As per prior agreement with Krunk, I will be filling the empty 'Lust' position. Typing now.
Name: Nicholas Sadivere
Nickname: He was known, unkindly, by many names in life. Many of them spat from between toothless, bloody lips.
Age: Died at age 27, but has been sentient in his current form for at least seven hundred years.
Appearance: Nicholas is tall and thin, with angular features. Long hair, dark. His skin is pale, and thin cords of muscle bind his slim frame. A short, pointed beard sprouts from his chin.
Clothing: Nicholas was born into money, and into style. All he lacks is an appreciation for the fact that his standards are over half a century dated. His wardrobe was extensive, and when he has the opportunity to wear clothing it appears as he would like it, the finest 1300's robes and furs. Unfortunately, due to his own particular infernal fate, he is more commonly on fire from head to toe.
Weapons: Nicholas in life was not violent, but his extensive and ever-darkening tastes taught him his way around the body of another. In a fight, however, he is not suited to anything but his fists. He is also, as mentioned, on fire. That helps.
Powers: Sadivere found death to be unpleasant, as his rampant imagination and twisted indulgences condemned him to a cursed un-life. The final spiteful wish of a victim was that he should always chase excess, to lust after a high too potent for even himself to handle. Until then, however, any desire or imagined pleasure he might seek ignites his skin and hurls him into abject agony. Thus is the paradox, to seek a pleasure that can finally break his mind with pain... and release him into death. He's not sure if he's chasing it for the pleasure, the pain or the release, however
As such, Nicholas seeks out others to provide him with new excesses to explore. Just as he burns with his own desires, Nicholas tempts others around him to envision pleasures and hedonist joys. As they do, both Nicholas and themselves experience illusions. Only while indulging in these new depths can Nicholas be free of his infernal state.
Strengths: Nicholas might be from an older time, but the nature of lust has changed little over the years. He excels at getting into the minds of his opponents, knowing what cues and prompts will summon from them the most exquisite visions. He gets off on mindfucking. Nicholas uses these powers to build an ecstasy for himself, in which most foes are consumed along with him.
Weaknesses: Nicholas revels in his lack of will. He is self-confident and arrogant, but without that pride he is a coward and lacks personal strength. Without the power that stems from his own private heaven/hell, he is just a man.
Personality: Noble born. Self-assured. Arrogant. Self-absorbed. Before his curse set in, he cared little for the opinions of others. Now little more than a walking, lusting nervous system, I think it's safe to say empathy has fled Nicholas. He is predatory, always has been, but now it's fueled by a more sinister purpose than a good old fashioned desire to make the unwilling into ruined, broken playthings.
Fear: Sensory deprvation. Resignation to his fate. The fear of failing to go further, sink deeper, is kinda his reason for being.
Vice: Lust. Oh yes.
Bio: Born in 1300's Europe. Nicholas is your standard upper-class brat, with no concern for work and an assured future, his boredom quickly developed into experimentation. He progressed through the limited chemical indulgences of his time, and traveled often in search of newer highs. It was on one of these travels he ran across, shall we say... an expanded interest in the uses of the body. Within weeks, his private estate had become a quieter place. Staff became muted, trying to hide the many bruises and cuts on their bodies. It was only a month before the first jumped from the top floor window to escape memory and agony.
Nicholas, however, only grew more voracious as his appetites outstripped the tolerance of his victims. His mind raced, dreaming ever more wondrous pleasures to impart upon himself and others. He quizzed merchants, and the flow of custom purchases flooded into the manse. Leathers. Ironwork tools. Brands. Hooks. Knives. His reputation spread as fast as his coin, and he found the frowns of society to thrill him as much as any inch of flesh. Nicholas Sadivere discovered what he already knew in his subconscious, that audacity was... orgasmic.
He grew bolder, abducting homeless or those he thought would not be missed. Blood ran thick through the mortar of his stead, both his own and that of his prey. Flesh screamed. Fluids ran. Flame flickered. Coals hissed. Sadivere fervently searched, ever more, for the new extreme. He was joined, occasionally, by peers of excess. Not that they stayed long, though, as even the adventurous have limits that Sadivere eagerly, hungrily crossed.
