and relaxing in each others company. Able to share many stories without fear of being judged. A once difficult thing to do. A kind hearted soul Seth is always warmed by her appearance and always finds her opinions to be wise.<br />
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[[Image:Mitsuko.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Guardian</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Mitsuko<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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Mitsuko is one of the few friends that Seth has met in Millenium City that have stayed the passage of time, perhaps because she is so aware of what it is like to be a walker through it. And of what can be lost. He finds his heart reaches out to this person who has lost so much simply because of the effects time, and the idiocy of people, can have on a place. He hopes that he can aid her as much as she has aided him in feeling at home as he does now in Millenium City.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PROVEN POWERS AND ABILITIES</div>=<br />
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Seth's most usual style of fighting is with a pair of dual swords. Handcrafted in his own workshop they are fashioned similarly to Katanas though the metal is not the usual folded steel. A special alloy that incorporates his own strange essence means the blades are wicked sharp and never in need of the dull task of polishing after their initial creation. A skill he has had time to hone over centuries it is one he is well versed in, and utilises with ease, mixing magic into his fighting abilities to put him on par with the super-humans and Mages that surround him. If perhaps a little more indestructible. <br />
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It is clear though that his powers far extend beyond the simple magic and swords that he uses on a daily basis. When called upon his powers have been known to change the very world around him. This usage seems controlled though and only used in dire circumstances, when pressed Seth will mention only vaguely a set of rules that seem to guide him. Perhaps this is the reason why he doesn't 'cheat' as often as he could.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">WEAKNESSES</div>=<br />
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It is often discussed whether a being such as Seth could have weaknesses. Here people talk about powers, about strengths, abilities and the tools at his disposal, very rarely do they talk about the heart of Seth. For Seth's greatest weakness is his heart and his emotions. Despite how cold and aloof he may seem on first meeting he cares deeply for those close to him and for the plight of those he meets. In most situations this is a benefit, a sign of strength, but too easily it can be used against him. His heart is scarred from all the times it has led him into pain. As he has said many times his heart is more fragile from the burdens he has had to bear, not stronger. <br />
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Any being vicious enough to attempt to strike a blow to him would go for those he holds dear. Though they should be cautious, any attempt is likely to bring Seth's anger and few have seen such ferocity and lived. <br />
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='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MEMORABLE EVENTS</div>'''''=<br />
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Here you will find many short tales and scenes from the life of Seth. Feel free to browse, or not browse, at your leisure. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Creation of a Sword|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Creation of a Sword''' </span>]]</h3><br />
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The forge was dark save for the glow of the fire and the glow of power in the smith’s eyes. His gaze was cool and concentrated on a heated length of metal protruding out of the fire. Time passed interminably as the tall figure simply watches the fire, occasionally turning the length this way or that way.<br />
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“This must be perfect.” He says at last, slowly withdrawing the alloy and heading towards the anvil. With deft fingers he picks up the hammer and begins, the sound of his blows reverberating outside the darkened forge.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Visiting Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Visiting Kahi''' </span>]]</h3><br />
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“Kahi,” Itennu says softly, then he sighs, voice becoming louder, “Kahi.”<br />
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“What?” she asks, looking towards him with a sigh.<br />
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“You are not paying attention.” He says sternly, trying to glare at the six year old before him and failing.<br />
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“But I’m bored It-en-nu!” she replies, banging her sandaled feet onto the steps where she sat with every kick of her legs emphasising her boredom.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Fighting as One|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Fighting as One''' </span>]]</h3><br />
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Nothing of such scale, grandeur or such complete devastation could be called anything but a violent storm of anger.<br />
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The army poured towards the small band making their way through the centre, their power terrible to behold, all falling before them. However the strain was beginning to show, their blades bloodied, sweat for once appearing on their brow and still their enemy came down upon them.<br />
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“There are too many!” One of the great fighters called, a gun rising suddenly to fire into the writhing, nightmarish shaped mass coming down upon them, “It was stupid to fight here.”<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Shifting-Dawn-342186992 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Shifting Dawn''' </span>] </h3><br />
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All was quiet as Seth sat listening to the gentle shift of sand around him in the breeze. A soft smile playing on his face as he lets the sound fill him. This was a moment he always enjoyed, the time dawn approached in Alau, a time of shifting powers, a moment of the pure balance. It helped him remember happier times. It helped him find the balance all said that someone such as he would be unable to find. Almost without notice a gentle glow shimmers over his frame, an outward sign of the <br />
strange peace that has filled his life in recent months. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/A-Light-Breakfast-355058335 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A Light Breakfast''' </span>]</h3><br />
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This is the universe. <br />
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A confusing tumult of particles shifting out in all directions, creating eddies on the shifting tide of gravity that presses outwards, growing into the ever present darkness of the nothing between worlds. A new universe, vibrant with energy and blindingly bright. A joyous thing to behold as the light sears its way through the passage of creation. The laws that bind only the successful on their journey snap into being, defining the dimensions of this place, stabilising the particles that sparkle in that new space.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Apep-Returns-355869068 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Apep Returns''' </span>]</h3><br />
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In the quiet afternoon of the city two dear friends stand talking. The crowds move around the two unnoticed as Dominick and Seth continue their conversation, smiles flickering on their faces as they talk. It is clear they are quite comfortable in each other’s presence, truly at ease. A peaceful scene indeed as they discuss those they had thought they’d lost. Both vaguely aware of a third presence watching them, the paper doll of Mitsuko sitting on the wall but remaining quiet as she watches on. A familiar and comforting presence as they talk. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Hesitant-Steps-355545676 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Hesitant Steps''' </span>]</h3><br />
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The chaos of the hospital rang loud in his mind as Seth forced himself to step into the foyer. The press of people around his form made him shudder a little, the edges of his control raw with fatigue and fear for the one he came to see. In defence he shifts, returning to his older forms, his Anubite face appearing and his robes swirling around him in a deep red hue. A safety net he almost clings to. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Reforged-Power-355696300 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Hesitant Steps''' </span>]</h3><br />
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The small forge echoes to the sound of Seth’s measured hammer blows, his red eyes watching the metal carefully for imperfections with every hit. Never before has this being concentrated so on his crafting, but then it has never meant as much as this. Seth pauses as there is a quiet knock at the door; he looks over the metal, debating his move before fixing it back into the coals. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/The-Call-356229103 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Call''' </span>]</h3><br />
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“Dominick,” The whisper comes to him, echoing around him in the hospital, “Dominick.”<br />
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The words intoned with a pressing need to follow that voice to where it calls for. Unable to avoid it and even as he questions himself and his hearing he is standing. His eyes widen and he gives a cry of surprise as his own body betrays him and begins to follow. Despite the force of the pull it is benevolent and almost beseeching. He lets himself be taken out of the hospital, and towards the parkland of the Renaissance Centre beyond, only coming to a stop behind a golden figure in white robes that stands looking over the waterfall beyond.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Returning-Home-356236623 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Returning Home''' </span>]</h3><br />
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Warm light flows into a peaceful room. White drapes fluttering in the air in the cool breeze as the first hints of a fine summer make the day beautiful. Beautiful to all except the form that lies limp on the bed, golden light shimmering around her as she heals. It has been a long time since she has been in this state, caught on the brink of death and only returning because of the powers that bind her. A twice bound soul to both her nature and her master. <br />
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Her dark hair falls over her closed golden eyes as she shifts, brow furrowed with the memories that force their way through her mind. Returning from the borders is never a pleasant experience. To return she must remember. <br />
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The look on Kahi’s face was harrowing as she took in Seth’s condition. It had been two days since she had awoken after her rebirth, two days since she had learned of Seth’s poisoning and those two days had felt the longest of her existence for some time. Amun-Ra and Dominick had tried to keep her distracted with training, idle chatter and even a long walk into the nearest small town of workers. Yet everything had reminded her of this man. Her father.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Maelstrom-363190024 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Maelstrom''' </span>]</h3><br />
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“If you think you are so powerful why don’t you fight him.”<br />
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The words said in frustration echo in the courtyard as Kahi turns to glare at Seth. Her face is set with determination and sudden anger at her father who had done nothing but laugh quietly while she and Dominick trained. The quiet sounds of amusement an ever present distraction after every failed attempt to land a blow on Amun-Ra, every annoying moment when the greatest of them showed his true power. Showed how much they were being toyed with. It reminded her far too much of her fight with Apep; something she could quite do without remembering thank you very much. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TimeAbyss <span style="color:#FFFFFF;">'''TimeAbyss'''</span>] - Seth has been alive for billions of years.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - Seth only looks in his mid thirties despite his age.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CompleteImmortality <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Complete Immortality''' </span>] - A given alongside Time Abyss.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheSacredDarkness <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Sacred Darkness''' </span>] - Seth may have chaotic and dark powers but that does not make him evil.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AGodIAmNot <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A God I am Not''' </span>] - Whenever he is called a God he is the first to deny it, because he is not a god.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SharpDressedMan <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Sharp Dressed Man''' </span>] - Seth never dresses in any way other than his best.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GoodOldWays <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Good Old Ways''' </span>] - Despite the passage of time he will always reminisce about Ancient Egypt and the people he once knew there. <br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheOmniscient <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' The Omniscient''' </span>] - Simple age will do that to a guy. He's not so much Omniscient as very, very old.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HelpingWouldBeKillStealing <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Helping Would be Kill Stealing''' </span>] - At any time he could alter the events happening in his friends' lives, yet he does not.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassGrandpa <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Badass Grandpa''' </span>] - Acts the father figure to many characters, and works to increase their abilities. Mercy and Cache in particular.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassBaritone <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Badass Baritone''' </span>] - Every time he speaks and is a peculiar take on this as he's chosen to be this deep in tone.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WeatherDissonance <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Weather Dissonance''' </span>] - Seth can cause this at times when he actually flexes his powers. A rare event.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HeroesPreferSwords <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Heroes Prefer Swords''' </span>] - Seth has all his power, yet chooses to fight with swords.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DontMakeMeDestroyYou <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Don't make me Destroy you''' </span>] - Often Seth wishes to win a fight without the need to fight. Often works too...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticGood <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Good''' </span>] - Seth will always do the right thing his way.<br />
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='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Dominick</div>==<br />
"Hmm… Where do I Start? He is one of the greatest friends of a figure to me. So strong and yet gentle in his nature. I cannot express how much this man means to me outside of just being under his service as Avatar. We hold the best bond, heh. He is one of the reasons why I stand today, healthy and stronger than ever before. He is literally the toughest I have ever fought to this day, and I'm very grateful he's on the good side otherwise we'd be in huge trouble, haha. But yeah, he's also a great teacher. In fact, I am glad I am part of his family, and will do whatever it takes to always make him proud. I am well honoured to call him a father." <br />
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...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Mercy</div>==<br />
"Ha… the fox? -My- fox? He inspires me and my motives to make me the better person I wanna become. He can be a little pain in the ass sometimes with his innocence, but that’s what I love about him. I learned not to fuck around with him when he's tight. Piss him off, and your ass is grass. Lesson well-grounded. But other than that, he's like the pops I never had. When I'm around him, just his presence assures me that everythin'll be alright. If I hadn't bumped into him for the first time when I did I probably wouldn’t' a' been alive today to even comment about him. Strong motherfucker he is, I envy his strength and power. But its only the better reason for me to push my limits to be as tough as he is. He'll get it soon enough. Love him tho'." <br />
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...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
The familiar patter of rain hitting glass rings out as the golden woman stares out into the grey city-scape. Sitting across from you, her legs crossed casually her posture is however perfect.<br />
<br />
“I love the rain. Don’t you? Ah, but of course. You do not want to hear about that now.”<br />
<br />
“So, what can I tell you about him? Much, everything perhaps; maybe nothing more than you know… I have known him for as long as I can remember and perhaps, I remember less than I should.”<br />
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“He is the complete selfless protection of those of his people caught in alien places. Wrath to those that mean his heart harm and protection to those that find themselves in its warmth.” She smiles, the love in her lining her soft expression.<br />
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“He is every meaning of safety and love I have ever known. My father…” She looks away now out into the city view, memory gripping her old heart.<br />
<br />
“Set, my Seth. Typhon to those that may know him by other names, in truth he has many, all correct but none of them true.” She grins as she looks back at you.<br />
<br />
“We’ve been to just so many places, met so many different people. Saved some and… Condemned others.” Even as her face twists slightly with bad memories she suddenly lights up again, bringing the entire tone of the conversation with her mood. She laughs a wonderful golden sound,“Ah, if you ever get the chance ask him about the ‘Prague Incident’.” She grins wickedly, “He’ll know what you’re talking about.”<br />
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“I don’t know what I would do without him. Often I fear I don’t show him I love him enough, don’t say it enough… Nefer ib.” She pauses, the final words a language long dead to the world but they have meaning to her.<br />
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Eventually she smiles, “Don’t let me prattle on, I am sure you have more questions; don’t you?”<br />
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...<br />
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OPEN TO ADDITIONS<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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This page is still undergoing changes, and the story is always changing. Because, in the end we are always changing.<br />
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[[Category:Character]] [[Category:Male]][[Category:Cosmic]][[Category:Immortal]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]<br />
[[Category:Hero]][[Category:UNTIL]][[Category:UNITY]][[Category:Tank]]</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=SethSeth2016-02-02T22:56:41Z<p>Seth: /* FAMILY */</p>
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lord of Sepermeru</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Seth</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Seth_New_Portrait.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Leader<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= Set - Typhon - Sutekh - Setekh - Setesh<br />
|Birthdate= The First Rain<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= Nomadic<br />
|Residence= Millenium City, Alau<br />
|Occupation= Eternal Tourist<br />
|Legal= Of Great Interest to UNTIL<br />
|Marital= He was once married<br />
|Relatives= Amun-Ra - Kahi - Dominick - Methari - Cache - Allie<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Cosmic Intelligence<br />
|Sub-Type= Unclassifiable<br />
|Ethnicity= Kehmetian<br />
|Gender= Male<br />
|Age= Incalculable <br />
|Height= 12 Feet (366cm)<br />
|Weight= 352 lbs (160Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= Dark (Mostly)<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= His powers vary from witness to witness<br />
|Equipment= Uses hand forged swords out of fondness for them<br />
|Skills= Swordsman Archer Conversationalist Chef<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:The Legend of Seth.png|Left|600px]]<br />
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<div style="font-size:20px">Awakenings</div><br />
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'''The storm raged across the desert, and for the first time there were eyes to witness it.<br />
He looked out at the electric filled sky and the parched land below.<br />
All was sand; it had been so long since water had touched this place that all was dead.<br />
Only the presence was there to witness the chaos that raged in the sky above.<br />
It knew it was daytime though no light graced the ground below.<br />
Only the lightning made the desert visible.<br />
The gaze turned down to look at the desert, and sudden purpose filled it.<br />
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“Rain.”<br />
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It’s first word spread out across the waste with a finality of decision that could not be disobeyed, and with a sound of sudden thunder water fell at last on the desert once more.<br />
It smiled and took a first step forward into the world.'''<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE HISTORY</div>=<br />
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Set /sɛt/ or Seth (/sɛθ/) is a god of the desert, storms, and foreigners in ancient Egyptian religion. In later myths he is also the god of darkness and chaos. In Ancient Greek, the god's name is given as Sēth (Σήθ).The meaning of the name Seth is unknown, though it may first have been pronounced Sutah based on his name in the first language, [[File:Seth Name.png]].<br />
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The myths speak of a being that defended all from the tyranny of Apep. The importance of it so great that it became a nightly occurrence to the people who followed him. The story of Seth's defense of Amun-Ra's Barque is one few know today yet is a defining feature of who he was. Too many focus on the battle between Horus and Seth, forgetting that the Council of the Gods, led by Amun-Ra would have chosen Seth as the ruler of Egypt if not for Ma'at. Few realise the reasons why he sought leadership and the demonising of his name during Greek Occupation of Egypt was catastrophic.<br />
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Seth was worshipped in the metropolitan city of Sepermeru and it was there he made his first home among the humans. To this day the remains of a temple still stand at this site called 'The House of Seth' and the walls of the temple and the scrolls found their speak of his daughter, though little else remains to show where this daughter came from as no similar record is present in the House of Nepthys who was supposedly his wife at the time. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Demonisation</div>==<br />
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With the end of the Egyptian civilization, at the hand of the Greeks, Seth's true standing was demonised and his protective role forgotten. A revenge attack perhaps by a nation still reeling from the final act of protection Seth and Amun-Ra enacted for their people. It remains a closely guarded secret to this day, but no-one who has questioned the great being about it has ever received anything more than cryptic answers in return. Whatever it was though, it was enough for the Greeks to turn him into the evil character to many think of him as today. <br />
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If the Greeks had sought to rile him up into action of any kind they were mistaken. Indeed any record of Seth in the country vanished almost as soon as the Greek's stepped foot in the capital. He has returned but rarely to the place once called Kehmet, the wounds perhaps to painful to examine once more. For what is two thousand years to such an old being? <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Long Journey</div>==<br />
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Since the fall of Kehmet there have been whispers and rumours about a man with blood, red hair and crimson eyes from many countries around the world. All speaking of a man set apart from the rest, a distant watcher. Yet also of someone who acted to defend the unfortunate, stepping up to defend the weakest, only to vanish at the end of the troubles. Sometimes accompanied by a woman, at other times alone, there was never any record for more than a year before he moved on again.<br />
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Seen as far afield as India and the Americas; an inscription in a Mayan Temple talks of a red eyed demon that came out of a storm and destroyed the priests sacrificing a beaten army to their god. The people talking in fear of the being who had walked away with over a hundred suddenly freed captives as the temple collapsed into ruins.<br />
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Another legend speaks of a man who visited the great swordsmith Masamune in Japan, staying for month after month until finally the great man relented and taught the traveller the Soshu tradition of making swords. This was the longest appearance of 'Seth' since the myths of Kehmet, for he stayed for nearly twenty years with the Priest. Indeed, some records from the time write that Seth stayed until Masamune died. "''The traveller having become the shadow of the Smith, always in his presence; The two quite inseparable,''" as a leading writer of the time described in his diaries. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Reemergence</div>==<br />
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[[File:Golden Lane.jpg|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Golden Lane</font>]]<br />
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Perhaps only seth could reemerge with the aplomb and 'style' as he. Returning into public view as a Lord under the reign of Francis II, Kahi returning once more to his side. Living in what was once the Hradčany, the Castle District, they were surrounded by the height of culture and intrigue. Slipping seamlessly into society and into the hidden world's of the little people. They were always where the stories were. <br />
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Kahi was a frequent visitor to a street in the Hradčany called Golden street. This was one of the highlights of the city at the time, filled with curios and tales of other places. In other words, the perfect place to visit. Here,she met the Philosopher Uhle; considered an eccentric by many, that spent his entire income on books about magic and alchemy. For a few years there was nothing untoward about their stay in the city. Unfortunately, this was not to remain the case. <br />
<br />
On the day that Lord Seth and Lady Kahi vanished from the city there was a large detonation under Uhle's house in Golden Street. When the house was finally made safe, and the fire put out, they found Uhle's body still intact and clutching a large nugget of what later proved to be gold. The locals still say to this day that he had to have been successful in his search for the Philospher's stone. Modern day alchemists disagree though, anyone who would have succeeded should have survived the process. Visitors to Seth's Mansion in Alau however may see a figure resembling Uhle's description wandering the halls, but it may just be a passing resemblance. Indeed, whenever any difficult situation or catastrophe happens around Seth or Kahi they often refer to "''The Prague Incident''". They are never forth coming on the actual details though.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Modern Day</div>==<br />
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[[File:Millenium City Centre.jpg|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Millennium City RenCen</font>]]<br />
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Seth's most recent appearance is in Millenium City however, drawn as he was to that city after the Battle of Detroit. He has been a resident on and off for many years now, a regular at many of the city's attractions and outlets. His continued need to defend those that most need it has led him to the attention of many different organisations. In this technological age with it's power-savy people many are beginning to question who this man really is. For the moment he finds this entertaining, though it is unlikely it would remain so were someone to attempt to make life difficult for him.<br />
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Living in the Downtown area he is often seen about the city taking an interest in the life there; curious about all the different lifeforms than now pass through this nexus point. He feels there is much that he is grateful to the city for, including his ever growing family. Despite all the wandering he may have found somewhere to settle for a time. He does still wander the globe and further afield at times, yet he always returns to those he has met here. <br />
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After thousands of years it is this place which has driven him to become more active again, appearing more as who he is to the others. Gathering people together, and in some instances joining supergroups to experience the ambiance they bring. Now though he simply gathers those he is closest to into Black Sun, drawing a line against the true darkness that always threatens to take the home he holds most dear. The Earth on which he was born.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
[[File:320px-Geb and Nut03.png]]<br />
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The Myths would have you believe that Seth is the son of the sky goddess Nut and the earth god Geb however this is not entirely true. Seth's true father is Amun-Ra the only other being like himself on Earth. <br />
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Created during the formation of the planet both have had a tumultuous and somewhat lonely existence as they watched the evolution of life and attempted to find the reasons for their 'creation'. Neither believe in the need of a higher deity to have led to their creation, but even after billions of years they still find themselves adrift of a true purpose. Indeed in the first years of his association with Amun-Ra Seth voices the opinion that their purpose was served when they were created; an opinion based solely on the yearning he had felt for there to be rain in his first moments. <br />
