Character Profiles

So, if you'd like to submit a character profile (you don't have to but you can if you want others to see your handiwork), here's the basic skeleton:

Name: (Duh)
Age: (Duh)
Race: (Human, Elf, Gnome, Wombat... etc)
Gender: (How do they identify? Male/Female/Trans/Both/Anything/Cucumber)
Sex: (Yes please. Oh erm... it's optional. What naughty bits they have)
Orientation: (Gay, Straight, Felixible, Cephalopod... etc)

History: (usually the hardest but it really helps you flesh out your personality because it explains why your character is the way they are)

Personality: (This is how your character interacts with other characters. Make it colorful. Also, give them flaws. No one likes a Mary-Sue)

Appearance: (How do they look? Any striking characteristics? Mannerisms? Weapons?

Name: "Thorn", Nymil Tuatha De'danann
Age: 93 (young adult Drow)
Race: Drow Elf
Gender: Male
Sex: Male
Orientation: He's partial to anyone except orcs... maybe half-orcs
Picture: https://2img.net/h/oi40.tinypic.com/15hd7o.jpg

History: Put simply, he was a slave. Better explained (though he never would while sober), Nymil was sold into slavery at a young age and served several Mistresses in the underdark before he was introduced to his last Mistress at the tender age of 57. She was the cruelest. Amazingly, before he met her, he was kind and loving... something that is usually encouraged Aboveground in children and punished most severely below in the Underdark. She found this quality in him irresistible and took a great amount of satisfaction in torturing him with it. The cruelest thing you can do to someone is to make them believe that you love them... and then to crush them by letting them know the truth.

Over the years... tender, sweet Nymil's tortured mind retreated deep within itself leaving a hollow husk of a man that knew only hate and reveled in it. He escaped but not before taking the life of his mistress and the lives of several of her guards. He took refuge in the Aboveground and soon found that the denizens were not any kinder than those he was familiar with below; they hated him for his looks alone and he soon became an outcast for his own survival.

Personality: Upon leaving the Underdark he chose the name "Thorn" in honor of his newfound love... blades. The glint in the light, the sting of the edge against his skin, the cool touch of metal... Nothing gives him more pleasure than slicing his foes (and the occasional innocent bystander) to ribbons and watching their life blood stain the ground, nothing brings him more joy than the sounds of agony and pleas of mercy... although this sort of behavior is nothing out of the ordinary for one of his race it is the insanity that accompanies his bloodlust that makes him dangerous. One moment his keen wit and sharp tongue may be shining through and the next he may be ripping out your liver for no apparent reason.

To his prey he is seductive, sometimes leading wealthy patrons into dark alleyways under the pretense of a male prostitute in order to murder them as a means of entertainment and survival. His one exception for killing are other "misfits" as he deems them; prostitutes and slaves especially as he used to be one... in fact that was what lead to his insanity. He strangely feels a measure of pity and kinship with them and will go out of his way to protect them. Ironically though he is what most would consider a sociopath he is also an empath with the magical ability to sense others emotions and bits of their thoughts. Often his cruel nature leads him to abuse this and torment his victims with their most intimate feelings. Thorn is fiercely proud of his freedom and his pride happens to be one of his few weak spots. He loathes figures of authority and has a knack for killing slave traders.

Appearance: Much like his personality, his garb is dark and at the same time sharp like his wit and tongue. Under a heavy woolen cloak he wears crimson poet's shirt to match his eyes and a belt that serves as a sheath for his many many blades, most of them throwing daggers. Aside from that he has amassed an interesting collection of poisons and drugs which he keeps handy for some of his favored patrons.

Under the hood, Thorn has a long messy mane of silver-white hair that seems to shimmer in almost any light. His skin is dark, almost purple, and carries many scars... some of them very old and deep and others fresher and self-inflicted. He can almost always be seen with a knowing smirk upon his lips and a glint of malice in his deep crimson eyes, eyes which seem to almost glow in the heat of battle.

Iste--Elf Warrioress

Name: Iste (Latin for "spark")
Age: 99 (young adult)
Race: Elf Warrioress
Gender: Female
Sex: Female (YES PLEASE! )
Orientation: Interested in everyone, particularly human males, NO ORCS ;D

History: Iste is originally from a small noble family in the North. Her people live high in the cold mountains where the largest of the Dire Wolves reside. She was born and raised to ride and train these wolves like so many of her ancestors had done and was raised as a warrioress. At a young age, her mother died from an illness that she had gotten while trying to find Iste during a blizzard. Iste never forgave herself for her mother's death. Her father never did either.

