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First and foremost Lilac is a healer of sorts. She has studied countless tomes and honed her craft for the better part of a century so therefore her healing magic has become quite potent. Lilac in her time as healer has created a variety of means to treat symptoms and alleviate pain. Most often when someone is injured Lilac will place a variety of medicinal herb and roots into her mouth and chew them up a bit. After grinding them up with her teeth, she then adds Sillage to turn the ingredients into a mist. She has dubbed the mist “Steam”. Inhaling Steam treats most minor cuts, scrapes or bruises. More complex healing like regenerating limbs or bones, involves incantations and regents that are more potent. This means that to heal grievous injuries she will require time and access to medical supplies. Despite her lack of training in combat medical services, she can effective at providing a wide assortment treatments due to her knowledge of anatomy, botanty, and alchemy.
If required to do battle Lilac seeks to end conflict quickly causing as little harm to her foe and herself as possible. Her combative magic is pretty limited due to a lack of focus in this area. Botany is useful in her mending arts, this made it and obvious choice for Lilac to study this field. Botanical spells used for offense and evasion tend to focus on creating wild flurries of petals and pollen. The petals obscure vision and the pollen seeks to irritate and inflame the eyes and nostrils of those who breathe it in. Lilac’s most common defensive tactic is create a bloom of petals and pollen and then use a limited teleportation spell to move a few feet away from her attacker. If pressed and she is required to attack, she uses her Sillage to cause bubs to sprout from the ground and bellow harsh allergens. She is not above creating spheres of compacted Sillage filled with pollen and petals which travel a certain distance and then explode. These explosions are not particularly powerful. Only really enough to nock a man off his feet or cause some one further away from the blast to stumble. It is possible for the mage to sprout vines and pull roots up out of the earth, but she must be near trees to pull the roots up. She is also found of chewing various herbs and once they are reduced to a fine paste, adding Sillage to create a Steam variant she can exhale that causes victims to become lethargic and deeply intoxicated. This variant has very little to no reparative value, but can act as a strong pain reliever.
Lilac is functionally immortal, due to being remade into the sin of Lust. The fiend no longer ages, and can come back from death one week after being killed, not that she has ever tested this. The process of remaking her by Lucifer has strengthened her body. She first and foremost granted her youth everlasting. Second the god fortified her body making her beautiful by conventional standards. Third he made her better than her peers, she is stronger, faster, and her senses are more acute than a non-augmented human her size who engages in regular intensive exercise. This last boon is wasted on her for the most part for she has no formal martial arts training, and the demon has no intention of ever getting any instruction in the near future. Lilac has the ability to manifest a demonic appearance with deep violet toned Flesh. She also gains black ink like markings which shift all about her body almost as if they were liquid. Next the fiend grows a rather appropriate whip like tail with a heart shape at its end. From the sides of her head she grows ram like horns which curl multiple times before coming to a point facing out and away from her. Black claws adorn her fingers in this form as well. Rarely does she ever use this form because it presents her no real physical advantage
The next gift was the gift of Sex Senses. This sixth sense manifests as the other worldly ability to sort of smell sexual attraction. Lilac when engaged with a person or group of people can sniff the air and get a sense of who is attracted to whom, as well as how likely they are to pounce on that person. Lilacs next ability is her power to raise the sexual tension in an area based around her own personal amorousness. This power when used in conjunction with her previous ability makes her the sexual chaos incarnate. This only requires that she be speaking, no one has to be listening to her intently one just has to be in the range of her words. The effect can be compared to a sort of hypnosis. This ability can also manifest as its polar opposite. If Lilac is not into it then no one in the room will be able to get into the mood. These gifts are her most used as they allow her to most adequately fulfil her function as embodiment of Lust. (requires player consent)
Also afforded to her is a new addiction. Her gifts come with a tangible price. In order to maintain mental stability Lilac must physically touch another person’s skin at least once a day. This touch only has to be brief. The touch allows Lilac to drain another person of their Sillage if they possess it. If they do not possess the gift they are instead drained of their physical vitality. The speed of this process can only be semi-consciously controlled. As she abstains of from physical contact, it becomes harder not to drain a person of their vitality quickly. This power does work two ways though Lilac has the ability to designate another person her Beau. This person once designated can have her demonic strength pumped into them. This strength requires that they physically touch Lilac once a day to refuel the power she grants them. When given this power the other party gains a taste of what Lilac experiences in her daily life. They gain a shallow version of her Sex scent sixth sense, as well as appearing more attractive to others. Pumping her demonic Sillage into a person not designated as her Beau in light amounts can also be used as a means to heal their forms.