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[[Image:Kahi_Pose_02.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Sphinx</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Kahi<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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Brought to Seth as a mere infant she quickly became the most important part of Seth's life. Living in Seth's house in Sepermeru she grew up surrounded by the priests of Seth's order and in the knowledge that she was to be something more than the human she was. Seth though was reluctant to change her, despite having been the one to inform her of her possible abilities, for he had grown to love her as if she were his own. Time has shown her to ever be loved by his heart. <br />
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[[Image:Dominick_Pose.png|160px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Saiyan</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Dominick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Dominick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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Now, several thousand years later Kahi and Seth still travel the world together to find others they could call a family on their now joint quest to escape the lonely monotony of eternity. In Dominick they have found a certainty in this. Dominick was one of the first people they ever met in Millennium City and his forthright innocence and determination led them into a new lease of life and it was rare indeed when they were not seen together. He proved himself to them time and again with his strength in battle, and they knew they could not be parted from him. Offered the chance to become Seth's Avatar he took it, and through that ritual he was linked to them both and gained an effectively immortal life.<br />
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[[Image:Amun-Ra Pose.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Grandfather</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Amun-Ra<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Needed not<br />
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Amun-Ra, father... More truly a brother to the odd Seth in actuality. Born before Seth he found him as the storm raged on the surface of a turbulent new world. The two lost and adrift without meaning or purpose. Thrust together by the simple need to not be alone. They have spent the past eons walking the universe together, trying to find a way to live when all they had was never ending existence. Together they made a family they grew to love. Both are father to Kahi and love her dearly.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FRIENDS</div>=<br />
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Despite this, or perhaps because of it, from the moment they have first met humans they have sought to surround themselves with them, guide them and generally meddle in their affairs. This led to the birth of the Ancient Egyptian Civilization and with their help it was maintained for thousands of years. The belief in their guidance led to the creation of the other Egyptian Gods, lesser beings to themselves that were fed off human belief in them and they only ever increased in number. Till there were nearly 300 other deities in the Egyptian Pantheon. This was their first family, and while not all were close to them, there were many that were dear to them and remain with them to this day.<br />
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[[Image:Mercyface.png|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Fighter</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Mercy<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Mercy_Madison|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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Perhaps one of the most hot headed of people he knows Mercy has become someone close to him indeed. A surprise for many considering their many first meetings, when not knowing who or what he was Mercy attacked him repeatedly. It was through these battles they came to know one another and a somewhat forced friendship began. Mercy admits that Seth taught her how to find a place to find balance in her life, a lesson that was hard won for himself as well. He always admits to seeing so much of his younger self in the woman. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Slickavatar.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Altered</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Slick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Slick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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It is possible that Seth considers him to be his closest friend in this time. Seth has never once regretted meeting this individual and finds his talks with this being to be calming and rather cathartic. There are few who are willing to accept Seth for all he is outside his family, and there are many times Seth has found himself sharing secrets. He hopes, dares to dream, that his friend will prove to be immortal. <br />
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[[Image:Xeraysa 01.jpg|160px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Rebel</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Lynn<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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While tumultuous at best, and at other times simply argumentative, the relationship with Lynn and Seth has always been an odd one. Recently though they have come to a mutual understanding and ground has been covered. Important ground if recent developments within the family are to come to pass. Their mutual interests are sure to bolster up this growing friendship in the future. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Frost.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Assassin</h3><br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Miss. Frost<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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A new friend that has quickly become close to the group, Miss Frost has shown an accepting personality with perhaps just the right touch of dark past to mix her in with the odd group. Introduced through Methari the two have found they have much in common. Future adventures to Babylon are sure to cement this.<br />
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[[Image:Blaq.jpg|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Shifter</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Blaq<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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An old friend of Seth's he is happy she has come back into their lives after a long absence. With so much in common many a long evening is spent simply talking and relaxing in each others company. Able to share many stories without fear of being judged. A once difficult thing to do. A kind hearted soul Seth is always warmed by her appearance and always finds her opinions to be wise.<br />
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[[Image:Mitsuko.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Guardian</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Mitsuko<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
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Mitsuko is one of the few friends that Seth has met in Millenium City that have stayed the passage of time, perhaps because she is so aware of what it is like to be a walker through it. And of what can be lost. He finds his heart reaches out to this person who has lost so much simply because of the effects time, and the idiocy of people, can have on a place. He hopes that he can aid her as much as she has aided him in feeling at home as he does now in Millenium City.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PROVEN POWERS AND ABILITIES</div>=<br />
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Seth's most usual style of fighting is with a pair of dual swords. Handcrafted in his own workshop they are fashioned similarly to Katanas though the metal is not the usual folded steel. A special alloy that incorporates his own strange essence means the blades are wicked sharp and never in need of the dull task of polishing after their initial creation. A skill he has had time to hone over centuries it is one he is well versed in, and utilises with ease, mixing magic into his fighting abilities to put him on par with the super-humans and Mages that surround him. If perhaps a little more indestructible. <br />
<br />
It is clear though that his powers far extend beyond the simple magic and swords that he uses on a daily basis. When called upon his powers have been known to change the very world around him. This usage seems controlled though and only used in dire circumstances, when pressed Seth will mention only vaguely a set of rules that seem to guide him. Perhaps this is the reason why he doesn't 'cheat' as often as he could.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">WEAKNESSES</div>=<br />
<br />
It is often discussed whether a being such as Seth could have weaknesses. Here people talk about powers, about strengths, abilities and the tools at his disposal, very rarely do they talk about the heart of Seth. For Seth's greatest weakness is his heart and his emotions. Despite how cold and aloof he may seem on first meeting he cares deeply for those close to him and for the plight of those he meets. In most situations this is a benefit, a sign of strength, but too easily it can be used against him. His heart is scarred from all the times it has led him into pain. As he has said many times his heart is more fragile from the burdens he has had to bear, not stronger. <br />
<br />
Any being vicious enough to attempt to strike a blow to him would go for those he holds dear. Though they should be cautious, any attempt is likely to bring Seth's anger and few have seen such ferocity and lived. <br />
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='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MEMORABLE EVENTS</div>'''''=<br />
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Here you will find many short tales and scenes from the life of Seth. Feel free to browse, or not browse, at your leisure. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Creation of a Sword|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Creation of a Sword''' </span>]]</h3><br />
<br />
The forge was dark save for the glow of the fire and the glow of power in the smith’s eyes. His gaze was cool and concentrated on a heated length of metal protruding out of the fire. Time passed interminably as the tall figure simply watches the fire, occasionally turning the length this way or that way.<br />
<br />
“This must be perfect.” He says at last, slowly withdrawing the alloy and heading towards the anvil. With deft fingers he picks up the hammer and begins, the sound of his blows reverberating outside the darkened forge.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Visiting Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Visiting Kahi''' </span>]]</h3><br />
<br />
“Kahi,” Itennu says softly, then he sighs, voice becoming louder, “Kahi.”<br />
<br />
“What?” she asks, looking towards him with a sigh.<br />
<br />
“You are not paying attention.” He says sternly, trying to glare at the six year old before him and failing.<br />
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“But I’m bored It-en-nu!” she replies, banging her sandaled feet onto the steps where she sat with every kick of her legs emphasising her boredom.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Fighting as One|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Fighting as One''' </span>]]</h3><br />
<br />
Nothing of such scale, grandeur or such complete devastation could be called anything but a violent storm of anger.<br />
<br />
The army poured towards the small band making their way through the centre, their power terrible to behold, all falling before them. However the strain was beginning to show, their blades bloodied, sweat for once appearing on their brow and still their enemy came down upon them.<br />
<br />
“There are too many!” One of the great fighters called, a gun rising suddenly to fire into the writhing, nightmarish shaped mass coming down upon them, “It was stupid to fight here.”<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Shifting-Dawn-342186992 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Shifting Dawn''' </span>] </h3><br />
<br />
All was quiet as Seth sat listening to the gentle shift of sand around him in the breeze. A soft smile playing on his face as he lets the sound fill him. This was a moment he always enjoyed, the time dawn approached in Alau, a time of shifting powers, a moment of the pure balance. It helped him remember happier times. It helped him find the balance all said that someone such as he would be unable to find. Almost without notice a gentle glow shimmers over his frame, an outward sign of the <br />
strange peace that has filled his life in recent months. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/A-Light-Breakfast-355058335 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A Light Breakfast''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
This is the universe. <br />
<br />
A confusing tumult of particles shifting out in all directions, creating eddies on the shifting tide of gravity that presses outwards, growing into the ever present darkness of the nothing between worlds. A new universe, vibrant with energy and blindingly bright. A joyous thing to behold as the light sears its way through the passage of creation. The laws that bind only the successful on their journey snap into being, defining the dimensions of this place, stabilising the particles that sparkle in that new space.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Apep-Returns-355869068 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Apep Returns''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
In the quiet afternoon of the city two dear friends stand talking. The crowds move around the two unnoticed as Dominick and Seth continue their conversation, smiles flickering on their faces as they talk. It is clear they are quite comfortable in each other’s presence, truly at ease. A peaceful scene indeed as they discuss those they had thought they’d lost. Both vaguely aware of a third presence watching them, the paper doll of Mitsuko sitting on the wall but remaining quiet as she watches on. A familiar and comforting presence as they talk. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Hesitant-Steps-355545676 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Hesitant Steps''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
The chaos of the hospital rang loud in his mind as Seth forced himself to step into the foyer. The press of people around his form made him shudder a little, the edges of his control raw with fatigue and fear for the one he came to see. In defence he shifts, returning to his older forms, his Anubite face appearing and his robes swirling around him in a deep red hue. A safety net he almost clings to. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Reforged-Power-355696300 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Hesitant Steps''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
The small forge echoes to the sound of Seth’s measured hammer blows, his red eyes watching the metal carefully for imperfections with every hit. Never before has this being concentrated so on his crafting, but then it has never meant as much as this. Seth pauses as there is a quiet knock at the door; he looks over the metal, debating his move before fixing it back into the coals. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/The-Call-356229103 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Call''' </span>]</h3><br />
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“Dominick,” The whisper comes to him, echoing around him in the hospital, “Dominick.”<br />
<br />
The words intoned with a pressing need to follow that voice to where it calls for. Unable to avoid it and even as he questions himself and his hearing he is standing. His eyes widen and he gives a cry of surprise as his own body betrays him and begins to follow. Despite the force of the pull it is benevolent and almost beseeching. He lets himself be taken out of the hospital, and towards the parkland of the Renaissance Centre beyond, only coming to a stop behind a golden figure in white robes that stands looking over the waterfall beyond.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Returning-Home-356236623 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Returning Home''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
Warm light flows into a peaceful room. White drapes fluttering in the air in the cool breeze as the first hints of a fine summer make the day beautiful. Beautiful to all except the form that lies limp on the bed, golden light shimmering around her as she heals. It has been a long time since she has been in this state, caught on the brink of death and only returning because of the powers that bind her. A twice bound soul to both her nature and her master. <br />
<br />
Her dark hair falls over her closed golden eyes as she shifts, brow furrowed with the memories that force their way through her mind. Returning from the borders is never a pleasant experience. To return she must remember. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Vigil-356663486 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Vigil''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
The look on Kahi’s face was harrowing as she took in Seth’s condition. It had been two days since she had awoken after her rebirth, two days since she had learned of Seth’s poisoning and those two days had felt the longest of her existence for some time. Amun-Ra and Dominick had tried to keep her distracted with training, idle chatter and even a long walk into the nearest small town of workers. Yet everything had reminded her of this man. Her father.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Maelstrom-363190024 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Maelstrom''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
“If you think you are so powerful why don’t you fight him.”<br />
<br />
The words said in frustration echo in the courtyard as Kahi turns to glare at Seth. Her face is set with determination and sudden anger at her father who had done nothing but laugh quietly while she and Dominick trained. The quiet sounds of amusement an ever present distraction after every failed attempt to land a blow on Amun-Ra, every annoying moment when the greatest of them showed his true power. Showed how much they were being toyed with. It reminded her far too much of her fight with Apep; something she could quite do without remembering thank you very much. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TimeAbyss <span style="color:#FFFFFF;">'''TimeAbyss'''</span>] - Seth has been alive for billions of years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - Seth only looks in his mid thirties despite his age.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CompleteImmortality <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Complete Immortality''' </span>] - A given alongside Time Abyss.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheSacredDarkness <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Sacred Darkness''' </span>] - Seth may have chaotic and dark powers but that does not make him evil.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AGodIAmNot <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A God I am Not''' </span>] - Whenever he is called a God he is the first to deny it, because he is not a god.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SharpDressedMan <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Sharp Dressed Man''' </span>] - Seth never dresses in any way other than his best.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GoodOldWays <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Good Old Ways''' </span>] - Despite the passage of time he will always reminisce about Ancient Egypt and the people he once knew there. <br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheOmniscient <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' The Omniscient''' </span>] - Simple age will do that to a guy. He's not so much Omniscient as very, very old.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HelpingWouldBeKillStealing <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Helping Would be Kill Stealing''' </span>] - At any time he could alter the events happening in his friends' lives, yet he does not.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassGrandpa <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Badass Grandpa''' </span>] - Acts the father figure to many characters, and works to increase their abilities. Mercy and Cache in particular.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassBaritone <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Badass Baritone''' </span>] - Every time he speaks and is a peculiar take on this as he's chosen to be this deep in tone.<br />
<br><br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WeatherDissonance <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Weather Dissonance''' </span>] - Seth can cause this at times when he actually flexes his powers. A rare event.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HeroesPreferSwords <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Heroes Prefer Swords''' </span>] - Seth has all his power, yet chooses to fight with swords.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DontMakeMeDestroyYou <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Don't make me Destroy you''' </span>] - Often Seth wishes to win a fight without the need to fight. Often works too...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticGood <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Good''' </span>] - Seth will always do the right thing his way.<br />
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='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Dominick</div>==<br />
"Hmm… Where do I Start? He is one of the greatest friends of a figure to me. So strong and yet gentle in his nature. I cannot express how much this man means to me outside of just being under his service as Avatar. We hold the best bond, heh. He is one of the reasons why I stand today, healthy and stronger than ever before. He is literally the toughest I have ever fought to this day, and I'm very grateful he's on the good side otherwise we'd be in huge trouble, haha. But yeah, he's also a great teacher. In fact, I am glad I am part of his family, and will do whatever it takes to always make him proud. I am well honoured to call him a father." <br />
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...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Mercy</div>==<br />
"Ha… the fox? -My- fox? He inspires me and my motives to make me the better person I wanna become. He can be a little pain in the ass sometimes with his innocence, but that’s what I love about him. I learned not to fuck around with him when he's tight. Piss him off, and your ass is grass. Lesson well-grounded. But other than that, he's like the pops I never had. When I'm around him, just his presence assures me that everythin'll be alright. If I hadn't bumped into him for the first time when I did I probably wouldn’t' a' been alive today to even comment about him. Strong motherfucker he is, I envy his strength and power. But its only the better reason for me to push my limits to be as tough as he is. He'll get it soon enough. Love him tho'." <br />
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...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
The familiar patter of rain hitting glass rings out as the golden woman stares out into the grey city-scape. Sitting across from you, her legs crossed casually her posture is however perfect.<br />
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“I love the rain. Don’t you? Ah, but of course. You do not want to hear about that now.”<br />
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“So, what can I tell you about him? Much, everything perhaps; maybe nothing more than you know… I have known him for as long as I can remember and perhaps, I remember less than I should.”<br />
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“He is the complete selfless protection of those of his people caught in alien places. Wrath to those that mean his heart harm and protection to those that find themselves in its warmth.” She smiles, the love in her lining her soft expression.<br />
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“He is every meaning of safety and love I have ever known. My father…” She looks away now out into the city view, memory gripping her old heart.<br />
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“Set, my Seth. Typhon to those that may know him by other names, in truth he has many, all correct but none of them true.” She grins as she looks back at you.<br />
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“We’ve been to just so many places, met so many different people. Saved some and… Condemned others.” Even as her face twists slightly with bad memories she suddenly lights up again, bringing the entire tone of the conversation with her mood. She laughs a wonderful golden sound,“Ah, if you ever get the chance ask him about the ‘Prague Incident’.” She grins wickedly, “He’ll know what you’re talking about.”<br />
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“I don’t know what I would do without him. Often I fear I don’t show him I love him enough, don’t say it enough… Nefer ib.” She pauses, the final words a language long dead to the world but they have meaning to her.<br />
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Eventually she smiles, “Don’t let me prattle on, I am sure you have more questions; don’t you?”<br />
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...<br />
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OPEN TO ADDITIONS<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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This page is still undergoing changes, and the story is always changing. Because, in the end we are always changing.<br />
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...<br />
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[[Category:Character]] [[Category:Male]][[Category:Cosmic]][[Category:Immortal]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]<br />
[[Category:Hero]][[Category:UNTIL]][[Category:UNITY]][[Category:Tank]]</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=File:320px-Geb_and_Nut03.pngFile:320px-Geb and Nut03.png2016-02-02T22:55:43Z<p>Seth: Wikimedia commons file of Geb and Nut. Available for noncommercial use.</p>
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<div>Wikimedia commons file of Geb and Nut. Available for noncommercial use.</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=SethSeth2016-02-02T22:03:14Z<p>Seth: /* FAMILY */</p>
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{{PriceBox<br />
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|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lord of Sepermeru</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Seth</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Seth_New_Portrait.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Leader<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= Set - Typhon - Sutekh - Setekh - Setesh<br />
|Birthdate= The First Rain<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= Nomadic<br />
|Residence= Millenium City, Alau<br />
|Occupation= Eternal Tourist<br />
|Legal= Of Great Interest to UNTIL<br />
|Marital= He was once married<br />
|Relatives= Amun-Ra - Kahi - Dominick - Methari - Cache - Allie<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Cosmic Intelligence<br />
|Sub-Type= Unclassifiable<br />
|Ethnicity= Kehmetian<br />
|Gender= Male<br />
|Age= Incalculable <br />
|Height= 12 Feet (366cm)<br />
|Weight= 352 lbs (160Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= Dark (Mostly)<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= His powers vary from witness to witness<br />
|Equipment= Uses hand forged swords out of fondness for them<br />
|Skills= Swordsman Archer Conversationalist Chef<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:The Legend of Seth.png|Left|600px]]<br />
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<div style="font-size:20px">Awakenings</div><br />
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'''The storm raged across the desert, and for the first time there were eyes to witness it.<br />
He looked out at the electric filled sky and the parched land below.<br />
All was sand; it had been so long since water had touched this place that all was dead.<br />
Only the presence was there to witness the chaos that raged in the sky above.<br />
It knew it was daytime though no light graced the ground below.<br />
Only the lightning made the desert visible.<br />
The gaze turned down to look at the desert, and sudden purpose filled it.<br />
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“Rain.”<br />
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It’s first word spread out across the waste with a finality of decision that could not be disobeyed, and with a sound of sudden thunder water fell at last on the desert once more.<br />
It smiled and took a first step forward into the world.'''<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE HISTORY</div>=<br />
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Set /sɛt/ or Seth (/sɛθ/) is a god of the desert, storms, and foreigners in ancient Egyptian religion. In later myths he is also the god of darkness and chaos. In Ancient Greek, the god's name is given as Sēth (Σήθ).The meaning of the name Seth is unknown, though it may first have been pronounced Sutah based on his name in the first language, [[File:Seth Name.png]].<br />
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The myths speak of a being that defended all from the tyranny of Apep. The importance of it so great that it became a nightly occurrence to the people who followed him. The story of Seth's defense of Amun-Ra's Barque is one few know today yet is a defining feature of who he was. Too many focus on the battle between Horus and Seth, forgetting that the Council of the Gods, led by Amun-Ra would have chosen Seth as the ruler of Egypt if not for Ma'at. Few realise the reasons why he sought leadership and the demonising of his name during Greek Occupation of Egypt was catastrophic.<br />
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Seth was worshipped in the metropolitan city of Sepermeru and it was there he made his first home among the humans. To this day the remains of a temple still stand at this site called 'The House of Seth' and the walls of the temple and the scrolls found their speak of his daughter, though little else remains to show where this daughter came from as no similar record is present in the House of Nepthys who was supposedly his wife at the time. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Demonisation</div>==<br />
