Played Character Doctor Verlaine

[Snoreb]

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CHARACTER INFORMATION​

FULL NAME || Severus Verlaine.​

Aliases || Sev, Laine, Ver, Vere.​

True Name || hehe funny secret​

HERITAGE / CULTURE || Ithanian Ailor [ ??? ] [CENSORED: EPHEMER HOMUNCULI]​

AGE || 32.​

Birthdate || February 7th, 283 AC.​

Sign || Aquarius.​

GENDER / PRONOUNS || He/Him​

RELIGION || "The divine are heedless to the mortal plights of the world they preside over. I will not worship that which will never benefit or acknowledge me; I only envy their power."​

OCCULT TYPE || Eidolon & Vortex Mage.​

Magic Schools || Entropy, Mending, Enchanting and Gateway Magic​

OCCUPATION || Renowned medical practitioner, knowledgeable in both physical and magical ailments. ​

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APPEARANCE INFORMATION​

EYE COLOR || Foggy blue.​

SKIN COLOR || Sickly pale.​

HAIR || Long, dark hair.​

HEIGHT || 6'0​

BODY TYPE || Slim.​

ADDITIONAL FEATURES || Ear piercings. A bandage is always worn over the nape of his neck. ​

Spoiler: Appearance Information

Appearance Information

Appears dry, reserved, sarcastic, and only occasionally polite on first impressions.
Long black hair, loose but noticeably well-kempt, one thick graying streak through his hair.
Angular, slim shoulders and a thin, malnourished body type.
Normally wears blue, purple, black, gold and white. Always wears at least slightly heeled shoes. Generally avoids warmer colors, as they don't tend to suit him. Prefers modest but classy clothes to obscure the magical infection on half his body.
Magical infection in a deep azure tone is burned across his entire left side and is gradually spreading. Currently affects the entire left side of his torso, most of his back, his entire left arm, and down the top of his leg. No other scars to speak of.
A piece of gauze always covers a marking on the nape of his neck. The marking is a number code, A6-305.

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SKILL INFORMATION​

Hobbies and Talents ||​

Medical Hobby​

Alchemy Hobby​

Technology Hobby​

Magical Talent​

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Mechanics ||​

Homunculi Mechanics.​

Ailor Mechanics.​

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Languages ||​

Proficient | Common, d'Ithanie, ​

Conversational | Kriv, Sign Language, Altalar.​

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Combat Proficiencies and Abilities ||​

Attack Stat | Magic [ d16 ]​

Defense Stat | Magic [ d13 ]​

[ 15 / 15 points spent]​

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PROFIENCY POINTS​

Charisma || 4​

SPEECH POINT BUY…​

Fame Presence​

Fiscal Presence​

Political Presence​

Sanctioned Presence​

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Magic || 11​

Safeguard Pack [MAGICAL VARIANT]​

ARCANE POINT BUY…​

Arcane Counter​

Arcane Healing​

Arcane Cleanse​

Arcane Warp​

Arcane Revive​

Arcane Shove​

Arcane Snare​

Arcane Barrier​

Arcane Medic​

Arcane Apotheosis​

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Wisdom || 0​

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Dexterity || 0​

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Intelligence || 0​

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Strength || 0​

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Constitution || 0​

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Faith || 0​

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LIFE STORY​

The act of creating life from nothing is, to some, thought to be apotheosis in its most austere form. ​

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Man cannot create souls in the ways that the Divine can— let alone a life so untouchable to afflictions, ailments and injuries which would kill most organic, mortal beings. To create life such as this is to tread closely to the divine.​

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So to The Doctor, the act of creating a quintessential copy of HIMSELF, seemingly unflawed by the inherent natures which all living things abide by— A version of himself that is all-at-once longer lived, more durable, and more capable of feats the Doctor and his corporeal form could never so much as dream of accomplishing before his imminent death… ​

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In the eyes of a perishable mortal man, this is true APOTHEOSIS. ​

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The sole flaws with this plan, of course, were that his product would always LACK A SOUL, and that his creations would always fall victim to HUMAN IDIOSYNCRASIES.​