Personality quirks: (Negative)
Personality quirks: (Positive)
Lilac is under no delusions. She well aware of that fact that she is not conventionally good by any stretch of the imagination. Good people are rarely ever great. Lilac has embraced this notion whole-heartedly. Throughout her long life she has focus her more negative personality flaws into something bigger than herself. Being the type of person who believes the end justifies the means makes her at times when pursuing her lofty goals aloof. Conventional morality had always been so constraining, for her. She is prone to wondering how anyone gets anything done adhering to societal standards. Amoral as she was she has always considered her work to be a greater good. No one believes they are ever the bad guy, and that they are iniquitous, Lilac is no different. Like every immoral person she justifies and rationalizes, her evil deeds so that she may sleep comfortably at night. In a perverse sort of way, she has become the polar opposite of her late mother. Where her mother was inhumanly kind, she is cruel and without mercy. Where her mother was soft spoken, she is boisterous and prone to injecting her opinion into any conversation. Even her love is brutal. It is obsessive, spiteful, and selfish. Deeply flawed as she is she is aware of the horrible acts she has committed and what they mean. Under the justifications in the back of her conscious mind, she does believe she is due for punishment and divine retribution.
Lilac was above all a pragmatist while she was human. She sought to do only what could be reasonably done. Logic and stone cold reason tended to rule her decisions when she was in control. When control was maintained, she was methodical, cold, and robotic. In her old age, she found peace in work, and dedication. Adopting the cause of the old nobility was easy for an amoral devil such as her. Human life had value to her, its value laid in what humans could teach her about her own mortality. After the rebellion, Lilac became a fearful woman. The surfs had taken from her, her pedigree, her prestige, and her family’s home. Revenge was out of the question then but she never forgot what Crux had had taken away from her. Maintaining calm, the monstrous physician partitioned off her rage for decades as she solved the first problem she dedicated herself too. Having great self-discipline and an unhealthy obsession with her work helped with that. Control is difficult to maintain. Lilac is currently facing an identity crisis. The woman she was is being smothered by what she has become. When she was human she could control her urges and suppress her more carnal desires. Now lust threatens to overwhelm her need for clarity in all things. Now a new dark hunger burns deep in her cavernous gut, this yearning is for lascivious fleshly pleasures. The fiend struggles daily to stay clear and focused for she hangs precariously on a precibus. Behind her is the world of man where enlightenment lies, and down below is the realm of beasts. It is a black, formless, erotic, abyss, where she knows she could lose herself for a millennia. The struggle is all she can focus on these days. It is hard to pursue research for immortality when one is just given it by god. This gift has rocked her resolve to work. Lilac has become prone to bouts frivolousness. The urge to enjoy herself, which she suppressed for decades, has become all-consuming. Flippantness strives to overtake what remains of her drive to excel. Often Lilac finds herself in her own mind debating with her inner heathen whether to pursue some facetious inane yearning of the flesh or to stick to higher-minded pursuits. It is not uncommon for the woman to lose days, weeks, or months to her sensuous tastes.
Often the heathen wins out and Lilac dives into her worse tendencies headfirst, and without regard for her own personal safety or the safety of others. Lilac, when she falls from the precibus is an insatiable monstrosity. She seeks revelry, whine, men, and women with a single-minded intensity matched by no other. Opulence becomes her god and everyone around her partake in every manner of drug or intoxicant available. The fiend becomes obsessive, seeking prey she finds intriguing with no regard for modern mores and societal standards. The way she describes it is “I feel like I’m in love with everyone all the time everywhere.” Even when in control Lilac is not above following both men and women. Stalking is not above her, the louse will do this if it means she can find a moment where she can pounce on her prey. The transformation into Lust has made her more prone to stalking than she was when human. Often the demon finds herself doing it with no idea when she had started. As the personification of Lust Lilac finds great pleasure in twisting men and women forcing them to give into their most unsavory urges. The desire to spread chaos all sins have is present in her. The chaos she wishes stoke is the raging inferno that is human sexual deviancy. When enraptured, she seeks to force others to crave sultry flesh as she does. Lilac is not above forcing everyone in a pub to engage in a raunchy communal orgy, filled to the brim with libidinousness, and revelry.