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With the end of the Egyptian civilization, at the hand of the Greeks, Seth's true standing was demonised and his protective role forgotten. A revenge attack perhaps by a nation still reeling from the final act of protection Seth and Amun-Ra enacted for their people. It remains a closely guarded secret to this day, but no-one who has questioned the great being about it has ever received anything more than cryptic answers in return. Whatever it was though, it was enough for the Greeks to turn him into the evil character to many think of him as today. <br />
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If the Greeks had sought to rile him up into action of any kind they were mistaken. Indeed any record of Seth in the country vanished almost as soon as the Greek's stepped foot in the capital. He has returned but rarely to the place once called Kehmet, the wounds perhaps to painful to examine once more. For what is two thousand years to such an old being? <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Long Journey</div>==<br />
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Since the fall of Kehmet there have been whispers and rumours about a man with blood, red hair and crimson eyes from many countries around the world. All speaking of a man set apart from the rest, a distant watcher. Yet also of someone who acted to defend the unfortunate, stepping up to defend the weakest, only to vanish at the end of the troubles. Sometimes accompanied by a woman, at other times alone, there was never any record for more than a year before he moved on again.<br />
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Seen as far afield as India and the Americas; an inscription in a Mayan Temple talks of a red eyed demon that came out of a storm and destroyed the priests sacrificing a beaten army to their god. The people talking in fear of the being who had walked away with over a hundred suddenly freed captives as the temple collapsed into ruins.<br />
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Another legend speaks of a man who visited the great swordsmith Masamune in Japan, staying for month after month until finally the great man relented and taught the traveller the Soshu tradition of making swords. This was the longest appearance of 'Seth' since the myths of Kehmet, for he stayed for nearly twenty years with the Priest. Indeed, some records from the time write that Seth stayed until Masamune died. "''The traveller having become the shadow of the Smith, always in his presence; The two quite inseparable,''" as a leading writer of the time described in his diaries. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Reemergence</div>==<br />
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[[File:Golden Lane.jpg|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Golden Lane</font>]]<br />
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Perhaps only seth could reemerge with the aplomb and 'style' as he. Returning into public view as a Lord under the reign of Francis II, Kahi returning once more to his side. Living in what was once the Hradčany, the Castle District, they were surrounded by the height of culture and intrigue. Slipping seamlessly into society and into the hidden world's of the little people. They were always where the stories were. <br />
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Kahi was a frequent visitor to a street in the Hradčany called Golden street. This was one of the highlights of the city at the time, filled with curios and tales of other places. In other words, the perfect place to visit. Here,she met the Philosopher Uhle; considered an eccentric by many, that spent his entire income on books about magic and alchemy. For a few years there was nothing untoward about their stay in the city. Unfortunately, this was not to remain the case. <br />
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On the day that Lord Seth and Lady Kahi vanished from the city there was a large detonation under Uhle's house in Golden Street. When the house was finally made safe, and the fire put out, they found Uhle's body still intact and clutching a large nugget of what later proved to be gold. The locals still say to this day that he had to have been successful in his search for the Philospher's stone. Modern day alchemists disagree though, anyone who would have succeeded should have survived the process. Visitors to Seth's Mansion in Alau however may see a figure resembling Uhle's description wandering the halls, but it may just be a passing resemblance. Indeed, whenever any difficult situation or catastrophe happens around Seth or Kahi they often refer to "''The Prague Incident''". They are never forth coming on the actual details though.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Modern Day</div>==<br />
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[[File:Millenium City Centre.jpg|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Millennium City RenCen</font>]]<br />
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Seth's most recent appearance is in Millenium City however, drawn as he was to that city after the Battle of Detroit. He has been a resident on and off for many years now, a regular at many of the city's attractions and outlets. His continued need to defend those that most need it has led him to the attention of many different organisations. In this technological age with it's power-savy people many are beginning to question who this man really is. For the moment he finds this entertaining, though it is unlikely it would remain so were someone to attempt to make life difficult for him.<br />
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Living in the Downtown area he is often seen about the city taking an interest in the life there; curious about all the different lifeforms than now pass through this nexus point. He feels there is much that he is grateful to the city for, including his ever growing family. Despite all the wandering he may have found somewhere to settle for a time. He does still wander the globe and further afield at times, yet he always returns to those he has met here. <br />
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After thousands of years it is this place which has driven him to become more active again, appearing more as who he is to the others. Gathering people together, and in some instances joining supergroups to experience the ambiance they bring. Now though he simply gathers those he is closest to into Black Sun, drawing a line against the true darkness that always threatens to take the home he holds most dear. The Earth on which he was born.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
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| track = The Upper Sky<br />
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The Myths would have you believe that Seth is the son of the sky goddess Nut and the earth god Geb however this is not entirely true. Seth's true father is Amun-Ra the only other being like himself on Earth. <br />
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Created during the formation of the planet both have had a tumultuous and somewhat lonely existence as they watched the evolution of life and attempted to find the reasons for their 'creation'. Neither believe in the need of a higher deity to have led to their creation, but even after billions of years they still find themselves adrift of a true purpose. Indeed in the first years of his association with Amun-Ra Seth voices the opinion that their purpose was served when they were created; an opinion based solely on the yearning he had felt for there to be rain in his first moments. <br />
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[[Image:Kahi_Pose_02.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Sphinx</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Kahi<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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Brought to Seth as a mere infant she quickly became the most important part of Seth's life. Living in Seth's house in Sepermeru she grew up surrounded by the priests of Seth's order and in the knowledge that she was to be something more than the human she was. Seth though was reluctant to change her, despite having been the one to inform her of her possible abilities, for he had grown to love her as if she were his own. Time has shown her to ever be loved by his heart. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Dominick_Pose.png|160px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Saiyan</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Dominick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Dominick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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Now, several thousand years later Kahi and Seth still travel the world together to find others they could call a family on their now joint quest to escape the lonely monotony of eternity. In Dominick they have found a certainty in this. Dominick was one of the first people they ever met in Millennium City and his forthright innocence and determination led them into a new lease of life and it was rare indeed when they were not seen together. He proved himself to them time and again with his strength in battle, and they knew they could not be parted from him. Offered the chance to become Seth's Avatar he took it, and through that ritual he was linked to them both and gained an effectively immortal life.<br />
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[[Image:Amun-Ra Pose.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Grandfather</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Amun-Ra<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Needed not<br />
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Amun-Ra, father... More truly a brother to the odd Seth in actuality. Born before Seth he found him as the storm raged on the surface of a turbulent new world. The two lost and adrift without meaning or purpose. Thrust together by the simple need to not be alone. They have spent the past eons walking the universe together, trying to find a way to live when all they had was never ending existence. Together they made a family they grew to love. Both are father to Kahi and love her dearly.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FRIENDS</div>=<br />
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Despite this, or perhaps because of it, from the moment they have first met humans they have sought to surround themselves with them, guide them and generally meddle in their affairs. This led to the birth of the Ancient Egyptian Civilization and with their help it was maintained for thousands of years. The belief in their guidance led to the creation of the other Egyptian Gods, lesser beings to themselves that were fed off human belief in them and they only ever increased in number. Till there were nearly 300 other deities in the Egyptian Pantheon. This was their first family, and while not all were close to them, there were many that were dear to them and remain with them to this day.<br />
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[[Image:Mercyface.png|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Fighter</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Mercy<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Mercy_Madison|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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Perhaps one of the most hot headed of people he knows Mercy has become someone close to him indeed. A surprise for many considering their many first meetings, when not knowing who or what he was Mercy attacked him repeatedly. It was through these battles they came to know one another and a somewhat forced friendship began. Mercy admits that Seth taught her how to find a place to find balance in her life, a lesson that was hard won for himself as well. He always admits to seeing so much of his younger self in the woman. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Slickavatar.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Altered</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Slick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Slick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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It is possible that Seth considers him to be his closest friend in this time. Seth has never once regretted meeting this individual and finds his talks with this being to be calming and rather cathartic. There are few who are willing to accept Seth for all he is outside his family, and there are many times Seth has found himself sharing secrets. He hopes, dares to dream, that his friend will prove to be immortal. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Xeraysa 01.jpg|160px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Rebel</h3><br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Lynn<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
<br />
While tumultuous at best, and at other times simply argumentative, the relationship with Lynn and Seth has always been an odd one. Recently though they have come to a mutual understanding and ground has been covered. Important ground if recent developments within the family are to come to pass. Their mutual interests are sure to bolster up this growing friendship in the future. <br />
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[[Image:Frost.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Assassin</h3><br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Miss. Frost<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
<br />
A new friend that has quickly become close to the group, Miss Frost has shown an accepting personality with perhaps just the right touch of dark past to mix her in with the odd group. Introduced through Methari the two have found they have much in common. Future adventures to Babylon are sure to cement this.<br />
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[[Image:Blaq.jpg|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Shifter</h3><br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Blaq<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
<br />
An old friend of Seth's he is happy she has come back into their lives after a long absence. With so much in common many a long evening is spent simply talking and relaxing in each others company. Able to share many stories without fear of being judged. A once difficult thing to do. A kind hearted soul Seth is always warmed by her appearance and always finds her opinions to be wise.<br />
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[[Image:Mitsuko.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Guardian</h3><br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Mitsuko<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
<br />
Mitsuko is one of the few friends that Seth has met in Millenium City that have stayed the passage of time, perhaps because she is so aware of what it is like to be a walker through it. And of what can be lost. He finds his heart reaches out to this person who has lost so much simply because of the effects time, and the idiocy of people, can have on a place. He hopes that he can aid her as much as she has aided him in feeling at home as he does now in Millenium City.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PROVEN POWERS AND ABILITIES</div>=<br />
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{{LiathTheme<br />
| artist = Two Steps from Hell<br />
| track = All's Hell that ends Well<br />
| tracklink = http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLUj9lFPU6s<br />
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<br />
Seth's most usual style of fighting is with a pair of dual swords. Handcrafted in his own workshop they are fashioned similarly to Katanas though the metal is not the usual folded steel. A special alloy that incorporates his own strange essence means the blades are wicked sharp and never in need of the dull task of polishing after their initial creation. A skill he has had time to hone over centuries it is one he is well versed in, and utilises with ease, mixing magic into his fighting abilities to put him on par with the super-humans and Mages that surround him. If perhaps a little more indestructible. <br />
<br />
It is clear though that his powers far extend beyond the simple magic and swords that he uses on a daily basis. When called upon his powers have been known to change the very world around him. This usage seems controlled though and only used in dire circumstances, when pressed Seth will mention only vaguely a set of rules that seem to guide him. Perhaps this is the reason why he doesn't 'cheat' as often as he could.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">WEAKNESSES</div>=<br />
<br />
It is often discussed whether a being such as Seth could have weaknesses. Here people talk about powers, about strengths, abilities and the tools at his disposal, very rarely do they talk about the heart of Seth. For Seth's greatest weakness is his heart and his emotions. Despite how cold and aloof he may seem on first meeting he cares deeply for those close to him and for the plight of those he meets. In most situations this is a benefit, a sign of strength, but too easily it can be used against him. His heart is scarred from all the times it has led him into pain. As he has said many times his heart is more fragile from the burdens he has had to bear, not stronger. <br />
<br />
Any being vicious enough to attempt to strike a blow to him would go for those he holds dear. Though they should be cautious, any attempt is likely to bring Seth's anger and few have seen such ferocity and lived. <br />
<br />
='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MEMORABLE EVENTS</div>'''''=<br />
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Here you will find many short tales and scenes from the life of Seth. Feel free to browse, or not browse, at your leisure. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Creation of a Sword|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Creation of a Sword''' </span>]]</h3><br />
<br />
The forge was dark save for the glow of the fire and the glow of power in the smith’s eyes. His gaze was cool and concentrated on a heated length of metal protruding out of the fire. Time passed interminably as the tall figure simply watches the fire, occasionally turning the length this way or that way.<br />
<br />
“This must be perfect.” He says at last, slowly withdrawing the alloy and heading towards the anvil. With deft fingers he picks up the hammer and begins, the sound of his blows reverberating outside the darkened forge.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Visiting Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Visiting Kahi''' </span>]]</h3><br />
<br />
“Kahi,” Itennu says softly, then he sighs, voice becoming louder, “Kahi.”<br />
<br />
“What?” she asks, looking towards him with a sigh.<br />
<br />
“You are not paying attention.” He says sternly, trying to glare at the six year old before him and failing.<br />
<br />
“But I’m bored It-en-nu!” she replies, banging her sandaled feet onto the steps where she sat with every kick of her legs emphasising her boredom.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Fighting as One|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Fighting as One''' </span>]]</h3><br />
<br />
Nothing of such scale, grandeur or such complete devastation could be called anything but a violent storm of anger.<br />
<br />
The army poured towards the small band making their way through the centre, their power terrible to behold, all falling before them. However the strain was beginning to show, their blades bloodied, sweat for once appearing on their brow and still their enemy came down upon them.<br />
<br />
“There are too many!” One of the great fighters called, a gun rising suddenly to fire into the writhing, nightmarish shaped mass coming down upon them, “It was stupid to fight here.”<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Shifting-Dawn-342186992 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Shifting Dawn''' </span>] </h3><br />
<br />
All was quiet as Seth sat listening to the gentle shift of sand around him in the breeze. A soft smile playing on his face as he lets the sound fill him. This was a moment he always enjoyed, the time dawn approached in Alau, a time of shifting powers, a moment of the pure balance. It helped him remember happier times. It helped him find the balance all said that someone such as he would be unable to find. Almost without notice a gentle glow shimmers over his frame, an outward sign of the <br />
strange peace that has filled his life in recent months. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/A-Light-Breakfast-355058335 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A Light Breakfast''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
This is the universe. <br />
<br />
A confusing tumult of particles shifting out in all directions, creating eddies on the shifting tide of gravity that presses outwards, growing into the ever present darkness of the nothing between worlds. A new universe, vibrant with energy and blindingly bright. A joyous thing to behold as the light sears its way through the passage of creation. The laws that bind only the successful on their journey snap into being, defining the dimensions of this place, stabilising the particles that sparkle in that new space.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Apep-Returns-355869068 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Apep Returns''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
In the quiet afternoon of the city two dear friends stand talking. The crowds move around the two unnoticed as Dominick and Seth continue their conversation, smiles flickering on their faces as they talk. It is clear they are quite comfortable in each other’s presence, truly at ease. A peaceful scene indeed as they discuss those they had thought they’d lost. Both vaguely aware of a third presence watching them, the paper doll of Mitsuko sitting on the wall but remaining quiet as she watches on. A familiar and comforting presence as they talk. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Hesitant-Steps-355545676 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Hesitant Steps''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
The chaos of the hospital rang loud in his mind as Seth forced himself to step into the foyer. The press of people around his form made him shudder a little, the edges of his control raw with fatigue and fear for the one he came to see. In defence he shifts, returning to his older forms, his Anubite face appearing and his robes swirling around him in a deep red hue. A safety net he almost clings to. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Reforged-Power-355696300 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Hesitant Steps''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
The small forge echoes to the sound of Seth’s measured hammer blows, his red eyes watching the metal carefully for imperfections with every hit. Never before has this being concentrated so on his crafting, but then it has never meant as much as this. Seth pauses as there is a quiet knock at the door; he looks over the metal, debating his move before fixing it back into the coals. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/The-Call-356229103 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Call''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
“Dominick,” The whisper comes to him, echoing around him in the hospital, “Dominick.”<br />
<br />
The words intoned with a pressing need to follow that voice to where it calls for. Unable to avoid it and even as he questions himself and his hearing he is standing. His eyes widen and he gives a cry of surprise as his own body betrays him and begins to follow. Despite the force of the pull it is benevolent and almost beseeching. He lets himself be taken out of the hospital, and towards the parkland of the Renaissance Centre beyond, only coming to a stop behind a golden figure in white robes that stands looking over the waterfall beyond.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Returning-Home-356236623 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Returning Home''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
Warm light flows into a peaceful room. White drapes fluttering in the air in the cool breeze as the first hints of a fine summer make the day beautiful. Beautiful to all except the form that lies limp on the bed, golden light shimmering around her as she heals. It has been a long time since she has been in this state, caught on the brink of death and only returning because of the powers that bind her. A twice bound soul to both her nature and her master. <br />
<br />
Her dark hair falls over her closed golden eyes as she shifts, brow furrowed with the memories that force their way through her mind. Returning from the borders is never a pleasant experience. To return she must remember. <br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Vigil-356663486 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Vigil''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
The look on Kahi’s face was harrowing as she took in Seth’s condition. It had been two days since she had awoken after her rebirth, two days since she had learned of Seth’s poisoning and those two days had felt the longest of her existence for some time. Amun-Ra and Dominick had tried to keep her distracted with training, idle chatter and even a long walk into the nearest small town of workers. Yet everything had reminded her of this man. Her father.<br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Maelstrom-363190024 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Maelstrom''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
“If you think you are so powerful why don’t you fight him.”<br />
<br />
The words said in frustration echo in the courtyard as Kahi turns to glare at Seth. Her face is set with determination and sudden anger at her father who had done nothing but laugh quietly while she and Dominick trained. The quiet sounds of amusement an ever present distraction after every failed attempt to land a blow on Amun-Ra, every annoying moment when the greatest of them showed his true power. Showed how much they were being toyed with. It reminded her far too much of her fight with Apep; something she could quite do without remembering thank you very much. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TimeAbyss <span style="color:#FFFFFF;">'''TimeAbyss'''</span>] - Seth has been alive for billions of years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - Seth only looks in his mid thirties despite his age.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CompleteImmortality <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Complete Immortality''' </span>] - A given alongside Time Abyss.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheSacredDarkness <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Sacred Darkness''' </span>] - Seth may have chaotic and dark powers but that does not make him evil.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AGodIAmNot <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A God I am Not''' </span>] - Whenever he is called a God he is the first to deny it, because he is not a god.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SharpDressedMan <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Sharp Dressed Man''' </span>] - Seth never dresses in any way other than his best.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GoodOldWays <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Good Old Ways''' </span>] - Despite the passage of time he will always reminisce about Ancient Egypt and the people he once knew there. <br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheOmniscient <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' The Omniscient''' </span>] - Simple age will do that to a guy. He's not so much Omniscient as very, very old.<br />
<br><br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HelpingWouldBeKillStealing <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Helping Would be Kill Stealing''' </span>] - At any time he could alter the events happening in his friends' lives, yet he does not.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassGrandpa <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Badass Grandpa''' </span>] - Acts the father figure to many characters, and works to increase their abilities. Mercy and Cache in particular.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassBaritone <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Badass Baritone''' </span>] - Every time he speaks and is a peculiar take on this as he's chosen to be this deep in tone.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WeatherDissonance <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Weather Dissonance''' </span>] - Seth can cause this at times when he actually flexes his powers. A rare event.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HeroesPreferSwords <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Heroes Prefer Swords''' </span>] - Seth has all his power, yet chooses to fight with swords.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DontMakeMeDestroyYou <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Don't make me Destroy you''' </span>] - Often Seth wishes to win a fight without the need to fight. Often works too...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticGood <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Good''' </span>] - Seth will always do the right thing his way.<br />
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='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Dominick</div>==<br />
"Hmm… Where do I Start? He is one of the greatest friends of a figure to me. So strong and yet gentle in his nature. I cannot express how much this man means to me outside of just being under his service as Avatar. We hold the best bond, heh. He is one of the reasons why I stand today, healthy and stronger than ever before. He is literally the toughest I have ever fought to this day, and I'm very grateful he's on the good side otherwise we'd be in huge trouble, haha. But yeah, he's also a great teacher. In fact, I am glad I am part of his family, and will do whatever it takes to always make him proud. I am well honoured to call him a father." <br />
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...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Mercy</div>==<br />
"Ha… the fox? -My- fox? He inspires me and my motives to make me the better person I wanna become. He can be a little pain in the ass sometimes with his innocence, but that’s what I love about him. I learned not to fuck around with him when he's tight. Piss him off, and your ass is grass. Lesson well-grounded. But other than that, he's like the pops I never had. When I'm around him, just his presence assures me that everythin'll be alright. If I hadn't bumped into him for the first time when I did I probably wouldn’t' a' been alive today to even comment about him. Strong motherfucker he is, I envy his strength and power. But its only the better reason for me to push my limits to be as tough as he is. He'll get it soon enough. Love him tho'." <br />
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...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
The familiar patter of rain hitting glass rings out as the golden woman stares out into the grey city-scape. Sitting across from you, her legs crossed casually her posture is however perfect.<br />
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“I love the rain. Don’t you? Ah, but of course. You do not want to hear about that now.”<br />
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“So, what can I tell you about him? Much, everything perhaps; maybe nothing more than you know… I have known him for as long as I can remember and perhaps, I remember less than I should.”<br />
