Post by Alex-065 on Apr 13, 2011 18:30:18 GMT -5
Name: Aileen // Neelia
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Race: Human // Giantess
Alignment: Neutral Good // Chaotic Neutral
Power Level: 4 // 8
Timeline: Medieval
Appearance:
Aileen: Frequently mistaken for a child, Aileen is a frilly-dressed doll of a girl. She stands only four feet tall, over-sized witch's hat notwithstanding, with none of the womanly curves endowed upon her older and more powerful sisters. Fate, it seemed, had given them all the advantages of their mixed human and elven heritage. Aileen blames the latter for her frustratingly diminutive figure. Her hair is as volumous as it is blonde and prone to tangle, necessitating a meticulous grooming regimen that contributes to Aileen's overall tidy victorian look.
Neelia: Aileen's alter ego. A separate and fully sentient personality with a will of her own. When Neelia is awakened, the resulting conflux of energy and the rift in Aileen's psyche triggers a rapid metamorphosis that is both starling and beautiful. The time span between tiny mage and voluptuous giantess is brief. Aileen's ruined frocks do little to preserve Neelia's modesty, but by her nature she is anything modest. Her curvaceous figure is toned with unnaturally powerful layers of muscle. A diamond could be crushed into a wisp of glittering dust between her thighs. Like her shredded dresses, the transformation shatters the facade of Aileen's treasured and well kept hair. Neelia's golden locks are wild and unbound. Like the woman.
Personality:
Aileen: Perky and mostest, though shy when met with someone of a higher station in society. Friendly and courteous to all, she doesn't enjoy any sort of conflict and is fearful of physical violence. Little but poor etiquette can get her mad, and there is no doubting her intellect. Curiosity, however, can get the better of her, and it is perhaps the one thing that can tempt her into bend her morals as a mage.
Neelia: Proud, loud, and bodacious, Neelia is Aileen's polar opposite. Disdaining meekness, she is bold in all things and fears nothing. Though she can make a powerful alley, her own selfishness, short tempter, and lack of manners can greatly obstruct true cohesion with others. She eats like a baloth and is a bigger lush than even the hardiest of men. If not exhausted in battle, getting Neelia stone-blind drunk has proven to be the most comparatively reliable way to force her to revert back into Aileen. Neither method is ever easy. Her stamina, as well her capacity for holding her liquor, is legendary.
History: Counted as the last of eight daughters, Aileen has always been overshadowed. The eldest of her sisters were already powerful mages and highly influential courtesans by the time she had been born, and for years it seemed as though she might follow her high-born family's tradition of posh and lofty aspirations.
As she matured however, it became clear that Aileen would never be as statuesque or as empowered as her siblings, for neither her figure nor her powers had developed to the extent that others expected of her. Or that she expected of herself. Part of her felt cheated. Had her mother's best genes been used up? It seemed ridiculous... Yet she correctly discerned there may have been a greater truth to that than she thought.
Indeed, her family, the venerable Octavias, had come from a long line of mages who's beauty and ability had kept them perched high on the social latter for generations. Siring a child with magical abilities was hardly something that could be controlled, however. Among the aristocracy, many different spouses could often be involved if others could not produce offspring with "the gift", and this was precisely why noble children were not named untill they were a year old, the earliest a child with sensitivity to mana could be discerned. The fact that ALL of the Octavia sisters were born mages was utterly unheard of. And yet Aileen barley qualified. Her weakness had introduced a lurking malignancy into her family's noble blood, she thought. One that would only grow more severe in her own offspring, if her parents could manage a ransom for an arranged marriage. They had gone to great lengths to hide Aileen's shortcomings. Otherwise, what high-borne family would wed their son to a girl of inferior breeding stock?
There was so much at stake... Aileen's happiness was placed last of all, even by her.
So, she decided, it was up to her to correct the mistake in Octavian lineage. Privately, and in utmost secrecy, she began to work towards a solution that would grant her all she seemed to be lacking and obliterate her imperfections.
No one in the Octavia estate noticed when genealogy records began disappearing from the family archives. Or when Aileen reluctantly sent tiny ornithopers to draw samples of blood from her parents and sisters as they slept. She felt so guilty, working in her hidden lab at night like a madwoman with not but her books and beakers to keep her company. She told herself it would be worth it. All her thought was bent on the splendid metamorphosis she felt was just out of her reach. And if she could grasp it, Aileen foresaw it would put all the enchantments of her sisters to shame. Perhaps even more than that.