What does it mean to live forever? Is such a ostentation gift only a curse? Can the human mind take the ravages of decades indefinitely? Its hard to comprehend forever until its staring you in the face. It is our fragile transient nature which grants us purpose and in the end beauty. If only I could have seen this truth in the days before I obtained athanasia. In the twilight of my life facing the unknown I took the lower path. I feared what waited for me after the life that I had lived. My eternal reward would have been contemptable, and not worthy of aristocracy, based on the many deplorable acts I had committed in life. When it offered me the dark gift I saw it as the next revolting and horrendous act I would commit for the sake of myself. I used to perjure myself. I was the healer who brought only harm. It was all for the glory of humanity, I used to say. The gift of the merciful god, Sillage it was an endowment that we had used to elevate ourselves above the shadows, daemons, and nightmares. I used to say I was just helping my species to achieve our potential. We would use this power build cities in a day, to build towers to the heavens. With these hands we would destroy and with these hands we could rebuild our cruel world in the image of man. But what is man? Man is a beast. He is a slave to his instincts, like the roaring lion he seeks to devour those that he may. The strong consume the weak fueling everlasting cycles of hatred and retribution, on into infinity. Now in this new age men have a new tool with which to do it. The Bellicosa is a tool and it nullifies the curse, but still allows men to wield awesome power. To draw upon Sillage too deeply naturally, is to invite the corruption. The Crux has found a way around this, and this has become their seat of power. In my new state, I am able to know true clarity. If only I had had it then. If only I had been strong enough to face the void. I could escape this atrocious state of affairs. I babble, let us remember what was done in decades past.
I was born in the waning years of a failing monarchy. My father was not in line to rule but we were close enough in relation to the throne to live comfortably for what days we were given. We were cousins of the throne to be precise, and this gave us nobility. This nobility afforded me many privileges. Looking back upon them now, I see I wasted many of them, but hindsight is always crystal clear. My father was a land rich noble lording over a small patch of land in southern Seracier. His holdings were mostly composed of small plots of farmland and lumber mills, which the surfs worked for us for a wage. He sought to climb the ladder, and move beyond his station, but the man was gullible. He also had a taste for whores wine and revelry, which strained our coffers. He was his own greatest enemy. Our cousins could not keep him down nearly half as well as he could himself. None of this is to say the man was not a loving father and husband; he was in his own way. He ensured my eldest brother a place in in court as a strategist and captain of his own battalion-sized unit. I wonder would he still fight as hard as he did to put his son in this position if he knew that very son would die because of the appointment? My mother was an angel. Truly, she shone with the beauty of the heavens. Her voice was warm and caring, and her eyes were like emeralds. I remember watching her walk into a room and call all attention to herself with not a single word. I wanted in those days to be half as beautiful as she was. Tragically, the angel had a weak constitution and would fall ill often. Before her death, my father spent a fortune to help the woman stay well but, all of the money on earth could not keep her here with us. She died when I was only 8 years of age. My father fell into the women and booze a month after her death much to the disgust of my eldest brother. My brother Ashley the eldest of us took my mother’s death the hardest. I remember the day she died something in his green eyes faded. I do not remember him smiling much after her death; I think she took that with her to the grave. Ashley left to squire days after my mother Lillian’s death. My father begged and petitioned to get my brother that opportunity, and even my mother’s death would not put off what he had set in motion. Ashley proved himself and gained status through the military of our fine kingdom. If not for the rebellion, he may have earned our family some level of prestige.