She was treated cruelly by her father and brothers from that moment on. She often received burns and cuts from her brothers. One evening in her teenage years, when she was asleep, her father poured hot oil onto the left side of her face. Luckily, she didn't die and could still use her left eye. However, the oil left a scar that covers most of the left half of her face. She ran away with her Dire Wolf, Umbra (meaning "shadow"). Since that day, she's been running.

Personality: Living on her own caused Iste to become quiet around others. She is often very aggressive and serious about everything. Once she gets to know a person and gets to like them she tends to loosen up and become more sarcastic. Unfortunately, it doesn't happen often. She doesn't mince words and can be very frank about things.

Appearance: Iste is often seen wearing a thin brown cloak over a white peasant's top and corset, as well as boots and black cotton pants. She's taller than most female elves of her people. She has auburn hair and emerald eyes. Her skin is pale and freckled all over...

Name: Nanine
Age: 79 (young adult)
Race: Pyscenean, the Sea-People, a race of amphibious fish-people as famous for their elegant city as they are infamous for their hedonism and inebriation-driven taste for human flesh.
Gender: Female
Sex: Female
Orientation: Pansexual, and very open to experimenting.

History:
Formerly a mid-ranking priestess of the goddess Setkareh, she was forced to flee the capital city of her people on the edge of the Great Waters when it was stricken by the deadly Cinders Plague. Unfamiliar with traveling alone and through forested land she spends a great deal of her time frustrated and lost. Her situation is exacerbated by her need to avoid well traveled paths for fear of running into infected Pysceneans and the few misguided humans who believe that eating the Sea-People’s flesh will grant un-aging immortality.

Personality:
Intellectual, well spoken, and usually serene, she was well suited to the diplomatic duties that went hand in hand with her rank in the religious caste. Excellent at inferring others motivations she will often attempt to play this to her advantage. Though by no means a warrior, assassins and other threats common to persons of station meant that ruthless proficiency in self defense came as a necessity. She regards the other races as superior to humans, of whom she is instinctively suspicious due to the constantly simmering conflict between them and her people.

Appearance:
Tall and slender, her pale green skin, grey eyes, and long webbed fingers and toes instantly mark her out as one of the Sea-People. She has the shaved head of one of Setkareh’s priestesses. For traveling she left her ceremonial robes behind for a more practical hooded long coat of scaly green fish skin and a belted green tunic over pants and high boots. Like others of the religious caste she favors a pair of long thin knives for their effectiveness in close quarters and the ability to hide them within her sleeves by strapping them to her wrists. Flexible and quick, she has the advantage over her opponents in the water.

Name: Orde Vurmbrand
Age: 35 (Looks about 50)
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Sex: No Thanks, Vow of Celibacy.

History: Orde has traveled far and wide across the land doing his duty to the church. The church, in this case, being the Order of the Long Night Vigil, a solid group of zealous humans dedicated to the eradication of evil and corruption, both monstrous and human. The order is spread here and their, and they usually have a church or two in most regions. Having been raised in accordance with the strict principles all members live their lives by, Orde is an example of the kind of zealous devotion that The Vigil attempts to engender. The cost of fighting evil weighs heavily on him, and most other deacons that wander the land on assignments to combat it, and it shows in his approach to many situations. Namely, the type of quick, decisive reaction that leaves no room for error, which has resulted in the death of a few innocent beings here and there through no fault except their appearance. While he does not act carelessly or selfishly, his moral compass has skewed to fit the church's perception, resulting in perhaps a bit more willingness than necessary to put the needs of humanity as a whole above those of an individual.

Personality: As a tall, imposing figure, Orde relies mostly on his appearance to do the talking. In calm settings where diplomacy and investigation may be called for, he speaks slowly and firmly, although only if he has something important to say. While imposing, if approached the right way, Orde will agree to work with others, although this does not mean they are immune from his judgement if they fall out of what he deems is right. However, musings of high natures, such as talks of philosophy and the truth of his faith unnerve him, and he tends to shy away from those subjects. In general company he is usually silent, as the nature of his work has left little time for social skills. In the heat of furious battle, however, he preaches fire and brimstone with the fervor of a doomsday prophet, his conviction and thundering voice unnerving foes. If any are left alive after his onslaught, they are offered two choices; Atonement, or Forgiveness.

