Tacheonomicon

Tacheon Alexander Black

Vylanos Dimitrii Black

Vanessa Ricardi Tresco

Gemini Sciences Experimental Prototype 4815162342:
Codename Nanoculture

Camilla Arabella deRiveur

Name: Tacheon Alexander Black (That's Mr. Black to you)

Age: Three deca-cycles and four (34 years of age) since created, Four deca-cycles and seven (47 years of age) since project began

Race: Human (From planet Tiberius)

Sex: Male

Hair: Chin-length, jet-black hair, generally pulled back behind the ears but not secured.

Eyes: Hazel (constantly shifting, depending on mood rather than color of surroundings)

Weight: One hundred sixty-five pounds (165 lbs.)

Height: Six foot One (6'1")

Strengths: A true God of War. Many, many years of battle experience in both combat and tactical reconaissance. Due to his use of Atrionic manipulation (see below, under bio, this one's a long read), his speed and recovery rate are well above normal. His raw strength and defense itself isn't that high, because his recovery rate and cunning doesn't require it. And he has an amazing amount of stamina.

Weakness: He holds back on women and children. The back of his head is his Achilles' heel. One good skull-penetrating blow will knock him... dead? Mortal? Whatever. He isn't invincible... um, ah-- see the bio for more information. It's confusing to explain.
He's easy to defeat if you manage to destroy his... brain...

Skills/Magic: Atrionic manipulation, weapons expertise, super-human speed and reflex

Appearance: Tacheon is a man who knows how to dress. He generally doesn't vary much in what he wears. Sometimes, it's a black sweater with black jeans and Japanese-style slippers, sometimes it's an admiral's uniform adorned with war-medals and the insignia of the Rebel Navy, and sometimes it's just jeans, a t-shirt, and a greaser's jacket. He always stands tall, never slouching or leaning against the wall. Tacheon always stands on the balls of his feet (hehe, I said balls, get over it), a habit he picked up from his days as an assassin. When he walks, it seems as though he glides from one area to another, making no real movement with his upper body. He is white, although his skin is slightly tanned, but not the super-tan that some people find attractive, more of a slightly-toasted color. The only blemishes on his skin are a small, hairline scar slicing vertically down under his right eye, and a barcode and ID number on his upper forearm. He usually walks empty-handed.

Personality: Tacheon is a sado-masochist. He both enjoys the exhilaration and rush of adrenaline from pain, and the similar rush from inflicting it. When he gets into a tussle, the apprehension is lost and he enters a blood-frenzy, doing anything within reason to decimate the enemy's morale and then going for the kill. He likes to prolong people's suffering. When he's not fighting, however, he is a very rational, methodical man. He is the type to always kick his tires before he leaves. He is overly cautious of traps, and will always try to negotiate before getting into conflict. He is not easily angered. Despite his violent bursts, he's more of a lover than a fighter.

Biography:
Tacheon's origins are a mystery, even to himself. Some say that he is a child of science, others that he is a deity, long-forgotten and stripped of his powers, and others still believe that he is simply a man given the power to right the wrongs of so many others in the world...


Excerpt from The Protectors (although abridged and edited to give nothing away): 'The daunting walls of Fort Tiberius loomed over Tacheon Alexander Black. Pipe organ music could be vaguely discerned through the wide-open doors of the gates, and a chorus of wildlife from the surrounding forest chimed in to form a manner of complex, but beautiful, harmonies. Tacheon would have none of it. He strode through the gates. Vanessa Ricardi Tresco and Jacen Velvadir Tresco escorted him on either side, and the two of them nearly lost their feet when they entered the Fortress, for the first time realizing how sheerly massive it was.

"Can you hear me, Vylanos?" Tacheon roared. The stained glass adorning the entrance hall rattled with his timbre, and outside a massive migration of all sorts of winged beasts added to the cacophony of echoes in the Fort. The organ music stopped.

All at once, a blinding flash filled the air. Vanessa screamed, but Jacen and Tacheon remained silent. And then all was silent.

----------time passes---------

Tacheon rose and grasped at his head. He felt as though he had died. He reached for Elanore, but she wasn't there. He tried opening his eyes. The hot desert sun scorched his vision, but he managed to discern an object on the ground that turned out to be Elanore. He reached for her, and used her to pull himself up. He stared around, trying to gather his bearings. He appeared to be in a ruins of some sort, but of what he couldn't tell. He picked a direction, and started walking. He would find home, somewhere.'

