Post by Darkender on Jan 23, 2015 6:51:54 GMT
Lady Miras
Alignment: Villain
Team: Solo Villain
Location: Reach Island
Origin:
1902
“There’s nothing I can do for you child.”
“Mother, please!” She could barely hold the tears back as they built a glossy gleam over her hazel-green eyes.
“I am not your mother! You are a daughter of Satan the Devil himself. You have no blood here!” The old woman bellowed, sliding the rest of her children behind her.
The room was idle as the four stood in a horrible silence. She could feel her torn and bleeding heart beating haphazardly in her throat. Her mother’s eyes, confused and full of hate were daunting.
She allowed her gaze to fall to her brothers, who whimpered behind her mother’s strong body. They returned her gaze longingly; their blue eyes said their final goodbyes in silence.
She then reached for the cold door knob, twisted and then pulled.
A cold draft filled the house, almost killing the shuddering flames of the few candles lighting the small cabin. And as the candlelight shuddered, so did her shadow flutter against the ceiling of the cabin. She turned and entered the cold night, but her shadow, it waited an unnoticed moment saying its final goodbyes.
~~~~
The black sky was not benevolent that night as the overcast stifled the moons glorious glow. Its silver rays were faint and cheap, and the mountainous trees were not giving. She fell and tripped upon the foliage roots as it reached up for her bare feet. The cold dirt floor was also unforgiving, scraping and clawing at her every step of the way. Nevertheless, she ran. She ran with all her might because she knew they were coming.
The small glimpses of their torches were becoming ever brighter now.
She pushed through the trees of the forest to a clearing.
There was a small stream and a large stone alongside the tree line. Quickly she ran through the stream and ran for the stone. There she fell beside it and prayed. She prayed hoping it would act as a tower, sending her prayer straight to God himself. She prayed for mercy, she prayed for forgiveness, and she prayed for deliverance. But as amen escaped her pursed lips, they were upon her.
“Don’t do this! Dear God, I beg you!” She begged.
But there was no mercy, there was no deliverance, there was no forgiveness. A great crowd stood before her led by a man known in the region as a ‘Killer of Witches.’ He stood before her and his holy mob; his bald head glistening in the torch lights. He wore black from head to toe and his eyes were forever shadowed by his burly brows. It made his eyes seem almost unapproachable, that which should not be seen.
He looked down upon the girl with disgust, his face turned with hate. She stared back helpless into those deep voids that were his eye sockets.
“God will not come for you, witch.”
They encircled her and slowly closed in or her. He took a torch into his hand and its bright end toward her he pointed.
“Grab her. Tie her up!”
And they did. They quickly erected a stake and covered its base in tinder. Then after stripping her and binding her with rope, they tied her to the stake.
The crowd heckled and chanted, even spitting on the girl. The witch hunter then stepped forward.
“This girl has made dealings with the devil, and the punishment for such atrocity is death by flame. May she burn in hell, where her master so slumbers.”
The holy mob cheered, and the witch hunter nodded to one of his men. They slowly stepped forward with their torches and approached the tinder covered stake.
The flames were bright and they revealed so finely the fear in the young girl’s eyes. It revealed every trembling muscle in her poor face with each step he took with those holy flames.
“No… No, no, no, you can’t…” She mumbled to herself something ineligible. Then in a booming and otherworldly voice, “I won’t let you!”
The flame then jumped off the torch and devoured its bearer.
The great crowd gasped in horror as the flamed swirled around the bearer, burning, no feeding on his flesh like a wild animal would.
“Jesus Christ.” The witch hunter gasped, grabbing the divine symbol that hung from his neck.
“-Is not here!” The young girl said as the rope uncoiled itself and danced about her. She laughed sadistically, controlling the rope and the flame as a puppeteer would its very puppets. She lunged forward and so did the rope, grabbing its victims from the holy mobs and hanging them from the canopy of the mountainous trees.
Above the canopy, the screams of the holy mob barely escaped notice.
Personality:
Little Lovecraft, 1912
“…And just a dab of rosemary my love.” The potent liquid fizzled and popped as the woody herb fell into the boil. She slowly turned the small pot with a wooden spoon. Its odd fragrance emanated through the old walls of the house and sunk deep into its floorboards.
“It smells delicious Madame.” The young blonde said as she inhaled deeply.
“You aren’t the only one that is drawn to the smell darling. This potion is a petition to the spirits.” She said warmly as she stirred, and wafted the fragrance into the air.
“A petition?”
“Why, yes. It tells them that we remember them and that we wish them peace. We don’t want no grumpy spirits now do we?”
“No, Madame.”
Madame Burke smiled warmly into the young girl’s face. She could remember when she had such radiant youth, her power back then. It dwarfed her abilities now. Looking past the young girl, a mirror caught her eye. She detested the sight, the tired face that looked back. Magic could only do so much.
Her silver hair was wrapped into that tired bonnet that she’s had for years. And her dress, oh dear, her dress just made her look like an old hag. Not even black could make her look sliming anymore.
“What’s wrong Madame Burke?”
