Sweet Yearning by Jojo  | TEAM: The Fallen |  | SECTOR: Uptown |  | KIT CLASS: Empathy |
|  |  |  Hall Of Fame! |  Survival - 8 wins! |  Brutal - 2 fatalaties! |
| Fight Record
League Wins: 8
League Losses: 3
Out Of League Wins: 0
Out of League Losses: 0
Total Wins: 8
Total Losses: 2
Fate's Boyfriend - Win 0-0
Never Named - Loss 0-0
Everglade - Win 0-0
Oturi - Win 0-0
The Dark Shogun - Win 0-0
landon sux - Win 0-0
BLT - Win 0-0
Groovius Maximus - Loss 0-0
Pikett - Win 10-8
|
 | I was watching, and it was there, there! There but to torment me, to hold me in unceasing, inexplicable anguish until the end of my time here. Oh, what bondage, what chains can it be that bind me; what horrible curse has caught a hold of me, that I am a slave to it! I had never wanted more than I had, I was content with a few of the finer things of life. Throughout it all, I had not asked that this should come to me, never, never! And yet, come it did, and when it came, it was with a vengeance. . . Unspeakable horror! Loose thy bonds upon me! If there is anyone to hear, I beg you, rescue me from this agony, this malingering disease that presses in upon me at all times, never closing, never ceasing, but on, ever on. Oh! My mind has left me. . . Everywhere, everywhen, I see eat- it, not eat, accursed pen! and it hungers for the very souls of men. Why must its sweet captivation visit me? What have I done to deserve it? And yet- and yet, to give in at last. . . But no! I Must Not! Ever to resist, to withstand the unceasing pressure, that touch in my head- Oh, dear god, touched in the head- I speak truth without being aware of the words! But surely, surely it is not only me? I am anguished, yes, but in truth, I am not, could not be, mad. . . could I? But no- see, I turn my head from thoughts of madness! Though is it true that no madman thinks himself mad? Justly, though, it is perhaps better than the Other thoughts- thoughts of it! Thoughts that no mortal dare resist! But resist I must- yes, resist. Until- until I can no longer hold my head upright as a man. | Personality: Foul fiend from beneath this world! It lives on, hungering- I shudder at the very word now! May I be liberated, someday unbound from the chains that burn even as they hold me. . . What is there about it, this soulless demon, this beast that tears at my very self, that it burns so? I cannot understand. . . And even as I try to write, the quill looses its ink, falls back onto the desk! but for when I write of It. Then ever on it goes, ever on, and in my mind it is ever before me. The terror! the fiend. . . And what is it, really? Unthinking, it must be; unfeeling, it would be normally, but even the gods cannot know whether this Thing feels each horrid touch to its vital substance, to that which forms it. And again, what is there in it that makes it such? Though it lives, it cannot, must not, live in verity! But who am I to dictate the ways of it? A poet merely, a weaver of words, a keeper of the darker knowledge of sages and sorcerers, science and humanities. And this, the demon, the unholy tempter, is known by none, none! but for me, if indeed I have not gone mad. Save me from this curse, this evil, deathless, FUDGE! |
 | | Strength: | Weak BELOW normal human strength -
can bench press 50 pounds (maybe). | Agility: | Standard Normal human agility. | | Body: | Weak BELOW normal human endurance.
Goes down easy and stays there. | Mind: | Superior Highly educated and ingenious.
A smart cookie. |
 | I Thought Of Nothing Else |
Extract from the Journals of Edward T. Windham, September 18-- 'It calls, it calls, my soul to steal. A loathsome bargain, soon to seal. . . And when you speak- Ah, then, the voice! I'd heed it not, had I the choice. But choice have I? I cry thee, none! It calls, the lure that won't be won; with tears entreat, hope of prevail, and yet- and yet! to no avail. The madness came, the terrors lie beneath the top, and cannot die! Yet onward I, in breath of hope, have plodded on; although the scope of influence it holds, tis clear, I cannot break- and yet, I fear- This evil, ever-growing terror, wearing at the pallid bearer of the curse! I do not know, if I can longer stand it so. . . The horror creepeth closer in, To tempt! To tempt! I must not sin. . . And yet! And yet! God! can I last? Or must I end this final fast?'
 | The Lure Which Draweth |
- Power: Tractor Beam
- Level:Standard
- Ranged Attack Attack usable at a distance (only).