Allies: None (save for possibly Kartaikian Syriax Stormcloud)

Enemies: Vylanos Dimitrii Black (brother)

Atrionic Manipulation: After five years of research, Tacheon discovered something rather interesting. There is no such thing as nothing. Even at the smallest level, the space between atoms was occupied by something, a four-dimensional sheet of sub-matter known as Atrion. With several more months of practice, he was soon able to manipulate Atrion in such a way as to form anything he wanted as long as he knew the exact structure of it down to the chemical composition. He cannot form anything larger than a car, although what he can make he does with such precision that he could use it for any task it is suited for. One of the products of Atrionic reactions is free energy, so no energy is lost during the reactions. He never gets exhausted.

Normally, the part of the brain that allows Atrionic manipulation is transferred into space for memory mere moments after birth. However, due to special adjustments to the genome thanks to the Gemini project, that part of the brain was never lost. Both he and his brother retain the ability to manipulate Atrion. The part of the brain needed for this delicate process lies in the back of the brain, and if it is disrupted at all the ability to manipulate Atrion is lost, essentially making them a normal person with nothing special about them (ergo, he loses that part of the brain, he's mortal and is killable with ease). Otherwise, and other part of the body, including the brain, regenerates rapidly until they either choose to stop the healing process, or they lose the ability to manipulate Atrion.

Name: Vylanos Black
Age: Three deca-cycles and four (34 years of age) since created, Four deca-cycles and seven (47 years of age) since project began

Race: Human (From planet Tiberius)

Sex: Male

Hair: Dirty blonde hair, mullet-style, usually drawn back with ponytail

Eyes: Blue with speckles of white

Weight: One hundred ninety pounds (190 lbs.)

Height: Five foot eleven (5'11")

Strengths: The more berserk of the two halves to the Gemini project. He, like Tacheon, is blessed with the power of Atrionic manipulation.

Weakness: Due to a critical error during the final phase of his creation, Vylanos' head is totally succeptible to any sort of trauma as a normal human's. That's the only part of him that can be really permanently damaged. Also, sometimes he is consumed by bloodlust and will rush into any conflict head-on without any concern with his safety whatsoever.

Skills/Magic: Atrionic manipulation, deductive reasoning, deception

Appearance: Standing at the height of five and ten, Vylanos Black is a more normal-looking person than his brother-- at first glance. Due to extensive scarring along his abdomen and lower back, his body is plastered with tattoos to cover them up. They don't only cover his lower half, however, and they practically darken his entire skin tone with the sheer amount.

His tattoos are of all sorts of different archetypical symbols, such as pentacles, athames, chalices, and wands, along with other, more modern symbols of war and ranking. He almost never leaves the privacy of his home without Aviator sunglasses covering his blue-and-white eyes, and a full-length black cloak covering up his black shirt and pants (with silver trim). He always carries with him a .44 Magnum and a katana (one of a matching set, his brother carrying the other).

Personality: Vylanos isn't a good person to meet in a dark alley. In fact, he's not much of a good person to meet at all. Sure, he's trustworthy if you're one of his few allies, but he's a ruthless killer and is called upon whenever someone needs to be destroyed with extreme prejudice. He likes to inflict pain, but will recieve with equal pleasure. He, unlike his brother, fears death rather than seeks for it.

Biography:
Vylanos Dimitrii Black, like his brother, in unaware of his origins. Women tell their children that he is a servant of death (or death Himself, depending on the location) to warn them from playing outside or talking to strangers. There is no one explanation of who he truly is, or where he comes from (other than planet Tiberius), and he loathes this fact. He travels far and wide, attempting not only to find his brother, but to learn the truth of his past.

Excerpt from the Protectors (although abridged and edited to give nothing away): 'Vylanos churned out fugue after fugue on the pipe organ in the citadel of Fort Tiberius, but still no inspiration came. Camilla worked tirelessly to be sure that every need of Vylanos' was met, but still no validation came. She loved him, and he knew it, but he had far too many things on his mind to worry about such trite matters. The Force Point in the depths of the fortress groaned anxiously, warning them constantly of the imminent danger that a siege would present. The fortress had not been kept in optimal condition, which would've been impossible to maintain anyhow seeing as how there were approximately two hundred people to run this small city.