My two youngest brothers are of little consequence, they did nothing with what they were given, and thus history will not remember their names. Neither left our lands to achieve anything great. They both stayed and lorded over a manor too small for two masters. I’m sure both hoped the other would die and thus secure their position as head of the homestead. The eldest of the two Blake fled north after the rebellion hoping to be forgotten when the hordes came for what we had. The youngest Thomas attempted to hold our once opulent home. He died quickly and was hung from the walls. From time to time I check on their children. They know me for what I am but fear my retribution and thus say not a word about my condition. Blake’s son is but a humble black smith eking out a living in the far north in a town beside a great frozen lake. He has not used our family name since his father spirited him away. The daughter of Thomas still resides in our ancestral home. After her father was murdered by the peasants another lord stepped in and took her as his ward. This also allowed him to claim our lands while she came of age. When she reached maidenhood her married her, it was quite a shrewd move. It expanded his holding quite a bit making him a force in the north. He plays a nice with the Crux and they in turn allow him to keep some shred of our previous dignity. To my knowledge, he treats her well, and so I refrain from interfering with their lives. Family means very little to me now I have to admit. I seldom think about my mother or my worthless two younger brothers. I find myself drawn to my own personal history as I age. In these dark days all that matter is me, and my own personal satisfaction.
I was a curious child. I wanted to know everything. The secrets of the universe were laid out before me just waiting to be discovered. The key to each new discovery would be Sillage. As a child, I found myself drawn to this font of wondrous energy. I took to instruction quickly. At first I was educated by our personal court magician, he seemed to be the oldest person whom had ever lived. His bones creaked and groaned with every movement. His eyes were a white, and milky in color from age. The man was basically blind as a bat. I remember I would end up reading the texts to him so that he could instruct me in the arcane. When he could teach me no more we had a tutor come and stay with us. This man was my first love. His name still brings butterflies to my gut, Jacob Francis Mothmyer. I followed him from dawn till dusk. I waited round corners to watch him as he went about his daily activities. His large powerful arms, and sturdy wide shoulders enflamed my prepubescent imagination to no end. A lass my affections would never be returned, for he brought with him a mousey little whore. His wife did not appreciate my amorousness and so she sought to have him leave before I came into my full maidenhood. She feared what I would do and that he would not reject me. To this day I do not blame her, I was quite careless in my flirtation. I would never be the most pretty, but I could be charming when the mood struck me. Knowing what I know now my obsession can be dangerous for those not prepared to deal with me. He left a few days after my 13th birthday. For the next two years my father attempted to marry me off to attain a better standing with more powerful families. I remember I had very little interest in allowing fools and apes court me then. It practically made my father a pariah. He could not marry his only daughter off. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with me? What was wrong with our family? I did not care about it then. All I cared about were my studies. For two years a searched myself. I sought an arcane school, which would call out to me. Evocation, conjuration, enchantment, none seemed to be what I was looking for. It was not until I studied with a traveling healer that I found my calling. I would be a healer, and mend the wounds of those around me. I did not have the urge to mend simply to help people. I wanted something else. I wanted to know about the human body. I wanted to study the humors, and their effects on a person. Obsession took me, I needed to know everything that could
By this point I knew I was not my mother. I would not be the angelic beauty who could snare men’s senses with only a glance. I had grown tall, and lanky, I had barely a single overt feminine quality to me. I had thin lips and black beady eyes, which were often hidden behind glasses if I could manage it. I looked like what I was, I was a bookworm. I kept my hair pinned up and out of my face so I could throw myself into my studies. At that time I told myself I did not care about my looks. At 15 my father relented and sent me to Riparias where I would be allowed to study with true masters of their craft. Here the study of Sillage took precedence. I would be at home here for quite some time. As always, I excelled in whatever magical pursuits I put my mind to, but more importantly, I discovered the substance, which would consume my life. I and a few other log dead exceptional students discovered a substance we called steam. Steam was an alchemical concoction, mostly roots and leaves but when blessed with Sillage it became a vapor which when inhaled would create a high feeling as well as a general sense of ease and calm. Because of my contributions the concoction also had medicinal purposes as a pain reliever. With more time I also give the concoction the capability to stimulate regeneration. It was a break through. In the short amount of time I had been applying myself to the trade, I had with help discovered a means to treat minor aches and pains as well as just generally make people feel well. I was proud of this accomplishment then, because it would help me to elevate my career. Now I wonder was that a good course for me to take? Others in charge noticed my colleagues and me. We were quickly inducted into the Royal Apothecary Society, my father was proud I think, in his own way, not that it mattered.