Appearance-Orde stands tall at almost seven feet, the thick black coat he always wears brushing the tips of his rugged fur boots. He also wears a wide brimmed monsignor's hat, of which strands of his straggly gray hair poke out from under, and hang in front of his face. His face is pocked with various scars and raised wounds, most notably a long horizontal scar across his nose, a mangled ear, and a nasty series of marks on his cheeks. Usually under his coat he wears a battered iron breastplate, or if not dressed for combat, a simple cloth vest, much like a farmers. His coat has several staps inside of it, from which he stows his supply of incenses, herbs, holy water, rosewood stakes, and two extra clips for his crossbow. Hanging from the belt which keeps his thick woolen pants up is almost always a metal incense burner on a foot and a half long chain. Under his coat sleeves, he will either wear silvered chain bracers, or two, single shot, hidden arrows, but not both at the same time. His main weapons are his wooden reinforced repeating crossbow, which he can use to unleash a quick barrage of bolts, and his heavy iron axe, which he has named Forgiveness. The axe itself has no special qualities, aside from being almost three feet long and very hefty, almost like an executioners axe. It is inscribed with holy (to the Long Night vigil) verse, and is a deep obsidian black, which looks like it had been stained on over the years.

Name: Hale Valandil
Age: 120 years old
Race: Elf
Class: Mage
Gender: Male
Sex: Male
Orientation: Gay

History: He grew up in a decent-sized town, well-known but not overly populous. As a child, his parents taught him that emotions weren't necessarily bad, as long as they could be kept in control, despite the popular elven belief that no emotions are to ever be shown. He grew up with one close friend, Finwë. They complemented each other to no end. While Hale was inept in music and writing, Finwë was phenomenal, having an air of peace, serenity, and ease about him. Contrarily, Hale excelled in magic and archery, accenting his own talents of grace and focusing under pressure. They formed a close platonic bond as they grew, almost soul-mates. It was the kind of bond that most elves dreamed of. Finwë was a ladies man, always chasing after different girls while Hale admired his love interests from afar, never actually forming a romantic relationship with anyone.

Their village got raided at one point in the middle of the night, and Hale and Finwë were taken as hostages. When the village wouldn’t pay the ransom as per policy, they were made into sex slaves. Finwë resisted and was ultimately killed. When Hale found out, he lost control of himself in grief and went on a rampage to escape, killing anyone that got in his way. He went back to his village but it wasn’t the same since the raid, so he decided to just travel around on his own.

Personality: He’s a quiet guy, not terribly shy, but he speaks when need be. He doesn’t care too much for idle chatter and small talk. Hale can be kind of serious when you first meet him, but he’s still fairly easy to get along with. He does have a soft side but he doesn’t care too much for showing it, viewing it as a sign of weakness, making him hard to get close to. That being said, he’s always willing to lend an ear and to listen to anyone else’s problems. In time of battle he’s a focused fighter, disregarding anything trivial that will break him from his focus. He tries his best to think logically and strategically, always planning the next move and processing his surroundings.

Appearance: He has long blond hair, pointed ears and is usually wearing a dark blue cloak ending at his calves to prevent it from getting caught in anything/ He has a bow and quiver strapped to his back that he uses and he has minimal control over the water element. He’s taller than an average human male, measuring at 6’4 and he’s slim but not muscular, spry, nimble, and quick on his feet, using his comfort with the natural environment to his advantage whenever he can.

Name: Jax Stardancer
Age: 53 (Young Adult considering they life 200 years and upward)
Race: Faun
Gender: Male
Sex: Who’s asking? *smirk* Male
Orientation: …He’s a faun. Self explanatory if the term “Pan”-sexual means anything to you.
Image: https://2img.net/h/oi48.tinypic.com/28u63gi.jpg

History:

Deep in the darkest of forests, somewhere in the thickets and bracken, Simon was born into a small tribe of fauns that spent the twilight hours hunting and dancing. For the longest time that’s all he knew; the hunt, the dancing, the wine, the kinship and warmth of this tribe and the sweet lull of pipes until dawn. Occasionally the fae came to join in their jamborees; the elves, faeries, nymphs and centaurs all in the haven glen came to trade and celebrate with his small tribe… that is until the Great Fire.
On a dare, Jax and a few other the young fauns left the safety of the forests and ventured towards the human village that lay just near the edge of the forest. They crept into the village unaware of the danger of human ignorance. Having never seen fauns before, the villagers saw their horns and hooves and assumed they were demons. Except for Jax and Kale his friend, the others escaped back into the woods. The humans locked them in a cellar and later took them to the town square where there was a makeshift pyre and stake.