The corpses filled his garden, those that he disposed of, and it became harder to disguise his drive for damnation. He would have been caught, in any other age, exposed and destroyed by a vengeful and disgusted public. But there was a growing fear that eclipsed his threat; The Black Plague. As it ravaged the world, few cared about how Nicholas ravaged the skin of others.
It was then, as the black death threatened to engulf man, that Nicholas was undone. Seeing an opportunity to harvest the trust of others, he opened his home as a sanctuary from the sweeping, viral destruction. People flocked to him in scores, flesh filed willingly into his halls only to discover a reality worse than any diseased ruin.
It was a curse, muttered in true, pure hate by a mystic woman that felled him. As she died, her own intestines wound around Sadivere's genitals, she uttered out the foulest damnation she could summon onto him.
Hours later his house was a smoldering wreck, and Nicholas' screams of pain were buried with him in his hidden dungeons.
The rest is detailed in a short story to follow.
Nickname: He was known, unkindly, by many names in life. Many of them spat from between toothless, bloody lips.
Age: Died at age 27, but has been sentient in his current form for at least seven hundred years.
Appearance: Nicholas is tall and thin, with angular features. Long hair, dark. His skin is pale, and thin cords of muscle bind his slim frame. A short, pointed beard sprouts from his chin.
Clothing: Nicholas was born into money, and into style. All he lacks is an appreciation for the fact that his standards are over half a century dated. His wardrobe was extensive, and when he has the opportunity to wear clothing it appears as he would like it, the finest 1300's robes and furs. Unfortunately, due to his own particular infernal fate, he is more commonly on fire from head to toe.
Weapons: Nicholas in life was not violent, but his extensive and ever-darkening tastes taught him his way around the body of another. In a fight, however, he is not suited to anything but his fists. He is also, as mentioned, on fire. That helps.
Powers: Sadivere found death to be unpleasant, as his rampant imagination and twisted indulgences condemned him to a cursed un-life. The final spiteful wish of a victim was that he should always chase excess, to lust after a high too potent for even himself to handle. Until then, however, any desire or imagined pleasure he might seek ignites his skin and hurls him into abject agony. Thus is the paradox, to seek a pleasure that can finally break his mind with pain... and release him into death. He's not sure if he's chasing it for the pleasure, the pain or the release, however
As such, Nicholas seeks out others to provide him with new excesses to explore. Just as he burns with his own desires, Nicholas tempts others around him to envision pleasures and hedonist joys. As they do, both Nicholas and themselves experience illusions. Only while indulging in these new depths can Nicholas be free of his infernal state.
Strengths: Nicholas might be from an older time, but the nature of lust has changed little over the years. He excels at getting into the minds of his opponents, knowing what cues and prompts will summon from them the most exquisite visions. He gets off on mindfucking. Nicholas uses these powers to build an ecstasy for himself, in which most foes are consumed along with him.
Weaknesses: Nicholas revels in his lack of will. He is self-confident and arrogant, but without that pride he is a coward and lacks personal strength. Without the power that stems from his own private heaven/hell, he is just a man.
Personality: Noble born. Self-assured. Arrogant. Self-absorbed. Before his curse set in, he cared little for the opinions of others. Now little more than a walking, lusting nervous system, I think it's safe to say empathy has fled Nicholas. He is predatory, always has been, but now it's fueled by a more sinister purpose than a good old fashioned desire to make the unwilling into ruined, broken playthings.
Fear: Sensory deprvation. Resignation to his fate. The fear of failing to go further, sink deeper, is kinda his reason for being.
Vice: Lust. Oh yes.
Bio: Born in 1300's Europe. Nicholas is your standard upper-class brat, with no concern for work and an assured future, his boredom quickly developed into experimentation. He progressed through the limited chemical indulgences of his time, and traveled often in search of newer highs. It was on one of these travels he ran across, shall we say... an expanded interest in the uses of the body. Within weeks, his private estate had become a quieter place. Staff became muted, trying to hide the many bruises and cuts on their bodies. It was only a month before the first jumped from the top floor window to escape memory and agony.