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“He is the complete selfless protection of those of his people caught in alien places. Wrath to those that mean his heart harm and protection to those that find themselves in its warmth.” She smiles, the love in her lining her soft expression.<br />
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“He is every meaning of safety and love I have ever known. My father…” She looks away now out into the city view, memory gripping her old heart.<br />
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“Set, my Seth. Typhon to those that may know him by other names, in truth he has many, all correct but none of them true.” She grins as she looks back at you.<br />
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“We’ve been to just so many places, met so many different people. Saved some and… Condemned others.” Even as her face twists slightly with bad memories she suddenly lights up again, bringing the entire tone of the conversation with her mood. She laughs a wonderful golden sound,“Ah, if you ever get the chance ask him about the ‘Prague Incident’.” She grins wickedly, “He’ll know what you’re talking about.”<br />
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“I don’t know what I would do without him. Often I fear I don’t show him I love him enough, don’t say it enough… Nefer ib.” She pauses, the final words a language long dead to the world but they have meaning to her.<br />
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Eventually she smiles, “Don’t let me prattle on, I am sure you have more questions; don’t you?”<br />
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...<br />
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OPEN TO ADDITIONS<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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This page is still undergoing changes, and the story is always changing. Because, in the end we are always changing.<br />
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[[Category:Character]] [[Category:Male]][[Category:Cosmic]][[Category:Immortal]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]<br />
[[Category:Hero]][[Category:UNTIL]][[Category:UNITY]][[Category:Tank]]</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=SethSeth2016-02-02T22:00:24Z<p>Seth: </p>
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Lord of Sepermeru</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Seth</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
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|Image=Seth_New_Portrait.jpg<br />
|Caption=Growth in consciousness doesn't depend on the will of the intellect, or its possibilities, but on the intensity of the inner urge.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|VillainGroup=<br />
|Rank= Leader<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Unknown<br />
|Aliases= Set - Typhon - Sutekh - Setekh - Setesh<br />
|Birthdate= The First Rain<br />
|Birthplace= Earth<br />
|Citizenship= Nomadic<br />
|Residence= Millenium City, Alau<br />
|Occupation= Eternal Tourist<br />
|Legal= Of Great Interest to UNTIL<br />
|Marital= He was once married<br />
|Relatives= Amun-Ra - Kahi - Dominick - Methari - Cache - Allie<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Cosmic Intelligence<br />
|Sub-Type= Unclassifiable<br />
|Ethnicity= Kehmetian<br />
|Gender= Male<br />
|Age= Incalculable <br />
|Height= 12 Feet (366cm)<br />
|Weight= 352 lbs (160Kg)<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Red<br />
|Skin= Dark (Mostly)<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= His powers vary from witness to witness<br />
|Equipment= Uses hand forged swords out of fondness for them<br />
|Skills= Swordsman Archer Conversationalist Chef<br />
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[[File:The Legend of Seth.png|Left|600px]]<br />
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<div style="font-size:20px">Awakenings</div><br />
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'''The storm raged across the desert, and for the first time there were eyes to witness it.<br />
He looked out at the electric filled sky and the parched land below.<br />
All was sand; it had been so long since water had touched this place that all was dead.<br />
Only the presence was there to witness the chaos that raged in the sky above.<br />
It knew it was daytime though no light graced the ground below.<br />
Only the lightning made the desert visible.<br />
The gaze turned down to look at the desert, and sudden purpose filled it.<br />
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“Rain.”<br />
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It’s first word spread out across the waste with a finality of decision that could not be disobeyed, and with a sound of sudden thunder water fell at last on the desert once more.<br />
It smiled and took a first step forward into the world.'''<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE HISTORY</div>=<br />
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Set /sɛt/ or Seth (/sɛθ/) is a god of the desert, storms, and foreigners in ancient Egyptian religion. In later myths he is also the god of darkness and chaos. In Ancient Greek, the god's name is given as Sēth (Σήθ).The meaning of the name Seth is unknown, though it may first have been pronounced Sutah based on his name in the first language, [[File:Seth Name.png]].<br />
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The myths speak of a being that defended all from the tyranny of Apep. The importance of it so great that it became a nightly occurrence to the people who followed him. The story of Seth's defense of Amun-Ra's Barque is one few know today yet is a defining feature of who he was. Too many focus on the battle between Horus and Seth, forgetting that the Council of the Gods, led by Amun-Ra would have chosen Seth as the ruler of Egypt if not for Ma'at. Few realise the reasons why he sought leadership and the demonising of his name during Greek Occupation of Egypt was catastrophic.<br />
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Seth was worshipped in the metropolitan city of Sepermeru and it was there he made his first home among the humans. To this day the remains of a temple still stand at this site called 'The House of Seth' and the walls of the temple and the scrolls found their speak of his daughter, though little else remains to show where this daughter came from as no similar record is present in the House of Nepthys who was supposedly his wife at the time. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Demonisation</div>==<br />
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With the end of the Egyptian civilization, at the hand of the Greeks, Seth's true standing was demonised and his protective role forgotten. A revenge attack perhaps by a nation still reeling from the final act of protection Seth and Amun-Ra enacted for their people. It remains a closely guarded secret to this day, but no-one who has questioned the great being about it has ever received anything more than cryptic answers in return. Whatever it was though, it was enough for the Greeks to turn him into the evil character to many think of him as today. <br />
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If the Greeks had sought to rile him up into action of any kind they were mistaken. Indeed any record of Seth in the country vanished almost as soon as the Greek's stepped foot in the capital. He has returned but rarely to the place once called Kehmet, the wounds perhaps to painful to examine once more. For what is two thousand years to such an old being? <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Long Journey</div>==<br />
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Since the fall of Kehmet there have been whispers and rumours about a man with blood, red hair and crimson eyes from many countries around the world. All speaking of a man set apart from the rest, a distant watcher. Yet also of someone who acted to defend the unfortunate, stepping up to defend the weakest, only to vanish at the end of the troubles. Sometimes accompanied by a woman, at other times alone, there was never any record for more than a year before he moved on again.<br />
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Seen as far afield as India and the Americas; an inscription in a Mayan Temple talks of a red eyed demon that came out of a storm and destroyed the priests sacrificing a beaten army to their god. The people talking in fear of the being who had walked away with over a hundred suddenly freed captives as the temple collapsed into ruins.<br />
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Another legend speaks of a man who visited the great swordsmith Masamune in Japan, staying for month after month until finally the great man relented and taught the traveller the Soshu tradition of making swords. This was the longest appearance of 'Seth' since the myths of Kehmet, for he stayed for nearly twenty years with the Priest. Indeed, some records from the time write that Seth stayed until Masamune died. "''The traveller having become the shadow of the Smith, always in his presence; The two quite inseparable,''" as a leading writer of the time described in his diaries. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Reemergence</div>==<br />
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[[File:Golden Lane.jpg|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Golden Lane</font>]]<br />
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Perhaps only seth could reemerge with the aplomb and 'style' as he. Returning into public view as a Lord under the reign of Francis II, Kahi returning once more to his side. Living in what was once the Hradčany, the Castle District, they were surrounded by the height of culture and intrigue. Slipping seamlessly into society and into the hidden world's of the little people. They were always where the stories were. <br />
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Kahi was a frequent visitor to a street in the Hradčany called Golden street. This was one of the highlights of the city at the time, filled with curios and tales of other places. In other words, the perfect place to visit. Here,she met the Philosopher Uhle; considered an eccentric by many, that spent his entire income on books about magic and alchemy. For a few years there was nothing untoward about their stay in the city. Unfortunately, this was not to remain the case. <br />
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On the day that Lord Seth and Lady Kahi vanished from the city there was a large detonation under Uhle's house in Golden Street. When the house was finally made safe, and the fire put out, they found Uhle's body still intact and clutching a large nugget of what later proved to be gold. The locals still say to this day that he had to have been successful in his search for the Philospher's stone. Modern day alchemists disagree though, anyone who would have succeeded should have survived the process. Visitors to Seth's Mansion in Alau however may see a figure resembling Uhle's description wandering the halls, but it may just be a passing resemblance. Indeed, whenever any difficult situation or catastrophe happens around Seth or Kahi they often refer to "''The Prague Incident''". They are never forth coming on the actual details though.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #444444; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">The Modern Day</div>==<br />
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[[File:Millenium City Centre.jpg|frame|Right|<font color=#444444>Millennium City RenCen</font>]]<br />
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Seth's most recent appearance is in Millenium City however, drawn as he was to that city after the Battle of Detroit. He has been a resident on and off for many years now, a regular at many of the city's attractions and outlets. His continued need to defend those that most need it has led him to the attention of many different organisations. In this technological age with it's power-savy people many are beginning to question who this man really is. For the moment he finds this entertaining, though it is unlikely it would remain so were someone to attempt to make life difficult for him.<br />
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Living in the Downtown area he is often seen about the city taking an interest in the life there; curious about all the different lifeforms than now pass through this nexus point. He feels there is much that he is grateful to the city for, including his ever growing family. Despite all the wandering he may have found somewhere to settle for a time. He does still wander the globe and further afield at times, yet he always returns to those he has met here. <br />
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After thousands of years it is this place which has driven him to become more active again, appearing more as who he is to the others. Gathering people together, and in some instances joining supergroups to experience the ambiance they bring. Now though he simply gathers those he is closest to into Black Sun, drawing a line against the true darkness that always threatens to take the home he holds most dear. The Earth on which he was born.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#ffffff; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FAMILY</div>=<br />
[[File:Seth's Complicated Family.png|frame|Centre|<font color=#444444>Seth's Adoptive Family Tree</font>]]<br />
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The Myths would have you believe that Seth is the son of the sky goddess Nut and the earth god Geb however this is not entirely true. Seth's true father is Amun-Ra the only other being like himself on Earth. <br />
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Created during the formation of the planet both have had a tumultuous and somewhat lonely existence as they watched the evolution of life and attempted to find the reasons for their 'creation'. Neither believe in the need of a higher deity to have led to their creation, but even after billions of years they still find themselves adrift of a true purpose. Indeed in the first years of his association with Amun-Ra Seth voices the opinion that their purpose was served when they were created; an opinion based solely on the yearning he had felt for there to be rain in his first moments. <br />
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[[Image:Kahi_Pose_02.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Sphinx</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Kahi<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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Brought to Seth as a mere infant she quickly became the most important part of Seth's life. Living in Seth's house in Sepermeru she grew up surrounded by the priests of Seth's order and in the knowledge that she was to be something more than the human she was. Seth though was reluctant to change her, despite having been the one to inform her of her possible abilities, for he had grown to love her as if she were his own. Kahi though was as cunning as he and eventually wrested the secret from him which was to change her world forever. Indeed it would leave her in this world forever, and it is unknown whether she has forgiven him, or herself, for that. <br />
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[[Image:Dominick_Pose.png|160px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Saiyan</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Dominick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Dominick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
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Now, several thousand years later Kahi and Seth still travel the world together to find others they could call a family on their now joint quest to escape the lonely monotony of eternity. In Dominick they have found a certainty in this. Dominick was one of the first people they ever met in Millenium City and his forthright innocence and determination led them into a new lease of life and it was rare indeed when they were not seen together. He proved himself to them time and again with his strength in battle, and they knew they could not be parted from him. Offered the chance to become Seth's Avatar he took it, and through that ritual he was linked to them both and gained an effectively immortal life.<br />
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[[Image:Amun-Ra Pose.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Grandfather</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Amun-Ra<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Needed not<br />
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Amun-Ra, father... More truly a brother to the odd Seth in actuality. Born before Seth he found him as the storm raged on the surface of a turbulent new world. The two lost and adrift without meaning or purpose. Thrust together by the simple need to not be alone. They have spent the past eons walking the universe together, trying to find a way to live when all they had was never ending existence. Together they made a family they grew to love. Both are father to Kahi and love her dearly.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FRIENDS</div>=<br />
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Despite this, or perhaps because of it, from the moment they have first met humans they have sought to surround themselves with them, guide them and generally meddle in their affairs. This led to the birth of the Ancient Egyptian Civilization and with their help it was maintained for thousands of years. The belief in their guidance led to the creation of the other Egyptian Gods, lesser beings to themselves that were fed off human belief in them and they only ever increased in number. Till there were nearly 300 other deities in the Egyptian Pantheon. This was their first family, and while not all were close to them, there were many that were dear to them and remain with them to this day.<br />
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[[Image:Mercyface.png|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Fighter</h3><br />
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'''Name:''' Mercy<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Mercy_Madison|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here''' </span>]]<br />
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Perhaps one of the most hot headed of people he knows Mercy has become someone close to him indeed. A surprise for many considering their many first meetings, when not knowing who or what he was Mercy attacked him repeatedly. It was through these battles they came to know one another and a somewhat forced friendship began. Mercy admits that Seth taught her how to find a place to find balance in her life, a lesson that was hard won for himself as well. He always admits to seeing so much of his younger self in the woman. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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[[Image:Slickavatar.png|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Altered</h3><br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Slick<br><br />
'''Primus:''' [[Slick|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Here'''</span>]]<br />
<br />
It is possible that Seth considers him to be his closest friend in this time. Seth has never once regretted meeting this individual and finds his talks with this being to be calming and rather cathartic. There are few who are willing to accept Seth for all he is outside his family, and there are many times Seth has found himself sharing secrets. He hopes, dares to dream, that his friend will prove to be immortal. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Xeraysa 01.jpg|160px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Rebel</h3><br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Lynn<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
<br />
While tumultuous at best, and at other times simply argumentative, the relationship with Lynn and Seth has always been an odd one. Recently though they have come to a mutual understanding and ground has been covered. Important ground if recent developments within the family are to come to pass. Their mutual interests are sure to bolster up this growing friendship in the future. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Frost.jpg|170px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Assassin</h3><br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Miss. Frost<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
<br />
A new friend that has quickly become close to the group, Miss Frost has shown an accepting personality with perhaps just the right touch of dark past to mix her in with the odd group. Introduced through Methari the two have found they have much in common. Future adventures to Babylon are sure to cement this.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Blaq.jpg|150px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Shifter</h3><br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Blaq<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
<br />
An old friend of Seth's he is happy she has come back into their lives after a long absence. With so much in common many a long evening is spent simply talking and relaxing in each others company. Able to share many stories without fear of being judged. A once difficult thing to do. A kind hearted soul Seth is always warmed by her appearance and always finds her opinions to be wise.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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[[Image:Mitsuko.jpg|130px|right]]<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">The Guardian</h3><br />
<br />
'''Name:''' Mitsuko<br><br />
'''Primus:''' Here<br />
<br />
Mitsuko is one of the few friends that Seth has met in Millenium City that have stayed the passage of time, perhaps because she is so aware of what it is like to be a walker through it. And of what can be lost. He finds his heart reaches out to this person who has lost so much simply because of the effects time, and the idiocy of people, can have on a place. He hopes that he can aid her as much as she has aided him in feeling at home as he does now in Millenium City.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PROVEN POWERS AND ABILITIES</div>=<br />
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{{LiathTheme<br />
| artist = Two Steps from Hell<br />
| track = All's Hell that ends Well<br />
| tracklink = http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLUj9lFPU6s<br />
| artistcolor = #FFFFFF<br />
| trackcolor = #FFFFFF<br />
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<br />
Seth's most usual style of fighting is with a pair of dual swords. Handcrafted in his own workshop they are fashioned similarly to Katanas though the metal is not the usual folded steel. A special alloy that incorporates his own strange essence means the blades are wicked sharp and never in need of the dull task of polishing after their initial creation. A skill he has had time to hone over centuries it is one he is well versed in, and utilises with ease, mixing magic into his fighting abilities to put him on par with the super-humans and Mages that surround him. If perhaps a little more indestructible. <br />
<br />
It is clear though that his powers far extend beyond the simple magic and swords that he uses on a daily basis. When called upon his powers have been known to change the very world around him. This usage seems controlled though and only used in dire circumstances, when pressed Seth will mention only vaguely a set of rules that seem to guide him. Perhaps this is the reason why he doesn't 'cheat' as often as he could.<br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">WEAKNESSES</div>=<br />
<br />
It is often discussed whether a being such as Seth could have weaknesses. Here people talk about powers, about strengths, abilities and the tools at his disposal, very rarely do they talk about the heart of Seth. For Seth's greatest weakness is his heart and his emotions. Despite how cold and aloof he may seem on first meeting he cares deeply for those close to him and for the plight of those he meets. In most situations this is a benefit, a sign of strength, but too easily it can be used against him. His heart is scarred from all the times it has led him into pain. As he has said many times his heart is more fragile from the burdens he has had to bear, not stronger. <br />
<br />
Any being vicious enough to attempt to strike a blow to him would go for those he holds dear. Though they should be cautious, any attempt is likely to bring Seth's anger and few have seen such ferocity and lived. <br />
<br />
='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MEMORABLE EVENTS</div>'''''=<br />
<br />
Here you will find many short tales and scenes from the life of Seth. Feel free to browse, or not browse, at your leisure. <br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Creation of a Sword|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Creation of a Sword''' </span>]]</h3><br />
<br />
The forge was dark save for the glow of the fire and the glow of power in the smith’s eyes. His gaze was cool and concentrated on a heated length of metal protruding out of the fire. Time passed interminably as the tall figure simply watches the fire, occasionally turning the length this way or that way.<br />
<br />
“This must be perfect.” He says at last, slowly withdrawing the alloy and heading towards the anvil. With deft fingers he picks up the hammer and begins, the sound of his blows reverberating outside the darkened forge.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''''</span><br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Visiting Kahi|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Visiting Kahi''' </span>]]</h3><br />
<br />
“Kahi,” Itennu says softly, then he sighs, voice becoming louder, “Kahi.”<br />
<br />
“What?” she asks, looking towards him with a sigh.<br />
<br />
“You are not paying attention.” He says sternly, trying to glare at the six year old before him and failing.<br />
<br />
“But I’m bored It-en-nu!” she replies, banging her sandaled feet onto the steps where she sat with every kick of her legs emphasising her boredom.<br />
<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#FFFFFF; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[[Fighting as One|<span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Fighting as One''' </span>]]</h3><br />
<br />
Nothing of such scale, grandeur or such complete devastation could be called anything but a violent storm of anger.<br />
<br />
The army poured towards the small band making their way through the centre, their power terrible to behold, all falling before them. However the strain was beginning to show, their blades bloodied, sweat for once appearing on their brow and still their enemy came down upon them.<br />
<br />
“There are too many!” One of the great fighters called, a gun rising suddenly to fire into the writhing, nightmarish shaped mass coming down upon them, “It was stupid to fight here.”<br />
<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Shifting-Dawn-342186992 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Shifting Dawn''' </span>] </h3><br />
<br />
All was quiet as Seth sat listening to the gentle shift of sand around him in the breeze. A soft smile playing on his face as he lets the sound fill him. This was a moment he always enjoyed, the time dawn approached in Alau, a time of shifting powers, a moment of the pure balance. It helped him remember happier times. It helped him find the balance all said that someone such as he would be unable to find. Almost without notice a gentle glow shimmers over his frame, an outward sign of the <br />
strange peace that has filled his life in recent months. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/A-Light-Breakfast-355058335 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A Light Breakfast''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
This is the universe. <br />
<br />
A confusing tumult of particles shifting out in all directions, creating eddies on the shifting tide of gravity that presses outwards, growing into the ever present darkness of the nothing between worlds. A new universe, vibrant with energy and blindingly bright. A joyous thing to behold as the light sears its way through the passage of creation. The laws that bind only the successful on their journey snap into being, defining the dimensions of this place, stabilising the particles that sparkle in that new space.<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Apep-Returns-355869068 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Apep Returns''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
In the quiet afternoon of the city two dear friends stand talking. The crowds move around the two unnoticed as Dominick and Seth continue their conversation, smiles flickering on their faces as they talk. It is clear they are quite comfortable in each other’s presence, truly at ease. A peaceful scene indeed as they discuss those they had thought they’d lost. Both vaguely aware of a third presence watching them, the paper doll of Mitsuko sitting on the wall but remaining quiet as she watches on. A familiar and comforting presence as they talk. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Hesitant-Steps-355545676 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Hesitant Steps''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
The chaos of the hospital rang loud in his mind as Seth forced himself to step into the foyer. The press of people around his form made him shudder a little, the edges of his control raw with fatigue and fear for the one he came to see. In defence he shifts, returning to his older forms, his Anubite face appearing and his robes swirling around him in a deep red hue. A safety net he almost clings to. <br />
<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Reforged-Power-355696300 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Hesitant Steps''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
The small forge echoes to the sound of Seth’s measured hammer blows, his red eyes watching the metal carefully for imperfections with every hit. Never before has this being concentrated so on his crafting, but then it has never meant as much as this. Seth pauses as there is a quiet knock at the door; he looks over the metal, debating his move before fixing it back into the coals. <br />
<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/The-Call-356229103 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Call''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
“Dominick,” The whisper comes to him, echoing around him in the hospital, “Dominick.”<br />
<br />
The words intoned with a pressing need to follow that voice to where it calls for. Unable to avoid it and even as he questions himself and his hearing he is standing. His eyes widen and he gives a cry of surprise as his own body betrays him and begins to follow. Despite the force of the pull it is benevolent and almost beseeching. He lets himself be taken out of the hospital, and towards the parkland of the Renaissance Centre beyond, only coming to a stop behind a golden figure in white robes that stands looking over the waterfall beyond.<br />
<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Returning-Home-356236623 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Returning Home''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
Warm light flows into a peaceful room. White drapes fluttering in the air in the cool breeze as the first hints of a fine summer make the day beautiful. Beautiful to all except the form that lies limp on the bed, golden light shimmering around her as she heals. It has been a long time since she has been in this state, caught on the brink of death and only returning because of the powers that bind her. A twice bound soul to both her nature and her master. <br />