The tribe’s hunting party got to them before the humans could burn the young fauns at the stake and managed to make it back into the forest leaving a few dead villagers in their wake. Whether it was out of revenge for the villagers they killed or simply that the fire had gotten out of control is unknown. What is known is that soon after returning to their home they saw the approaching ruddy glow and had little time to escape before the fire surrounded them. Chaos and panic followed… his father told him to run while he went to get his mother. Jax froze up and refused to leave his father’s side. A heavy branch came down on them, trapping his father under it. Jax tried to move it but could not. His father told him to run to the river as the flames engulfed him. Jax did as he was told and ran and ran with the screams of his father and kin behind him.

Jax threw himself into the river to escape the fire. He was found by a kindly old farmer and his wife in an irrigation ditch fed by the river. He was badly burnt and half drowned but alive. They took him in and nursed him back to health. While his burns and wounds healed, he cared for the animals and helped them on the farm. They became his new family and he became the son they could never have. He stayed with them until the end. When they died, he buried them next to their humble cottage and left the small farm to become a traveler, once again enjoying the delights of hunting, dancing, and of course the sweet lull of pipes-- only this time in search of any other of his tribe’s folk that might’ve escaped the fire. Now he drifts from tavern to tavern earning his living with music and tales from neighboring lands.


Personality:

Friendly, mischievous, and a little wild upon first impression but as one gets to know him better (and few do before he moves on to the next town) there is a glint in his eyes, an inner fire that drives him and a darkness that fuels it. Jax is a lustful creature, always longing for merriment and any temporary distraction to keep him from lingering on his darker thoughts of revenge and despair.

Being a faun he considers himself a master of seduction, as to whether that is true is up for debate but one can’t fault him for trying. He loves music and dancing more than anything else as it reminds him of his home and keeps him sane. His Achilles’ heel (or hoof rather), is that he tends to crack under pressure and doubt himself. As a nervous habit he tends to repeat certain words or phrases and sometimes rhymes.

During the fire, when he was a youngling, he froze up out of terror and was unable to help his family escape for which he still blames himself. Though perhaps painfully obvious, he also has a terrible phobia of fire. To blot out the past he tends to over-indulge in wine and carnal pleasures without thought of consequence. He still harbors a fear and hatred of humans even as times have changed… somewhat… and has little regard for laws or rules. For all of his flaws he is still at heart a kind and loving soul that would do anything for those few he considers family.

Appearance:

A twirling flash of red, and the sound of a flute accompanied by hooves clopping against a tabletop… upon a closer look one might see the various braided strands and beads adorn his fiery red mane and a multitude of piercings decorate his long tapered ears. Parting his hair is a pair of large curled horns that resemble a ram’s. There are tribal tattoos marking his arms and abdomen designating the tribe he hailed from, the Stardancers. On his back and sides there are a few burn scars, one which warped one of his tattoos. Jax stands at about 5'4" which is a bit taller than most fauns his age.

Unlike most “wild” Sylvans, he chooses to wear breeches out of modesty (and perhaps for the pockets) which have a hole cut in the back to accommodate the pride and glory that is his tail. The faun’s tail is equally adorned with a variety of bangles and beads which jangle to the rhythm of his tune. From the tip of his tail shoots a plume of fiery red and golden fur to match his mane.

About his neck is a tarnished copper necklace inset with simple turquoise blue beads of seemingly no value but to him it means the world as apart from his tattoos it is the last reminder he has of his family and tribe. His eyes are intensely blue, the same shade as the beads. At any given moment his eyes can either appear light sky blue and full of unfettered glee or dark and hungry. The rest of his face (and body) is just as animated.

Jax carries a mandolin to tell his tales, and a hunting knife which the old farmer gave him for good measure. The flute he plays is one he carved himself and is perhaps his most potent weapon (aside from his head); when played, it can lull the most vicious enemy into a deep slumber unless they know how to ward off the enchantment… in someone else’s hands, however, it is a simple flute and nothing more.