Blood. Blood everywhere. Camilla noticed it after she had walked into Vylanos' room early one morning to fix his sheets and give him his breakfast. He couldn't have been coughing, as it wasn't near his mouth-- instead, it was radiating from the center of his sheets as though he was stabbed. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw what had caused it: every single scar on his body had broken into a gaping wound, essentially eviscerating him overnight. Vylanos looked into her eyes.

"The Force Point..." he muttered, his breathing labored.

"Yes?" She urged him, motioning with a free hand to continue, "What about it?"

"The power... is corrupted..." he groaned, and blood began to pour out of his mouth now. The entire fortress began to creak and moan as its foundations tore themselves apart, without any warning. The Force Point wailed over all else, a band of widows mourning their losses. Then, a flash of white, drowning out both sound and sight.

-------------------------------------------

Vylanos awoke and grasped desperately for his chest, attempting to stop the blood from coming... but none was there. His scars were as before, and he didn't have that metallic taste in his mouth. The maid in his room, stationed conveniently above the bar, was busying herself with dusting and picking up his trash. He rose to his feet, and at first he felt the base pedals of an organ-- but only for a moment. When he looked down, he saw only bare wooden floor. He looked the maid up and down, but thought better of harassing her. He went down to the bar, and hoped to God he could find a good fight.'

(sorry about the quality and relevance of the excerpt, not being able to give anything away really narrows down the selection variety-- and compromises the quality greatly.)

Allies: None

Enemies: Tacheon Alexander Black, anyone who crosses his path (and possibly Kartaikian Syriax Stormcloud)

Atrion: There is no such thing as nothing. Even at the smallest level, the space between atoms was occupied by something, a four-dimensional sheet of sub-matter known as Atrion. With several more months of practice, he was soon able to manipulate Atrion in such a way as to form anything he wanted as long as he knew the exact structure of it down to the chemical composition. He cannot form anything larger than a breadbox, although what he can make he does with such precision that he could use it for any task it is suited for. One of the products of Atrionic reactions is free energy, so no energy is lost during the reactions. He never gets exhausted.

Normally, the part of the brain that allows Atrionic manipulation is transferred into space for memory mere moments after birth. However, due to special adjustments to the genome thanks to the Gemini project, that part of the brain was never lost. Both he and his brother retain the ability to manipulate Atrion. The part of the brain needed for this delicate process lies in the back of the brain, and if it is disrupted at all the ability to manipulate Atrion is lost, essentially making them a normal person with nothing special about them (ergo, he loses that part of the brain, he's mortal and is killable with ease). Otherwise, and other part of the body, including the brain, regenerates rapidly until they either choose to stop the healing process, or they lose the ability to manipulate Atrion.

Name: Vanessa Ricardi Tresco

Age: 29 and holding, thank you very much.

Race: Human

Sex: Female

Hair: Raven black

Eyes: Azure seas with aurous sparks

Weight: 138lbs., 4oz.

Height: 5'9"

Weapon: Nothing (and everything) [psychokinesis]

Strengths: Vanessa can fire any weapon with dead accuracy, thanks to years of living in a military outfit only a few hundred miles away from where her hometown used to be. Thanks to the very same outfit, she also has survival skills and can live off of very few supplies for several weeks. However, she is still a lady, and as such has that certain something that manages to entrance and enthrall members of the opposite sex (or some of the same sex, of course)to see and do things her way. Her quick wit allows her to escape unharmed from any situation she manages to get herself into. Her telekinetic abilities let her move and object with her mind that she could lift with her body, and swing said objects with massive force. She's a polyglot, speaking languages such as English, Russian, Esperanto, Klingon, Hebrew, German, Latin, Spanish, Pig Latin and binary. She can hold her liquor.

Weakness: Vanessa has nothing terribly special about her. she may be drop-dead gorgeous, but she's still completely human. She makes mistakes often, miscalculating her actions, saying terribly stupid things, and overthinking her actions-- acting almost as an afterthought. Personality aside, she was also born with a slight defect: Her legs will cramp up to the point of immobility after even a minute of constant running, and she cannot lift anything much heavier than a box of records (about 150lb.). She is also terribly afraid of heights, fire, and drowning. Vanessa's telekinetic abilities are limited. She can only lift objects with her mind that she could lift with her own arms, which isn't much seeing as she has a moderately fragile frame. She can only move things, as well. She cannot make objects incinerate, she cannot cause things to explode spontaneously, and she can't move anything more than twenty five feet away from her.