Our laboratories appeared virginal every day we walked into the building, no blood vomit or viscera from the night before did not remain. The pristine, sterile, and inhumanly white environment helped to change us. It created a peculiar atmosphere, it was thick and amorphous, but something about it helped us suppress our god given humanity. This would be necessary for continued success. My new mentor within the society would help me with this aspect of the job. The Society was mostly focused on how various tonics and countless balms to help with regeneration and antiaging. It appeared the royals and other nobles wanted to rule longer than the fates had given them. It was an interesting struggle to work toward alleviating. Sillage had only been around for almost 200 years, I was surprised it took so long for man to want to cure himself of his mortal frailty. Our work must have been frightfully necessary, because of the fact that 150 of the brightest alchemists, mages, and sorcerers were tasked with this rather than fighting the demons. Looking back on it now I wonder if we had found a way to stop the demons instead of Crux would the monarchy still stand today? Its doubtful, but interesting to think about occasionally. My new mentor was an alchemist by the name of Partis. He held quite a bit of clout with our superiors. He like me had come from a noble family so he knew how to speak to the foppish lords who provided our funding. This clout also allow him to get access to live subjects. When we could get our hands on them we tore them apart looking for a way to stop the natural aging process. I remember the screams and the sobbing like a bad dream. Only vague shapes haunt me, not a face is left in my memory. We vivisected children, and the elderly, whatever it would take to unlock the body’s secrets.
The evils we committed just seemed so route so, so mundane, so normal. I could chop a child to pieces and then in an hour have tea. What had we become? How did so many lose their humanity? In the beginning we were but babes in the woods. I remember I winced once while a colleague brought a blade to a terminally ill woman. Partis saw me, cringe as any normal woman would. He scolded me harshly. It was in private of course my position demanded he not do it in front of the rabble. This was the first time he would lecture me but it would not be the last. Let no one tell you nobility has no perks. Money and power rule the world. The new rulers are just a callous as we were, they currently pretend their goals are not the same as ours, but that will fade in time. Enough about Crux for now. My mentor was a strong and unfeeling man. Nothing phased him. He accepted no weakness. He was the greatest amongst us. Partis had invented a new method to bleed patients of impurities. His new method had a success rate of about 77 percent, it was unprecedented. I admired him from a far for two years. During this time I only spoke with him when absolutely necessary.
Since my second sorcery instructor Jacob, I had suppressed the lion’s share of my sexual appetites, but that did not stop me from watching colleagues I found to be particularly entrancing. Partis my mentor within the Royal Apothecary Society was the most intriguing out of the bunch. He was an absolute marvel, blessed with unfathomable intellect, as well a jawline that still causes my legs to quiver. I let myself want this. I watch his every move for weeks. I knew what tea he drank in the morning. I knew when he took his mid-morning Tabaco break, and where he stood. I knew what he had for lunch everyday…I documented this in my journal. I pined for more than this I wanted to possess him utterly and entirely, but he was immune to what measly charm I could muster. In those days I was able to look, but not touch, smell, but not taste. Denying myself release for so long had eroded some of my inhibitions. For him, I debated sullying myself. I would have likely given myself to him if not for the rebellion. The Cruxies a small band of religious zealots moved into a position to knock out the old blood. They had saved the world from the demons they had the mindless drones behind them. Our days had been numbered for years. I don’t know what happened to Partis but I’m sure he’s dead by now he was 20 years my senior.