System File #9047-A

Name: Gideon Gobstone
Alias: "Goblin"
Age: Unknown
Race: Human, Class-C Undesirable
Sex: Male
Orientation: Unknown

History: No fingerprints on file. No retinal print on file. No Genome on File. No birth record on file. No immediate family on file (surname "Gobstone" could not be found in archives, assumed to be a fabrication). Served for a(n unknown) number of years in the Foreign Legion before it was disbanded. It is believed that the subject operated under an(other) assumed name, which makes tracking military history difficult. After being discharged from the Legion, the subject seems to have disappeared entirely, until recent manifests show "Gideon Gobstone" serving as Mechanic aboard [redacted].

Personality: Subject is generally hostile, with contempt for authority (read: The System). Hostility is matched only by fierce loyalty to Captain and crew of [redacted]. Shows great aptitude for mechanical engineering and maintenance, despite any kind of formal training*.

*Subject claims to have been struck by lightening on several occasions, citing these injuries as source of mechanical knowledge.

Appearance: Subject stands approximately five feet tall, average build, graying hair, eye color is unknown. Usually seen wearing coveralls, forearm-mounted multitool, leather boots, toolbelt, and goggles (subject has never been seen without eye-protection, hence why eye color is still unknown).

//Audio-File on record//

[sound of glasses clinking, followed by shuffling of chairs]
Unknown 1: "Two-Pair!"
SUBJECT: "Four of a kind"
[sound of hand hitting table is heard]
Unknown 2: "'Four of a kind' my ass!"
SUBJECT: "You callin' me a cheat, boy?"
Unknown 1: "Now he didn't mean nothin-"
Unknown 2: "What if I am, grease monkey?"
[sound of chair being knocked over, followed by Unknown 2's head being slammed into table]
SUBJECT: "Let me tell you something you [redacted]no good [redacted]shove this wrench so far up your [redacted] that your mama's[redacted] can [redacted] my [redacted] till doomsday, you hear me, Nancy-Boy?"
[silence]

//End Audio File//

System File #3347-A

Name: Caelum 34Ao-7113 , AI-ngel Medbot 3.0
Alias: “Captain Caelum Ao”, “Doctor Aingil” “The Angel of Mercy”
Age: Unknown, Appears to be early 20’s
Race: Non-Human, Synthetic Biomechanoid
Sex: Unknown, refers to self as “he”
Orientation: Unknown

Appearance:
[Photo]

Subject stands approximately 5’6” tall, slender build, stark white hair, eye color steel grey and is said to sometimes change to red when attending an injured person or when engaged in hand to hand combat. Usually seen wearing a long tan trench coat, gloves, and eye patch. Multiple stitches cover the subject's face and neck but upon closer inspection do not seem to heal. On the back of the subject’s neck hidden by hair appears a barcode with the digits “34Ao-7113” and the name “Caelum”. Subject has no pulse, gives off minimal heat, and does not appear to bleed or respire.

History:
Error. No files found for “Caelum”. Showing results for matching physical description…

“Date 5902.13 Subject matching physical description was arrested for assaulting five soldiers under order to capture and detain anarchist conspirators. The attack allowed the conspirators to escape. When brought in for questioning the subject repeatedly refused retinal scans and DNA testing, injuring two officers in the process. The subject claimed to be protecting “peace advocates”, apologized for injuring the soldiers and officers stating it was “a necessary distraction”, and then refused further questioning by seeming to enter a comatose state. Later that evening the subject is reported to have ripped the steel reinforced bonds from the wall and escaped through a three-story window.”

“Various personal accounts of an individual matching the physical description aiding peaceful organizations, anarchist collectives, and deviant causes over the last 200 years. *[see more] The entity known as ‘The Angel of Mercy’ is cited in many of these accounts. Often the entity is depicted caring for the diseased and injured, often restarting failing hearts with a single touch. The entity is said to sail the skies in an empty dirigible known as the Misericordia.
[Archive Image]
*[see more: historical ref]”

“Recent reports show an individual under the alias “Caelum” serving as Captain aboard a retired cargo dirigible, nicknamed the ‘Misericordia’ *[see more: ‘Misericordia’ ref: Latin ‘mercy’/ historical ref:’ ghost ship Misericordia of the late 52nd Century’]”, along with one “Goblin” *[see ‘Gideon Gobstone’]

“Files on 51st Century AI-ngel Medbots CLASSIFIED.”
“Files on Synthetic Biomechanoids CLASSIFIED.”

