Post by The Ripper on Mar 12, 2017 22:05:13 GMT -5
Canon/Original Axis-Form AU of my OC, Ripper
Name: Father Temporialstialayaias
Father Stylis, for short.
Age: Age? What is age, to a paradox? As the years go, though, he's currently 899 years of age.
Species: Time Lord Paradox
Planet of Origin: Gallifrey
Time of Origin: A time of 'Peace and politics' after the First War In Heaven, and well prior to the Second.
Occupation: Teacher, and keeper of lore.
Physical Description:
Face Claim:
First Face – Nathan Fillion – 0 to 411
Second – Terance Zdunich 411 – 463
Third – Anthony Head 463 – 521
Fourth – Eliza Dushku 521 - 569
Fifth – (current) David Bowie 569 – 899 (current age)
Personality: The personality of his first regeneration is like that of a lot of other young men. Perhaps a little hot-headed, he has an exaggerated sense of his own importance, and also a young man's perceptions of immortality. He is also basically a good person, with a deep sense of loyalty to his House, and the typical trappings of Time Lord Pride.
His second regeneration is formed in the first days of the fall of his House, and has only revenge in his hearts. Fiercely clever, and more than a little twisted, after having seen almost everything that he knew and loved stripped away from him, he found his strength in strategy. Knowing that time was short for the structure of his House, it was this regeneration that first formed the plan to keep the Library of the Librettist out of hands that could misuse it, by folding it into a time loop that only recognized one person – himself – while working on a way to move it.
His third was a fighter, preferring to rely on brute strength to get the job done, and a little pig-headed, too, as well as extremely stubborn. With nothing else to live for, in his opinion, he threw himself into the battle to try and keep those last remaining few members of his House safe, no matter the cost. If this had been his last regeneration, then he wouldn't have complained.
His fourth regeneration… or her fourth regeneration was the one that realized that she needed something more, in the smouldering wreckage of her life, and so, reached out to Faction Paradox, offering them herself, her skills and service, in return for gaining what she sorely missed – a solid sense of identity, and having a family around her, once again. With the return of that cool intellect, she also came up with a way to shift the Time Loop that was keeping the Library safe with her, as she eventually moved on. Extremely lonely, she was grateful for the hand of acceptance, no matter which direction it came from.
Male again, his fifth regeneration came about as he was finally making his way to settle at his new home. His ship was shot down mid-flight, and he was mortally wounded. When he woke, he took a lump of TARDIS coral with him, left the shattered hulk of his ship behind, and set out again.
This regeneration, with a destination and goal in mind, was the most stable to come about since his first regeneration. Learning the ways of Faction Paradox, and finding his feet amongst his new family, he even found himself able to put aside the dream for vengeance that he'd craved, and immerse himself fully in his new life. It was this regeneration that finally learned how to smile again, something that he hadn't done out of joy since his first regeneration. He also learned how letting go of a desire for vengeance was instrumental in feeling free again.
As well as that, he found in himself, a fierce desire to learn everything that he could, and pass the knowledge on to others, which is what enabled him to climb through the ranks of his Family.
History:
History only matters, to those who are bound by it.
… and I suppose most of you are, so…
DATE -
Isn't it odd, what people would call 'a time of peace?' A rest between wars. The people are no less hungry for power, it's simply that that hunger has to be redirected to other means. It remains without a doubt, that the destruction of the Great House of Librettist was purely a political decision, for want of power.
See, we knew too much.
It also stands to reason, that none of us were meant to survive. Oh, they smiled and offered condolence.
“Such a shame.”
“So sad.”
“How tragic.”
The only true law of constants, is that of the lengths people will go to for greed. Those of us that survived, are 'vanishing.' I fear that if I do not move soon, then I am also intended to join the ranks of the vanished.
So many calculations still to do; -how long will it take, to fold time-space around the Grand libraries of the Librettist, so that I might take it with me, or failing that, come back for it one day? History is made by those that tell it, and those books are our score.
Well, mine, now.
Where am I to go?
There is nothing for me here, any longer, that much is a certainty, and as soon as I leave these walls, I will be just another outcast.
