Who?

Name/Alias: Cyrus Calhoun, The King of Autumn.
Age: 24 (DOB: 6-22-1995, Carricksville, South Carolina.)
Alignment/Allegiance: Independent/The Great Feast, his cult.

Public Info:

Reputation as a highly charismatic preacher and somewhat controversial figure within Ashton. Oversees a reasonably large congregation, with a small portion of that being formally inducted into his cult. The cult itself is not public knowledge, but Cyrus' odd behavior and fiery sermons likely would be. His status as a cape is also unknown, but it wouldn't take too much to be able to at least piece together that Cyrus does have some kind of superhuman power.

Starting Rep: 2 as Cyrus, -1 as KoA. (Maybe an X rating here?)

Appearance.

Physical Appearance:

In a word: beautiful. Cyrus takes great care to maintain what he considers to be an appealing appearance. His skin is almost totally clear, any blemishes are covered with perfectly applied makeup and cosmetics. Cyrus also utilizes makeup to accentuate his own features. His already high and sharp cheekbones and jawline are expertly contoured, his piercing blue eyes made more visible by a light shading of eyeshadow.

Cyrus is tall, standing at 6'2", and has a slender build, weighing in at just shy of 190 pounds. His hair is incredibly long, falling to around his stomach. As with the rest of his appearance, his hair is expertly maintained, holding a glossy shine and a volume that would make any runway model jealous. As stated before, Cyrus' facial features are incredibly sharp, boasting a killer jawline and wicked cheekbones.

When in his full Regalia as the King of Autumn, these features are all accentuated further by even more excessive application of makeup, with the addition of lipstick, eyeliner, and ostentatious clothing. He has a single large tattoo on his back, in the shape of a 12-pointed star.

Cyrus has a deep voice, speaking with a slight southern drawl, slightly reminiscent of the accents of the antebellum south. During sermons, his voice deepens somewhat, taking on a rough, almost gravelly quality.

Costume/Clothing:

Cyrus' normal clothing is typically fairly simple. When leading services, and indeed at most hours of the day, Cyrus wears a fairly standard set of collared robes, in line with what a Catholic priest would wear. When not wearing robes, Cyrus still tends to overdress for most occasions, preferring suits and ties over more casual wear. The most casual he'd ever go would probably still be considered acceptable workplace attire at 90% of white collar jobs. He often keeps his long hair in tight bun when he's not in costume.

When in full Regalia as the King of Autumn^1, Cyrus wears garishly colored robes, typically deep reds, blues, and purples, and greens, often accompanied by any variety of metal masks and other props. His hair is almost always worn down while in costume, or kept in a simple ponytail.

Mentality:

Cyrus is much more restrained when out of costume, cultivating the persona of a reserved, humble cleric, only allowing his true colors to show when surrounded by his more loyal followers. Cyrus is impulsive, brash, and envious, but he also is sympathetic to those he perceives as having faced similar or comparable struggles to his own.

As the King of Autumn, Cyrus is imperious, egotistical, and incredibly driven. While he doesn't have a god complex himself, he may act as such in order to "sell" the character of the King of Autumn. If anything, Cyrus has a savior complex, targeting those who he sees as helpless or weak for "conversion."

Cyrus is, at his core, conflicted, and this is reflected not only in his behavior and his sermons, but also in how and when he chooses to use his power.

Resources.

Staring Wealth: 4

Gear:

Various forms of his aforementioned costume and clothing.
Bronze sword/scepter.
Various regalia. (Masks, crowns, jewelry, etc.)

Assets:

A straight-up cult. To be expanded on in the comments.
A little white church, located on the border of Blossom Heights and Peak Forest. Sits about 125 people. Pretty basic affair, has a steeple, some bells, a fairly spacious interior and basement, the works.
A congregation. Also expanded on in the comments.
Roughly $10,000, almost entirely in physical cash.
Nominally a member of the Pentecostal church community, although Cyrus remains largely removed from any sort of mainline authority, in both temporal and spiritual terms.

Skills:

Charismatic, insofar as he has a very strong personality.
Paints on occasion. He's pretty good.
Very talented at the application of makeup.
Literally down for anything.

Power:

Cyrus issues an invisible, tasteless, odorless miasma from his skin at all times. This miasma stays around Cyrus in an aura that extends up to 60 feet from his body in all directions. When the miasma comes into contact with human skin, it works its way into the bloodstream of the person it's come into contact with. It takes roughly five minutes for the miasma to make its way to the subject's brain, and begin feeding him information. Cyrus can feed more miasma onto/into his subjects through skin to skin physical contact, or bodily fluids (like blood and sweat, you fucking sicko.) Cyrus can also coat food and drink with miasma to allow it to spread more directly. Miasma remains on food and drink for up to a week. When taken from Cyrus' area of effect, the miasma behaves like oxygen, and will mix with gases in the air to form a weaker version of itself, instilling greatly diminished effects in people effected by it, unless they are exposed to a significant amount.

