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Played By: Abdiel

Glaucon by Abdiel

TEAM: Reavers

SECTOR: Lowtown

KIT CLASS: Empathy

Reavers Team Lieutenant

Main Event Winner!

Hall Of Fame!

Survival - 16 wins!

Brutal - 5 fatalaties!

Fight Record
League Wins: 12
League Losses: 3
Out Of League Wins: 4
Out of League Losses: 7
Total Wins: 16
Total Losses: 10
Luna Nightmare - Win 0-0
Arelia Cross - Win 0-0
Pamela King - Loss 0-0
Echidna Haterrorot - Win 0-0
Aliana Therou - Loss 0-0
Red Factor: Rebecca - Win 0-0
Psuedo and Cole - Win 0-0
Seryph Gibbons - Win 0-0
Alison Reilly - Win 0-0
Clan of a Thousand IOUs - Win 0-0
Mary - Win 0-0
Nadia Young - Win 0-0
Elwin D'Larthi - Win 0-0
Pamela King - Win 0-0
Toc Darkon - Loss 0-0
Devyn Soyokaze - Loss 8-13
Grimly Fiendish - Win 10-8
The Semi-Rational Penguin - Loss 10-17
The Memoirs of Daniel Van Sant - Win 11-4
Christopher Marlowe - Loss 4-10
Atom-A-Ton - Loss 4-11
Forte - Loss 5-7
Lovecraft - Loss 4-9
Mod: Master of Disguise - Win 21-13
Crow is of Death, Crow is of Doom - Win 14-13
Mr. Graves - Loss 11-15

Everything quiet, everything safe. A drop of water cascaded down a lonely nook in the surface of the ceiling framing the tiny grey cell and landed with a sullen thud on Glaucon's waiting cheek. It seemed as if he had always been waiting. The weight of the water against his skin was unbearable, and he sunk to his knees, feeling the cold stone grind against him through thin robes. He could feel her hands then, cool palms against his cheek, the tips of her fingers tracing the line of his jaw and lifting his face to meet her gaze. Locks of her hair surrounded the two like an dark canopy. He could feel her tears striking him, warm and sweet, raining down, each a mightier blow than any he had faced at the hands of his foes. "Don't go," she spoke, and his heart broke. (Wake) Fire, light. A woman with golden hair and a well-worn blade defied him, told him that Fate was immutable, and that bonds of family are stronger than those of Time. She struck him with the flat of her blade, once, and he felt blood fill his mouth as the fires advanced. "Begone!" she spoke, and he fell. (Rise) Glory and redemption. Angel's wings settled over her prone form, victim to the infernal force of the Void. Her smile remained, and Glaucon shuddered. The Wastes that surrounded them burned with destruction, and the knowledge that this may yet not have come to pass was little comfort to the mage. A spark lofted its way up through the swirling ashes and hovered before Glaucon's eyes. She rose, and in rising the world came asunder. "Come here," she spoke, and he obeyed. (See) Damnation. He was falling, and there would be no one and nothing to slow his descent. It was the price he must pay for his vengeance, his arrogance. He saw that the Void had never served him - that it had always been the master. Its patience had served it well, and it had led the mage to a time and place in the nether regions of Fate where even his indomitable will would serve no purpose. He felt his body crushing itself, twisting inward into infinity. His staff was ripped from his grasp and flung into the far reaches of the Void, his robes pulled tight around him, a death shroud. Her pendant fluttered in his grasp, and buckled. His eyes lit upon the faded picture within, worn by thousands of years and an equal number of regrets, for one final moment. It too was lost to the Void, and Glaucon's opened his lips in a soundless scream, the breath already having been drained from his lungs. The distorted faces of a thousand victims greeted him, frozen in the mists of nonexistence. Darkness came for him swiftly, but it was a less than temporary respite - the Void said nothing, and he was home. (Leave) Broken Reverie. Yes, it was time to leave this place. He stood, his feet scuffling against the mortar and granite of his cell, and opened the door. There was no lock. The grey beyond beckoned. His thoughts reached up into the sky, and he took one step forward. He landed in Lowtown, as dreams often do. (The time for vengeance has passed - it is time to make amends, and time to remember) A wind whistled down the streets of Khazan, rustling the detritus that lined the pathways of life, and Glaucon agreed.


Personality: I can't remember her name, or her face. When I dream, sometimes I think I hear her voice, but the dawn defies my attempts to clutch at the shadows of recollection. This is what I fight for now. Forgiveness, perhaps, but release, the salvation of knowledge first. I am the man I was, before this beast claimed my soul. How, and why, I cannot know. Whether that man is strong enough to leave behind a Void so great it swallowed worlds, and even hope, I shall discover.