Appearance: Heads turn when Vanessa Ricardi Tresco walks into a room. Whether she's wearing the simple corset and chemise of her hometown, the ballroom gowns (acquired illegally) that give her so much attention at social events, or the cerulean traveler's cloak that makes her eyes stand out like galaxies of water in nigh-impenetrable darkness, there is no denying the fact that she's impossibly beautiful. Many men have died to protect her, thinking her to be some princess or other royalty (which she most definitely is not), and some have wasted their entire lives composing shallow poetry, trying to describe what they cannot attain. Her slender figure is accented by her full hips, breasts, and buttocks. She walks with dignity, and speaks with utmost propriety. Her chin is small and angular, and compliments her slender face nicely. Her flushed cheeks have tiny dimples when she smiles, and her eyebrows are so fine they could've been drawn with a pen-- but they're not, of course.

Personality: Never worry. That's Vanessa's motto. Whenever possible, she is calm, cool, and collected. If she makes a mistake, she tries to act as casual as possible, even going so far as to deny it ever happened. However, she does love to flirt, and sometimes she lets it get the best of her. She hates to fall in love, but sometimes she can't help it. She's ruthless and determined, and doesn't let many things get in her way... but handles obstacles while keeping her eye on the prize. She believes that the end justifies the means, but still has a strong value for human life and feels that she is a moral person.

Biography: The attack began at dawn. Vanessa awoke instantly at the sound of trebuchet hinges churning, and was already hiding under her father's heavy wooden desk by the time the first ball of Greek Fire made contact with her neighbor's house. The screaming started soon thereafter. The hordes of savages, driven insane by some unknown compound in the drinking water and almost completely reset in terms of technology, had always left her hometown well alone before... but for some reason, on this fateful day, they decided to go on a rampage. When the screams had all but faded, Vanessa peered out from under the desk to see her father and mother being brutalized by three thuggish men. As she watched in horror, one of them turned and saw her. Hastily, she scrambled for the desk again, but she wasn't fast enough. She felt the man's firm grasp on the back of her tunic, but then it went limp. She turned to see that the arm had been cloven off by the gleaming blade of a katana. A man with black hair and a scar over his right eye extended his own hand toward her, and she took it. When she arose, he smiled gently and walked off to protect the others. She had never seen him before, and he didn't stay after that morning.

That was the earliest memory Vanessa has, and even then there are several years after that event that she can't remember, no matter how deep into her own mind she delves. She was seven years old at the time.

After that gap she can't remember, she spent several years living with the Tiberius Global Defensive Forces, training with them. She eventually got used to the looks she would get from everyone (being a girl in a man's world and all that prejudiced jazz), and managed to earn herself the title of 'survivalist'. The training was grueling, working off of only four hours of sleep a night. Every morning, they would run five miles to a resupply depot, pick up food and armaments, and run back to camp. She was trained in martial combat (none of the training stuck, though), marksmanship, survival techniques, and how to eat dehydrated meals without throwing up She received top marks in everything she attempted.. She departed, being no longer interested in such petty training, and the outpost's commander looked disappointed to see her go.

She started to travel as far as she could, visiting many planets in many galaxies. The vastness of it all captivated her, but at the same time it sickened her in a way; by her logic, that many planets means tenfold that many jihads, genocides, wars, all countless other smaller injustices. She decided that she would take matters into her own hands, ridding this plane once and for all of those who would do harm.

It was after she had made her choice that she became entangled with the likes of Tacheon and Vylanos.

When she stumbled upon Tacheon upon returning to Tiberius, she realized that she had found who she was looking for all along: The man with the scar on his eye. The kind stranger who had saved her as a child, and then left without a word. After Vanessa began to beg for him to teach her some way to go about her business more effectively, some way to smite the wicked and protect herself if need be, Tacheon conceded to teaching her how to harness the full capability of her mind. He would deprive her of her senses for days at a time, not giving her food or drink except for what she could find by feeling around. Then, he started to take away even her sense of touch by enshrouding her in a thick suit. He taught her to visualize what it was that she needed at that very moment, focus on it with all her being, and to not only want it to be within her reach, but to actually know it's within her reach. As he started to return her to her senses, it became increasingly easier for her to move things just with sheer willpower alone. When she finally reached the point where she could explode a glass jar just by looking at it, Tacheon sent her back out into the world, urging her to continue on her quest of ridding the world of malice and cruelty.