Where does any outcast, that wishes to edit the annuals of history end up? We were keepers of history, and I know the ways of Faction Paradox well. In fact, I doubt there is a keeper of history that doesn't well know them. You can hardly stand against what you don't know, now, can you?
I stand to do the Ritual of Contact. It is time to do what I must, to make a new home, under the roof of those that my House considered an enemy. Above all else, I crave family again. This place is so silent, and so empty.
DATE -
All that you have to do to change the universe, is separate your story from established history. Sounds simple, when you put it like that, doesn't it?
I made my bargain with our cousins in the shadows some time ago, now, but only now do I have time to commit it to paper – there has been so much to learn.
The calculation of the checks and balances, alone, for existing after elimination of the circumstances of one's own creation, is not an easy task. Still, I suspect that where most fail, is in carrying out the task, itself.
I was a child of the Looms, yes, but my donors were clearly defined. Well, not so clearly defined, any more. Throats have been slit, before my creation could be contributed to. Really, it was not such a hard task, since they are already dead, in this present day, of this present, anyway.
I was so limited before, but now, I am open to the vast span of possibilities, in a way that I never could have dreamed of.
The ritual of Faction Paradox – my new family – well-suits me, too. It is refreshing, and replenishing, much like stepping out from the confines of the city, into a fresh shower, or sitting down, talking with my brothers and sisters, while reading a good book. I feel as though I am on solid ground, rather than falling away into nothing, like I was prior to this.
I could truly be content, here.
DATE -
Such a lovely thing, to never be alone, and with a shadow at my side, I'll not be alone, again.
Once upon a time, once upon a timeline, I others used to look at me sideways, for talking to myself. Now, I'm not talking to myself any more. Now, I'm talking to my shadow, and my shadow has a tongue of insubstantial steel, with which to respond. It is fascinating, truly – I could never take that weapon with my own hands, but it has been used in defence of me, countless times already.
The sense of having a security web to rely on, is also a reassuring one.
The books here tell me that the knife which is bonded to my spirit, now is some form of hunting knife, almost a machete in size, and yet it seems more solid than the thin-bladed human weapon is. It's curved back, wicked-sharp, and I've seen it remove limbs as easily as a laser can cut through metal.
I've also selected a mask, as well, modelled after a large Earth Bird, called a Haast's Eagle – a beautiful creature, with a wingspan of up to 2.6 meters, a silent assassin or the skies.
I am also comfortable now, with being around humans, and having them as a part of my family. It is just another thing that comes with the territory. In matter of fact, I barely notice them these days. They're just more members of the family.
DATE -
Today, was a day of celebration. I feel wholly complete now that I am in a position to give back to my family. Now that I have earned the title of Father.
It has been a while since I last wrote, hasn't it? A lot happenings, passed under the bridge, and always more to learn.
It feels as though everything in my lives so far has been building up to this point. I have worked with scientists, and I've worked with the collection that resides in the tunnels under our beautiful city, which is… interesting, to say the very least.
I never feel more comfortable than when I get to work with the young, though, and I suppose someone must have noticed that.
To work with new-comers, teach them our ways, and about this incredible home, and Family that is here…
Well, I couldn't have asked for anything better.
Additional Medical Information:
Being paradoxical, he isn't quite alive, and isn't quite dead. One supposes that the best way to put it, is that he is tangible unreal. He has also been through several regenerations prior to joining Faction Paradox, during the persecution of his House, and is now on his fifth face. He does not have the ring that his self in the dominant timeline does, and nor does he have his hearts troubles.
Further Information:
Transport: One of the first things that he did, upon becoming settled amongst the ranks of the Family, was use the chunk of coral that he'd taken from his devastated TARDIS, to grow a shrine, one last homage to his old, faithful, finally defeated friend.
Faction Protocols:
Shadow Animation and Shadow Weapon:
The Father spent several years finding his feet amongst the Family, learning their ways, and growing comfortable with everything, and everyone, before he was finally bonded to a shadow. This was a step that he was unwilling to see through, until it could become a moment of celebration for him, marking a full transition to his new life.