Weak BELOW normal human strength -
can bench press 50 pounds (maybe).


Standard Normal human agility.


Weak BELOW normal human endurance.
Goes down easy and stays there.


Superior Highly educated and ingenious.
A smart cookie.


"All by my hand, all by my will." Some say that power, any kind of power is a means to an end. Some say that it is an end unto itself. All are fools. It does not matter whether power is to be sought or to be used to seek some other paltry form of power thought more noble by the seeker. It simply is, and those of us who possess it form the rules by which the universe operates. The definition of motion is change of any kind, the actuality of any potentiality. For the great majority of my life, I have been lost to the universe, caught in a spider's web of oblivion, unchanging. It is no small irony, then, that the realm which I command is that which is change itself. With the power I possess I will obliterate those who stand in my path, agents of the Void who part with their souls more lightly than their curency. If by doing so I redeem myself in the eyes of the universe I have wronged so deeply and so often in the gilded past, so be it.


  • Power: Tractor Beam
  • Level:Ultimate
  • Seeker This attack hunts and follows its target.
  • Ranged and Melee Attack! Attack is equally effective at range and up close.
"Your will denied." Sometimes defining motion is not enough - sometimes redefinition is required. The denizens of this world, this Hub of the Multiverse do not understand what it is to taste the cusp of death, and see it flit away, only to venture forward again before one has a chance to draw a breath. They fling bolts of steel and fire and power in my direction, hoping to lance them through my pale form rendered more helpless still by my seperation from the Void. They are... as children. They think that because the shortest distance between two points is a line, a line must necessarily be the most expedient route to reach their destination. I will turn aside their mightiest blows, turn them back on their domitors, and redefine the motion of their thoughts and lives as the situation demands. Push, and pull. Closer, closer, but farther away from victory than you could ever imagine.


"You are known to me." One truth amidst a sea of platitudes is this: everything and everyone is interconnected. Not in some grand spiritual commune linked by love and fellowship - or at least this is beyond my ken - but by the tiniest strands of existence, a great lattice of atoms and energy, whose fate I govern. Guided by a will as much my own as it is subconscious, I can sense changes to the fabric of reality surrounding my person. When the location and aim of my foes and their efforts towards my destruction is known to me, plans and beings unravel with equal simplicity.


"Will you remember me?" When I imagine her smile, and then realize that I am confined to mere imagination, my heart twists in my throat. I feel as though my existence is ephemeral - like I am a man condemned, and given a stay of grace after a soujourn so long he does not know how to live, or even where his life once began. This is what was stolen from me. I am flesh - my blood flows through my veins, my breath quickens - but I cannot say whether this is what others see when they look at me. I do not know whether the price I have paid for this reverie is too great for the opportunity it has afforded me, or even if the opportunity itself is real, in the eyes of any but myself. In the end sum of things, it does not matter. I will find what my dreams seek, or I will perish again in the attempt.


  • Power: Paralysis
  • Level:Superior
  • Auto-Hit This mental attack hits the target automatically, but may or may not effect them.
  • Area Effect This attack causes damage in a large area.
  • Melee Attack Attack usable only hand to hand.
"Do not fear. We will halt the flow of fate, together." I cannot see beyond the horizon; none of us can, and call ourselves men. I can only count on what I know to be true - and that precious little. Sometimes when victory is in my grasp, I feel as I did on those dark days when my companion was not regret but a being of nonexistence, the strongest figment my mind had ever uncreated, or so I thought. I sense my power growing at times like these. I am strong enough to reach out and touch the edges of the fabric of this Life. How I long to rip this hideous tapestry from its foundation, tear it apart thread by thread and find the hallowed secrets sought by the ancients in its bowels. But that is not for me, not yet. Enough to hold on to this moment in Fate and its implications for as long as I have, as long as I can. Or so I muse when humanity ebbs in my heart.


  • Power: Decay
  • Level:Standard
  • Area Effect This attack causes damage in a large area.
  • Seeker This attack hunts and follows its target.
  • Melee Attack Attack usable only hand to hand.
  • Multi Attack Attack can hit multiple times during one strike.
"What have I wrought?" I have walked down the alleyways of this existence and felt the stench of it fill me. I have crushed the life from the throats of countless men, with hearts no more flawed than my own. I thought I saw Her, one day, black tresses idling in the autumn sun, and I flew across the the crowded streets, my feet barely reaching the ground. I reached out and touched her with my power. She spun on her heel and turned to me, eyes full of fear. She quivered, and I saw her hair slowly turning white as she bent to my grasp. Her scream broke the cobwebs of panic that bound my mind, and I released her. Wrinkles had formed where none were before. She ran, and I cannot blame her. I do not deserve a second chance.