Nicholas, however, only grew more voracious as his appetites outstripped the tolerance of his victims. His mind raced, dreaming ever more wondrous pleasures to impart upon himself and others. He quizzed merchants, and the flow of custom purchases flooded into the manse. Leathers. Ironwork tools. Brands. Hooks. Knives. His reputation spread as fast as his coin, and he found the frowns of society to thrill him as much as any inch of flesh. Nicholas Sadivere discovered what he already knew in his subconscious, that audacity was... orgasmic.
He grew bolder, abducting homeless or those he thought would not be missed. Blood ran thick through the mortar of his stead, both his own and that of his prey. Flesh screamed. Fluids ran. Flame flickered. Coals hissed. Sadivere fervently searched, ever more, for the new extreme. He was joined, occasionally, by peers of excess. Not that they stayed long, though, as even the adventurous have limits that Sadivere eagerly, hungrily crossed.
The corpses filled his garden, those that he disposed of, and it became harder to disguise his drive for damnation. He would have been caught, in any other age, exposed and destroyed by a vengeful and disgusted public. But there was a growing fear that eclipsed his threat; The Black Plague. As it ravaged the world, few cared about how Nicholas ravaged the skin of others.
It was then, as the black death threatened to engulf man, that Nicholas was undone. Seeing an opportunity to harvest the trust of others, he opened his home as a sanctuary from the sweeping, viral destruction. People flocked to him in scores, flesh filed willingly into his halls only to discover a reality worse than any diseased ruin.
It was a curse, muttered in true, pure hate by a mystic woman that felled him. As she died, her own intestines wound around Sadivere's genitals, she uttered out the foulest damnation she could summon onto him.
Hours later his house was a smoldering wreck, and Nicholas' screams of pain were buried with him in his hidden dungeons.
The rest is detailed in a short story to follow.
This was the find of the decade, a preserved dark-ages living environment! Weeks of depth-probing over these muddy hills had nearly driven her mad, but now Ashley had a tangible reward beyond rocks and old car parts. This was her ticket into proper funding, perhaps even a proper team leadership! It all came down to her extraction methods, of course, if she bungled the next step she'd never be forgiven by the community - or herself.
It took her three hours to dig away the dirt covering the section of stone floor without harming the stonework, and when all was done she found herself staring at the mother of all prizes; a stone hatchway. Ashley took a deep breath, this might be worth getting backup for. A heavy stone slab, likely sealing whatever lay beneath in relative preservation. From the look of the mortar, there was likely to be seepage, but there might be actual documents preserved down the- what!?
The stone slab heaved upwards slightly. Once, twice, and on the third smash from below it was heaved off the hatchway. Ashley baulked, unable to work out what was going on. Had a wild animal slept... no... perhaps escaped gasses? Some kind of pressure buildup? There were eyes in there!
As she spotted the mad stare, a pillar of fire and mad screams poured out of the abyss. Ashley fled from the heat and sound, only to fall at the edge of her shallow excavation. When she turned, her eyes widened in horrified fascination as a blazing human frame pulled itself from the tomb. It was male, she could see that even without glancing below it's waist, and he was human. Impossible. The eyes she had first seen were still there, somehow piercing out of the flames to leer into hers. His breathing was heavy, and the sound distorted as oxygen ignited halfway down his windpipe. She realized with a growing sense of wonder that this impossible man was laughing.
He writhed in the damp soil, baking it into cracked dirt with the heat rolling off his body. Laughter, mad laughter and deafening screams ripped from his mouth along with tongues of fire. Ashley scrambled to help him, fetching her water bottles and hurling them onto the poor creature. The plastic melted in moments, and the water boiled on his incandescent skin. Ashley panicked, unable to think of how to help the... wait. She could hear him saying something over the burning, rising to bellowing cries. His screams twisted slowly again at the feeling of the steaming liquid across his body, into moans. He rubbed his hands sensuously across the affected flesh. Slowly, the fire ebbed away, leaving only the panting figure of a tall, thin man. His hips bucked slightly a few more times, and then he lay still. "Tell me dear" He sighed breathlessly between deep chuckles "What is the year?"