Able to strike wherever there was enough for it to be seen by, he quickly found his confidence again, knowing that it had his back. He also found himself often falling into conversation with it, even though of course, he didn't ever get an answer, as such.
The Father's weapon (at Lil's suggestion, and with her permission) is a khukuri knife. Knowing that it's a tool, as well as a weapon, he feels like somewhat less of a thug knowing that this is what's to hand for his shadow to defend him. He also sees it as elegant, in it's own way, and a tool of a predator.
With some experimentation, he learned that a blow from his Shadow Weapon did the same sort of damage that it's physical counterpart would do. The advantage that a Shadow Weapon had over a physical weapon, though, was an element of surprise - after all, who expected a shadow to be the last thing that they ever saw?
Linguistic And Historical Manipulation
As language, and understanding the strengths and nuances of it was one of the main cornerstones of the House Librettist, as well as guiding players in the great story of history, the Father quickly learned a lot about what words were used in the rituals of the Family, and what gave them the power that they held. With this in mind, one of the Father's first major missions for the Family, was to travel backwards in time (or was it sideways, or forwards? Does that matter?) to manipulate the historical languages of certain races and cultures, in order to provide a source of energy that the Family could draw on in rituals, if need be.
This was done by altering historical language patterns, so that energy was sent directly from those speaking it, to a location that could be tapped by those with the right language to access it.
Genetic and Biodata Manipulation
Even as he was working as a guard, before becoming teacher and Father, one of the Father's passions was avian life-forms, and he was in a good place to learn about them. After all, the records of 'extinct' life, that were held under his new home, held more data than he would ever be able to absorb in several lifetimes.
Years of study provided him with a good insight, as to what gene and gene set coded for what trait, and it became just another language to him. Which, like all other languages, could be manipulated and twisted, to create what he wanted.
This was a project that he had a lot of fun with, and even through he has yet to establish a breeding colony of his avian creations, he has created several living, viable subjects. This is a project that he returns to, whenever he wants something else to do with his free time, although he has less of that now, since earning his new rank and title.
Writing Submission:
“Grandfather watch me. Spirits maintain me.”
The familiar words slipped, unbidden, from the tongue of the boy behind Temporialstialayaias, as he turned on the spot, then stepped to the side. He was moving to keep himself between the frightened-looking young man, who was looking him with wide, pleading eyes, and the large form that was trying to close in on him.
He didn't recognize the species. And that, for him, at least, was saying something.
It was heavily muscled, solidly built, with too many razor-sharp teeth in it's mouth, and taller than him. The blood on it's lips, and tooth-marks on the boy's arm, though, made it obvious what was going on here.
“You want to harm my Family, you'll have to go through me, now. You've had your one free shot.”
It was late evening. The setting sun, and the light of a flickering fire cast the shadows long on the ground, and made them dance to the play of the light, across the brittle, dry grass, and on the face of the small cliff that rose above them.
Again, the thing, whatever he was, tried to advance.
“Eyes on me.”
He stepped to the side, closer to the cliff, and it was at that moment, that his shadow struck, a flickering blade of darkness swung almost hard enough to cut clean through the thick neck of the thing that was now lunging for him, instead.
A cool smile flickered across his expression, as fleeting as the dancing shadows, as the thing fell to it's knees, and he turned his attention back to the frightened youth.
“And that,” he spoke, as he stepped over the fallen body, and held out a hand towards the cowed young man, “is why we don't wander from the set path. If I hadn't shown up, then how long do you think it would have been, before your biodata were to fertilize this ground, hmm?”
Already, he could see that the blood from the bite was congealing, and the flow had almost entirely ceased. He would survive, abet with a mark to show for it.
“Come on, let's head back.”
He held out a hand, to help the youth to his feet, and finally, he seemed to come back to reality, a slow dawning of awareness.
“Yes, Father.”
There was a silence that stretched for a few, lingering moments, and then he spoke again, in a sheepish tone.
“Thank-you, Father.”
Notes: Corrin, here. I also currently play the OC, The Ripper, the Canon Characters Leela, and the Eleventh Doctor, and the NPC's Murphy and Rassilon.