What inadequacy had begun, curiosity sustained, as Aileen's secret undertaking progressed. Much of her secluded work was spent taking meticulous notes from all manner of magical tomes. She conducted countless experiments of increasing complexity to test theories and procedures that were either refined, sustained, or discarded. No effort was wasted, and no permutation overlooked. The inner workings of a clock could not have been as precise as her methods. Very gradually, and only after two years of clandestine study that had nearly been discovered on several occasions, the potential for an ultimate solution began to emerge from Aileen's volumes of accumulated research. It had evolved into something surreal and unprecedented.
At first, Aileen didn't know what to call it, this thing she had labored to produce...
Initially she only called it "The Orb", although "The Tank" would have been just as accurate, if not more so. However, she found the term far too crude and plebeian. She had vested more pride in her secret work than anything else in her life. Her masterpiece deserved a worthy name, despite her being the only one who would ever know it. If her luck lasted long enough. It seemed the closer Aileen came to completing her project, the more her friends and family seemed eager to know what had been occupying so much of her time.
Aileen had anticipated this. Even in the earliest stages of her creation's development. Knowing she might not be able to keep it a secret forever, she invented a clever way to disguise it's true nature from anyone curious enough to spy on her. In that case, they would only find what appeared to be a giant, mechanized planetarium. A multitude of clear glass orbs representing the planets and moons were installed in orbit upon metal rings and pivot arms that would be autonomously cranked around a much larger glass chamber reinforced with heavy bronze struts and latticework. This was the sun of the great heliocentric rig. Both it and it's bubble-like satellites were empty. For the time being, at least...
It was quite ingenious, really. Those planetary spheres were, in fact, mana reservoirs designed to supplement the conflux of energy that would take place within the central containment chamber. The action of their orbit only served to generate even greater power, for what Aileen coyly dubbed "The Orrey". History would later record this portentous machine as the world's first bio-alchemical reactor; made manifest by one young girl's guilty ambition in an elegantly inspired marriage of form and function that would be activated only once... To calamitous effect.
It had been on the eve of Aileen's eighteenth birthday. Midnight. Zero Hour.
Just as planned, the orbs of the Orrey were filled with the needed varieties of mana-rich fluids, as great in variety as in quantity. Aileen had purchased most from a dozen different alchemy vendors in the city, and only in small orders placed throughout several months to avoid suspicion. The rest was painstakingly formulated and home-brewed.
The prime reactant.
It was clear, like water, yet it glowed an arcane shade of blue, giving off a pleasant warmth. It was also as viscous and sticky as pure honey, which, despite it's oxygen content, made it no easier to breath when Aileen anxiously slipped off her robe and immersed herself deep into the brimming liquid sun she had constructed. The enchanted bronze hatch slammed shut behind her, locking in place with a loud clank and hiss as it's many screws spun tight. As a safety measure, it had been designed to open only when the impending sequence was complete. Somewhere in the machine, hidden mechanisms began to whir and whine as the Orrey thrummed to life with it's creator locked inside.
Floating naked and afraid in the steadily warming reactant, hugging her knees like a tiny infant in a great glass womb, Aileen knew there was no turning back. For better or worse, she was committed. She knew also that there was a distinct possibility that the Orrey's intended function could kill her. Or worse, it could fail to work at all. The initialization seemed to go on forever, building an unbearable suspense.
Then all at once mighty gears groaned, the armatures began to turn, and the other voltaic spheres were set in motion along their orbits. Slowly at fist, but quickly gaining momentum. Aileen watched them circle her. The dread she had felt was replaced by a perverse kind of anticipation. Faster, she urged them. Turn faster! And the armatures turned faster. Strings of simmering bubbles appeared in the chamber to surround Aileen. She smiled, thrilled. Soon Aileen was in a fully raging boil, harmless and brisk. The azure glow of the reactant gained greater intensity, as well as the strange but surprisingly pleasant tingling sensations that had begun darting through her body. It was working!
The Orrey, her magnum opus, had begun an ebb and flow of volatile energies through the adolescent mage. All the latent power and beauty she should have inherited from her ancestors was being roused from her blood and brought to the surface. Slowly, she could feel herself growing taller and more feminine, transforming into the perfect synthesis of all the best women of the Octavia family.
Aileen tossed and turned, virtually writhing in pure joy. With even greater satisfaction, she sensed her sensitivity to mana, her strength in spellcraft, increasing exponentially with each of the Orrey's ever increasing cycles. Incredible! Oh, if only she could have had her notebook with her! She did her best to keep a mental list of scientific observations, but it was just too much. What was happening to her was simply too fast, chaotic, and wonderful for pen and paper, or her own reckoning. She was being born again, as she was meant to be.