“Oh, it’s nothing dear, just reliving the golden years.”
“You’re still golden to me Madame. One day, I hope to be a great a witch as you.”
“Oh, dearie, that truly warms my heart. You stick with me and you’ll be the most powerful witch Little old Lovecraft has ever done seen. Now get over her and take a turn stirring.”
She maneuvered past the girl and allowed her to take the spoon. With her back turned, she held her aching hand, ravaged by arthritis. The young girl smirked slyly as she stirred away.
~~~~
“She said it herself, ‘You’ll be the greatest witch Lovecraft has ever seen’. One day, they’ll be begging me to take over the Council.” The little girl spoke in hushed tones across the dark bedroom. Her blankets were pushed aside and she stared dreamily into the high ceilings.
“Tituba, I may even let you be my right hand girl.”
The small black girl laid in a bunk across from her, Tituba’s toned skin was barely visible in the fair light of the moon.
“Oh! What a dream! Marsela, you would really do that for me?” She said turning over to her in bed.
“Why wouldn’t I? With my powers, and your voodoo! We’d be unstoppable.”
“Yeah…”
Marsela turned and looked out onto Lovecraft. Her sight was a rolling mountainous plain. The moon was gracious with its rays that night, allowing even the lowest of the valleys to be seen. It was a peaceful sight, and maybe even humbling to most, but not to Marsela Miras. No, she saw potential. No, she had ambition.
“Oh, I just can’t wait.” She looked at her hands. She could feel the power flowing through her, growing with every day that she took breath.
“…Why do we have to wait?”
Marsela paused, and turned again in her bed to Tituba, all of her attention focused.
“What?”
“Why do we have to wait?”
Tituba sat up in her bed.
“I heard what you said, but what do you mean?”
Tituba laughed, “Now, what if I told you there was a way to skip you to being the most powerful witch in all of Little Lovecraft? You’d be the youngest Council Leader ever.”
“You may be a little voodoo princess, but not even your voodoo can do that.” Marsela sniped back.
“Oh, but who said anything about MY voodoo?”
~~~~
Necromancy (4)
That Saturday Night
The ominous mist was still above the swamp cemetery floor. There was no wind that night, as the world held its breath to watch the cusp of the two girls’ adventure into the depths of the night.
“Are you sure he will come?” Marsela said as they stopped walking. She clutched the bit of rosemary that hung at the end of the necklace beneath her blouse.
The Cemetery was large and sprawled out for at least an acre. In the far most edges of the land it was heavy with overgrown foliage and unabated swampland. Before them was a large willow tree that sat in the middle of Little Love Cemetery. Tituba walked up to the tree and felt its bark.
“He will come, if you call, and if you want him to… if you want him to bad enough.”
You could hear the unsureness in her voice even though she tried to speak with conviction.
“Sit with me.” Tituba said, aligning herself with the tree.
Marsela sat beside her.
“Now close your eyes, and want,” They both closed their eyes, “ -we call for you dark Saturday night in the midst of you revelries, Baron Samedi.”
There passed a moment, another, and yet another.
“This is not working Tituba!” Marsela finally exclaimed in frustration.
“You must not want it.”
“I do want it!”
“What do you want?”
“I want it all!”
The ground shook and the thin leaves of willow blew back and forth, but they had no visitor at that hour.
~~~~
Montague Hill Mansion, Later that night
Madame Burke arose suddenly in her bed. Her silver hair bound in black silk, and her eyes covered with a night cap.
“Who dares disturb Madame Burke?”
“My deepest apologies Madame, I had no intentions of rousing you from your rest.”
The dark figure leaned awkwardly in the shadows against his cane; the only light coming from the fiery cigar that he held to his pursed lips. As he puffed, the dark smoke from the cigar rose to the ceiling with no hope of escaping to the heavens. But that red flame at the end of his cigar casted just enough light to reveal his painted face, and his black top hat. His eyes were sunken into his skull like a skeleton, and his teeth were white as bone.
His sunken eyes met the old and determined eyes of Madame Burke.
“I didn’t summon you spirit.”
“This is true, but yet here I am-” He said with a smile, the dry white paint cracking against his skin. “I am but a beast to the call, and unfortunately the call has me here… with you.”
Madame Burke extended her hand and her bed recoiled against the wall as her energy force washed over the Baron, but he doesn’t flinch; merely his top hat falls to the floor.
Madame trembled as her hand slowly fell back to the bed. The Baron slowly knelt to pick up his hat and took a long pull of the cigar.
“That was just rude. Now don’t tarry I do have a ball to attend.”
Body Vampire (8)
Montague Hill Mansion, Present Day
She could almost see her body withering away in her reflection. The youth that once was, was being eaten away by age at a quicker and quicker rate. Even the souls of the young were not sating the cravings of Father Time.
A sulking shell of what used to be a missing Reach University Student sat in the corner.
“You look beautiful mother.”
Mark was behind her, holding her jacket in hand, his jet black hair covering half of his face. She wiped a smudge of lipstick from the corner of her mouth.