<br />
Her dark hair falls over her closed golden eyes as she shifts, brow furrowed with the memories that force their way through her mind. Returning from the borders is never a pleasant experience. To return she must remember. <br />
<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Vigil-356663486 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Vigil''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
The look on Kahi’s face was harrowing as she took in Seth’s condition. It had been two days since she had awoken after her rebirth, two days since she had learned of Seth’s poisoning and those two days had felt the longest of her existence for some time. Amun-Ra and Dominick had tried to keep her distracted with training, idle chatter and even a long walk into the nearest small town of workers. Yet everything had reminded her of this man. Her father.<br />
<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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<br />
<h3 style="font-family:Impact; color:#cc9933; font-weight:normal; font-size:180%;">[http://dragonrider4000.deviantart.com/art/Maelstrom-363190024 <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Maelstrom''' </span>]</h3><br />
<br />
“If you think you are so powerful why don’t you fight him.”<br />
<br />
The words said in frustration echo in the courtyard as Kahi turns to glare at Seth. Her face is set with determination and sudden anger at her father who had done nothing but laugh quietly while she and Dominick trained. The quiet sounds of amusement an ever present distraction after every failed attempt to land a blow on Amun-Ra, every annoying moment when the greatest of them showed his true power. Showed how much they were being toyed with. It reminded her far too much of her fight with Apep; something she could quite do without remembering thank you very much. <br />
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<span style="letter-spacing:.3em; padding-right:5px; text-transform:uppercase;">'''</span><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">TROPES</div>=<br />
<br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">General</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TimeAbyss <span style="color:#FFFFFF;">'''TimeAbyss'''</span>] - Seth has been alive for billions of years.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - Seth only looks in his mid thirties despite his age.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/CompleteImmortality <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Complete Immortality''' </span>] - A given alongside Time Abyss.<br />
<br><br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheSacredDarkness <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Sacred Darkness''' </span>] - Seth may have chaotic and dark powers but that does not make him evil.<br />
<br><br />
==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Characteristics</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AGodIAmNot <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''A God I am Not''' </span>] - Whenever he is called a God he is the first to deny it, because he is not a god.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/SharpDressedMan <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Sharp Dressed Man''' </span>] - Seth never dresses in any way other than his best.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GoodOldWays <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Good Old Ways''' </span>] - Despite the passage of time he will always reminisce about Ancient Egypt and the people he once knew there. <br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheOmniscient <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' The Omniscient''' </span>] - Simple age will do that to a guy. He's not so much Omniscient as very, very old.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Personality</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HelpingWouldBeKillStealing <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Helping Would be Kill Stealing''' </span>] - At any time he could alter the events happening in his friends' lives, yet he does not.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassGrandpa <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Badass Grandpa''' </span>] - Acts the father figure to many characters, and works to increase their abilities. Mercy and Cache in particular.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BadassBaritone <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> ''' Badass Baritone''' </span>] - Every time he speaks and is a peculiar take on this as he's chosen to be this deep in tone.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Powers</div>==<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WeatherDissonance <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Weather Dissonance''' </span>] - Seth can cause this at times when he actually flexes his powers. A rare event.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HeroesPreferSwords <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Heroes Prefer Swords''' </span>] - Seth has all his power, yet chooses to fight with swords.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DontMakeMeDestroyYou <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Don't make me Destroy you''' </span>] - Often Seth wishes to win a fight without the need to fight. Often works too...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Morality</div>==<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ChaoticGood <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Chaotic Good''' </span>] - Seth will always do the right thing his way.<br />
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='''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''=<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Dominick</div>==<br />
"Hmm… Where do I Start? He is one of the greatest friends of a figure to me. So strong and yet gentle in his nature. I cannot express how much this man means to me outside of just being under his service as Avatar. We hold the best bond, heh. He is one of the reasons why I stand today, healthy and stronger than ever before. He is literally the toughest I have ever fought to this day, and I'm very grateful he's on the good side otherwise we'd be in huge trouble, haha. But yeah, he's also a great teacher. In fact, I am glad I am part of his family, and will do whatever it takes to always make him proud. I am well honoured to call him a father." <br />
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...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Mercy</div>==<br />
"Ha… the fox? -My- fox? He inspires me and my motives to make me the better person I wanna become. He can be a little pain in the ass sometimes with his innocence, but that’s what I love about him. I learned not to fuck around with him when he's tight. Piss him off, and your ass is grass. Lesson well-grounded. But other than that, he's like the pops I never had. When I'm around him, just his presence assures me that everythin'll be alright. If I hadn't bumped into him for the first time when I did I probably wouldn’t' a' been alive today to even comment about him. Strong motherfucker he is, I envy his strength and power. But its only the better reason for me to push my limits to be as tough as he is. He'll get it soon enough. Love him tho'." <br />
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...<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Kahi</div>==<br />
The familiar patter of rain hitting glass rings out as the golden woman stares out into the grey city-scape. Sitting across from you, her legs crossed casually her posture is however perfect.<br />
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“I love the rain. Don’t you? Ah, but of course. You do not want to hear about that now.”<br />
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“So, what can I tell you about him? Much, everything perhaps; maybe nothing more than you know… I have known him for as long as I can remember and perhaps, I remember less than I should.”<br />
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“He is the complete selfless protection of those of his people caught in alien places. Wrath to those that mean his heart harm and protection to those that find themselves in its warmth.” She smiles, the love in her lining her soft expression.<br />
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“He is every meaning of safety and love I have ever known. My father…” She looks away now out into the city view, memory gripping her old heart.<br />
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“Set, my Seth. Typhon to those that may know him by other names, in truth he has many, all correct but none of them true.” She grins as she looks back at you.<br />
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“We’ve been to just so many places, met so many different people. Saved some and… Condemned others.” Even as her face twists slightly with bad memories she suddenly lights up again, bringing the entire tone of the conversation with her mood. She laughs a wonderful golden sound,“Ah, if you ever get the chance ask him about the ‘Prague Incident’.” She grins wickedly, “He’ll know what you’re talking about.”<br />
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“I don’t know what I would do without him. Often I fear I don’t show him I love him enough, don’t say it enough… Nefer ib.” She pauses, the final words a language long dead to the world but they have meaning to her.<br />
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Eventually she smiles, “Don’t let me prattle on, I am sure you have more questions; don’t you?”<br />
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...<br />
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OPEN TO ADDITIONS<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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This page is still undergoing changes, and the story is always changing. Because, in the end we are always changing.<br />
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[[Category:Character]] [[Category:Male]][[Category:Cosmic]][[Category:Immortal]] [[Category:Anthropomorphic]]<br />
[[Category:Hero]][[Category:UNTIL]][[Category:UNITY]][[Category:Tank]]</div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=StohnzStohnz2015-09-08T00:15:06Z<p>Seth: </p>
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|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Fissured in Thought</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Stohnz</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
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|Image=Stohnz Profile.jpg<br />
|Caption=Styx and Stohnz may break my bones but names will never hurt me.<br />
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|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|Rank=<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
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|RealName= Stohnz<br />
|Aliases=<br />
|Birthdate= 10 July<br />
|Birthplace= Doldrums<br />
|Citizenship= None<br />
|Residence= Millennium City<br />
|Occupation= <br />
|Legal= <br />
|Marital= Single <br />
|Relatives= Styx<br />
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|Species= Demon<br />
|Sub-Type= Unknown<br />
|Ethnicity=<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= Listed as 18<br />
|Height= 144cm<br />
|Weight= 45Kg<br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Green<br />
|Skin= Tan<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Known to bite, scratch and call forth bugs<br />
|Equipment= Always adorned with a pair of strange headphones<br />
|Skills= Unknown<br />
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[[File:Stohnz.png|center]]<br />
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Stohnz, as I know her, is an odd one. Not that she wasn’t ever not odd, but… wait no, I’m starting this all wrong. I should be dramatic, emphatic, and enthusiastic perhaps. I was that once. Anyway…<br />
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Once upon a time a girl was born with hair as red as rubies and eyes as silver as the moon. Now other girls are lucky girls, they get fairy godmothers, or wishes or princes. Stohnz had none of these and the world was cold and cruel, everyone wanted to eat that little girl because they were monsters and she was the only thing that moved with life in the Doldrums. It was a scary place and Stohnz would have been lost, but Stohnz was special. Stohnz had a sister. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE SISTER</div>=<br />
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Styx was a sister all girls need, strong and determined and she gave the best of hugs. She always had patience for that girl as she grew and looked after her, even against the monsters. Stohnz knew her sister would always look after her. Styx protected her at first, then taught her to hide, taught her to fight and loved her unconditionally. <br />
Stohnz was special in more ways than her sister and not all ways were good. The darkness was scary and her mind wasn’t always a happy place. Filled with stories and memories that didn’t make sense… and a darkness that stole so much. It made Stohnz very unhappy and even Styx didn’t know what to do, because who can fight a nothing? Though perhaps even strange girls in strange lands have their own protectors because that’s when the music came. <br />
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[[File:Styx1Profile3.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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The sister of Stohnz is the Behemoth [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Styx <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Styx''' </span>]. Created together in the lands of the Doldrums they formed a fast and lasting bond that was both the making of their individuality and what set them apart from others of their kind from the start. The larger of the two people often mistake Styx for being the overbearing older sister, but it is Stohnz that is often the less patient of the two. Throughout their time together Styx has kept Stohnz safe through all hardships, even at the cost of power and safety for herself.<br />
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If pride and anger are the great forces that move her it is because those forces were what helped keep herself and her sister safe. They are driving forces from more than just her nature but have been nurtured through time and are a product and symptom of her love. For love it is between Stohnz and her sister. An odd thing amongst Devils and so often spoken of but rarely true. For them it is the greatest truth that they have and because of that to summon one and not both is a travesty a crime in and of itself. A crime that even Mages had shirked from. <br />
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It is not a bond to be tested.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THANK YOU FOR THE MUSIC</div>=<br />
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The girl who fought, the girl who cried, the girl who hid so much inside… learnt to dance. Music drowned out the fighting and the tears and lit something within that little figure that chased some of the darkness away. It made her happy and it made her special sister so happy too. <br />
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If there is one thing you will always see with Stohnz that is not her sister it is her headphones. She is rarely without them and if she is without them no doubt she is searching for the person who took them and to fix the situation, permanently. Few do touch them though and perhaps that is because they seem so... unnatural. For they are not store bought creation and even if they look new, they are not. The headphones are a part of her, as any item can be a part of anyone, created by the most unlikely of benefactors to bring some light into the darkness of her days. It was the only way they knew how, or could help. <br />
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Music brought Stohnz a comfort she had never known she realised and it is more than a hobby for her, it is a need. The music those headphones provided, and still do, smooths away the bad memories that plague her day to day and provide a peaceful center for her mind. It allowed her an escape that was all her. Something that was terribly important when the workings of mages had left you in doubt of even that. They are her lifeline, they are her life. <br />
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They're part of her.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SUMMONINGS</div>=<br />
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It wasn’t all the monsters of their world though, sometimes the monsters of the world you know called on them. Brief forays of light and colour and sudden activity… not all of it nice. Though often Stohnz would remember good times and things that didn’t always want to hurt you. Learnt that sometimes people could be nice like her sister, but you had to fight for it sometimes. Memories like this, that were hers, made the darkness that bit better and we both know the darkness is often worst before dawn.<br />
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And it was. <br />
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Poor Stohnz had to fight a lot in that place. The older she became the older she looked, the older she looked the more mature her soul became and, the more mature her soul the more that wanted to eat her. It was time to put to use all her sister had taught her so well. But it did not last.<br />
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[[File:Styx_and_Stohnz_Summoning.png|400px|right]]<br />
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It is part of the life of a demon to be summoned. For Styx and Stohnz it can be as simple as rhyme. The pair of Devil's are significant magical entities and as such cannot remain in the Human world of their own account; they need an anchor of sorts, a power to keep them here other than their own. This power can take many forms; the power of a magical place, somewhere effected by curse or breach to else-where. Magical items which they might keep with them, such as ancient artefacts or cursed items-- pieces with a little story to them. More commonly however, the pair are called and bound by an individual who keeps them here in the Human world.<br />
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It rarely ends well.<br />
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The mages of this world are greedy individuals and through such greed, such lust for power, such avarice Stohnz herself had been born. Her birth a fraught time of pain to another, murder and invasion of the self in ways no person should ever have to endure. Stohnz did survive and was thrown away as a broken shell with broken mind and a spirit not her own. She would have died within hours had she not been found by her sister. A sister that, against all the stories of her kind, chose to look after her and protect her. Fighting that urge to eat that human soul within sister day to passing day. <br />
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Their arrival in this world this time began much like any other, but not entirely. The summons went wrong and they were given the blessed opportunity to take it, so they did. Who wouldn't jump at such a chance for freedom?<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FINDING HOME</div>=<br />
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Chance is not often nice to people as special as Stohnz, it tests them, it tries to break them, but sometimes just sometimes it gives them something they never expected. It gave Stohnz a master, but not like any they’d had before. This was not a master that would beat her, not a master that would experiment on her as an object, not a master that would only see what he would gain. This was a master who sought to protect and let her be who she needed to be. Her master was Torentus. He had troubles too but he showed her that was okay, that they could be there and still have good things too. He is not prince, but she’s no princess and our special Stohnz has no time for such things, her life has been too difficult to think such people worth having, but he is.<br />
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Torentus the Wizened, an unusual figure under any description. A figure of refined tastes, cool logic and a devil may care attitude that applies even to his shadow Edgar and his propensity for shoes. He is a person you might, at first glance, consider unassuming but you would be quite wrong and certainly playing entirely into what he wants you to believe. Beneath that old exterior the mind is still razor sharp and quick both with humour and with thought. For those he deems worthy there is also great kindness and a sense of justice.<br />
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Aiding the sisters without any return for himself he quickly stood himself out from the rest of all they met. Simply wishing to learn about them without any sign of greed for their power, his interest simply that of the scholar. It was unusual and it provided something that they had never been given before, a choice. As time passed it was an all too easy choice to make and they bound themselves into his service as his slaves. The bond marked in Dragon hide about their necks.<br />
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As with all such arrangements the positions are quite clear; they are his slaves and he the master, but it is not a cruel bond. In return for safety in this world and a place in his home they are to see to his needs before their own, his safety and power above their own. As Stohnz has found this often involves a lot of books, then a lot more books... which if she tires of there will be others books somewhere else too. For a mind that had longed to expand itself and to grow its an embarrassment of riches.<br />
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Stohnz also owes him her salvation from the torments of other mages as a soul imprisoned can never truly be a soul owned. A constant fight between body and mind had left Stohnz weak and mentally unstable without the headphones she had come to rely on with every breath. Instead of acting as other mages would and making her become whatever he would require he did the more complex thing, the harder thing... the more caring thing. Over weeks and months that soul was merged with body, becoming as much a part of her as everything else she was. The old and new merging into something different, something more. Rising from beneath that storm to become a mind of great clarity and she owes it all to him.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE FUTURE</div>=<br />
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Even I think so and I have never trusted mages and I passed that distrust onto you my Stohnz. I, the devil you once were and now your guide, your teacher. I had thought once that either you or I must die for some life to return but he has given us this chance to learn. We have a chance to grow and a world in which to love that we could never have imagined. So fight for it my girl, fight for it with tooth and claw and become what you need to be to keep all we have gained. This is no fairy tale our special Stohnz. Happy endings must be won in blood. Let it be the world if need be to keep those we love safe.<br />
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The future is always uncertain and Stohnz has very little faith in things remaining happy. She knows beyond the immaturity that shields her that there is always darkness on the horizon. It's the way of the world. She'll ignore it for as long as she can with those she loves, but it's a presence she can feel growing day to day. If it is real or imagined she does not know, can't know. Stohnz just knows that they'll be ready, both of her will. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Styx</div>==<br />
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"What do you mean, what do I think of her? She is Stohnz-- my Sister, and more than capable of protecting herself! Are you some kind of profound moron?.. Just why do you want to know about her? If you upset her, I will have to end you." Styx, 2015.<br />
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At first glance, or first perceptions of the pair it might come across that Styx is the oft over-bearing elder Sister to the small Devil Stohnz. This is perhaps accurate in that Styx does feel protective of the smaller Devil, however the reality of this impression ends there. There is very little, perhaps nothing that the towering Styx would not do for her Sister-- be it protect her, take injury in her place or ward off unwanted attentions. She even endeavors to keep her happy and smiling, though these tasks are perhaps not best filled by a Devil like she.<br />
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The pair share an intense bond, one created along with them it is indeed remotely reasonable to view them as two sides of one Magical entity, one power. One without the other is an unbalanced, terrible thing. You take them both, or neither at all.<br />
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Those that do get on Stohnz's bad side earn Styx's ire rather quickly, and may well find themselves having to contend with more than the Behemoth's venomous words.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Torentus</div>==<br />
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“The 'human' condition is an odd one. It is a struggle. Difficult. But you are part of it. In it. It is who and what you are. You have choice in it, a mind capable of making decisions based on who, what, when, where and how. Now, I want to to imagine that struggle occurring within and you have no real part of it. You are outside of it. Instead, a child like mind struggles instead in your place. Most would have torn themselves apart in the effort. Not my Stohnz though. She struck a balance that often even the cosmos lacks. She endured with no small amount of patience until the time came for all of her to join in such a struggle. Since? She has made me very proud.”<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Elliana</div>==<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Elotus</div>==<br />
<br />
Elotus sees Stohnz as generally harmless and honestly good natured for the most part, at least towards him, or if her sister is harmed. He has an understanding that she is the more magical of the two, and respects that fact with a general fear of magic due to its powerful effects. He finds it really funny that she is shorter then him, but since she has yet to actually harm him in any way, she kinda freaks him out, due to not knowing what to expect from her. He knows what Styx will do, no idea on Stohnz.<br />
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Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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</div><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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===<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Tropes</div>===<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - She's a Devil this has to check out.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheFakeCutie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Fake Cutie'''</span>] - Every rose has a thorn, every cutie has its claws.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LittleMissBadass <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Little Miss Badass'''</span>] - See The Fake Cutie.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WindowsToTheSoul <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Windows to the Soul''' </span>] - Both old and new Stohnz cover silver eyes uncannily well. I did not plan this.<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HappinessInSlavery <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Happiness in Slavery''' </span>] - Could not be more true.<br />
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<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=StohnzStohnz2015-09-06T23:43:21Z<p>Seth: /* Torentus */</p>
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Fissured in Thought</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Stohnz</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Stohnz Profile.jpg<br />
|Caption=Styx and Stohnz may break my bones but names will never hurt me.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|Rank=<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Stohnz<br />
|Aliases=<br />
|Birthdate= Unknown<br />
|Birthplace= Doldrums<br />
|Citizenship= None<br />
|Residence= Millennium City<br />
|Occupation= <br />
|Legal= <br />
|Marital= Single <br />
|Relatives= Styx<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Demon<br />
|Sub-Type= Unknown<br />
|Ethnicity=<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= Unknown<br />
|Height= <br />
|Weight= <br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Green<br />
|Skin= Tan<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Known to bite, scratch and call forth bugs<br />
|Equipment= Always adorned with a pair of strange headphones<br />
|Skills= Unknown<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Stohnz.png|center]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
Stohnz, as I know her, is an odd one. Not that she wasn’t ever not odd, but… wait no, I’m starting this all wrong. I should be dramatic, emphatic, and enthusiastic perhaps. I was that once. Anyway…<br />
<br />
Once upon a time a girl was born with hair as red as rubies and eyes as silver as the moon. Now other girls are lucky girls, they get fairy godmothers, or wishes or princes. Stohnz had none of these and the world was cold and cruel, everyone wanted to eat that little girl because they were monsters and she was the only thing that moved with life in the Doldrums. It was a scary place and Stohnz would have been lost, but Stohnz was special. Stohnz had a sister. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE SISTER</div>=<br />
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Styx was a sister all girls need, strong and determined and she gave the best of hugs. She always had patience for that girl as she grew and looked after her, even against the monsters. Stohnz knew her sister would always look after her. Styx protected her at first, then taught her to hide, taught her to fight and loved her unconditionally. <br />
Stohnz was special in more ways than her sister and not all ways were good. The darkness was scary and her mind wasn’t always a happy place. Filled with stories and memories that didn’t make sense… and a darkness that stole so much. It made Stohnz very unhappy and even Styx didn’t know what to do, because who can fight a nothing? Though perhaps even strange girls in strange lands have their own protectors because that’s when the music came. <br />
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[[File:Styx1Profile3.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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The sister of Stohnz is the Behemoth [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Styx <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Styx''' </span>]. Created together in the lands of the Doldrums they formed a fast and lasting bond that was both the making of their individuality and what set them apart from others of their kind from the start. The larger of the two people often mistake Styx for being the overbearing older sister, but it is Stohnz that is often the less patient of the two. Throughout their time together Styx has kept Stohnz safe through all hardships, even at the cost of power and safety for herself.<br />