And now, she searches.

DISCONTINUED CURRENTLY(and impossible to read)

Name: Gemini Sciences Experimental Prototype number 5280: Codename "Nanoculture"

Age: Approximately one day old as of its approval.

Race: Sentient War-based Autonomous Robotic Microprocessor (SWARM)

Sex: Gender-neutral.

Hair: n/a

Eyes: Single ocular aperture (186624 pixels/inch) has a surrounding ring that, when neutral, emits a soft orange color. Upon provocation of any sort, however, the color quickly switches to a bright pink, which darkens as it locks onto its target. It has other modes, described in the "appearance" section below.

Weight: Total mass of unit is equal to seventy pounds. Each bot in the swarm weighs approximately 1/10,000th of an ounce, that's about 11,200,000 nanobots.

Height: When in basic form, approximately 1.5m in diameter (.75m in radius), with a volume of approximately 1.77m^3). All other forms variable.

Weapons:

ONE integrated ballistic (that's non-guided in any way) artillery launcher (unit has to salvage goods from industrial sites to prepare a half-decent attack, not really going to be used much)

ONE integrated CORE-standard plasma cell armgun (RoF - 5 shots per second) with two red plasma cells on-hand (CORE definition of RED plasma: Favored by many for its destructive properties, red plasma has the explosiveness of white plasma, but burns with intense heat. The plasma will ignite anything it touches, and cause serious burns. Be careful not to accidentally start any fires. One cell holds about 10,000 shots, which will last between 30 to 60 minutes of continuous fire. Be very warned, however, as red plasma is extremely hot. 50 continuous shots will overheat your weapon, and could cause permanent damage to your weapon)

ONE integrated Mass Propulsor. A Gemini Sciences wonder, the Mass Propulsor is a chaingun that can fire up to five hundred rounds without overheating. There is no possibility for running out of ammunition as the source for the Mass Propulsor ammo is Nanoculture itself. It condenses chunks of nanobots into projectiles and fires them off, where they zoom back to the main chassis after a brief shock period (approx. 10-15 seconds)

Armor: The chassis of Nanoculture is made to be top-quality warfare equipment. When up against anticipated shots, Nanoculture can predict flight trajectories and firing speed to time a perfect "evasion" of the shot-- it simply moves the would-be affected nanobots out of the way of the shot. When up against sudden shots, it immediately condenses itself to a third of its size (.5m in diameter, .25m in radius). This forces its nanobots closer together, so that the shot is less likely to damage interior processes. However, this also disables the magnetic repulsorlift technology, forcing Nanoculture to alter its flightpath to an immediate downward trajectory (read, fall). Blasts and other assaults of significant impact will eventually begin to kill the palisade nanobots, leaving the interior (flimsy) ones open to attack... until Nanoculture regenerates the palisade layer.

Strengths: Nanoculture is a semi-organic computer. It is capable of rational thought and can calculate trajectories, landing vectors and velocities down to the trillionths. Its decent arsenal, combined with its exceptional armor, make it a force to be reckoned with. It is made for war. It is good at war. It watches. It records. It predicts. It learns.

Weakness: As with all prototypes, it's bugged. It's prone to irrational and non-self-preserving behavior. Its gyroscopic sensor can be sent reeling after even only bone-breaking impact, causing its shots and motions to be erratic. It also tries to learn when it should be killing, and vise-versa. It seems like it is permanently stuck in "witty banter" mode, as it tries to determine the best taunts for the best occasions. Another problem correlating to the gyroscope is that for some reason, about one hostile attack in ten will not register on its radar, causing it to not react and prepare in time. It has realized this and has, as such, learned to avoid prolonged exposure to the enemy, but it's still a dangerously exploitable malfunction.

Appearance: Nanoculture is, at rest, a pitch black carpet of varying length, width and thickness. It has the texture of black metal, probably because it is black metal.

When it is online, it is a black sphere, about four feet in diameter, and has multiple modes. These modes are determined by the colors radiating from its "iris" around the aperture. Orange is the 'normal' mode. It is at east and disinterested with almost everything around it. Blue is the 'learning' mode. It is taking in as much information as possible. Pink/red is 'encounter' mode. Nanoculture's motto would be "shoot first, ask questions later". The darker the shade of pink/red, the closer the target is to the reticule. A color of blood means that Nanoculture has locked on and is about to fire. Yellow is 'error' mode. Something is wrong. It will attempt to find shelter and repair the situation. White is debug mode. Critical processes running only. It has found shelter, and is attempting to repair itself.

