Former: Fallen Aengel Fury

[Warden Marcoux]

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Freya Rhylynn Tamporo

Fury

Help me if you can
It's just that this, this is not the way I'm wired
So could you please
Help me understand why
You've given in to all these
Reckless dark desires

You're lying to yourself again
Suicidal imbecile
Think about it, you're pounding on the fault line
What'll it take to get it through to you precious
I'm over this. Why do you wanna throw it away like this
Such a mess. Why would I want to watch you.

Disconnect and self destruct one bullet at a time
What's your rush now, everyone will have his day to die

~Vitals~

~Name: Freya Rhylynn Tamporo
~Title: Fallen Aengel
~Nicknames: Crazy Bitch, or just plain Bitch
~Age: 21
~Gender: Female
~Race: Kathenin
~Planet of Origin: Sidaban
~Sexuality: Bisexual
~Reputation: She’s one crazy, fiery bitch with a total disregard for others. Freya has no shame and virtually no verbal filter. She’s known as a ruthless mercenary who enjoys the challenge of the kill. And she’s quite good – as long as she doesn’t get too distracted in the process, which is definitely a possibility as she isn’t one with a long attention span. Her real strength lies in her willingness to complete most any task. She has no limits. Just promise the hit will be entertaining, and she’s sure to bite.
~Specialty: Guerilla tactics
~Reason for Exile: She’s spent her entire life following her impulses, doing whatever she would like regardless of the social norm and legal code. As such, it’s not hard to imagine she’s done quite a bit to rattle those she’s crossed paths with. You name it, she’s probably tried it once. And if she hasn’t, thanks for the idea. She’ll add that to her list soon enough.
~Former Life: While she started off with petty street crimes, Fury’s been dabbling in assassination for a number of years now. Formerly a member of Herald Death’s original flock of Aengels, Fury, along with the other Fallen Aengels, attacked Barroes Relin to rid him of his title.

~In Combat~

~POWERS:
Fury has the innate ability to send out an electrical pulse via her body – perhaps her own screwed-up form of ki manipulation, she couldn’t tell you. Alone it’s nothing to write home about. Via person-to-person contact she can’t do much more harm than a tube sock matched with a patch of carpet (Zap! Oh no!). But of course, pair this with a couple of well-made weapons and Freya transforms into quite the threat.

Maybe this next bit ties into her electrical abilities, maybe not. Hyperactive brain waves? Some sort of sensitivity? Or maybe it’s some off-shoot of the Kathenin’s sensing capabilities (which she possesses, though not strongly). She has no idea how exactly it works and doesn’t care to figure it out – why does it matter? At any rate, some helpful quirk in her DNA blessed Freya with a strong intuition. If only she had the patience to actually hone her skills…Alas, that sort of thing isn’t her strong suit. As such, her intuition only serves to lead her to the best location for an ambush, mysteriously attract her to the man (or woman) on the street who’s handling a decent supply of drugs – that sort of thing. It merely comes as an odd feeling in her gut, heart, head, or between her legs that just so happens to lead her down a beneficial path. To put it plainly, Freya has very good luck, but it doesn’t equate to much more than that.

~Weapons and Equipment: Fury makes regular (as in permanent) use of MAKO-equipped prosthetics (two hands and a glorious new spine), and throws in personalized explosives from time to time (developed by the Fallen Ice).

First, the explosives…These little beauties are great for sticking in small spaces, and detonate via an electrical pulse sent out by Fury herself. Pop them into a nice hiding spot, wait off in the distance where her gut leads her, then when her target approaches she send out a quick pulse – boom. It works out wonderfully. She knew she was friends with Ice for some reason…Apparently this was why.

The MAKO prosthetics were a real godsend (at least as far as her fighting skill is concerned). Coupled with her control of electrical currents, these genius creations give her the chance to send out a real jolt of damaging proportions, not just that useless little zap she was capable of before. Now her attacks are tangible, pretty far-reaching, and relatively precise. All she has to do is aim her hands in the right direction and she’ll send out a few swift bolts of power right down her target’s throat (figuratively speaking). Naturally, if this equipment is damaged she’s knocked right back down to square one.