The miasma's effects remain for as long as the target in within Cyrus' aura, and persists for 256 hours after leaving Cyrus' presence. This duration can be refreshed by re-entering Cyrus' aura, or by consuming food coated in the miasma.

Once the miasma reaches a target's brain, it begins to feed Cyrus a stream of information, one that grows in specificity the longer the target is under the sway of the miasma. After a few (5-10) minutes, Cyrus begins to gain a basic understanding of the target's skills, knowledge, and fears. After 15-30 minutes, Cyrus's understanding of these things becomes more and more detailed, as well as basic information on what latent skills the person may have. After 1-2 hours, Cyrus begins to gain a basic knowledge of past events in the target's life, and a far finer understanding of their latent talents. Over the course of days, Cyrus' understanding of the target's past will become finer and more detailed. As said before, physical contact greatly increases the speed which these effects take hold, with prolonged physical contact quadrupling the rate that the miasma takes effect.

With the Master aspect of his power, Cyrus can influence the latent skills and talents of those he has under his sway, able to do so with an increased degree of finesse when his targets are in his miasma. Typically, this takes the form of meditation or direct conversation. These empowered skills remain for as long as the target is under Cyrus' miasma. While under the effects of Cyrus' skill enhancement, performing an action associated with the enhanced skills will give some form of sensory feedback to the target, often taking the form of some feeling of pleasure, devotion, or fulfillment. This feedback is generally focused on Cyrus, making those under his sway almost addicted to his influence and power.

Cyrus can also influence these sensory feedbacks within those effected by the miasma at will, with varying intensity, depending on how far under his influence the target is. He can 'set' the sensory feedbacks to give a certain feedback, directed towards a certain person, and can only change the parameters of the feedbacks when the target is physically within his area of effect. If Cyrus were, say to make it so whenever someone effected by his power deals physical harm to another person, that could feed into their hatred of someone they know, rather than adoration or love for Cyrus. Long exposure to Cyrus means that he can instill up to three stacking feedbacks in someone, each pertaining to separate actions, or just one specific action.

The skills influenced by Cyrus can be increased to an incredible degree, however, not everyone has as much latent talent as anyone else. Cyrus cannot simply create a cult full of ubermenchen, since the ability to gain incredible amounts of skill is restricted to a few people, and even then skills are restricted to a few innate, 'untapped' abilities. Even then, only a select few people, roughly one out of every twenty, can have their abilities enhanced to truly incredible levels.

Example:

Cyrus inhaled deeply, pretending to sleep. He sat with his back against the hostel's wall, blanket wrapped tightly around his body. A faint smirk danced across his face, before disappearing again.

He had sat here for almost four hours, feigning sleep. His miasma had spread across the hostel's main room, feeding him a constant stream of thoughts, memories, and untapped potential. Cyrus suppressed a shiver as more and more things flooded to him, his brain almost tingling with pleasure and he absorbed more and more ideas.

Cyrus' eyes lazily flipped open, casting a half-lidded stare across the room, his gaze settling on a young blonde woman playing cards with a small group of friends. He focused on the woman, his gaze zeroing in on her face, her eyes. Something flickered through his mind, a fleeting image of a fist striking a punching bag. The smell of sweat, floor cleaner, and the deep thrum of some rock track filled his mind before vanishing in an instant. A memory. A small sliver of this one's past.

He dug deeper. The same hand now danced gracefully across a violin's neck, coaxing melodies from the instrument that most people could only dream of ever hearing, let alone replicating. Cyrus felt the smoothness of the strings under his fingers, the tension with which the lady held the bow, the sonorous sound of some long-forgotten symphony, all undercut by a strong scent of brandy. A desire. A want. But something else, too. Deep below the surface of this woman's subconscious, locked away behind layers of self-doubt and anxieties, there was the ability to make that dream a reality. The gift of music was there, inside this woman, and all that was left to do was bring it out.

Cyrus rose to his feet, letting his blanket fall to the ground. He had found something worth his time.

Backstory:

Cyrus was something of a prodigy growing up. Carricksville, South Carolina didn't see much in the way of academic excellence. Carricksville was a poor town, with most of it's inhabitants fitting the bill of what might be called a 'dirt farmer', working bad land to grow whatever cash crops that would scrape together a sale big enough to put food on the table. For a lot of people -- the vast majority, even -- Carricksville didn't offer much in terms of opportunity. You were born in town, raised in town, and -- God willing -- you'd die there, too.