<br />
If pride and anger are the great forces that move her it is because those forces were what helped keep herself and her sister safe. They are driving forces from more than just her nature but have been nurtured through time and are a product and symptom of her love. For love it is between Stohnz and her sister. An odd thing amongst Devils and so often spoken of but rarely true. For them it is the greatest truth that they have and because of that to summon one and not both is a travesty a crime in and of itself. A crime that even Mages had shirked from. <br />
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It is not a bond to be tested.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THANK YOU FOR THE MUSIC</div>=<br />
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The girl who fought, the girl who cried, the girl who hid so much inside… learnt to dance. Music drowned out the fighting and the tears and lit something within that little figure that chased some of the darkness away. It made her happy and it made her special sister so happy too. <br />
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[[File:Girl-140571_640.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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If there is one thing you will always see with Stohnz that is not her sister it is her headphones. She is rarely without them and if she is without them no doubt she is searching for the person who took them and to fix the situation, permanently. Few do touch them though and perhaps that is because they seem so... unnatural. For they are not store bought creation and even if they look new, they are not. The headphones are a part of her, as any item can be a part of anyone, created by the most unlikely of benefactors to bring some light into the darkness of her days. It was the only way they knew how, or could help. <br />
<br />
Music brought Stohnz a comfort she had never known she realised and it is more than a hobby for her, it is a need. The music those headphones provided, and still do, smooths away the bad memories that plague her day to day and provide a peaceful center for her mind. It allowed her an escape that was all her. Something that was terribly important when the workings of mages had left you in doubt of even that. They are her lifeline, they are her life. <br />
<br />
They're part of her.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SUMMONINGS</div>=<br />
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It wasn’t all the monsters of their world though, sometimes the monsters of the world you know called on them. Brief forays of light and colour and sudden activity… not all of it nice. Though often Stohnz would remember good times and things that didn’t always want to hurt you. Learnt that sometimes people could be nice like her sister, but you had to fight for it sometimes. Memories like this, that were hers, made the darkness that bit better and we both know the darkness is often worst before dawn.<br />
<br />
And it was. <br />
<br />
Poor Stohnz had to fight a lot in that place. The older she became the older she looked, the older she looked the more mature her soul became and, the more mature her soul the more that wanted to eat her. It was time to put to use all her sister had taught her so well. But it did not last.<br />
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[[File:Styx_and_Stohnz_Summoning.png|400px|right]]<br />
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It is part of the life of a demon to be summoned. For Styx and Stohnz it can be as simple as rhyme. The pair of Devil's are significant magical entities and as such cannot remain in the Human world of their own account; they need an anchor of sorts, a power to keep them here other than their own. This power can take many forms; the power of a magical place, somewhere effected by curse or breach to else-where. Magical items which they might keep with them, such as ancient artefacts or cursed items-- pieces with a little story to them. More commonly however, the pair are called and bound by an individual who keeps them here in the Human world.<br />
<br />
It rarely ends well.<br />
<br />
The mages of this world are greedy individuals and through such greed, such lust for power, such avarice Stohnz herself had been born. Her birth a fraught time of pain to another, murder and invasion of the self in ways no person should ever have to endure. Stohnz did survive and was thrown away as a broken shell with broken mind and a spirit not her own. She would have died within hours had she not been found by her sister. A sister that, against all the stories of her kind, chose to look after her and protect her. Fighting that urge to eat that human soul within sister day to passing day. <br />
<br />
Their arrival in this world this time began much like any other, but not entirely. The summons went wrong and they were given the blessed opportunity to take it, so they did. Who wouldn't jump at such a chance for freedom?<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FINDING HOME</div>=<br />
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Chance is not often nice to people as special as Stohnz, it tests them, it tries to break them, but sometimes just sometimes it gives them something they never expected. It gave Stohnz a master, but not like any they’d had before. This was not a master that would beat her, not a master that would experiment on her as an object, not a master that would only see what he would gain. This was a master who sought to protect and let her be who she needed to be. Her master was Torentus. He had troubles too but he showed her that was okay, that they could be there and still have good things too. He is not prince, but she’s no princess and our special Stohnz has no time for such things, her life has been too difficult to think such people worth having, but he is.<br />
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[[File:Torentus_the_Wizened.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
Torentus the Wizened, an unusual figure under any description. A figure of refined tastes, cool logic and a devil may care attitude that applies even to his shadow Edgar and his propensity for shoes. He is a person you might, at first glance, consider unassuming but you would be quite wrong and certainly playing entirely into what he wants you to believe. Beneath that old exterior the mind is still razor sharp and quick both with humour and with thought. For those he deems worthy there is also great kindness and a sense of justice.<br />
<br />
Aiding the sisters without any return for himself he quickly stood himself out from the rest of all they met. Simply wishing to learn about them without any sign of greed for their power, his interest simply that of the scholar. It was unusual and it provided something that they had never been given before, a choice. As time passed it was an all too easy choice to make and they bound themselves into his service as his slaves. The bond marked in Dragon hide about their necks.<br />
<br />
As with all such arrangements the positions are quite clear; they are his slaves and he the master, but it is not a cruel bond. In return for safety in this world and a place in his home they are to see to his needs before their own, his safety and power above their own. As Stohnz has found this often involves a lot of books, then a lot more books... which if she tires of there will be others books somewhere else too. For a mind that had longed to expand itself and to grow its an embarrassment of riches.<br />
<br />
Stohnz also owes him her salvation from the torments of other mages as a soul imprisoned can never truly be a soul owned. A constant fight between body and mind had left Stohnz weak and mentally unstable without the headphones she had come to rely on with every breath. Instead of acting as other mages would and making her become whatever he would require he did the more complex thing, the harder thing... the more caring thing. Over weeks and months that soul was merged with body, becoming as much a part of her as everything else she was. The old and new merging into something different, something more. Rising from beneath that storm to become a mind of great clarity and she owes it all to him.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE FUTURE</div>=<br />
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Even I think so and I have never trusted mages and I passed that distrust onto you my Stohnz. I, the devil you once were and now your guide, your teacher. I had thought once that either you or I must die for some life to return but he has given us this chance to learn. We have a chance to grow and a world in which to love that we could never have imagined. So fight for it my girl, fight for it with tooth and claw and become what you need to be to keep all we have gained. This is no fairy tale our special Stohnz. Happy endings must be won in blood. Let it be the world if need be to keep those we love safe.<br />
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The future is always uncertain and Stohnz has very little faith in things remaining happy. She knows beyond the immaturity that shields her that there is always darkness on the horizon. It's the way of the world. She'll ignore it for as long as she can with those she loves, but it's a presence she can feel growing day to day. If it is real or imagined she does not know, can't know. Stohnz just knows that they'll be ready, both of her will. <br />
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'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Styx</div>==<br />
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"What do you mean, what do I think of her? She is Stohnz-- my Sister, and more than capable of protecting herself! Are you some kind of profound moron?.. Just why do you want to know about her? If you upset her, I will have to end you." Styx, 2015.<br />
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At first glance, or first perceptions of the pair it might come across that Styx is the oft over-bearing elder Sister to the small Devil Stohnz. This is perhaps accurate in that Styx does feel protective of the smaller Devil, however the reality of this impression ends there. There is very little, perhaps nothing that the towering Styx would not do for her Sister-- be it protect her, take injury in her place or ward off unwanted attentions. She even endeavors to keep her happy and smiling, though these tasks are perhaps not best filled by a Devil like she.<br />
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The pair share an intense bond, one created along with them it is indeed remotely reasonable to view them as two sides of one Magical entity, one power. One without the other is an unbalanced, terrible thing. You take them both, or neither at all.<br />
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Those that do get on Stohnz's bad side earn Styx's ire rather quickly, and may well find themselves having to contend with more than the Behemoth's venomous words.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Torentus</div>==<br />
<br />
“The 'human' condition is an odd one. It is a struggle. Difficult. But you are part of it. In it. It is who and what you are. You have choice in it, a mind capable of making decisions based on who, what, when, where and how. Now, I want to to imagine that struggle occurring within and you have no real part of it. You are outside of it. Instead, a child like mind struggles instead in your place. Most would have torn themselves apart in the effort. Not my Stohnz though. She struck a balance that often even the cosmos lacks. She endured with no small amount of patience until the time came for all of her to join in such a struggle. Since? She has made me very proud.”<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Elliana</div>==<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Elotus</div>==<br />
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Elotus sees Stohnz as generally harmless and honestly good natured for the most part, at least towards him, or if her sister is harmed. He has an understanding that she is the more magical of the two, and respects that fact with a general fear of magic due to its powerful effects. He finds it really funny that she is shorter then him, but since she has yet to actually harm him in any way, she kinda freaks him out, due to not knowing what to expect from her. He knows what Styx will do, no idea on Stohnz.<br />
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Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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===<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Tropes</div>===<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - She's a Devil this has to check out.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheFakeCutie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Fake Cutie'''</span>] - Every rose has a thorn, every cutie has its claws.<br />
<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LittleMissBadass <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Little Miss Badass'''</span>] - See The Fake Cutie.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WindowsToTheSoul <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Windows to the Soul''' </span>] - Both old and new Stohnz cover silver eyes uncannily well. I did not plan this.<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HappinessInSlavery <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Happiness in Slavery''' </span>] - Could not be more true.<br />
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<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=StohnzStohnz2015-09-05T23:32:30Z<p>Seth: </p>
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{{PriceBox<br />
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|Font=Red Circle<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Fissured in Thought</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Stohnz</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
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|Image=Stohnz Profile.jpg<br />
|Caption=Styx and Stohnz may break my bones but names will never hurt me.<br />
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|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|Rank=<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Stohnz<br />
|Aliases=<br />
|Birthdate= Unknown<br />
|Birthplace= Doldrums<br />
|Citizenship= None<br />
|Residence= Millennium City<br />
|Occupation= <br />
|Legal= <br />
|Marital= Single <br />
|Relatives= Styx<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Demon<br />
|Sub-Type= Unknown<br />
|Ethnicity=<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= Unknown<br />
|Height= <br />
|Weight= <br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Green<br />
|Skin= Tan<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Known to bite, scratch and call forth bugs<br />
|Equipment= Always adorned with a pair of strange headphones<br />
|Skills= Unknown<br />
|}}<br />
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Stohnz, as I know her, is an odd one. Not that she wasn’t ever not odd, but… wait no, I’m starting this all wrong. I should be dramatic, emphatic, and enthusiastic perhaps. I was that once. Anyway…<br />
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Once upon a time a girl was born with hair as red as rubies and eyes as silver as the moon. Now other girls are lucky girls, they get fairy godmothers, or wishes or princes. Stohnz had none of these and the world was cold and cruel, everyone wanted to eat that little girl because they were monsters and she was the only thing that moved with life in the Doldrums. It was a scary place and Stohnz would have been lost, but Stohnz was special. Stohnz had a sister. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE SISTER</div>=<br />
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Styx was a sister all girls need, strong and determined and she gave the best of hugs. She always had patience for that girl as she grew and looked after her, even against the monsters. Stohnz knew her sister would always look after her. Styx protected her at first, then taught her to hide, taught her to fight and loved her unconditionally. <br />
Stohnz was special in more ways than her sister and not all ways were good. The darkness was scary and her mind wasn’t always a happy place. Filled with stories and memories that didn’t make sense… and a darkness that stole so much. It made Stohnz very unhappy and even Styx didn’t know what to do, because who can fight a nothing? Though perhaps even strange girls in strange lands have their own protectors because that’s when the music came. <br />
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[[File:Styx1Profile3.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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The sister of Stohnz is the Behemoth [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Styx <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Styx''' </span>]. Created together in the lands of the Doldrums they formed a fast and lasting bond that was both the making of their individuality and what set them apart from others of their kind from the start. The larger of the two people often mistake Styx for being the overbearing older sister, but it is Stohnz that is often the less patient of the two. Throughout their time together Styx has kept Stohnz safe through all hardships, even at the cost of power and safety for herself.<br />
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If pride and anger are the great forces that move her it is because those forces were what helped keep herself and her sister safe. They are driving forces from more than just her nature but have been nurtured through time and are a product and symptom of her love. For love it is between Stohnz and her sister. An odd thing amongst Devils and so often spoken of but rarely true. For them it is the greatest truth that they have and because of that to summon one and not both is a travesty a crime in and of itself. A crime that even Mages had shirked from. <br />
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It is not a bond to be tested.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THANK YOU FOR THE MUSIC</div>=<br />
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The girl who fought, the girl who cried, the girl who hid so much inside… learnt to dance. Music drowned out the fighting and the tears and lit something within that little figure that chased some of the darkness away. It made her happy and it made her special sister so happy too. <br />
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[[File:Girl-140571_640.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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If there is one thing you will always see with Stohnz that is not her sister it is her headphones. She is rarely without them and if she is without them no doubt she is searching for the person who took them and to fix the situation, permanently. Few do touch them though and perhaps that is because they seem so... unnatural. For they are not store bought creation and even if they look new, they are not. The headphones are a part of her, as any item can be a part of anyone, created by the most unlikely of benefactors to bring some light into the darkness of her days. It was the only way they knew how, or could help. <br />
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Music brought Stohnz a comfort she had never known she realised and it is more than a hobby for her, it is a need. The music those headphones provided, and still do, smooths away the bad memories that plague her day to day and provide a peaceful center for her mind. It allowed her an escape that was all her. Something that was terribly important when the workings of mages had left you in doubt of even that. They are her lifeline, they are her life. <br />
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They're part of her.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SUMMONINGS</div>=<br />
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It wasn’t all the monsters of their world though, sometimes the monsters of the world you know called on them. Brief forays of light and colour and sudden activity… not all of it nice. Though often Stohnz would remember good times and things that didn’t always want to hurt you. Learnt that sometimes people could be nice like her sister, but you had to fight for it sometimes. Memories like this, that were hers, made the darkness that bit better and we both know the darkness is often worst before dawn.<br />
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And it was. <br />
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Poor Stohnz had to fight a lot in that place. The older she became the older she looked, the older she looked the more mature her soul became and, the more mature her soul the more that wanted to eat her. It was time to put to use all her sister had taught her so well. But it did not last.<br />
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[[File:Styx_and_Stohnz_Summoning.png|400px|right]]<br />
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It is part of the life of a demon to be summoned. For Styx and Stohnz it can be as simple as rhyme. The pair of Devil's are significant magical entities and as such cannot remain in the Human world of their own account; they need an anchor of sorts, a power to keep them here other than their own. This power can take many forms; the power of a magical place, somewhere effected by curse or breach to else-where. Magical items which they might keep with them, such as ancient artefacts or cursed items-- pieces with a little story to them. More commonly however, the pair are called and bound by an individual who keeps them here in the Human world.<br />
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It rarely ends well.<br />
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The mages of this world are greedy individuals and through such greed, such lust for power, such avarice Stohnz herself had been born. Her birth a fraught time of pain to another, murder and invasion of the self in ways no person should ever have to endure. Stohnz did survive and was thrown away as a broken shell with broken mind and a spirit not her own. She would have died within hours had she not been found by her sister. A sister that, against all the stories of her kind, chose to look after her and protect her. Fighting that urge to eat that human soul within sister day to passing day. <br />
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Their arrival in this world this time began much like any other, but not entirely. The summons went wrong and they were given the blessed opportunity to take it, so they did. Who wouldn't jump at such a chance for freedom?<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FINDING HOME</div>=<br />
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Chance is not often nice to people as special as Stohnz, it tests them, it tries to break them, but sometimes just sometimes it gives them something they never expected. It gave Stohnz a master, but not like any they’d had before. This was not a master that would beat her, not a master that would experiment on her as an object, not a master that would only see what he would gain. This was a master who sought to protect and let her be who she needed to be. Her master was Torentus. He had troubles too but he showed her that was okay, that they could be there and still have good things too. He is not prince, but she’s no princess and our special Stohnz has no time for such things, her life has been too difficult to think such people worth having, but he is.<br />
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[[File:Torentus_the_Wizened.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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Torentus the Wizened, an unusual figure under any description. A figure of refined tastes, cool logic and a devil may care attitude that applies even to his shadow Edgar and his propensity for shoes. He is a person you might, at first glance, consider unassuming but you would be quite wrong and certainly playing entirely into what he wants you to believe. Beneath that old exterior the mind is still razor sharp and quick both with humour and with thought. For those he deems worthy there is also great kindness and a sense of justice.<br />
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Aiding the sisters without any return for himself he quickly stood himself out from the rest of all they met. Simply wishing to learn about them without any sign of greed for their power, his interest simply that of the scholar. It was unusual and it provided something that they had never been given before, a choice. As time passed it was an all too easy choice to make and they bound themselves into his service as his slaves. The bond marked in Dragon hide about their necks.<br />
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As with all such arrangements the positions are quite clear; they are his slaves and he the master, but it is not a cruel bond. In return for safety in this world and a place in his home they are to see to his needs before their own, his safety and power above their own. As Stohnz has found this often involves a lot of books, then a lot more books... which if she tires of there will be others books somewhere else too. For a mind that had longed to expand itself and to grow its an embarrassment of riches.<br />
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Stohnz also owes him her salvation from the torments of other mages as a soul imprisoned can never truly be a soul owned. A constant fight between body and mind had left Stohnz weak and mentally unstable without the headphones she had come to rely on with every breath. Instead of acting as other mages would and making her become whatever he would require he did the more complex thing, the harder thing... the more caring thing. Over weeks and months that soul was merged with body, becoming as much a part of her as everything else she was. The old and new merging into something different, something more. Rising from beneath that storm to become a mind of great clarity and she owes it all to him.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE FUTURE</div>=<br />
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Even I think so and I have never trusted mages and I passed that distrust onto you my Stohnz. I, the devil you once were and now your guide, your teacher. I had thought once that either you or I must die for some life to return but he has given us this chance to learn. We have a chance to grow and a world in which to love that we could never have imagined. So fight for it my girl, fight for it with tooth and claw and become what you need to be to keep all we have gained. This is no fairy tale our special Stohnz. Happy endings must be won in blood. Let it be the world if need be to keep those we love safe.<br />
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The future is always uncertain and Stohnz has very little faith in things remaining happy. She knows beyond the immaturity that shields her that there is always darkness on the horizon. It's the way of the world. She'll ignore it for as long as she can with those she loves, but it's a presence she can feel growing day to day. If it is real or imagined she does not know, can't know. Stohnz just knows that they'll be ready, both of her will. <br />
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'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Styx</div>==<br />
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"What do you mean, what do I think of her? She is Stohnz-- my Sister, and more than capable of protecting herself! Are you some kind of profound moron?.. Just why do you want to know about her? If you upset her, I will have to end you." Styx, 2015.<br />
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At first glance, or first perceptions of the pair it might come across that Styx is the oft over-bearing elder Sister to the small Devil Stohnz. This is perhaps accurate in that Styx does feel protective of the smaller Devil, however the reality of this impression ends there. There is very little, perhaps nothing that the towering Styx would not do for her Sister-- be it protect her, take injury in her place or ward off unwanted attentions. She even endeavors to keep her happy and smiling, though these tasks are perhaps not best filled by a Devil like she.<br />
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The pair share an intense bond, one created along with them it is indeed remotely reasonable to view them as two sides of one Magical entity, one power. One without the other is an unbalanced, terrible thing. You take them both, or neither at all.<br />
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Those that do get on Stohnz's bad side earn Styx's ire rather quickly, and may well find themselves having to contend with more than the Behemoth's venomous words.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Torentus</div>==<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Elliana</div>==<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Elotus</div>==<br />
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Elotus sees Stohnz as generally harmless and honestly good natured for the most part, at least towards him, or if her sister is harmed. He has an understanding that she is the more magical of the two, and respects that fact with a general fear of magic due to its powerful effects. He finds it really funny that she is shorter then him, but since she has yet to actually harm him in any way, she kinda freaks him out, due to not knowing what to expect from her. He knows what Styx will do, no idea on Stohnz.<br />
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Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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===<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Tropes</div>===<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - She's a Devil this has to check out.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheFakeCutie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Fake Cutie'''</span>] - Every rose has a thorn, every cutie has its claws.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LittleMissBadass <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Little Miss Badass'''</span>] - See The Fake Cutie.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WindowsToTheSoul <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Windows to the Soul''' </span>] - Both old and new Stohnz cover silver eyes uncannily well. I did not plan this.<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HappinessInSlavery <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Happiness in Slavery''' </span>] - Could not be more true.<br />
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<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=StohnzStohnz2015-09-05T23:30:32Z<p>Seth: </p>
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Fissured in Thought</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Stohnz</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Stohnz Profile.jpg<br />
|Caption=Styx and Stohnz may break my bones but names will never hurt me.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|Rank=<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Stohnz<br />
|Aliases=<br />
|Birthdate= Unknown<br />
|Birthplace= Doldrums<br />