My Eldest brother and a few other blue bloods attempted to protect the old throne with everything they had, they were not successful. For the most part my kin gave up our rule to these peasants with little resistance. The Royal Apothecary Society collapsed the second the throne was in jeopardy. Some of us fled, scattering to the wind for our horrendous crimes. Some joined Weltschmerz, but most of us were picked apart with the old throne. I was in the wind before the end came. I’m a coward and I do not deny this. I hear when they kicked the doors in and saw what we had done for the sake of polluted royalty that the executions were a brutal as we had been. I hope to god that I never have to receive my just rewards. I fled to Ravanar, to escape justice. It was the perfect place. It was lawless, no one would look for me here. I could not give up my pursuit. My life had been dedicated to immortality, I gave years to that cause. How could anyone in a second be torn away from their purpose, and they survive? I saw my life as over. I overheard from other runners what happened to my home, my family, my life. It had all gone up in flames as the old throne burned. With nothing left I retreated into myself. I started a journal. Within its pages I recorded my every thought and feeling. I fell into the poorest of poor neighborhoods. Eating meals with the dregs of society, and forming bonds with criminals and cut throats.
For many years time seemed to just drift by like this. A small alchemy and potion shoppe employed me in those days. Making due with scraps of what my life had previously been, I yearned to be more but saw no way to get what I saw as mine. In my one room dwelling I continued on a small scale my experiments. Without live human test subjects my work was tedious and slow. It was maddening, I struggled for every single inch of progress that I made. In this little space I twisted what was left of my mind grasping and clawing at the walls for inspiration. It was a travesty to me then. My employer was a man above the rabble, but just a cruel as any that live in this section of town. He was a polymath. He like me knew alchemy, and anatomy, but he was also surprisingly proficient flesh sculptor. Like many people living in this place he had a sorted past. No one would choose to reside in this place if they had any other choice. James was the name he gave, I was sure even then in all my naivety that, that was not his true name. Who was I to complain if he did not give me his birth name. I ceased using my own name the day I went to this hellish place. I served him as is a medic and a potion brewer. We provided our services to a few run of the mill small time gangs. When one of their number died I was provided with fresh meat with which to practice my methods on. Staying in that place for so long providing steam to scum degraded my mind. Falling into a sort of prosaic stupor I worked my meaningless job and went home to toil away doing meaningless experiments.
Far had a I fallen, I once thought to offer myself to other blue bloods, but then as I began to approach my matronhood I saw no reason to even explore my stunted sexuality. I accepted that, that was just not going to be part of my life. After my employer James expired I set off again procuring corpses when I could but often times testing my procedures on myself. I managed to in my late fifties I looked as if I was thirty years my junior, but I did not feel as if I was younger. The outside looked pristine, but the inside aged as normal, I presumed. As a traveling healer my life was simple. I mended wounds for a price, and then moved along. I had given up my anger for the cruxies for the most part. Decades had passed since my family was torn to shreds. It felt like it did not matter anymore. I traveled from Caersewiella to Apri city searching for nothing. I aged and I healed nothing more nothing less. My life’s purpose immortality was just so far away then only a few years ago. I feared my own death, but I thought I was in a place where I could accepted that inevitability.
In my last days the She found me. I was ailing far in the north only a few weeks travel from my home. My niece offered me a place to rest my old tired bones my visible youth was failing as I sat in an inn about to meet my fate. That's when Pride visited me. She seemed to know of my many horrendous crimes, and my countless failures. Pride spoke to me as she were an old friend. Making small talk with someone who knew me for who I truly was relieving. For once in a long time I spoke freely about my fears and my moral conundrums. After this I was offered a chance at revenge. I turned revenge down. She offered me a chance to get the recognition I deserved. I turned this down as well. Then there is the moment that I will remember vividly for the rest of my days, she then offered me a chance to live freely forever beautiful. I was told I would never grow old and frail. I would never have to face the void. I gave the Demon my hand and looked away from the ever-approaching vast emptiness. I closed my eyes to my past. When I opened them I was no longer myself. I had become a monster. I was beautiful and terrible to behold. Lust was my name and my purpose had become to subvert the morality of humans causing them to give into their desires. I have in these day of relative peace begun to write in my new journal about my previous life I fear I’m losing myself to this new creature which threatens to control what’s left of my mind. I fear what sort of monster I may have become.
Megalomania was created by the staff team with inspiration from various magic/fantasy series. The skin was coded by Hiraeth exclusively for Megalomania using Merc's push sidebar, Black's formatted code/quote blocks, and posiden5665's default avatar code. The banner was drawn by -2x2-. Icons/macros were provided by FontAwesome. All characters, concepts, and other written works belong to their respective posters. Plagiarism will not be tolerated.