But Cyrus was different. Cyrus did well in school, regardless of the decades-old textbooks and the underpaid, under-qualified teachers. Cyrus excelled in all subjects from an early age, a trend he carried on throughout high school, ultimately graduating with national honors, and with some impressive academic credentials. Colleges across the country flocked to recruit him, offering massive sums of money in scholarships and incentives to Cyrus and his family. But Cyrus wasn't moved by these lofty offers of something more, though he knew anybody else would be more than happy to take any one of the many opportunities laid out before him. Cyrus had higher aspirations.

From a young age, Cyrus was obsessed with faith. He hailed from a family of devout Pentecostals, and religion's status as a gateway to a higher power had always loomed large in Cyrus' mind. As he grew older, Cyrus' faith became more and more central to his identity, driving almost every thing he did. His incredible academic accomplishments were not a result of his desire to secure a better life, but rather a product of his deep-seated faith driving him towards what he considered excellency in all things. Going to an Ivy League school, attending prestigious lecture programs, or going on a speaking tour didn't appeal to Cyrus now because it had never been a goal of his in the first place to do any of those things. His success now was merely a by-product of his own desire to serve God in every capacity of his life.

It was amid heavy protesting from his parents that Cyrus attended a seminary rather than a university, trading his valedictorian's robes for a minister's garb. Even now, Cyrus' grades proved to be a blessing, with his stellar academic record allowing him admittance into the prestigious St. Cecilia's seminary program in Charleston, overseen by one Deacon Michael Garrett, a man who was well-known within South Carolina's Pentecostal community as both an excellent teacher and firey preacher. Despite Cyrus' academic record playing a major role in his acceptance to St. Cecilia's, Deacon Garrett made it very clear that Cyrus would be offered no compensation for his education, no scholarships. If Cyrus wanted to attend St. Cecilia's, it would have to be paid for out of pocket. And so, spending what little money his family had saved, Cyrus would set out for Charleston, seeking to serve God in whatever capacity he could.

Unfortunately for Cyrus, he would never make it out of St. Cecilia's, at least not in the capacity he would have wanted to. Garrett proved to be an incredibly harsh teacher, repeatedly reprimanding and berating Cyrus, preventing him from making any meaningful progress in his studies. Indeed, it seemed the Deacon had taken a special dislike in Cyrus, tormenting him at all hours of the day, even waking him in the middle of the night as punishment for some perceived offense.

Cyrus' mental health took a toll, and not solely on account of his treatment at the hands of the Deacon. For years, virtually his entire life, Cyrus had been a very large fish in a very small pond, effortlessly making his way through whatever challenges came to face him with ease. But St. Cecilia's was a different beast entirely, where the best and brightest of South Carolina's prospective clerics gathered to test their knowledge against one another. No longer could Cyrus simply run mental circles around his peers. He was now on even ground, and worse off for it. However, perhaps most pressingly, Cyrus' money --what little he and his family had-- began to run dry. Soon spending money became savings, and savings became loans. Then those loans became debts, and those debts began to grow. As time dragged on, Cyrus dug himself an even deeper and deeper financial hole, one that he very well might not be able to escape for years after graduating, if he even managed that.

Things came to a head in the autumn of Cyrus' last year at the seminary. Garrett had redoubled his pressuring on Cyrus as the year drew to a close, with graduation looming on the horizon. One particular late night spent in the seminary archives without any meaningful results lead to Garrett flying into another one of his rages, ranting and swearing as he tore apart his office, hurling books and whatever else he could get his hands on at Cyrus. This was familiar to Cyrus, for the most part, and as such he barely reacted, save to duck under the occasional on-target encyclopedia. However, this impassiveness only seemed to further enrage Garrett, and this is where Cyrus would become acquainted with the Cradle.

The cradle was, in short, a large wardrobe, save for the inclusions of several large wrought-iron nails hammered into the walls, facing into the interior of the structure. It was the Cradle which Cyrus would be thrown into, and it was here, in the pitch-blackness of the Cradle, with nails digging into his skin, Garrett ranting outside, and the crushing weight of all those unfulfilled expectations of something more piling onto him, where Cyrus triggered.

Only a few days later, Cyrus would leave St. Cecilia's, intent on heading west. He had failed in his own journey to serve God, he thought, at least the one God he had known. But what was stopping him from serving a new god?

Why not become one himself?

ART USED:

1) KING, by Jodie Muir.

Submitted March 19, 2019 at 09:20AM by Topesc https://ift.tt/2YfIivU

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Tuesday, March 19, 2019

Cyrus Calhoun, The King of Autumn.