“Oh, I know darling. Here, bring me my coat.”
He brought it to her and held it as she placed in one arm after another.
“Have you and your brother set everything in place?”
“Yes mother.”
“What good boys you are,” She said touching his face, “Now go, you know what to do.”
Telekinesis (14) + Ranged and Area Effect (16)
Citadel Hall: South Quadrant HQ, Reach City
Lady Miras watched the pristine building from afar. It’s green lawn stretched out about 30 yards from the white building on all sides and the fence stood 12 feet tall. The Lady knew that at this hour was the thinnest cover for Aegis. They only had three active members on duty in the building and the only supervisor on the premises was Captain Wham.
She watched the whisking clouds move carelessly about the blue sky, she smiled knowing that soon the ground would be a wet with a crimson red. It was then that the ground shook, with a loud KABOOM in the distance. She could see the smoke pillar rising into the air and almost on command an alarm could be heard within the Citadel. She smirked.
“Good boys.”
The Lady stalked forward, extending her hands, and the iron gates bent against her will. The ground then shook subtly as the arms of the undead clawed its way onto the green lawn.
Another alarm blared along with a monotone warning.
This is a warning. Stop where you are or you will be fired upon.
Only seconds later did the bullets start raining down, bouncing away on inches from her face.
---
The double doors fly open to the large hall; Lady Miras slowly walks in with her small army of undead in tow. Within the hall, the alarms blare and there stands a hulk of a man, Captain Wham.
“Oh you must be just out of your skull Missy?” He said taking heavy steps forward.
“You have something of mine and I’ve come to retrieve it.”
“I’m afraid you’ll be leaving empty handed today, ma’am. Here comes the Whaaaam!”
Captain Wham launches himself forward and, almost too slow to react; Lady Miras throws up her hands. Wham comes down with thunderous impact, his two fists slamming against an invisible wall between the duos. The concrete beneath The Lady cracks as a sweat breaks out on her forehead. Wham continues to lay haymakers into the shield.
“My children,” The Lady calls.
The horde, one after another, latch onto the Captain dragging him to the floor.
He bellows as he punches and whams one after another, but it is only replaced by yet another.
Lady Miras wipes her brow as she lifts off into the dark halls.
Fire (22)
Beneath The Citadel
The red emergency lights filled the corridors. The sounds of the alarms were much fainter now as she approached the security wing.
The safe was huge, taking up most of the high rising wall. She knelt down to the pad and traced her hand along the number pad.
“Six… four… seven… one…” She began as she typed in the large sequence code.
Error Code Incorrect, it read.
She dried her hands against her black cloak and tried again, but before she finish the ceiling falls in. The rubble fall and the dust flies into the air, leaving only a moment a silence. Captain wham roars as blood soaked fist flies out of the debris. Lady Miras tries to sidestep the strike but it grazes her shoulder sending her spiraling.
“Tell me. Who told you the security codes? Who’s the rat? Tell me so I can WHAM ‘em myself.”
Lady lifted herself to her feet telekinetically. She watched as the behemoth of a man stalked towards her covered in her little monsters’ blood. She spit to the floor.
“Fuck you.”
He hurdles himself towards her and she spews a torrent of flames from her fingertips. He’s halted in his tracks as if by a strong current of winds. He tries to take a step forward, but the flames only get hotter. He howls as the flames encircle him, and there is less and less air to breathe. She steps forward, her eyes deranged in the light of the flames.
----
The heroes rushed into the room as Captain Wham simmered lightly, with wisps of smoke still leaving escaping his hot skin.
“What the hell happened here?”
“He’s still alive! Someone get help!”
The young heroes looked at each other and then to the large hole melted through the vault.
Intellect Superior (24)
Montague Hill Mansion, Later that night
The fireplace crackled quietly as Mark placed the cold drink into Lady Miras’ hand. She sat cozy in her lounge chair before the fire. In the corner, the Baron stood facing the window.
The golden medallion fit into his boney hand almost too perfectly. He admired it for only a second before his smile fell flat. He turned.
“The gem. It is missing.” He showed her and it was.
Lady Miras sipped from her glass of whiskey, and winced as she readjusted her slung arm.
“The deal was I brought you the medallion. There you have it. You said nothing of a gem.”
“THERE IS NO DEAL UNLESS I SAY THERE IS,” The flames from the fireplace soared, scorching its stone face only from his powerful tone. He settled himself, adjusting his velvet bowtie before he continued. “The medallion is useless to me without the gem. You must return and retrieve it.”
“There is no going back now. Aegis is on high alert.”
The Baron smiled, his bone white teeth bared.
“I told you many years ago that I would call upon you to pay back for your favor, and here I am. Trust me, Marsela, you do not want to default on this payment.”
Lady Miras shifted in her seat. “Grant me one more wish, Baron Samedi.”
“You have nothing left to bargain.”
“Ah, but I do.”
Baron stepped forward into the light with interest.
“And what is your wish child?”
“Immortality. I want to live forever.”
The Baron laughed, “Forever is a long lonely time child, but perhaps we can work out a deal.”