'The accursed nightmare at once compels and reviles. Even now, I can feel it, drawing me nearer, till I reach its hideous self. And yet, what pleasures would await me, enfold me, were I to- But no, I must not plummet into its trap! It is the voice of that Thing speaking, not mine, not mine. . . The servants have left me, they say I am mad. Perhaps I am, for how can one man discern his own sanity? Though I shudder to think of what I have condemned myself to if I am, truly, no longer sane. Why can I not resist this evil influence? It is cursed, cursed. . . May the gods have pity on my immortal soul, for I can feel its draw, when I go near to it. . . on the table nearby, and I- I cannot bring myself close enough to- unthinkable! Oh! It will not leave me. . . Why can I not break free! Why must my soul lie in torment? Though I know it is a thing of horror, of the malevolent vices of men, I feel its enticement still. . .'
 | To Steal Men's Souls |
'. . . and yet I begin to wonder what would happen if I were to give in to the morbid spirit at last. The thought itself is almost too much for me, now. I do not know if I can hold out much longer; the days flow on and my will wears thinner with each passing minute. And if I were to fall. . . Are the nightmares, I wonder, signs of its influence? For if they are indeed significant, then my soul shall soon be no longer mine only, but in equal part bound in the thing's own devices, myself fallen prey to its dark heart if it should even have one. If I am to heed the dream's signs, the portents of horror, then I at least know that one taste of its sickly sweetness would be to sap the strength, and the body. And then- and then! The illusion lies but the clearer. . . Gods, why must I press on! To give in would be so enticingly simple, but I fear for my very soul if I do. It has been so long, so long. . . And who can say how much longer I must stand against it?'
 | Visions of the Demon |
'The dreams came of night-shades; in darkness they sought, coming torment to mortals, the souls sold, for nought. But, to feed of the fires! And oh, for the shame, of the darkness still rising yet always the same- As still pressing, yet inward, the flames will not die, as the voices still whisper, and whisper a lie, for the sorrows! The soul would stay ever the same, but the fearing, dark mutter doth kindle the flame. Though the fires, still burning, seem never consumed, and with incense, so cloyingly are they perfumed, still I know- and I speak! for the trap lies ahead and to give in is death! Dreams crept on, and they said, For a touch, a taste merely, the body grows whole, and for what use, dear poet, is having a soul?'
 | Wearing Away |
- Power: Disintegration
- Level:Superior
- Kit Power Link: Empathy
- Armor Piercing This attack ignores normal defenses which are not Reinforced.
'Its touch never leaves me. It is forever there and ceaselessly pushing, entrancing! Ever at my door, and ever waiting for that slightest chance, a single moment- And it does not wait only, but what is worse, forces itself mercilessly into one's very soul. It needs no rest, nor respite, unlike those it chooses to embrace in its ghastly touch. . . in paths which are devious, and entwined with the dreams, and the allure, and above all the temptation itself. This Thing has an influence of its own, a dreadful pull that I cannot describe in words. . .what horror can it be to torment me thus? A fiend from beneath the things of this world, an enchantment perhaps known only to the darkest sages of our time. . . Or some horrid, unearthly monster, perhaps, given to steal the rest due to me. Nothing born of the higher things, it is certain. And as the pebble is worn from the face of the cliff by the unrelenting waves of the sea, so am I battered by its sinister mutterings, even to the point of being taken away. . . Yes, and lost to the depths of insanity!'
|