|Citizenship= None<br />
|Residence= Millennium City<br />
|Occupation= <br />
|Legal= <br />
|Marital= Single <br />
|Relatives= Styx<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Demon<br />
|Sub-Type= Unknown<br />
|Ethnicity=<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= Unknown<br />
|Height= <br />
|Weight= <br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Green<br />
|Skin= Tan<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Known to bite, scratch and call forth bugs<br />
|Equipment= Always adorned with a pair of strange headphones<br />
|Skills= Unknown<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Stohnz.png|center]]<br />
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Stohnz, as I know her, is an odd one. Not that she wasn’t ever not odd, but… wait no, I’m starting this all wrong. I should be dramatic, emphatic, and enthusiastic perhaps. I was that once. Anyway…<br />
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Once upon a time a girl was born with hair as red as rubies and eyes as silver as the moon. Now other girls are lucky girls, they get fairy godmothers, or wishes or princes. Stohnz had none of these and the world was cold and cruel, everyone wanted to eat that little girl because they were monsters and she was the only thing that moved with life in the Doldrums. It was a scary place and Stohnz would have been lost, but Stohnz was special. Stohnz had a sister. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE SISTER</div>=<br />
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Styx was a sister all girls need, strong and determined and she gave the best of hugs. She always had patience for that girl as she grew and looked after her, even against the monsters. Stohnz knew her sister would always look after her. Styx protected her at first, then taught her to hide, taught her to fight and loved her unconditionally. <br />
Stohnz was special in more ways than her sister and not all ways were good. The darkness was scary and her mind wasn’t always a happy place. Filled with stories and memories that didn’t make sense… and a darkness that stole so much. It made Stohnz very unhappy and even Styx didn’t know what to do, because who can fight a nothing? Though perhaps even strange girls in strange lands have their own protectors because that’s when the music came. <br />
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[[File:Styx1Profile3.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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The sister of Stohnz is the Behemoth [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Styx <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Styx''' </span>]. Created together in the lands of the Doldrums they formed a fast and lasting bond that was both the making of their individuality and what set them apart from others of their kind from the start. The larger of the two people often mistake Styx for being the overbearing older sister, but it is Stohnz that is often the less patient of the two. Throughout their time together Styx has kept Stohnz safe through all hardships, even at the cost of power and safety for herself.<br />
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If pride and anger are the great forces that move her it is because those forces were what helped keep herself and her sister safe. They are driving forces from more than just her nature but have been nurtured through time and are a product and symptom of her love. For love it is between Stohnz and her sister. An odd thing amongst Devils and so often spoken of but rarely true. For them it is the greatest truth that they have and because of that to summon one and not both is a travesty a crime in and of itself. A crime that even Mages had shirked from. <br />
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It is not a bond to be tested.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THANK YOU FOR THE MUSIC</div>=<br />
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The girl who fought, the girl who cried, the girl who hid so much inside… learnt to dance. Music drowned out the fighting and the tears and lit something within that little figure that chased some of the darkness away. It made her happy and it made her special sister so happy too. <br />
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If there is one thing you will always see with Stohnz that is not her sister it is her headphones. She is rarely without them and if she is without them no doubt she is searching for the person who took them and to fix the situation, permanently. Few do touch them though and perhaps that is because they seem so... unnatural. For they are not store bought creation and even if they look new, they are not. The headphones are a part of her, as any item can be a part of anyone, created by the most unlikely of benefactors to bring some light into the darkness of her days. It was the only way they knew how, or could help. <br />
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Music brought Stohnz a comfort she had never known she realised and it is more than a hobby for her, it is a need. The music those headphones provided, and still do, smooths away the bad memories that plague her day to day and provide a peaceful center for her mind. It allowed her an escape that was all her. Something that was terribly important when the workings of mages had left you in doubt of even that. They are her lifeline, they are her life. <br />
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They're part of her.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SUMMONINGS</div>=<br />
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It wasn’t all the monsters of their world though, sometimes the monsters of the world you know called on them. Brief forays of light and colour and sudden activity… not all of it nice. Though often Stohnz would remember good times and things that didn’t always want to hurt you. Learnt that sometimes people could be nice like her sister, but you had to fight for it sometimes. Memories like this, that were hers, made the darkness that bit better and we both know the darkness is often worst before dawn.<br />
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And it was. <br />
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Poor Stohnz had to fight a lot in that place. The older she became the older she looked, the older she looked the more mature her soul became and, the more mature her soul the more that wanted to eat her. It was time to put to use all her sister had taught her so well. But it did not last.<br />
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[[File:Styx_and_Stohnz_Summoning.png|400px|right]]<br />
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It is part of the life of a demon to be summoned. For Styx and Stohnz it can be as simple as rhyme. The pair of Devil's are significant magical entities and as such cannot remain in the Human world of their own account; they need an anchor of sorts, a power to keep them here other than their own. This power can take many forms; the power of a magical place, somewhere effected by curse or breach to else-where. Magical items which they might keep with them, such as ancient artefacts or cursed items-- pieces with a little story to them. More commonly however, the pair are called and bound by an individual who keeps them here in the Human world.<br />
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It rarely ends well.<br />
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The mages of this world are greedy individuals and through such greed, such lust for power, such avarice Stohnz herself had been born. Her birth a fraught time of pain to another, murder and invasion of the self in ways no person should ever have to endure. Stohnz did survive and was thrown away as a broken shell with broken mind and a spirit not her own. She would have died within hours had she not been found by her sister. A sister that, against all the stories of her kind, chose to look after her and protect her. Fighting that urge to eat that human soul within sister day to passing day. <br />
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Their arrival in this world this time began much like any other, but not entirely. The summons went wrong and they were given the blessed opportunity to take it, so they did. Who wouldn't jump at such a chance for freedom?<br />
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Chance is not often nice to people as special as Stohnz, it tests them, it tries to break them, but sometimes just sometimes it gives them something they never expected. It gave Stohnz a master, but not like any they’d had before. This was not a master that would beat her, not a master that would experiment on her as an object, not a master that would only see what he would gain. This was a master who sought to protect and let her be who she needed to be. Her master was Torentus. He had troubles too but he showed her that was okay, that they could be there and still have good things too. He is not prince, but she’s no princess and our special Stohnz has no time for such things, her life has been too difficult to think such people worth having, but he is.<br />
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Torentus the Wizened, an unusual figure under any description. A figure of refined tastes, cool logic and a devil may care attitude that applies even to his shadow Edgar and his propensity for shoes. He is a person you might, at first glance, consider unassuming but you would be quite wrong and certainly playing entirely into what he wants you to believe. Beneath that old exterior the mind is still razor sharp and quick both with humour and with thought. For those he deems worthy there is also great kindness and a sense of justice.<br />
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Aiding the sisters without any return for himself he quickly stood himself out from the rest of all they met. Simply wishing to learn about them without any sign of greed for their power, his interest simply that of the scholar. It was unusual and it provided something that they had never been given before, a choice. As time passed it was an all too easy choice to make and they bound themselves into his service as his slaves. The bond marked in Dragon hide about their necks.<br />
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As with all such arrangements the positions are quite clear; they are his slaves and he the master, but it is not a cruel bond. In return for safety in this world and a place in his home they are to see to his needs before their own, his safety and power above their own. As Stohnz has found this often involves a lot of books, then a lot more books... which if she tires of there will be others books somewhere else too. For a mind that had longed to expand itself and to grow its an embarrassment of riches.<br />
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Stohnz also owes him her salvation from the torments of other mages as a soul imprisoned can never truly be a soul owned. A constant fight between body and mind had left Stohnz weak and mentally unstable without the headphones she had come to rely on with every breath. Instead of acting as other mages would and making her become whatever he would require he did the more complex thing, the harder thing... the more caring thing. Over weeks and months that soul was merged with body, becoming as much a part of her as everything else she was. The old and new merging into something different, something more. Rising from beneath that storm to become a mind of great clarity and she owes it all to him.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE FUTURE</div>=<br />
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Even I think so and I have never trusted mages and I passed that distrust onto you my Stohnz. I, the devil you once were and now your guide, your teacher. I had thought once that either you or I must die for some life to return but he has given us this chance to learn. We have a chance to grow and a world in which to love that we could never have imagined. So fight for it my girl, fight for it with tooth and claw and become what you need to be to keep all we have gained. This is no fairy tale our special Stohnz. Happy endings must be won in blood. Let it be the world if need be to keep those we love safe.<br />
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The future is always uncertain and Stohnz has very little faith in things remaining happy. She knows beyond the immaturity that shields her that there is always darkness on the horizon. It's the way of the world. She'll ignore it for as long as she can with those she loves, but it's a presence she can feel growing day to day. If it is real or imagined she does not know, can't know. Stohnz just knows that they'll be ready, both of her will. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Styx</div>==<br />
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"What do you mean, what do I think of her? She is Stohnz-- my Sister, and more than capable of protecting herself! Are you some kind of profound moron?.. Just why do you want to know about her? If you upset her, I will have to end you." Styx, 2015.<br />
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At first glance, or first perceptions of the pair it might come across that Styx is the oft over-bearing elder Sister to the small Devil Stohnz. This is perhaps accurate in that Styx does feel protective of the smaller Devil, however the reality of this impression ends there. There is very little, perhaps nothing that the towering Styx would not do for her Sister-- be it protect her, take injury in her place or ward off unwanted attentions. She even endeavors to keep her happy and smiling, though these tasks are perhaps not best filled by a Devil like she.<br />
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The pair share an intense bond, one created along with them it is indeed remotely reasonable to view them as two sides of one Magical entity, one power. One without the other is an unbalanced, terrible thing. You take them both, or neither at all.<br />
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Those that do get on Stohnz's bad side earn Styx's ire rather quickly, and may well find themselves having to contend with more than the Behemoth's venomous words.<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Torentus</div>==<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Elliana</div>==<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Elotus</div>==<br />
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Elotus sees Stohnz as generally harmless and honestly good natured for the most part, at least towards him, or if her sister is harmed. He has an understanding that she is the more magical of the two, and respects that fact with a general fear of magic due to its powerful effects. He finds it really funny that she is shorter then him, but since she has yet to actually harm him in any way, she kinda freaks him out, due to not knowing what to expect from her. He knows what Styx will do, no idea on Stohnz.<br />
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Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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===<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Tropes</div>===<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - She's a Devil this has to check out.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheFakeCutie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Fake Cutie'''</span>] - Every rose has a thorn, every cutie has its claws.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LittleMissBadass <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Little Miss Badass'''</span>] - See The Fake Cutie.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WindowsToTheSoul <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Windows to the Soul''' </span>] - Both old and new Stohnz cover silver eyes uncannily well. I did not plan this.<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HappinessInSlavery <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Happiness in Slavery''' </span>] - Could not be more true.<br />
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<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=File:Styx_and_Stohnz_Silhouette_Portrait.jpgFile:Styx and Stohnz Silhouette Portrait.jpg2015-09-05T20:05:26Z<p>Seth: </p>
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<div></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=StohnzStohnz2015-09-05T20:02:04Z<p>Seth: </p>
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|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Fissured in Thought</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Stohnz</font><br />
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|Image=Stohnz Profile.jpg<br />
|Caption=Styx and Stohnz may break my bones but names will never hurt me.<br />
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|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
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|RealName= Stohnz<br />
|Aliases=<br />
|Birthdate= Unknown<br />
|Birthplace= Doldrums<br />
|Citizenship= None<br />
|Residence= Millennium City<br />
|Occupation= <br />
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|Marital= Single <br />
|Relatives= Styx<br />
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|Species= Demon<br />
|Sub-Type= Unknown<br />
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|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= Unknown<br />
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|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Green<br />
|Skin= Tan<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
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|KnownPowers= Known to bite, scratch and call forth bugs<br />
|Equipment= Always adorned with a pair of strange headphones<br />
|Skills= Unknown<br />
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Stohnz, as I know her, is an odd one. Not that she wasn’t ever not odd, but… wait no, I’m starting this all wrong. I should be dramatic, emphatic, and enthusiastic perhaps. I was that once. Anyway…<br />
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Once upon a time a girl was born with hair as red as rubies and eyes as silver as the moon. Now other girls are lucky girls, they get fairy godmothers, or wishes or princes. Stohnz had none of these and the world was cold and cruel, everyone wanted to eat that little girl because they were monsters and she was the only thing that moved with life in the Doldrums. It was a scary place and Stohnz would have been lost, but Stohnz was special. Stohnz had a sister. <br />
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Styx was a sister all girls need, strong and determined and she gave the best of hugs. She always had patience for that girl as she grew and looked after her, even against the monsters. Stohnz knew her sister would always look after her. Styx protected her at first, then taught her to hide, taught her to fight and loved her unconditionally. <br />
Stohnz was special in more ways than her sister and not all ways were good. The darkness was scary and her mind wasn’t always a happy place. Filled with stories and memories that didn’t make sense… and a darkness that stole so much. It made Stohnz very unhappy and even Styx didn’t know what to do, because who can fight a nothing? Though perhaps even strange girls in strange lands have their own protectors because that’s when the music came. <br />
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[[File:Styx1Profile3.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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The sister of Stohnz is the Behemoth [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Styx <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Styx''' </span>]. Created together in the lands of the Doldrums they formed a fast and lasting bond that was both the making of their individuality and what set them apart from others of their kind from the start. The larger of the two people often mistake Styx for being the overbearing older sister, but it is Stohnz that is often the less patient of the two. Throughout their time together Styx has kept Stohnz safe through all hardships, even at the cost of power and safety for herself.<br />
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If pride and anger are the great forces that move her it is because those forces were what helped keep herself and her sister safe. They are driving forces from more than just her nature but have been nurtured through time and are a product and symptom of her love. For love it is between Stohnz and her sister. An odd thing amongst Devils and so often spoken of but rarely true. For them it is the greatest truth that they have and because of that to summon one and not both is a travesty a crime in and of itself. A crime that even Mages had shirked from. <br />
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It is not a bond to be tested.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THANK YOU FOR THE MUSIC</div>=<br />
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The girl who fought, the girl who cried, the girl who hid so much inside… learnt to dance. Music drowned out the fighting and the tears and lit something within that little figure that chased some of the darkness away. It made her happy and it made her special sister so happy too. <br />
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[[File:Girl-140571_640.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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If there is one thing you will always see with Stohnz that is not her sister it is her headphones. She is rarely without them and if she is without them no doubt she is searching for the person who took them and to fix the situation, permanently. Few do touch them though and perhaps that is because they seem so... unnatural. For they are not store bought creation and even if they look new, they are not. The headphones are a part of her, as any item can be a part of anyone, created by the most unlikely of benefactors to bring some light into the darkness of her days. It was the only way they knew how, or could help. <br />
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Music brought Stohnz a comfort she had never known she realised and it is more than a hobby for her, it is a need. The music those headphones provided, and still do, smooths away the bad memories that plague her day to day and provide a peaceful center for her mind. It allowed her an escape that was all her. Something that was terribly important when the workings of mages had left you in doubt of even that. They are her lifeline, they are her life. <br />
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They're part of her.<br />
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It wasn’t all the monsters of their world though, sometimes the monsters of the world you know called on them. Brief forays of light and colour and sudden activity… not all of it nice. Though often Stohnz would remember good times and things that didn’t always want to hurt you. Learnt that sometimes people could be nice like her sister, but you had to fight for it sometimes. Memories like this, that were hers, made the darkness that bit better and we both know the darkness is often worst before dawn.<br />
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And it was. <br />
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Poor Stohnz had to fight a lot in that place. The older she became the older she looked, the older she looked the more mature her soul became and, the more mature her soul the more that wanted to eat her. It was time to put to use all her sister had taught her so well. But it did not last.<br />
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[[File:Styx_and_Stohnz_Summoning.png|400px|right]]<br />
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It is part of the life of a demon to be summoned. For Styx and Stohnz it can be as simple as rhyme. The pair of Devil's are significant magical entities and as such cannot remain in the Human world of their own account; they need an anchor of sorts, a power to keep them here other than their own. This power can take many forms; the power of a magical place, somewhere effected by curse or breach to else-where. Magical items which they might keep with them, such as ancient artefacts or cursed items-- pieces with a little story to them. More commonly however, the pair are called and bound by an individual who keeps them here in the Human world.<br />
<br />
It rarely ends well.<br />
<br />
The mages of this world are greedy individuals and through such greed, such lust for power, such avarice Stohnz herself had been born. Her birth a fraught time of pain to another, murder and invasion of the self in ways no person should ever have to endure. Stohnz did survive and was thrown away as a broken shell with broken mind and a spirit not her own. She would have died within hours had she not been found by her sister. A sister that, against all the stories of her kind, chose to look after her and protect her. Fighting that urge to eat that human soul within sister day to passing day. <br />
<br />
Their arrival in this world this time began much like any other, but not entirely. The summons went wrong and they were given the blessed opportunity to take it, so they did. Who wouldn't jump at such a chance for freedom?<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FINDING HOME</div>=<br />
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Chance is not often nice to people as special as Stohnz, it tests them, it tries to break them, but sometimes just sometimes it gives them something they never expected. It gave Stohnz a master, but not like any they’d had before. This was not a master that would beat her, not a master that would experiment on her as an object, not a master that would only see what he would gain. This was a master who sought to protect and let her be who she needed to be. Her master was Torentus. He had troubles too but he showed her that was okay, that they could be there and still have good things too. He is not prince, but she’s no princess and our special Stohnz has no time for such things, her life has been too difficult to think such people worth having, but he is.<br />
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[[File:Torentus_the_Wizened.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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Torentus the Wizened, an unusual figure under any description. A figure of refined tastes, cool logic and a devil may care attitude that applies even to his shadow Edgar and his propensity for shoes. He is a person you might, at first glance, consider unassuming but you would be quite wrong and certainly playing entirely into what he wants you to believe. Beneath that old exterior the mind is still razor sharp and quick both with humour and with thought. For those he deems worthy there is also great kindness and a sense of justice.<br />
<br />
Aiding the sisters without any return for himself he quickly stood himself out from the rest of all they met. Simply wishing to learn about them without any sign of greed for their power, his interest simply that of the scholar. It was unusual and it provided something that they had never been given before, a choice. As time passed it was an all too easy choice to make and they bound themselves into his service as his slaves. The bond marked in Dragon hide about their necks.<br />
<br />
As with all such arrangements the positions are quite clear; they are his slaves and he the master, but it is not a cruel bond. In return for safety in this world and a place in his home they are to see to his needs before their own, his safety and power above their own. As Stohnz has found this often involves a lot of books, then a lot more books... which if she tires of there will be others books somewhere else too. For a mind that had longed to expand itself and to grow its an embarrassment of riches.<br />
<br />
Stohnz also owes him her salvation from the torments of other mages as a soul imprisoned can never truly be a soul owned. A constant fight between body and mind had left Stohnz weak and mentally unstable without the headphones she had come to rely on with every breath. Instead of acting as other mages would and making her become whatever he would require he did the more complex thing, the harder thing... the more caring thing. Over weeks and months that soul was merged with body, becoming as much a part of her as everything else she was. The old and new merging into something different, something more. Rising from beneath that storm to become a mind of great clarity and she owes it all to him.<br />
<br />
<br><br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE FUTURE</div>=<br />
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Even I think so and I have never trusted mages and I passed that distrust onto you my Stohnz. I, the devil you once were and now your guide, your teacher. I had thought once that either you or I must die for some life to return but he has given us this chance to learn. We have a chance to grow and a world in which to love that we could never have imagined. So fight for it my girl, fight for it with tooth and claw and become what you need to be to keep all we have gained. This is no fairy tale our special Stohnz. Happy endings must be won in blood. Let it be the world if need be to keep those we love safe.<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
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The future is always uncertain and Stohnz has very little faith in things remaining happy. She knows beyond the immaturity that shields her that there is always darkness on the horizon. It's the way of the world. She'll ignore it for as long as she can with those she loves, but it's a presence she can feel growing day to day. If it is real or imagined she does not know, can't know. Stohnz just knows that they'll be ready, both of her will. <br />
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'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Styx</div>==<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Torentus</div>==<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Elliana</div>==<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Elotus</div>==<br />
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Elotus sees Stohnz as generally harmless and honestly good natured for the most part, at least towards him, or if her sister is harmed. He has an understanding that she is the more magical of the two, and respects that fact with a general fear of magic due to its powerful effects. He finds it really funny that she is shorter then him, but since she has yet to actually harm him in any way, she kinda freaks him out, due to not knowing what to expect from her. He knows what Styx will do, no idea on Stohnz.<br />
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Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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===<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Tropes</div>===<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - She's a Devil this has to check out.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheFakeCutie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Fake Cutie'''</span>] - Every rose has a thorn, every cutie has its claws.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LittleMissBadass <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Little Miss Badass'''</span>] - See The Fake Cutie.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WindowsToTheSoul <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Windows to the Soul''' </span>] - Both old and new Stohnz cover silver eyes uncannily well. I did not plan this.<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HappinessInSlavery <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Happiness in Slavery''' </span>] - Could not be more true.<br />