Personality: Nanoculture is like a baby. It will begin by assembling basic words and phrases (along with the few it came installed with) and learning reactions. It has no personality as of yet. Will update as it comes along, methinks.

Biography:

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A Brief History

The founder of Gemini Sciences remains anonymous to this day. It is first and foremost a medical and pharmaceutical development company, but there are many, many parts of the company whose products are not made for the consumption of the general public. The primary one on this list by anyone's standards would be the WR&D, or Wartime Research and Development department. The Gemini Sciences WR&D is responsible for many lucrative projects, such as the Global Rocketry Integration Database (GRID) that made worldwide nuclear defense possible for independent planets and systems and the Humanoid Upgradeable Non-Traceable Robot (HUNTR) perfect for reconnaissance and assassinations too risky for actual humans to perform. The most recent development by Gemini Sciences, however, is expected to revolutionize warfare today.

The Sentient War-based Autonomous Robotic Microprocessor (SWARM) began as a simple swarm of nanobots that would be used for reconnaissance purposes thanks to their small size, but the idea never left the drawing board before being completely redone. Eventually, the Developmental Committee set aside the SWARM program, since they already had a reconnaissance unit that was making them trillions as it was. However, as they were working on another project that could assimilate foreign technology, the idea to combine all their technology into one project came up. It was initiated instantly, and thus the Gemini Sciences SWARM project began.

After countless failed experiments, the newest model rolled off the assembly line and into the hearts of the Gemini Sciences WR&D. It was immediately dispatched for its free-range Beta testing.

Also, all credit for the CORE weaponry goes to Lysis.

Name: Camilla Arabella deRiveur

Age: Undetermined

Gender: Female

Species: Human, with the wings of a bat.

Hair: Straight black, down to ears

Eye Color: No pupils or coloring, only white

Weight: 112lbs

Height: 6'5" tall, wingspan is, from tip to tip, 24'4".

Weapon: Throwing knives, necromantic sludge (essentially a toxic ooze that can be pulled from the earth), legions of the undead (a bunch of undead minions. There is no limit to the amount that she can summon, but the power is distributed evenly among them. As in, one super-powered minion, two powerful minions, six normally powered minions, etc.). The power level shared by her minions is approximately twice that of Camilla's own strength, enabling the strongest one minion to lift between 200-250 lbs.

Armor: Leather binding around her torso to hide her wings, but also to protect against bruising and minor stab wounds/arrows

Items: Necromantic tome (a book of necromantic spells), bottle of absinthe (super-potent alcohol made from monkshood, for trance purposes), makeup (to look pretty)

Magic: Necromancy, the magic of summoning and communicating with the dead.

Skills: Aside from her adept use of necromantic magic, Camilla Arabella deRiveur can fly. Yes, fly. Her leathery wings-- like those of a bat, enable her to carry her own weight enough to fly. When they're not bound, of course.

Strengths: For a woman, she's rather strong-- but not inhumanly so. She can fly, which is good for getting her out of tight situations. Her necromantic powers can help her to defend herself as well as attack and receive intelligence from beyond the grave. She's rather intelligent, and can think quickly but efficiently.

Weaknesses: Camilla cannot fly very far. Although she was born with those 'Brands of Satan' on her back, she never got much practice with them and, as such, only uses them in emergencies. Her quick thinking tends to backfire from time to time, and she makes rash decisions that can totally screw her over in the long run. She can run quickly, but loses her balance easily when her wings aren't bound. She has no training with any weapons other than her throwing knives. Her wings are also extremely tender and, if hit, can throw off her flight pattern entirely or render her unconscious.

Appearance: Camilla is frighteningly tall. At her full height, she stands at six feet, five inches, and her wingspan is, from tip to tip, twenty-four feet, four inches. She weighs only one hundred twelve pounds, though, not including whatever she happens to be wearing at the time, which can easily add another twenty pounds or so. Camilla is attractive and seductive, but not nearly as gorgeous as her rival, Vanessa Ricardi Tresco. Her hair is nothing special, but it does shine rather nicely in the right light. Her breasts are not large, nor is her posterior, but they are not nonexistent, and actually have a pleasing shape to the eye. Her wings are massive and have a leathery quality to them, like that of a bat. They are black with a slight silvery sheen to them in the right light.

