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Glaucon and Aglaia
Played By: Abdiel

Glaucon and Aglaia by Abdiel

TEAM: The Fallen

SECTOR: Lowtown

KIT CLASS: Arcane Lore

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: 3
Noirat - Win 0-0
Violeth - Win 0-0
Harper - Win 0-0
Johnny P. - Win 0-0
Samantha Flere's Box - Win 0-0
Nei Nekobaka - Win 10-6
Metalneck - Loss 11-12
The Racing Sumos - Loss 15-17
I-Smite-You-Now - Win 14-10
The Vanzetti Sisters - Win 14-11
Quietus(Chibi SD Version) - Loss 7-12

A figure stood against the azure plain, a wavery outline in the blistering heat. Around the edges of the image Glaucon felt a porous light filtering out, caressing his features. His eyes and skin felt dry, he looked around and saw nothing but the horizon. "Where am I? What am I doing here?" The figure did not respond, and Glaucon began to run, his robes angling out behind him, whipping in the wind and slowing his progress. As he drew close the image coalesced, and struck him to his core. It was Her. He stumbled back upon himself, and fell to the earth. Memories flooded his mind. A thousand sneering faces pushed away by the gentle slope of her fingertips, the waves of her hair cascading down upon his waiting face, the sweet, light press of her body against his, unlike any other he had known. "A-Aglaia?" he spoke, the words stumbling forth crudely, sounding wretched and ancient on his parched lips. "Yes, my Love." The figure did not move. "You have been dreaming." "What?" "You have been caught in a dream. A dream that touched the waking thoughts of others, perhaps, but a dream nonetheless. It is time for you to awaken." Glaucon struggled to find words. Everything, then - his slender chance at redemption, his pursuit of answers, all before him, now, and all a lie. "You're wrong, my Love. You have another chance." Glaucon lifted his face to Aglaia, the one who had stolen his dreams a thousand times when they were young. "You have another choice." She stepped close to him, and breathed in his ear.


Personality: "The world, or love." Glaucon's feet shifted against the blasted sand, grinding the cracked surface beneath him. He thought of his journeys throughout Khazan, his deeds good and ill, the foes he had slain and the bitter rivals that had lain him low. The countless souls that had become one with the Void... and throughout it all, the ghost of her face, lighting his face in a worn pendant, teasing his convictions into a deathless dream. He was dead, but still he could choose. He thought he heard a songbird in the air, far away. A pale wind ran through his hair as he turned to his love, and he stepped forward. "I choose you." Aglaia screamed.




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


Superior This fighter can dodge, weave and move
with the grace of an Olympic gymnast.


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


Weak BELOW normal human mental power.
Not the sharpest tack in the drawer.


"All by our hand, all by our will." One cold, unwavering constant, a bare reminder of that which was once his to wield as he wished, in the service of the lesser, in the service of order. The tendrils of power that Glaucon and Aglaia control have, if anything, grown stronger for their reunion. He will still use their power to crush the life from the unworthy - only now, his wish granted, his Love shall be forced to accompany him on his final visit to the Nexus of all Realities that some call Khazan. Together they will wage a desperate war on existence, until some champion bound by fate rises to defend existence, and ends their agony.


  • Power: Decay
  • Level:Ultimate
  • Kit Power Link: Arcane Lore
  • Area Effect This attack causes damage in a large area.
"I am sorry." Aglaia has known the blight of the Void for longer even than her lover. The hands that were once soft and wise are now poisoned beyond repair. She tried, once, to save her love, but it is his choice which binds her to this path. Everything His power touches, Hers does as well, an undying blight on existence that unravels the staunchest life and smothers all vitality. All will fall to the strength of the Void - it is the will of the Oblivion the two are forced to serve.


  • Power: Disintegration
  • Level:Superior
  • Kit Power Link: Arcane Lore
  • Area Effect This attack causes damage in a large area.
  • Armor Piercing This attack ignores normal defenses which are not Reinforced.
"Our love will blot out the sky!" Combined, their once innocent love has burgeoned into the world destroying pall that simmers at the core of the Void. Nothing can withstand their fury; nothing that exists in this world or any other. The intrepid hero touched by Glaucon and Aglaia will have eternity to ponder his error, floating endlessly in the black beyond of the Void.


  • Power: Archer
  • Level:Standard
"Tell me, has it truly come to this?" In a house with many doors hangs a portrait. At the heart of this painting sits a woman, smiling lightly, her eyes obscured in shadow. Her name is Aglaia, and she was known as the youngest daughter of the Count Asairloh. Along with her two sisters, she was known as one of the three Graces, sober yet vibrant young women who captivated a nation at the center of a world, the pinnacle of beauty and sophistication. This youngest was smitten with a man few considered sober or vibrant - but often captivating, nonetheless. He was a powerful mentalist, the Head of his Order, a fearsome and relentless Justiciary charged with preserving that which was, that the world would not move on. He failed, and in failing the woman in the portrait perished. Her eyes burned brightly as the end of her world rushed upon her, and she flung her last words out across the soundless expanse, the echoless void swallowing Glaucon's name forever. In the portrait, her hands lie open upon her lap. In one she holds the World. In the other she holds the Void. Woe to Existence when her hands meet in prayer, the darkest benediction the living have ever known falling from her lips.


"Yes, my love. It has come to this." In a house with a single window hangs a portrait. At the heart of this painting stands a man, reaching for something beyond the ken of mortals, trailing fingertips in the sky. His name is Glaucon, and he is Damned. He would like to think that his choice was made for him - that he had no part in the run of it, since he trailed his fingers across the surface of the Void and flung it at his foes, a thousand shining lights winking out of existence that his Love might be saved. Perhaps he is correct. Perhaps this too is but a dream, an illusion spun from the dullest, cruelest parts of Corruption and Nonexistence taunting him again. The choices were his, though, and his alone. He chose to seek the Void, and failed. He chose to seek the aid of the unholy, and failed. He chose to seek the core, and failed. He chose love over salvation, and it is this choice, made again and again, which binds him to his fate, tighter still than the evil machinations of the Void. In the portrait, Glaucon has risen again... but he cannot rise from where he has fallen now, and he never will.