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As a man with so limited time, however, he devoted his every, breathing, conscious moment to creating a visionary. In the end, he was left with three unreplicable prototypes, and The Doctor selected the one which showcased the most control, the most potential, and the most stability.​

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The remaining two would be placed into an indefinite stasis, somewhere both familiar and unknown.​

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A perfect Ephember Homunculus. The Doctor's product was undoubtedly enviable to any truly competent individual working in the field of science. ​

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So enviable in fact, that his boasting would draw even the gaze of the Bel-Hammon Issil; if there really were new breakthroughs they were yet unaware of, then it would be negligent not to bring such valuable progress to the fore. Any scholar as ardent as them would do the same.​

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On the betting table, they initially offered a large sum of cash, but The Doctor did not buy their bribe at first– so they sunk their claws deeper. In exchange for an opportunity to analyze his life's work, they would smooth over the sure flaws in the product which they- with all their antediluvian wisdom and venerable research- would more easily be able to spot. The Doctor could then take the fame for the product's ensured perfection, and they would sow the benefits of knowledge they previously lacked.​

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This time, the Doctor would accept their proposition; he knew something they did not. His creation WAS imperfect, if only in one way; in it, an overabundance of magic dangerously boiled beneath the surface, a spark which he could not understand and which one man such as himself could never hope to resolve alone. ​

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Unlike human nature or the lack of a soul, however, this issue was resolvable. All he needed was for his creation to assume full control over this magic. With this, it would be most unparalleled.​

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Allorn loyalists, however, only ever act to their own benefit and to the benefit of their bygone civilization. What care should be afforded for a mortal Ailor man who cannot even begin to fathom their elven understanding of science and magic alike? And more than that, how could anything with such a short lifespan do anything to oppose them should they act against their bargain, most especially on the matter of Homunculi…​

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The Doctor did not ever have his creation returned to him; he would die trying to reclaim his life's work.​

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The laboratory was a harsh and unforgiving environment for a soulless young Homunculi. Here it would be discovered that the product of The Doctor was not nearly as resilient as he'd made it out to be; it was uncontrollable, volatile, and showcased an aggressive and strong force of will which the Allorn scholars struggled to control. It predictably succumbed to human nature, showing compassion for its similarly captive peers in the laboratory and developing a bond with them despite lacking a soul.​

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Worse yet, it fiercely resisted learning how to vent its magic, and the product succumbed to magical overload thrice. ​

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Most mages in its shoes would have died the first time, having their soul ripped asunder and irreversibly damaged by an unforgiving possession– but as homunculi lack souls, for all three occurrences, it could only endure magical overload until being suspended by another mage in the name of further research.​

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So it would excruciatingly survive, and each time, it recovered at an almost alarming rate.​

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In the end, the creation truly was never so perfect as The Doctor proclaimed, and it was too easily broken in too little time to be considered worth any further testing; it lacked control, potential, or a soul, its magic did not improve with age, and it resisted all discipline; It was wholly unremarkable. ​

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With The Doctor dead, they instead returned it to one of his assistants, and swore they would have both the assistant and the homunculi killed if they ever learned either party breathed a word of their work to anyone, for they knew better than anyone how to effectively kill a homunculi.​

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As an identical copy of its creator, the product assumed his identity–​

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And thus would one Doctor Severus Verlaine continue his life's work exactly where he had left off, as if he had never stopped in the first place. He lacked any family close enough to question his long absence, and lacked any connections strong enough or valuable enough to be worth rekindling.​

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He would opt to reside in his "father's" manor at his most successful place of work; Regalia. He would assume clinical trials and provide medical aid to the Regalian Military as his "father" once did, and he would never breathe a word of his inhumanity nor his magic to any soul who did not force his hand or did not already know what he would refuse to say.​

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Perhaps one day– ideally before his own disobedient magic could first consume him– he would complete the life's work of his predecessor and grant himself a soul, fulfilling the inconceivable goal of true life, created from nothing; ​

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True APOTHEOSIS.​

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