~Skills: Other than her knack for being in the right place at the right time, Fury doesn’t have any skills of the unique variety. She knows how to use a few weapons – but is mostly scrappy in nature during a fight, not really one for disciplined forms of combat. Oh, she is very good at plunging a needle in her arm and holding a fairly high volume of smoke in her lungs. Yup, she handles her drugs quite well, if that can be considered a skill.
~Former training: Working in the flock was her only source of real training. Nope, no patience for that stuff.

~A Face to Fear~

~Height: 5’2”
~Weight: 114lbs
~Hair Color: Dark red
~Hair Style: Freya’s hair is long, down past her shoulders, with wild waves. She almost always wears it down, cascading in a thick river down her back.
~Eye Color: Hazel
~Play-By: Dulce Maria
~Clothing Style: Plunging necklines, thigh-bearing skirts, exposed stomach – pretty much the closest to nakedness she can get without actually being naked is the goal when picking items out of her closet. With the exception of her hands…She does prefer to keep those covered.
~Distinguishing Features: Her smile. Not comprised of the generic ‘light-up-the-room’ type of gleam, but instead formed of pure insanity. Creepy beyond words, almost as if she’s giggling at some constant joke, and clearly the joke is not of the innocent variety.

~OVERALL APPEARANCE:There’s something oddly animal about Freya’s movements, almost cat-like, and sinisterly unpredictable. She has sharp eyes with a sort of wild glint. However, every motion is precise in nature as well, as though moving by innate instinct.

She seems rather self-conscious about her back and hands, though it’s generally not obvious why. Of course, hair tossed aside and gloves removed the reasoning would be clear. A metal coil runs up and down the path of her spine, sticking out through her skin in the form of thick silver circles. Her hands are entirely fabricated through the means of a durable metal. But few actually get the opportunity to view these little secrets.

~Beneath the Exterior~

~Likes: Drugs, sex (anytime, anywhere), violence, any adrenaline rush, laughing, smiling, kicking dogs
~Dislikes: Not getting her way, getting wet, missing out on something she finds fun/interesting, consequences, sobriety, being stationary
~Fears: Fear (Sine), being maimed again, death, drowning, deep water
~Weaknesses: Curiosity, envy, drug dependency, irrationality, temper tantrums, mood swings
~Strengths: Adaptability, manipulation, tenacity, intuition
~Goals: Let’s see, how does she put it? Ehem…”Get high, don’t die.”
~Hobbies: Drug use, testing others’ patience (with the exception of Fear), arm wrestling, getting into trouble, laughing at absolutely nothing and watching others’ reactions

~OVERALL PERSONALITY: Freya can be quite manipulative and will say or do anything to get to her desired outcome – it sort of comes with the territory when dealing with drug addicts. She is almost completely unpredictable – she rarely answers a question the same way twice. She’s unshakeable, raw, explosive, and wild; surely not the type of woman one would want hunting them down if given a choice. The Kathenin could almost be considered childish in a sense, if not for her malicious behavior. That aside, she wouldn’t be beyond sitting down with Rocco and watching a few cartoons – likely ending the session with a nasty little zap to his forehead. There is little to nothing stable about her, and few have the patience and skill to keep her grounded.

~Rap and History~

~Mother: Mable Tamporo
~Father: Unknown
~Siblings: None she knows of, though there are probably some half-siblings running around out there.
~Other relations: None
~Companions: The Fallen, emphasis on Malice
~Wanted for: Possession of a controlled substance, larceny, arson, assault, and several murder charges, just to name a few.

~OVERALL HISTORY:
Freya’s father came in and out of her life quite quickly – meaning he basically entered Mable, exited (leaving behind only a nice sample of sperm), and was off on his merry way. Freya never blamed him for it. Who would want to be bogged down with a mate and kid anyway? Naw, he had it right. If her mother was smart she would’ve tripped down a set of stairs…

The absence of her father left Freya and her mother to fend for themselves – something Freya was luckily skilled at accomplishing. Mable was a nut in her own rite, and quite useless at providing for her daughter. A tad too stuck on her former lover, bogged down with sadness over missed opportunities, a wasted life, and with nothing to show for herself other than a dilapidated shack and a few articles of clothing. It wasn’t long after Freya’s birth she first dabbled into drugs, numbing her emotional woes with whatever came her way. Still, she loved her darling little daughter – though she might not show it with her complete lack of supervision and guidance. While Freya poked about the streets, Mable became a recluse, a hermit trapped in the walls of their one-room shanty. There was just a void in her heart, a gap that couldn’t be filled, and her interest in life was lost.