Lost in a haze of triumphant ecstasy, literally drunk with power, Aileen never noticed how dangerously overcharged the reactant had become. There was simply more energy being produced than her body could absorb. The chamber that held her was rapidly approaching the point of saturation, glowing ever brighter in shades of blue that cloaked the Orrey in a pulsing and ghostly aura. Even so, the armatures continued to spin faster and faster. Numerous bolts of lighting arched from the orbs as they tried to shed excess mana, igniting tables of precious books and papers that sailed flaming about the lab as a crackling roil engulfed the Orrey.
The whirlwind lasted briefly before the reactant finally reached saturation. The ensuing detonation was instant and tremendous. Aileen's run-away mechanical solar system was consumed by a super nova of white-hot energy. When the light had faded and the smoke had cleared, there was little left of her lab but four stone walls, charred, flecked with melted glass and bronze, and no ceiling. All of her notes and research logs, every thing was gone.
Miraculously, Aileen had survived. But she wasn't the only one...
Powers: Though her casting abilities were enhanced by her accident with the Orrey, Aileen's spells aren't particularly combat oriented. Although she does know a handful meant for self defense, hopping onto her her staff will allow her outrun and outfly most would-be assailants.
Neelia, on the other hand, is a powerhouse. While far less adept at complex spellcraft than Aileen, she has the brute strength of a titan, and her skin, as supple and pale-pink as it is, is tougher to pierce than basilisk hide. Her only "spells" are little more than barely controlled blasts of the raw mana that empowers her, roughly concentrated into destructive beams.
Equipment: Aileen's enchanted flying staff was somehow able to withstand the destruction of the Orrey, and some how seemed to have gained the ability to transform at the same time she does. Normally it is slender and light-weight in Aileen's hands, but when effected by Neelia the staff morphs into a massive gem-headed war hammer far more suited to the amazon's love of striking devastating physical blows.
Weakness: Aileen is no warrior, let alone a battle mage. Neelia's love of combat is her greatest strength, but if she manages to over exert herself or is hurt badly enough the unstable magic that brings her into being can be dispelled. Exhausted, she will revert back into the relatively helpless Aileen.
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Race: Human // Giantess
Alignment: Neutral Good // Chaotic Neutral
Power Level: 4 // 8
Timeline: Medieval
Appearance:
Aileen: Frequently mistaken for a child, Aileen is a frilly-dressed doll of a girl. She stands only four feet tall, over-sized witch's hat notwithstanding, with none of the womanly curves endowed upon her older and more powerful sisters. Fate, it seemed, had given them all the advantages of their mixed human and elven heritage. Aileen blames the latter for her frustratingly diminutive figure. Her hair is as volumous as it is blonde and prone to tangle, necessitating a meticulous grooming regimen that contributes to Aileen's overall tidy victorian look.
Neelia: Aileen's alter ego. A separate and fully sentient personality with a will of her own. When Neelia is awakened, the resulting conflux of energy and the rift in Aileen's psyche triggers a rapid metamorphosis that is both starling and beautiful. The time span between tiny mage and voluptuous giantess is brief. Aileen's ruined frocks do little to preserve Neelia's modesty, but by her nature she is anything modest. Her curvaceous figure is toned with unnaturally powerful layers of muscle. A diamond could be crushed into a wisp of glittering dust between her thighs. Like her shredded dresses, the transformation shatters the facade of Aileen's treasured and well kept hair. Neelia's golden locks are wild and unbound. Like the woman.
Personality:
Aileen: Perky and mostest, though shy when met with someone of a higher station in society. Friendly and courteous to all, she doesn't enjoy any sort of conflict and is fearful of physical violence. Little but poor etiquette can get her mad, and there is no doubting her intellect. Curiosity, however, can get the better of her, and it is perhaps the one thing that can tempt her into bend her morals as a mage.
Neelia: Proud, loud, and bodacious, Neelia is Aileen's polar opposite. Disdaining meekness, she is bold in all things and fears nothing. Though she can make a powerful alley, her own selfishness, short tempter, and lack of manners can greatly obstruct true cohesion with others. She eats like a baloth and is a bigger lush than even the hardiest of men. If not exhausted in battle, getting Neelia stone-blind drunk has proven to be the most comparatively reliable way to force her to revert back into Aileen. Neither method is ever easy. Her stamina, as well her capacity for holding her liquor, is legendary.