Name: Father Temporialstialayaias
Father Stylis, for short.
Age: Age? What is age, to a paradox? As the years go, though, he's currently 899 years of age.
Species: Time Lord Paradox
Planet of Origin: Gallifrey
Time of Origin: A time of 'Peace and politics' after the First War In Heaven, and well prior to the Second.
Occupation: Teacher, and keeper of lore.
Physical Description:
Face Claim:
First Face – Nathan Fillion – 0 to 411
Second – Terance Zdunich 411 – 463
Third – Anthony Head 463 – 521
Fourth – Eliza Dushku 521 - 569
Fifth – (current) David Bowie 569 – 899 (current age)
Personality: The personality of his first regeneration is like that of a lot of other young men. Perhaps a little hot-headed, he has an exaggerated sense of his own importance, and also a young man's perceptions of immortality. He is also basically a good person, with a deep sense of loyalty to his House, and the typical trappings of Time Lord Pride.
His second regeneration is formed in the first days of the fall of his House, and has only revenge in his hearts. Fiercely clever, and more than a little twisted, after having seen almost everything that he knew and loved stripped away from him, he found his strength in strategy. Knowing that time was short for the structure of his House, it was this regeneration that first formed the plan to keep the Library of the Librettist out of hands that could misuse it, by folding it into a time loop that only recognized one person – himself – while working on a way to move it.
His third was a fighter, preferring to rely on brute strength to get the job done, and a little pig-headed, too, as well as extremely stubborn. With nothing else to live for, in his opinion, he threw himself into the battle to try and keep those last remaining few members of his House safe, no matter the cost. If this had been his last regeneration, then he wouldn't have complained.
His fourth regeneration… or her fourth regeneration was the one that realized that she needed something more, in the smouldering wreckage of her life, and so, reached out to Faction Paradox, offering them herself, her skills and service, in return for gaining what she sorely missed – a solid sense of identity, and having a family around her, once again. With the return of that cool intellect, she also came up with a way to shift the Time Loop that was keeping the Library safe with her, as she eventually moved on. Extremely lonely, she was grateful for the hand of acceptance, no matter which direction it came from.
Male again, his fifth regeneration came about as he was finally making his way to settle at his new home. His ship was shot down mid-flight, and he was mortally wounded. When he woke, he took a lump of TARDIS coral with him, left the shattered hulk of his ship behind, and set out again.
This regeneration, with a destination and goal in mind, was the most stable to come about since his first regeneration. Learning the ways of Faction Paradox, and finding his feet amongst his new family, he even found himself able to put aside the dream for vengeance that he'd craved, and immerse himself fully in his new life. It was this regeneration that finally learned how to smile again, something that he hadn't done out of joy since his first regeneration. He also learned how letting go of a desire for vengeance was instrumental in feeling free again.
As well as that, he found in himself, a fierce desire to learn everything that he could, and pass the knowledge on to others, which is what enabled him to climb through the ranks of his Family.
History:
History only matters, to those who are bound by it.
… and I suppose most of you are, so…
EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF FATHER TEMPORIALSTIALAYAIAS
(please note – the dates are mostly indiscernible)
(please note – the dates are mostly indiscernible)
DATE -
Isn't it odd, what people would call 'a time of peace?' A rest between wars. The people are no less hungry for power, it's simply that that hunger has to be redirected to other means. It remains without a doubt, that the destruction of the Great House of Librettist was purely a political decision, for want of power.
See, we knew too much.
It also stands to reason, that none of us were meant to survive. Oh, they smiled and offered condolence.
“Such a shame.”
“So sad.”
“How tragic.”
The only true law of constants, is that of the lengths people will go to for greed. Those of us that survived, are 'vanishing.' I fear that if I do not move soon, then I am also intended to join the ranks of the vanished.
So many calculations still to do; -how long will it take, to fold time-space around the Grand libraries of the Librettist, so that I might take it with me, or failing that, come back for it one day? History is made by those that tell it, and those books are our score.
Well, mine, now.
Where am I to go?
There is nothing for me here, any longer, that much is a certainty, and as soon as I leave these walls, I will be just another outcast.