"It's... uh..." Ashley stammered, staring at the naked, living fossil. Not only had he just crawled out of a ruin sealed for seven hundred years, but by rights he should be dead "Are you alright?" she asked, feeling stupid immediately. He was laying in a circle of scorched earth, the dirt under him still glowed with heat!
His eyes snapped open and he sat up grinning. "For now, but give me a moment to get going again. The flaws of man" He said in a thick accent, grinning "And again, the year?"
"1994" Ashley breathed, and the man fell backwards onto the dirt laughing once more. The wracking chortles shook his frame before slowly degenerating into weeping sobs and low screams. He rolled back and forth, limbs contorting and twitching. Ashley scrabbled sideways for her phone, although she couldn't decide who needed help more. Right now, she just needed somebody here to help her work out what the fuck was going on.
Then the hands grabbed her from behind. She was spun by strong arms and found herself staring into those awful eyes. Now they were focused, predatory slits that never wavered as she flickered her own pupils too and fro, seeking escape. His hands gripped her head and his fingers dug cruelly into her skin. She could feel the heat rising from his body, slowly, and she realized with horror that he would soon burst into flame once more. "What has seven-hundred years done to god's green earth?" He growled deeply, spittle flecking onto her face "Show me something new. What made you feel, show me, what scars your soul? Show me!"
She tried to escape, punching into his ribs with all the force she could muster. He buckled, but his grip never lessened. If anything, his pain only brought him closer to crushing her skull. She couldn't look away from his eyes as they burrowed into hers, demanding something she didn't have. She aimed a final punch, it would sail straight into his throat and free her from the madma- he let go, before she had even bunched her fist he reeled back as if struck by lightning.
Ten points of blistering flesh ringed her face where his fingers had been seconds ago. He fell backwards, scrabbling away from her like she had burned him, instead of the other way around. He stroked his throat, cooing softly. "I'm sorry" he said, getting to his feet "I just... it burns. Oh god, it burns. I... I love it". He burst into laughter and launched himself on top of her once more.
"Fuel it!" He screamed into her face "Show me what passes for depravity so long since my demise! Make it stop! Make it more! What filth fills this brave new world!?"
She understood what the freak was after, and she saw it all in an instant. Every bad link she had clicked, every site of filth stumbled upon. Magazines. The memory of stumbling upon her cousins, the smell of latex and sex and the eyes staring back, shocked. Films, the tape she found one Easter. The time she had slept with David, the things he had done before she told him to st- she saw them. All around her. The images she saw in her mind flashed like mirages around the pair. Locked together, every recollection she could not stop herself thinking strode boldly, often naked, into a half-reality. And then she felt the heat.
She screamed with him as he lit up, fire racing across his skin like he was doused in oil. He screamed, laughed and howled at once while she thrashed and burned. As he staggered away from her writhing form he left footprints of glass in his white-hot wake. Then he broke down, laughing and weeping, before the pain stole his rationality. A glimpse, a second of her understanding and he had been undone. Behind his twitching form, Ashley stopped moving entirely.
Nicholas would like this new world, this new age. And, through that ecstasy, set it ablaze. That gyspy ***** had bound pleasure and pain into one, but she never gave a thought to just how hot that could get him.
It took her three hours to dig away the dirt covering the section of stone floor without harming the stonework, and when all was done she found herself staring at the mother of all prizes; a stone hatchway. Ashley took a deep breath, this might be worth getting backup for. A heavy stone slab, likely sealing whatever lay beneath in relative preservation. From the look of the mortar, there was likely to be seepage, but there might be actual documents preserved down the- what!?
The stone slab heaved upwards slightly. Once, twice, and on the third smash from below it was heaved off the hatchway. Ashley baulked, unable to work out what was going on. Had a wild animal slept... no... perhaps escaped gasses? Some kind of pressure buildup? There were eyes in there!
As she spotted the mad stare, a pillar of fire and mad screams poured out of the abyss. Ashley fled from the heat and sound, only to fall at the edge of her shallow excavation. When she turned, her eyes widened in horrified fascination as a blazing human frame pulled itself from the tomb. It was male, she could see that even without glancing below it's waist, and he was human. Impossible. The eyes she had first seen were still there, somehow piercing out of the flames to leer into hers. His breathing was heavy, and the sound distorted as oxygen ignited halfway down his windpipe. She realized with a growing sense of wonder that this impossible man was laughing.