History: Counted as the last of eight daughters, Aileen has always been overshadowed. The eldest of her sisters were already powerful mages and highly influential courtesans by the time she had been born, and for years it seemed as though she might follow her high-born family's tradition of posh and lofty aspirations.
As she matured however, it became clear that Aileen would never be as statuesque or as empowered as her siblings, for neither her figure nor her powers had developed to the extent that others expected of her. Or that she expected of herself. Part of her felt cheated. Had her mother's best genes been used up? It seemed ridiculous... Yet she correctly discerned there may have been a greater truth to that than she thought.
Indeed, her family, the venerable Octavias, had come from a long line of mages who's beauty and ability had kept them perched high on the social latter for generations. Siring a child with magical abilities was hardly something that could be controlled, however. Among the aristocracy, many different spouses could often be involved if others could not produce offspring with "the gift", and this was precisely why noble children were not named untill they were a year old, the earliest a child with sensitivity to mana could be discerned. The fact that ALL of the Octavia sisters were born mages was utterly unheard of. And yet Aileen barley qualified. Her weakness had introduced a lurking malignancy into her family's noble blood, she thought. One that would only grow more severe in her own offspring, if her parents could manage a ransom for an arranged marriage. They had gone to great lengths to hide Aileen's shortcomings. Otherwise, what high-borne family would wed their son to a girl of inferior breeding stock?
There was so much at stake... Aileen's happiness was placed last of all, even by her.
So, she decided, it was up to her to correct the mistake in Octavian lineage. Privately, and in utmost secrecy, she began to work towards a solution that would grant her all she seemed to be lacking and obliterate her imperfections.
No one in the Octavia estate noticed when genealogy records began disappearing from the family archives. Or when Aileen reluctantly sent tiny ornithopers to draw samples of blood from her parents and sisters as they slept. She felt so guilty, working in her hidden lab at night like a madwoman with not but her books and beakers to keep her company. She told herself it would be worth it. All her thought was bent on the splendid metamorphosis she felt was just out of her reach. And if she could grasp it, Aileen foresaw it would put all the enchantments of her sisters to shame. Perhaps even more than that.
What inadequacy had begun, curiosity sustained, as Aileen's secret undertaking progressed. Much of her secluded work was spent taking meticulous notes from all manner of magical tomes. She conducted countless experiments of increasing complexity to test theories and procedures that were either refined, sustained, or discarded. No effort was wasted, and no permutation overlooked. The inner workings of a clock could not have been as precise as her methods. Very gradually, and only after two years of clandestine study that had nearly been discovered on several occasions, the potential for an ultimate solution began to emerge from Aileen's volumes of accumulated research. It had evolved into something surreal and unprecedented.
At first, Aileen didn't know what to call it, this thing she had labored to produce...
Initially she only called it "The Orb", although "The Tank" would have been just as accurate, if not more so. However, she found the term far too crude and plebeian. She had vested more pride in her secret work than anything else in her life. Her masterpiece deserved a worthy name, despite her being the only one who would ever know it. If her luck lasted long enough. It seemed the closer Aileen came to completing her project, the more her friends and family seemed eager to know what had been occupying so much of her time.
Aileen had anticipated this. Even in the earliest stages of her creation's development. Knowing she might not be able to keep it a secret forever, she invented a clever way to disguise it's true nature from anyone curious enough to spy on her. In that case, they would only find what appeared to be a giant, mechanized planetarium. A multitude of clear glass orbs representing the planets and moons were installed in orbit upon metal rings and pivot arms that would be autonomously cranked around a much larger glass chamber reinforced with heavy bronze struts and latticework. This was the sun of the great heliocentric rig. Both it and it's bubble-like satellites were empty. For the time being, at least...
It was quite ingenious, really. Those planetary spheres were, in fact, mana reservoirs designed to supplement the conflux of energy that would take place within the central containment chamber. The action of their orbit only served to generate even greater power, for what Aileen coyly dubbed "The Orrey". History would later record this portentous machine as the world's first bio-alchemical reactor; made manifest by one young girl's guilty ambition in an elegantly inspired marriage of form and function that would be activated only once... To calamitous effect.
It had been on the eve of Aileen's eighteenth birthday. Midnight. Zero Hour.
Just as planned, the orbs of the Orrey were filled with the needed varieties of mana-rich fluids, as great in variety as in quantity. Aileen had purchased most from a dozen different alchemy vendors in the city, and only in small orders placed throughout several months to avoid suspicion. The rest was painstakingly formulated and home-brewed.