Where does any outcast, that wishes to edit the annuals of history end up? We were keepers of history, and I know the ways of Faction Paradox well. In fact, I doubt there is a keeper of history that doesn't well know them. You can hardly stand against what you don't know, now, can you?
I stand to do the Ritual of Contact. It is time to do what I must, to make a new home, under the roof of those that my House considered an enemy. Above all else, I crave family again. This place is so silent, and so empty.
DATE -
All that you have to do to change the universe, is separate your story from established history. Sounds simple, when you put it like that, doesn't it?
I made my bargain with our cousins in the shadows some time ago, now, but only now do I have time to commit it to paper – there has been so much to learn.
The calculation of the checks and balances, alone, for existing after elimination of the circumstances of one's own creation, is not an easy task. Still, I suspect that where most fail, is in carrying out the task, itself.
I was a child of the Looms, yes, but my donors were clearly defined. Well, not so clearly defined, any more. Throats have been slit, before my creation could be contributed to. Really, it was not such a hard task, since they are already dead, in this present day, of this present, anyway.
I was so limited before, but now, I am open to the vast span of possibilities, in a way that I never could have dreamed of.
The ritual of Faction Paradox – my new family – well-suits me, too. It is refreshing, and replenishing, much like stepping out from the confines of the city, into a fresh shower, or sitting down, talking with my brothers and sisters, while reading a good book. I feel as though I am on solid ground, rather than falling away into nothing, like I was prior to this.
I could truly be content, here.
DATE -
Such a lovely thing, to never be alone, and with a shadow at my side, I'll not be alone, again.
Once upon a time, once upon a timeline, I others used to look at me sideways, for talking to myself. Now, I'm not talking to myself any more. Now, I'm talking to my shadow, and my shadow has a tongue of insubstantial steel, with which to respond. It is fascinating, truly – I could never take that weapon with my own hands, but it has been used in defence of me, countless times already.
The sense of having a security web to rely on, is also a reassuring one.
The books here tell me that the knife which is bonded to my spirit, now is some form of hunting knife, almost a machete in size, and yet it seems more solid than the thin-bladed human weapon is. It's curved back, wicked-sharp, and I've seen it remove limbs as easily as a laser can cut through metal.
I've also selected a mask, as well, modelled after a large Earth Bird, called a Haast's Eagle – a beautiful creature, with a wingspan of up to 2.6 meters, a silent assassin or the skies.
I am also comfortable now, with being around humans, and having them as a part of my family. It is just another thing that comes with the territory. In matter of fact, I barely notice them these days. They're just more members of the family.
DATE -
Today, was a day of celebration. I feel wholly complete now that I am in a position to give back to my family. Now that I have earned the title of Father.
It has been a while since I last wrote, hasn't it? A lot happenings, passed under the bridge, and always more to learn.
It feels as though everything in my lives so far has been building up to this point. I have worked with scientists, and I've worked with the collection that resides in the tunnels under our beautiful city, which is… interesting, to say the very least.
I never feel more comfortable than when I get to work with the young, though, and I suppose someone must have noticed that.
To work with new-comers, teach them our ways, and about this incredible home, and Family that is here…
Well, I couldn't have asked for anything better.
Additional Medical Information:
Being paradoxical, he isn't quite alive, and isn't quite dead. One supposes that the best way to put it, is that he is tangible unreal. He has also been through several regenerations prior to joining Faction Paradox, during the persecution of his House, and is now on his fifth face. He does not have the ring that his self in the dominant timeline does, and nor does he have his hearts troubles.
Further Information:
Transport: One of the first things that he did, upon becoming settled amongst the ranks of the Family, was use the chunk of coral that he'd taken from his devastated TARDIS, to grow a shrine, one last homage to his old, faithful, finally defeated friend.
Faction Protocols:
Shadow Animation and Shadow Weapon:
The Father spent several years finding his feet amongst the Family, learning their ways, and growing comfortable with everything, and everyone, before he was finally bonded to a shadow. This was a step that he was unwilling to see through, until it could become a moment of celebration for him, marking a full transition to his new life.