He writhed in the damp soil, baking it into cracked dirt with the heat rolling off his body. Laughter, mad laughter and deafening screams ripped from his mouth along with tongues of fire. Ashley scrambled to help him, fetching her water bottles and hurling them onto the poor creature. The plastic melted in moments, and the water boiled on his incandescent skin. Ashley panicked, unable to think of how to help the... wait. She could hear him saying something over the burning, rising to bellowing cries. His screams twisted slowly again at the feeling of the steaming liquid across his body, into moans. He rubbed his hands sensuously across the affected flesh. Slowly, the fire ebbed away, leaving only the panting figure of a tall, thin man. His hips bucked slightly a few more times, and then he lay still. "Tell me dear" He sighed breathlessly between deep chuckles "What is the year?"
"It's... uh..." Ashley stammered, staring at the naked, living fossil. Not only had he just crawled out of a ruin sealed for seven hundred years, but by rights he should be dead "Are you alright?" she asked, feeling stupid immediately. He was laying in a circle of scorched earth, the dirt under him still glowed with heat!
His eyes snapped open and he sat up grinning. "For now, but give me a moment to get going again. The flaws of man" He said in a thick accent, grinning "And again, the year?"
"1994" Ashley breathed, and the man fell backwards onto the dirt laughing once more. The wracking chortles shook his frame before slowly degenerating into weeping sobs and low screams. He rolled back and forth, limbs contorting and twitching. Ashley scrabbled sideways for her phone, although she couldn't decide who needed help more. Right now, she just needed somebody here to help her work out what the fuck was going on.
Then the hands grabbed her from behind. She was spun by strong arms and found herself staring into those awful eyes. Now they were focused, predatory slits that never wavered as she flickered her own pupils too and fro, seeking escape. His hands gripped her head and his fingers dug cruelly into her skin. She could feel the heat rising from his body, slowly, and she realized with horror that he would soon burst into flame once more. "What has seven-hundred years done to god's green earth?" He growled deeply, spittle flecking onto her face "Show me something new. What made you feel, show me, what scars your soul? Show me!"
She tried to escape, punching into his ribs with all the force she could muster. He buckled, but his grip never lessened. If anything, his pain only brought him closer to crushing her skull. She couldn't look away from his eyes as they burrowed into hers, demanding something she didn't have. She aimed a final punch, it would sail straight into his throat and free her from the madma- he let go, before she had even bunched her fist he reeled back as if struck by lightning.
Ten points of blistering flesh ringed her face where his fingers had been seconds ago. He fell backwards, scrabbling away from her like she had burned him, instead of the other way around. He stroked his throat, cooing softly. "I'm sorry" he said, getting to his feet "I just... it burns. Oh god, it burns. I... I love it". He burst into laughter and launched himself on top of her once more.
"Fuel it!" He screamed into her face "Show me what passes for depravity so long since my demise! Make it stop! Make it more! What filth fills this brave new world!?"
She understood what the freak was after, and she saw it all in an instant. Every bad link she had clicked, every site of filth stumbled upon. Magazines. The memory of stumbling upon her cousins, the smell of latex and sex and the eyes staring back, shocked. Films, the tape she found one Easter. The time she had slept with David, the things he had done before she told him to st- she saw them. All around her. The images she saw in her mind flashed like mirages around the pair. Locked together, every recollection she could not stop herself thinking strode boldly, often naked, into a half-reality. And then she felt the heat.
She screamed with him as he lit up, fire racing across his skin like he was doused in oil. He screamed, laughed and howled at once while she thrashed and burned. As he staggered away from her writhing form he left footprints of glass in his white-hot wake. Then he broke down, laughing and weeping, before the pain stole his rationality. A glimpse, a second of her understanding and he had been undone. Behind his twitching form, Ashley stopped moving entirely.
Nicholas would like this new world, this new age. And, through that ecstasy, set it ablaze. That gyspy ***** had bound pleasure and pain into one, but she never gave a thought to just how hot that could get him.
(I feel like Sharron from X Factor before they mucked around and added more judges....)