The prime reactant.
It was clear, like water, yet it glowed an arcane shade of blue, giving off a pleasant warmth. It was also as viscous and sticky as pure honey, which, despite it's oxygen content, made it no easier to breath when Aileen anxiously slipped off her robe and immersed herself deep into the brimming liquid sun she had constructed. The enchanted bronze hatch slammed shut behind her, locking in place with a loud clank and hiss as it's many screws spun tight. As a safety measure, it had been designed to open only when the impending sequence was complete. Somewhere in the machine, hidden mechanisms began to whir and whine as the Orrey thrummed to life with it's creator locked inside.
Floating naked and afraid in the steadily warming reactant, hugging her knees like a tiny infant in a great glass womb, Aileen knew there was no turning back. For better or worse, she was committed. She knew also that there was a distinct possibility that the Orrey's intended function could kill her. Or worse, it could fail to work at all. The initialization seemed to go on forever, building an unbearable suspense.
Then all at once mighty gears groaned, the armatures began to turn, and the other voltaic spheres were set in motion along their orbits. Slowly at fist, but quickly gaining momentum. Aileen watched them circle her. The dread she had felt was replaced by a perverse kind of anticipation. Faster, she urged them. Turn faster! And the armatures turned faster. Strings of simmering bubbles appeared in the chamber to surround Aileen. She smiled, thrilled. Soon Aileen was in a fully raging boil, harmless and brisk. The azure glow of the reactant gained greater intensity, as well as the strange but surprisingly pleasant tingling sensations that had begun darting through her body. It was working!
The Orrey, her magnum opus, had begun an ebb and flow of volatile energies through the adolescent mage. All the latent power and beauty she should have inherited from her ancestors was being roused from her blood and brought to the surface. Slowly, she could feel herself growing taller and more feminine, transforming into the perfect synthesis of all the best women of the Octavia family.
Aileen tossed and turned, virtually writhing in pure joy. With even greater satisfaction, she sensed her sensitivity to mana, her strength in spellcraft, increasing exponentially with each of the Orrey's ever increasing cycles. Incredible! Oh, if only she could have had her notebook with her! She did her best to keep a mental list of scientific observations, but it was just too much. What was happening to her was simply too fast, chaotic, and wonderful for pen and paper, or her own reckoning. She was being born again, as she was meant to be.
Lost in a haze of triumphant ecstasy, literally drunk with power, Aileen never noticed how dangerously overcharged the reactant had become. There was simply more energy being produced than her body could absorb. The chamber that held her was rapidly approaching the point of saturation, glowing ever brighter in shades of blue that cloaked the Orrey in a pulsing and ghostly aura. Even so, the armatures continued to spin faster and faster. Numerous bolts of lighting arched from the orbs as they tried to shed excess mana, igniting tables of precious books and papers that sailed flaming about the lab as a crackling roil engulfed the Orrey.
The whirlwind lasted briefly before the reactant finally reached saturation. The ensuing detonation was instant and tremendous. Aileen's run-away mechanical solar system was consumed by a super nova of white-hot energy. When the light had faded and the smoke had cleared, there was little left of her lab but four stone walls, charred, flecked with melted glass and bronze, and no ceiling. All of her notes and research logs, every thing was gone.
Miraculously, Aileen had survived. But she wasn't the only one...
Powers: Though her casting abilities were enhanced by her accident with the Orrey, Aileen's spells aren't particularly combat oriented. Although she does know a handful meant for self defense, hopping onto her her staff will allow her outrun and outfly most would-be assailants.
Neelia, on the other hand, is a powerhouse. While far less adept at complex spellcraft than Aileen, she has the brute strength of a titan, and her skin, as supple and pale-pink as it is, is tougher to pierce than basilisk hide. Her only "spells" are little more than barely controlled blasts of the raw mana that empowers her, roughly concentrated into destructive beams.
Equipment: Aileen's enchanted flying staff was somehow able to withstand the destruction of the Orrey, and some how seemed to have gained the ability to transform at the same time she does. Normally it is slender and light-weight in Aileen's hands, but when effected by Neelia the staff morphs into a massive gem-headed war hammer far more suited to the amazon's love of striking devastating physical blows.
Weakness: Aileen is no warrior, let alone a battle mage. Neelia's love of combat is her greatest strength, but if she manages to over exert herself or is hurt badly enough the unstable magic that brings her into being can be dispelled. Exhausted, she will revert back into the relatively helpless Aileen.