Able to strike wherever there was enough for it to be seen by, he quickly found his confidence again, knowing that it had his back. He also found himself often falling into conversation with it, even though of course, he didn't ever get an answer, as such.
The Father's weapon (at Lil's suggestion, and with her permission) is a khukuri knife. Knowing that it's a tool, as well as a weapon, he feels like somewhat less of a thug knowing that this is what's to hand for his shadow to defend him. He also sees it as elegant, in it's own way, and a tool of a predator.
With some experimentation, he learned that a blow from his Shadow Weapon did the same sort of damage that it's physical counterpart would do. The advantage that a Shadow Weapon had over a physical weapon, though, was an element of surprise - after all, who expected a shadow to be the last thing that they ever saw?
Linguistic And Historical Manipulation
As language, and understanding the strengths and nuances of it was one of the main cornerstones of the House Librettist, as well as guiding players in the great story of history, the Father quickly learned a lot about what words were used in the rituals of the Family, and what gave them the power that they held. With this in mind, one of the Father's first major missions for the Family, was to travel backwards in time (or was it sideways, or forwards? Does that matter?) to manipulate the historical languages of certain races and cultures, in order to provide a source of energy that the Family could draw on in rituals, if need be.
This was done by altering historical language patterns, so that energy was sent directly from those speaking it, to a location that could be tapped by those with the right language to access it.
Genetic and Biodata Manipulation
Even as he was working as a guard, before becoming teacher and Father, one of the Father's passions was avian life-forms, and he was in a good place to learn about them. After all, the records of 'extinct' life, that were held under his new home, held more data than he would ever be able to absorb in several lifetimes.
Years of study provided him with a good insight, as to what gene and gene set coded for what trait, and it became just another language to him. Which, like all other languages, could be manipulated and twisted, to create what he wanted.
This was a project that he had a lot of fun with, and even through he has yet to establish a breeding colony of his avian creations, he has created several living, viable subjects. This is a project that he returns to, whenever he wants something else to do with his free time, although he has less of that now, since earning his new rank and title.
Writing Submission:
“Grandfather watch me. Spirits maintain me.”
The familiar words slipped, unbidden, from the tongue of the boy behind Temporialstialayaias, as he turned on the spot, then stepped to the side. He was moving to keep himself between the frightened-looking young man, who was looking him with wide, pleading eyes, and the large form that was trying to close in on him.
He didn't recognize the species. And that, for him, at least, was saying something.
It was heavily muscled, solidly built, with too many razor-sharp teeth in it's mouth, and taller than him. The blood on it's lips, and tooth-marks on the boy's arm, though, made it obvious what was going on here.
“You want to harm my Family, you'll have to go through me, now. You've had your one free shot.”
It was late evening. The setting sun, and the light of a flickering fire cast the shadows long on the ground, and made them dance to the play of the light, across the brittle, dry grass, and on the face of the small cliff that rose above them.
Again, the thing, whatever he was, tried to advance.
“Eyes on me.”
He stepped to the side, closer to the cliff, and it was at that moment, that his shadow struck, a flickering blade of darkness swung almost hard enough to cut clean through the thick neck of the thing that was now lunging for him, instead.
A cool smile flickered across his expression, as fleeting as the dancing shadows, as the thing fell to it's knees, and he turned his attention back to the frightened youth.
“And that,” he spoke, as he stepped over the fallen body, and held out a hand towards the cowed young man, “is why we don't wander from the set path. If I hadn't shown up, then how long do you think it would have been, before your biodata were to fertilize this ground, hmm?”
Already, he could see that the blood from the bite was congealing, and the flow had almost entirely ceased. He would survive, abet with a mark to show for it.
“Come on, let's head back.”
He held out a hand, to help the youth to his feet, and finally, he seemed to come back to reality, a slow dawning of awareness.
“Yes, Father.”
There was a silence that stretched for a few, lingering moments, and then he spoke again, in a sheepish tone.
“Thank-you, Father.”
Notes: Corrin, here. I also currently play the OC, The Ripper, the Canon Characters Leela, and the Eleventh Doctor, and the NPC's Murphy and Rassilon.