Personality: Subject shows no emotion but constantly displays acts that could be interpreted as ‘empathic’. Subject also shows a contempt for authority (read: The System) as well as violence towards those it deems “peaceful” or “injured” and though the subject will not hesitate to use violence to disable what it considers ‘attackers’ there has been no reported incident of death. The methods of defense (note: always 'defense', subject never attacks first even if goaded) the subject employs during battle are a combination of martial arts coupled with a seemingly extensive knowledge of anatomy centered around causing the target maximum pain with minimal long-term damage, focusing on pressure points. The subject displays a great deal of protectiveness regarding the crew of the alleged ‘Misericordia’ when threatened. Subject also shows a sort of empathy towards mechanical devices, especially those in need of repair, as well as an extensive knowledge of remedies, chemical compounds, human anatomy, pathogens, and advanced medical procedures.

//Audio-Files on record: Personal Accounts//

Mrs. Lavine [deceased]: “My daughter was dying, her little heart just gave up but then the Angel of Mercy came down from the heavens and put his hand over her chest. There was a light and and this crackling sound and then my little girl was breathing again! [sobbing]”

Unknown Driller 1, LaTurn Forte mines: “… ceiling’s going! We gots ta get out of here—GO-GO-GO!!!Damn it all to hell… oh god… oh god… [loud rumble and crash] C’mon!!!
Unknown Driller 2: “ARRRGGHHH!!! Can’t! Please oh g—“
Unknown Driller 1: “… What’s that? That light--”
SUBJECT: “Remain calm. Help is on the way. I will ease your pain.”
Unknown Driller 2: “Who the fuck are--- whoa…”

//End Audio File//

run_publicaccess.exe......

----> Welcome to SYS3 's public citizen information database. Please restrict your queries to immediate family members and friends.

\querydatabase subject "Jack-Clearance O-TSR"....

____ERROR_____SUBJECT NOT FOUND____ERROR______

......

run/ICEbreaker.prg/SYS7/PersonnelFiles
----> Running proxy
PW: ghGhuirW
---->EtYrPDgf
---->TgYuNp697
----> ########

.........

----> ACCESS TO SYSTEM 7 DATABASE GRANTED

Search "Jack-Clearance O-TSR.1165 service number Alpha Delta 117-3"
........
........
.......
SUBJECT NOT FOUND

.......
search/SYS1/trace/eraseddata/Terminated Anticitizens
Working.....
Access ULTRAVIOLET FCRT COM------
CODE ACCEPTED
-----> SUBJECTS IN THIS DATABASE ARE NOT RELEVANT. ANY MENTION OF THEM IS TREASON.
Search "Terminated - Jack-Clearance O-TSR"
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........

Subject: Jack-Clearance O-TSR (DOES NOT EXIST)
Genome: Humaaaaa@@@@@zzzzz.....
Age: 2#$$#
Sex: M
Occupation: Member of SYS7 Assault Force Mechanus, Squad Technician Alpha-C
Physical Statistics: As a citizen of 4@@#ZZA Complex, subject is standard human. Height is 5'7", weight is 165 LBS. Clone replication statistics - @#$#^&* ZZZZ ERROR DATA CORRUPT3333D ---!33R.

History - Service in Operation Quell
Organized System 7 Logistics and Tactics
Commendation for fulfilling assault object111vv33 XYYZSDfE @#$%@!O

Specializations - Subject is adept at repurposing technology. Weapons systems and assault droid programming and repurposing division. Squad leader in Raids #335829, #981082, #45577-F, #221948O, #4390585, #@@@--zxskkkzzzzz, #999666-6-ty.

SUBJECT TERMINATED AFTER LAST OPERATION. CLONE BLUEPRINTS ERASED AND ALL BACKUPS INCINERATED.
........
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UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS.

(!) Security Program Wormwood Detected (!)

GrEeTiNgS CiTiZeN! AcCeSsInG tHeSe FiLeS iS CoNsIdeReD HiGH TrEaSOn. PleASe ReMaIN WhErE YoU ArE anD a SYS6 OfFiCeR WiLL Be ALOng ShoRtLy tO EsCoRt yoU tO thE DeParTMeNt oF InfOrmAtIon. HaVe a NiCe Day, and REmeMbEr, tHe COMPUTER is YoUr FrienD!