Her eyes cause quite a commotion, being purely white, but her vision is perfect. She blinks just the same as normal people. When she goes out in public once in a blue moon, she likes to dress up so as not to cause a stir. Her wings fold nicely so that when they are bound with leather around her torso, they won't be noticed if no one looks too hard. She wears a long cloak, pitch black, and knee-high boots. She wears nothing under the cloak save for the leather, which doesn't cover much.

Personality: Camilla thinks quickly. She prides herself on this, and despises herself for it as well. While it has saved her skin in many situations, it also makes it impossible for her to control herself. She practically lives from one impulse to the next. Because of this, she also periodically goes through times of self-loathing, during which she is willing to die for something if it seems worthy enough. Otherwise, she would only ever risk her life for one person: Vylanos Dimitrii Black. Her love for him keeps her alive when she isn't busy hating herself. She follows his orders blindly, and would gladly kill or be killed at his command. She has no fear of killing, because she was always raised around the dead. She usually fears dying herself, though.

Her attachment to her undead minions is a strange one. The second that she summons for one, she develops an immediate attachment to it, naming it and caring for it. When they are sent back to the River where they came from, she laments their second passing. Camilla has no strong likes, other than being with Vylanos, and no strong dislikes, other than Vanessa. She does whatever pleases her, which is just about anything. She loves pain, and will take blows purposefully just to feel the stinging radiate throughout her body.

Camilla has, over time, accepted that she and Vylanos are just too far apart. She still lives and breathes for him, but she isn't afraid to start other relationships on the side. Those relationships aren't about love or cuddling, though. More likely just making out in underwear and power. Well, maybe some cuddling.

Bio: When Camilla was born in a small settlement on the bank of the river Plobus, a small riot ensued. Fathers and mothers, concerned for themselves and their family's well-being, insisted that she be drowned in the river immediately. The reason was that Camilla Arabella deRiveur was a freak. Plain and simple. In place of pupils and coloring, Camilla had only more vast whiteness in her eyes. On her back were two small nubs that everyone knew, from the moment they set eyes on them, were wings. Refusing to euthanize her only child, Daniella deRiveur opted instead to travel to an old house on a hill, owned by a man everyone in the settlement knew only as The Hermit.

The Hermit said that he would take care of this poor child of misfortune, and refused any kind of compensation for it.

"If I don't take care of her, who will?" he had said. Thus, Camilla grew up under the tutelage of Vylanos Dimitrii Black. They got along swimmingly, and Vylanos devoted his full attention to her, as there was not much else to care about when one is a reclusive sociopath. He taught her a special trick of his, how to throw knives with dead accuracy, and even fashioned a leather bind for her wings (which had by the time she was seven already grown to be fifteen feet long), so that when the time came and she was ready to deal with others, she would go out on her own.

Her favorite game to play with Vylanos was chess, but she loved any game that would challenge her massive intelligence. She learned very quickly, and thought quickly as well. However, Vylanos would always beat her. She asked him why she always lost, and one day her pulled her aside and said,

"Camilla, you think very quickly, but you do not always think correctly. Instead of making a logical choice, you will instead think of the immediate future, forsaking your long-term moves." She never did manage to change that.

One day, Vylanos bid Camilla farewell and headed off, supposedly into town. When he did not return for several days, she began to worry frantically. She had never been apart from him this long. A few hours before she had promised herself that she would go out and find him, however, he returned. Vylanos urged her to get what she needed in order to move to a new location, and then led her through some strange surroundings. Through mire, through mountain, they seemed to trek forever. Vylanos reached the top of a hill and said, "We're here." When Camilla reached the top, she saw what he meant: a massive fortress crowned the next hilltop.

Many years had since passed, and Camilla and Vylanos lived contentedly in Fort Tiberius. When Camilla finally learned that she was not, indeed, Vylanos' true daughter, she nearly lept for joy. Vylanos did not understand why, but Camilla knew, in her heart, that she did not think of him as a father anymore. She was in love with him. She even made the mistake of telling him once. Ever since, Vylanos has become cold and detached, still trying to seem as father-like as possible without betraying any emotion toward her. He was prone to wild outbreaks and would even lash out at her sometimes, without realizing it. He was always sincerely sorry afterward, though.

Camilla has been quieter and reserved ever since... but is still willing to follow him to the ends of the earth.