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.
Michael.
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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