_SYS1_Personnel Search “Azrael”

…
…

___ERROR__personnel not found__ERROR__

…

execute_ghostcipher.prg/CLSSFD/shadowpersonnelfiles

….

[commencing override]
[classified personnel files are encrypted. input personal identification code]
[accepted]
[classified personnel files are encrypted. input password]
[accepted]
[classified personnel files are restricted. input personal security code]
[level 4 security clearance detected]
[limited access to classified personnel files granted]
[access may be terminated remotely at any time]
[commencing _SYS1_Personnel Search for “Azrael”]

System File #1197-Zeta CLASSIFIED

Name: Morigann Issa Helhest
Alias: “Azrael”
Rank: Director of System 1: Computer Intelligence
Age: [CLASSIFIED]
Race: Human, Class-Zeta CLASSIFIED
Sex: Female
Orientation: Unknown

History: No fingerprints on file [subject physically does not have fingerprints]. Retinal print [CLASSIFIED]. Genome [CLASSIFIED]. Birth record [CLASSIFIED]. Family unknown.
Subject discovered by The System while investigating reports of the disappearance of wanted anarchists in the Undercity and the discovery of their remains in the Refuse Yards. Subject claimed responsibility and stated that it was her duty to remove “diseased persons” from the population for the greater good of The System. Initially recruited to SYS6: Security, subject was quickly promoted through the ranks to SYS4: Propaganda, and then SYS1: Computer Intelligence. While assigned to SYS1 subject was decorated for distinguished service in defense of The System during the Outer Rebellion. An impressively accomplished interrogator and soldier, subject operated as part of a shadow initiative, effectively crushing the Outer Rebellion while successfully avoiding identification by the public. Current rank Director of SYS1: Computer Intelligence. Current assignment [CLASSIFIED]. [due to subject’s preference for anonymity and secrecy to aid investigations for The System numerous related records have been rendered classified or deleted]

Personality: Subject possesses surgical and scientific training [site of study unknown] and is adept with mechanical devices. Obsessed with perfection, subject believes fusing mechanical constructs with living bodies will allow her to create the perfection she seeks. Unconfirmed: subject’s favorite leisure pursuit consists of body modification and self-surgery, rumored to have resulted in an amalgamation of flesh and clockwork components that give her unnatural strength and swiftness. Subject is a masterful violinist and prefers solitude. Psychological profile notation: subject experiences periodic lapses in self control, flirting with the edge of sanity. WARNING: Strong sadistic tendencies. Numerous accounts of subject exhibiting extreme patience and delight while extracting information during interrogations. At an interrogations conclusion, subject reveals her face to the detainee only and queries, “Am I beautiful?” The detainee’s response determines the method of mutilation or execution.

Appearance: Subject stands approximately 6’ tall, slender muscular build. Hair color unknown, originally known to be red. Eye color unknown, originally known to be pale grey. Explanation: subject wears a black metal mask that conceals her face and entire head. Unconfirmed: subject’s face and body are rumored to be horrifically scarred. All known direct witnesses outside her inner circle are deceased. Due to lack of facial expressions subject relies on body language and gestures to convey emotion.

//Audio-File on record: Interrogation of anarchist, System File #8652 Class-D Undesirable [status: terminated] //

[sobbing and moaning]
Rebel #8652: [slurred] “Please…please…I’ll tell yuh anythin’ ya want…anythin’…”
SUBJECT: [softly] “Oh I know, I know…you would tell all and say anything I wanted you to, in time. I could destroy you, intimately. Until you really believe that you brought this on yourself, that you deserve it, that you were wrong. And still I would continue. But you are unworthy of such attentions. Diseased. Worthless. I know all of the information you possess. And therefore I have only one question for you…”
[whimpering and distant rustling followed by the clink of metal]
SUBJECT: “Tell me…am I beautiful?”
Rebel #8652: “Oh God! No! What in hell’s furnace are you?!”
SUBJECT: “That is irrelevant. But you are not a liar. And so I shall be kind.”
Rebel #8652: “What? No! No! Please no! NO DON’T—!”
[inarticulate screams abruptly cut off by a wet thick sound like a sledgehammer hitting a watermelon]
[dripping]
[silence]
SUBJECT: [laughter]

//End Audio File//