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<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=File:Styx_and_Stohnz_Summoning.pngFile:Styx and Stohnz Summoning.png2015-09-05T19:59:24Z<p>Seth: </p>
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<div></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=StohnzStohnz2015-09-05T15:23:28Z<p>Seth: /* Elotus */</p>
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{{PriceBox<br />
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|Font=Red Circle<br />
|Shadows=<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Fissured in Thought</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Stohnz</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Stohnz Profile.jpg<br />
|Caption=Styx and Stohnz may break my bones but names will never hurt me.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|Rank=<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Stohnz<br />
|Aliases=<br />
|Birthdate= Unknown<br />
|Birthplace= Doldrums<br />
|Citizenship= None<br />
|Residence= Millennium City<br />
|Occupation= <br />
|Legal= <br />
|Marital= Single <br />
|Relatives= Styx<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Demon<br />
|Sub-Type= Unknown<br />
|Ethnicity=<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= Unknown<br />
|Height= <br />
|Weight= <br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Green<br />
|Skin= Tan<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Known to bite, scratch and call forth bugs<br />
|Equipment= Always adorned with a pair of strange headphones<br />
|Skills= Unknown<br />
|}}<br />
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[[File:Stohnz.png|center]]<br />
<div class="center" style="width: auto; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br />
Stohnz, as I know her, is an odd one. Not that she wasn’t ever not odd, but… wait no, I’m starting this all wrong. I should be dramatic, emphatic, and enthusiastic perhaps. I was that once. Anyway…<br />
<br />
Once upon a time a girl was born with hair as red as rubies and eyes as silver as the moon. Now other girls are lucky girls, they get fairy godmothers, or wishes or princes. Stohnz had none of these and the world was cold and cruel, everyone wanted to eat that little girl because they were monsters and she was the only thing that moved with life in the Doldrums. It was a scary place and Stohnz would have been lost, but Stohnz was special. Stohnz had a sister. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE SISTER</div>=<br />
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Styx was a sister all girls need, strong and determined and she gave the best of hugs. She always had patience for that girl as she grew and looked after her, even against the monsters. Stohnz knew her sister would always look after her. Styx protected her at first, then taught her to hide, taught her to fight and loved her unconditionally. <br />
Stohnz was special in more ways than her sister and not all ways were good. The darkness was scary and her mind wasn’t always a happy place. Filled with stories and memories that didn’t make sense… and a darkness that stole so much. It made Stohnz very unhappy and even Styx didn’t know what to do, because who can fight a nothing? Though perhaps even strange girls in strange lands have their own protectors because that’s when the music came. <br />
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[[File:Styx1Profile3.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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The sister of Stohnz is the Behemoth [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Styx <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Styx''' </span>]. Created together in the lands of the Doldrums they formed a fast and lasting bond that was both the making of their individuality and what set them apart from others of their kind from the start. The larger of the two people often mistake Styx for being the overbearing older sister, but it is Stohnz that is often the less patient of the two. Throughout their time together Styx has kept Stohnz safe through all hardships, even at the cost of power and safety for herself.<br />
<br />
If pride and anger are the great forces that move her it is because those forces were what helped keep herself and her sister safe. They are driving forces from more than just her nature but have been nurtured through time and are a product and symptom of her love. For love it is between Stohnz and her sister. An odd thing amongst Devils and so often spoken of but rarely true. For them it is the greatest truth that they have and because of that to summon one and not both is a travesty a crime in and of itself. A crime that even Mages had shirked from. <br />
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It is not a bond to be tested.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THANK YOU FOR THE MUSIC</div>=<br />
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The girl who fought, the girl who cried, the girl who hid so much inside… learnt to dance. Music drowned out the fighting and the tears and lit something within that little figure that chased some of the darkness away. It made her happy and it made her special sister so happy too. <br />
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[[File:Girl-140571_640.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
</div><br />
If there is one thing you will always see with Stohnz that is not her sister it is her headphones. She is rarely without them and if she is without them no doubt she is searching for the person who took them and to fix the situation, permanently. Few do touch them though and perhaps that is because they seem so... unnatural. For they are not store bought creation and even if they look new, they are not. The headphones are a part of her, as any item can be a part of anyone, created by the most unlikely of benefactors to bring some light into the darkness of her days. It was the only way they knew how, or could help. <br />
<br />
Music brought Stohnz a comfort she had never known she realised and it is more than a hobby for her, it is a need. The music those headphones provided, and still do, smooths away the bad memories that plague her day to day and provide a peaceful center for her mind. It allowed her an escape that was all her. Something that was terribly important when the workings of mages had left you in doubt of even that. They are her lifeline, they are her life. <br />
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They're part of her.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SUMMONINGS</div>=<br />
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It wasn’t all the monsters of their world though, sometimes the monsters of the world you know called on them. Brief forays of light and colour and sudden activity… not all of it nice. Though often Stohnz would remember good times and things that didn’t always want to hurt you. Learnt that sometimes people could be nice like her sister, but you had to fight for it sometimes. Memories like this, that were hers, made the darkness that bit better and we both know the darkness is often worst before dawn.<br />
<br />
And it was. <br />
<br />
Poor Stohnz had to fight a lot in that place. The older she became the older she looked, the older she looked the more mature her soul became and, the more mature her soul the more that wanted to eat her. It was time to put to use all her sister had taught her so well. But it did not last.<br />
<br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
</div><br />
<br />
It is part of the life of a demon to be summoned. For Styx and Stohnz it can be as simple as rhyme. The pair of Devil's are significant magical entities and as such cannot remain in the Human world of their own account; they need an anchor of sorts, a power to keep them here other than their own. This power can take many forms; the power of a magical place, somewhere effected by curse or breach to else-where. Magical items which they might keep with them, such as ancient artefacts or cursed items-- pieces with a little story to them. More commonly however, the pair are called and bound by an individual who keeps them here in the Human world.<br />
<br />
It rarely ends well.<br />
<br />
The mages of this world are greedy individuals and through such greed, such lust for power, such avarice Stohnz herself had been born. Her birth a fraught time of pain to another, murder and invasion of the self in ways no person should ever have to endure. Stohnz did survive and was thrown away as a broken shell with broken mind and a spirit not her own. She would have died within hours had she not been found by her sister. A sister that, against all the stories of her kind, chose to look after her and protect her. Fighting that urge to eat that human soul within sister day to passing day. <br />
<br />
Their arrival in this world this time began much like any other, but not entirely. The summons went wrong and they were given the blessed opportunity to take it, so they did. Who wouldn't jump at such a chance for freedom?<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FINDING HOME</div>=<br />
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Chance is not often nice to people as special as Stohnz, it tests them, it tries to break them, but sometimes just sometimes it gives them something they never expected. It gave Stohnz a master, but not like any they’d had before. This was not a master that would beat her, not a master that would experiment on her as an object, not a master that would only see what he would gain. This was a master who sought to protect and let her be who she needed to be. Her master was Torentus. He had troubles too but he showed her that was okay, that they could be there and still have good things too. He is not prince, but she’s no princess and our special Stohnz has no time for such things, her life has been too difficult to think such people worth having, but he is.<br />
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[[File:Torentus_the_Wizened.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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Torentus the Wizened, an unusual figure under any description. A figure of refined tastes, cool logic and a devil may care attitude that applies even to his shadow Edgar and his propensity for shoes. He is a person you might, at first glance, consider unassuming but you would be quite wrong and certainly playing entirely into what he wants you to believe. Beneath that old exterior the mind is still razor sharp and quick both with humour and with thought. For those he deems worthy there is also great kindness and a sense of justice.<br />
<br />
Aiding the sisters without any return for himself he quickly stood himself out from the rest of all they met. Simply wishing to learn about them without any sign of greed for their power, his interest simply that of the scholar. It was unusual and it provided something that they had never been given before, a choice. As time passed it was an all too easy choice to make and they bound themselves into his service as his slaves. The bond marked in Dragon hide about their necks.<br />
<br />
As with all such arrangements the positions are quite clear; they are his slaves and he the master, but it is not a cruel bond. In return for safety in this world and a place in his home they are to see to his needs before their own, his safety and power above their own. As Stohnz has found this often involves a lot of books, then a lot more books... which if she tires of there will be others books somewhere else too. For a mind that had longed to expand itself and to grow its an embarrassment of riches.<br />
<br />
Stohnz also owes him her salvation from the torments of other mages as a soul imprisoned can never truly be a soul owned. A constant fight between body and mind had left Stohnz weak and mentally unstable without the headphones she had come to rely on with every breath. Instead of acting as other mages would and making her become whatever he would require he did the more complex thing, the harder thing... the more caring thing. Over weeks and months that soul was merged with body, becoming as much a part of her as everything else she was. The old and new merging into something different, something more. Rising from beneath that storm to become a mind of great clarity and she owes it all to him.<br />
<br />
<br><br />
<br />
=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE FUTURE</div>=<br />
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Even I think so and I have never trusted mages and I passed that distrust onto you my Stohnz. I, the devil you once were and now your guide, your teacher. I had thought once that either you or I must die for some life to return but he has given us this chance to learn. We have a chance to grow and a world in which to love that we could never have imagined. So fight for it my girl, fight for it with tooth and claw and become what you need to be to keep all we have gained. This is no fairy tale our special Stohnz. Happy endings must be won in blood. Let it be the world if need be to keep those we love safe.<br />
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The future is always uncertain and Stohnz has very little faith in things remaining happy. She knows beyond the immaturity that shields her that there is always darkness on the horizon. It's the way of the world. She'll ignore it for as long as she can with those she loves, but it's a presence she can feel growing day to day. If it is real or imagined she does not know, can't know. Stohnz just knows that they'll be ready, both of her will. <br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Styx</div>==<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Torentus</div>==<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Elliana</div>==<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Elotus</div>==<br />
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Elotus sees Stohnz as generally harmless and honestly good natured for the most part, at least towards him, or if her sister is harmed. He has an understanding that she is the more magical of the two, and respects that fact with a general fear of magic due to its powerful effects. He finds it really funny that she is shorter then him, but since she has yet to actually harm him in any way, she kinda freaks him out, due to not knowing what to expect from her. He knows what Styx will do, no idea on Stohnz.<br />
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Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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===<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Tropes</div>===<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - She's a Devil this has to check out.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheFakeCutie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Fake Cutie'''</span>] - Every rose has a thorn, every cutie has its claws.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LittleMissBadass <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Little Miss Badass'''</span>] - See The Fake Cutie.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WindowsToTheSoul <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Windows to the Soul''' </span>] - Both old and new Stohnz cover silver eyes uncannily well. I did not plan this.<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HappinessInSlavery <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Happiness in Slavery''' </span>] - Could not be more true.<br />
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<br></div>Sethhttp://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=StohnzStohnz2015-09-05T13:17:04Z<p>Seth: /* Tropes */</p>
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{{PriceBox<br />
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<!-- Main Data Module. --><br />
|Level=40<br />
|AlignmentIcon=Silver medal T.png<br />
|Title=<font size="+1">Fissured in Thought</font><br />
|Name=<font size="+3">Stohnz</font><br />
|Badge=<br />
|MainArchetype=Freeform<br />
|Player=Dragonrider4000<br />
<!-- Image & Caption --><br />
|Image=Stohnz Profile.jpg<br />
|Caption=Styx and Stohnz may break my bones but names will never hurt me.<br />
<!-- Affiliations Module. --><br />
|GroupLogoTop=Black Sun Rising.png<br />
|SuperGroup=Black Sun Rising<br />
|Rank=<br />
|OtherAffil=<br />
<!-- Identity Module. --><br />
|RealName= Stohnz<br />
|Aliases=<br />
|Birthdate= Unknown<br />
|Birthplace= Doldrums<br />
|Citizenship= None<br />
|Residence= Millennium City<br />
|Occupation= <br />
|Legal= <br />
|Marital= Single <br />
|Relatives= Styx<br />
<!-- Physical Traits Module. --><br />
|Species= Demon<br />
|Sub-Type= Unknown<br />
|Ethnicity=<br />
|Gender= Female<br />
|Age= Unknown<br />
|Height= <br />
|Weight= <br />
|Hair= Red<br />
|Eyes= Green<br />
|Skin= Tan<br />
|Features= For those sensitive his aura is dark indeed<br />
<!-- Powers Module. --><br />
|KnownPowers= Known to bite, scratch and call forth bugs<br />
|Equipment= Always adorned with a pair of strange headphones<br />
|Skills= Unknown<br />
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[[File:Stohnz.png|center]]<br />
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Stohnz, as I know her, is an odd one. Not that she wasn’t ever not odd, but… wait no, I’m starting this all wrong. I should be dramatic, emphatic, and enthusiastic perhaps. I was that once. Anyway…<br />
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Once upon a time a girl was born with hair as red as rubies and eyes as silver as the moon. Now other girls are lucky girls, they get fairy godmothers, or wishes or princes. Stohnz had none of these and the world was cold and cruel, everyone wanted to eat that little girl because they were monsters and she was the only thing that moved with life in the Doldrums. It was a scary place and Stohnz would have been lost, but Stohnz was special. Stohnz had a sister. <br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE SISTER</div>=<br />
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Styx was a sister all girls need, strong and determined and she gave the best of hugs. She always had patience for that girl as she grew and looked after her, even against the monsters. Stohnz knew her sister would always look after her. Styx protected her at first, then taught her to hide, taught her to fight and loved her unconditionally. <br />
Stohnz was special in more ways than her sister and not all ways were good. The darkness was scary and her mind wasn’t always a happy place. Filled with stories and memories that didn’t make sense… and a darkness that stole so much. It made Stohnz very unhappy and even Styx didn’t know what to do, because who can fight a nothing? Though perhaps even strange girls in strange lands have their own protectors because that’s when the music came. <br />
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[[File:Styx1Profile3.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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The sister of Stohnz is the Behemoth [http://primusdatabase.com/index.php?title=Styx <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Styx''' </span>]. Created together in the lands of the Doldrums they formed a fast and lasting bond that was both the making of their individuality and what set them apart from others of their kind from the start. The larger of the two people often mistake Styx for being the overbearing older sister, but it is Stohnz that is often the less patient of the two. Throughout their time together Styx has kept Stohnz safe through all hardships, even at the cost of power and safety for herself.<br />
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If pride and anger are the great forces that move her it is because those forces were what helped keep herself and her sister safe. They are driving forces from more than just her nature but have been nurtured through time and are a product and symptom of her love. For love it is between Stohnz and her sister. An odd thing amongst Devils and so often spoken of but rarely true. For them it is the greatest truth that they have and because of that to summon one and not both is a travesty a crime in and of itself. A crime that even Mages had shirked from. <br />
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It is not a bond to be tested.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THANK YOU FOR THE MUSIC</div>=<br />
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The girl who fought, the girl who cried, the girl who hid so much inside… learnt to dance. Music drowned out the fighting and the tears and lit something within that little figure that chased some of the darkness away. It made her happy and it made her special sister so happy too. <br />
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[[File:Girl-140571_640.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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If there is one thing you will always see with Stohnz that is not her sister it is her headphones. She is rarely without them and if she is without them no doubt she is searching for the person who took them and to fix the situation, permanently. Few do touch them though and perhaps that is because they seem so... unnatural. For they are not store bought creation and even if they look new, they are not. The headphones are a part of her, as any item can be a part of anyone, created by the most unlikely of benefactors to bring some light into the darkness of her days. It was the only way they knew how, or could help. <br />
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Music brought Stohnz a comfort she had never known she realised and it is more than a hobby for her, it is a need. The music those headphones provided, and still do, smooths away the bad memories that plague her day to day and provide a peaceful center for her mind. It allowed her an escape that was all her. Something that was terribly important when the workings of mages had left you in doubt of even that. They are her lifeline, they are her life. <br />
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They're part of her.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">SUMMONINGS</div>=<br />
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It wasn’t all the monsters of their world though, sometimes the monsters of the world you know called on them. Brief forays of light and colour and sudden activity… not all of it nice. Though often Stohnz would remember good times and things that didn’t always want to hurt you. Learnt that sometimes people could be nice like her sister, but you had to fight for it sometimes. Memories like this, that were hers, made the darkness that bit better and we both know the darkness is often worst before dawn.<br />
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And it was. <br />
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Poor Stohnz had to fight a lot in that place. The older she became the older she looked, the older she looked the more mature her soul became and, the more mature her soul the more that wanted to eat her. It was time to put to use all her sister had taught her so well. But it did not last.<br />
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It is part of the life of a demon to be summoned. For Styx and Stohnz it can be as simple as rhyme. The pair of Devil's are significant magical entities and as such cannot remain in the Human world of their own account; they need an anchor of sorts, a power to keep them here other than their own. This power can take many forms; the power of a magical place, somewhere effected by curse or breach to else-where. Magical items which they might keep with them, such as ancient artefacts or cursed items-- pieces with a little story to them. More commonly however, the pair are called and bound by an individual who keeps them here in the Human world.<br />
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It rarely ends well.<br />
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The mages of this world are greedy individuals and through such greed, such lust for power, such avarice Stohnz herself had been born. Her birth a fraught time of pain to another, murder and invasion of the self in ways no person should ever have to endure. Stohnz did survive and was thrown away as a broken shell with broken mind and a spirit not her own. She would have died within hours had she not been found by her sister. A sister that, against all the stories of her kind, chose to look after her and protect her. Fighting that urge to eat that human soul within sister day to passing day. <br />
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Their arrival in this world this time began much like any other, but not entirely. The summons went wrong and they were given the blessed opportunity to take it, so they did. Who wouldn't jump at such a chance for freedom?<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">FINDING HOME</div>=<br />
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Chance is not often nice to people as special as Stohnz, it tests them, it tries to break them, but sometimes just sometimes it gives them something they never expected. It gave Stohnz a master, but not like any they’d had before. This was not a master that would beat her, not a master that would experiment on her as an object, not a master that would only see what he would gain. This was a master who sought to protect and let her be who she needed to be. Her master was Torentus. He had troubles too but he showed her that was okay, that they could be there and still have good things too. He is not prince, but she’s no princess and our special Stohnz has no time for such things, her life has been too difficult to think such people worth having, but he is.<br />
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[[File:Torentus_the_Wizened.jpg|350px|left]]<br />
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Torentus the Wizened, an unusual figure under any description. A figure of refined tastes, cool logic and a devil may care attitude that applies even to his shadow Edgar and his propensity for shoes. He is a person you might, at first glance, consider unassuming but you would be quite wrong and certainly playing entirely into what he wants you to believe. Beneath that old exterior the mind is still razor sharp and quick both with humour and with thought. For those he deems worthy there is also great kindness and a sense of justice.<br />
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Aiding the sisters without any return for himself he quickly stood himself out from the rest of all they met. Simply wishing to learn about them without any sign of greed for their power, his interest simply that of the scholar. It was unusual and it provided something that they had never been given before, a choice. As time passed it was an all too easy choice to make and they bound themselves into his service as his slaves. The bond marked in Dragon hide about their necks.<br />
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As with all such arrangements the positions are quite clear; they are his slaves and he the master, but it is not a cruel bond. In return for safety in this world and a place in his home they are to see to his needs before their own, his safety and power above their own. As Stohnz has found this often involves a lot of books, then a lot more books... which if she tires of there will be others books somewhere else too. For a mind that had longed to expand itself and to grow its an embarrassment of riches.<br />
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Stohnz also owes him her salvation from the torments of other mages as a soul imprisoned can never truly be a soul owned. A constant fight between body and mind had left Stohnz weak and mentally unstable without the headphones she had come to rely on with every breath. Instead of acting as other mages would and making her become whatever he would require he did the more complex thing, the harder thing... the more caring thing. Over weeks and months that soul was merged with body, becoming as much a part of her as everything else she was. The old and new merging into something different, something more. Rising from beneath that storm to become a mind of great clarity and she owes it all to him.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">THE FUTURE</div>=<br />
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Even I think so and I have never trusted mages and I passed that distrust onto you my Stohnz. I, the devil you once were and now your guide, your teacher. I had thought once that either you or I must die for some life to return but he has given us this chance to learn. We have a chance to grow and a world in which to love that we could never have imagined. So fight for it my girl, fight for it with tooth and claw and become what you need to be to keep all we have gained. This is no fairy tale our special Stohnz. Happy endings must be won in blood. Let it be the world if need be to keep those we love safe.<br />
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The future is always uncertain and Stohnz has very little faith in things remaining happy. She knows beyond the immaturity that shields her that there is always darkness on the horizon. It's the way of the world. She'll ignore it for as long as she can with those she loves, but it's a presence she can feel growing day to day. If it is real or imagined she does not know, can't know. Stohnz just knows that they'll be ready, both of her will. <br />
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'''''<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">PUBLIC OPINIONS</div>'''''<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Styx</div>==<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Torentus</div>==<br />
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==<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Elliana</div>==<br />
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Please feel free to add here my friends.<br />
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=<div style="font-size:14px;color:#FFFFFF; background-color: #000000; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">MISC</div>=<br />
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===<div style="font-size:12px;color:#FFFFFF; line-height:2.5em; letter-spacing:0.5ex">Tropes</div>===<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OlderThanTheyLook <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Older Than they Look'''</span>] - She's a Devil this has to check out.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheFakeCutie <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''The Fake Cutie'''</span>] - Every rose has a thorn, every cutie has its claws.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/LittleMissBadass <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Little Miss Badass'''</span>] - See The Fake Cutie.<br />
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[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WindowsToTheSoul <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Windows to the Soul''' </span>] - Both old and new Stohnz cover silver eyes uncannily well. I did not plan this.<br />
[http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/HappinessInSlavery <span style="color:#FFFFFF;"> '''Happiness in Slavery''' </span>] - Could not be more true.<br />
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<br></div>Seth