Horace, Mercurian of [White Noise] IST War

By Moe Lane


Corporeal Forces: 5 Strength: 10 Agility: 10
Ethereal Forces: 4 Intelligence: 8 Precision: 8
Celestial Forces: 6 Will: 12 Perception: 12

Vessel: older male/4

Skills: Artistry/4 (Writing), Dodge/4, Emote/2, Fighting/4, Knowledge (History/6, Literature/4, Psychology/4, Warfare/6), Languages (Quite a few at /2 and /1), Lying/4, Move Silently/4, Ranged Weapons (pistol/3, rifle/4), Savoir-Faire/3, Small Weapon/4 (knife), Survival/4 (Ethereal), Tactics/4

Songs: Dreams (All/2-), Entropy (Corporeal/6), Might (Corporeal/4, Celestial/2), Shields (All/3), Symphony (All/1), Tongues (All/2)

Attunements: Mercurian of War, Ofanite of War, Howl, Proficiency (Sword)

Horace also seems to have two unique abilities: first, he can look into a person's eyes and know what act or event will simply be too much for him or her to bear without trying to strike back. Also, in the ethereal plane, he fades into the surroundings, automatically taking on the appearance of what would be normal for the area (-4 to all rolls to detect their presence while not actively in combat). Just why Michael would feel it necessary to gift him with these abilities is unknown.

For the longest time, Horace didn't exactly know who - or what - he was. As far as he could tell, he was just like any other human: some of his earliest memories were hazy, but he could remember growing up normally. But he wasn't normal - and the older he got, the more incongruous things seemed. Everything seemed to be subtly wrong about the universe that he was in, and soon the reason for that became clear. He wasn't from this universe in the first place. He came from ... somewhere else.

If he was a character in a book, that would have been enough to overcome his amnesia. It wasn't; the revelation that he belonged to another timeline was an oddly sterile one. It wasn't the whole story, apparently: there was something else about Horace's plight that he hadn't figured out yet. There seemed little to do except wait, and hope that all would eventually be revealed.

While all of this was going on, Horace had drifted into the field of writing - and, surprisingly (even to him), turned out to be extremely good at it. He took to the genre of science fiction as if it were designed expressly for him, turning out all sorts of adventures and stories. It was a shame that he never noticed that possibly his subconscious knew more about his plight than he did. Horace's books were full of travelers to and from alternate timelines, a certain distaste for established religion ... and a deep, abiding belief that all societies and situations eventually fall. A properly trained psychologist would have discovered the answer - except that there weren't any capable of handling Horace's unique problem.

However, Horace's mundane difficulties were what eventually caused his death: a combination of growing depression, poor luck and acute financial difficulties came to a head, causing him to decide to simply end it, once and for all. For some reason, this resonated inside him: it felt ... right. It was correct for him to kill himself, if it would fix things.

So, he did.

And, when he 'stood' above his rapidly cooling corpse, strange devices quietly ticking and beeping away on this strange new winged form of his, the shock was finally enough to jog his memory loose ... and the Mercurian cursed himself for a fool. Everyone was in deadly danger, and Horace was supposed to warn them, rather than lollygag around on this particular corporeal plane for half a century or so. But... everything was still wrong. Even more so than before. It even took a couple of tries for him to go in the right direction - and he wasn't sure that he was doing so until he saw Michael and Yves.



And then things started getting quietly panicky.

These days, Horace would be prime conspiracy fodder among the Host, if it weren't for the minor fact that his True Name, nature, abilities and history prior to his corporeal existence are now ineffable - through the direct intervention of both major Seraph Archangels and Yves himself. Litheroy knows what Horace is, too - it was simpler to just tell him - but the only individuals that could comprehend his explanation already know, or are Demon Princes. The level of obscurity is so great that it takes Superior-level abilities to even notice anything unusual about this angel. He doesn't seem to be worth this kind of attention, but that's probably the point.

Horace spends most of his time in Heaven. For odd reasons, he has strong issues with most of the War Faction - David makes him sneer, Laurence makes him spit and he had to be physically restrained from attacking Janus - and his attitudes towards the Peace Faction aren't much better. It's odd that Michael tolerates a Servitor that's only truly subordinate to him, Dominic, Novalis and Yves - but Horace is never called to task for it. Also oddly, Horace's corporeal missions are severely curtailed, again by direct order, so for a while the Mercurian spent a lot of time sitting firmly in the middle of Michael's part of the Groves and occasionally shivering.

It wasn't until the Cadre was formed that he started acquiring anything resembling a social life. He qualifies for membership, of course, but does not really belong to what passes for an Inner Circle among them. Still, it's a seeming comfort to him ... and probably even more useful for his mental health. You see, when not with the Cadre (or training in the Groves), the Mercurian spends much of his time on the very outskirts of Heaven, staring out into the absolutely indescribable vista. He's not watching and hoping that something will never happen, though.

He's just watching and hoping that Something Will Not Happen Today...


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