Freya thus developed into quite the terror as a child (and never seemed to grow out of it). Kicking old men in the shins for a chance to nab their wallets, swiping necessary items from the local market with ease, batting her eyelashes at perverted men for a quick buck long before she understood why the method worked (and which would later escalate once she figured it out)…It was a thrill. An escape. Something entertaining, exciting – something that gave her wretched little life a bit of zest.

While her mother shot up and boiled her wits to mush, Freya’s antics escalated. Soon it wasn’t about getting enough for her and her mother to live on – it was more about the adrenaline rush than survival. She stole what she needed, and some things she didn’t. She assaulted those who looked like they had a decent amount of cash, and those who clearly possessed less than she. Stray animals beware; Freya hunted them down and tortured the poor creatures until she got bored. If she found a man in the street who seemed interesting, she would bring him to bed (at far, far too young an age, to be sure). When men seemed to lose their appeal, she turned to women. Life was just an experience to be had. Wonderful. Amazing. All in her hands.

Her first murder was actually uninteresting by her standards. The local bartender invited her back into the storage room for a bit of fun. Naturally, she obliged. It started well enough, except that the bartender was a complete bore – and he was hardly well-equipped. In fact, she would argue he wasn’t equipped at all. She wasn’t having any fun. Actually, she was bored - and Freya got upset when she was bored…So she broke a nearby bottle on the ground and stabbed the unsuspecting male in the groin. Gushing blood, bursting forth from the major artery in a shower. Now that was a sight – even more blood than when she gutted that stray dog. Poor puppy. At least no other woman would have to suffer with THAT unskilled lover again. Look at her, she was turning into a hero! Anyway, once the bartender was dead Freya checked his pockets, took a nice bottle of whiskey from the back as a gift to her dear mother, and headed on her way.

Life continued in this manner for a number of years – Freya answering only to herself, bringing the evening’s spoils back to her mother. After one rather uneventful night, Freya returned home in the wee morning hours to find her little hovel completely abandoned. Mable, who hadn’t bothered to leave the house for nearly three solid years, seemed to have vanished. Freya haunted the shack for six solid days waiting her mother’s return, curled up in a tiny ball on the floor not an inch away from the door. After the sixth day, Freya popped up in a fit of laughter and bolted, leaving the door wide open behind her and running until her feet no longer had the strength to carry her.

The sudden disappearance of her mother seemed to have little effect on Freya. She lived much in the same way she had before – coming across what she needed by whatever means necessary, except now she had one less mouth to feed. And now she could travel, bouncing from city to city, planet to planet, galaxy to galaxy.

In time she was picked up by what would later become Barroes Relin’s first flock of Aengels. Fury was likely the least trained of the group, but that sort of thing didn’t matter to her. They were fun to stick around. There was always something to do, someone to kill. She proved useful enough.

Mable’s taste for drugs had always been intriguing to Freya, though she never dabbled in their consumption herself. They seemed to be a nice thrill. Visions, illusions, giggle-inducers – how fun! But with Malice around…What good luck she had to run into him, hm? Why not try one? Or two? Or a handful? Or all of them? All of them. She wanted to try each and every one, get a good sample and figure out which were the most pleasurable. For some reason the elf was particularly fond of Fury, which worked out in her favor. Her personal goodie-dispenser. She’d string the creep along – teasing him with her words…with her body. The attention was nice. Use, use, use. Sucker.

Eventually, as we all know, the soon-to-be-Fallen plotted to turn against their dear Herald. Fury wouldn’t protest. Why would she care? It sounded fun. Not that she really had a dislike for Barroes. But he did choose to sleep with Ice over her. Of course Ice was attractive. But who said she was more attractive than Fury? She wasn’t. The least he should have done was sleep with her first…Not that Fury was one to hold a grudge. No, mostly it was about entertainment value. That and the fact she would rather be in the majority than stand up for Barroes. No. That would be stupid. So, she happily participated in the rebellious attack, laughing maniacally at the image of her former leader bleeding and nearly in tears with anger.

Not long after the Fallen broke off, Fury managed to incite Fear’s rage after her lack of focus botched a hit – the Kathenin (against her head’s warning) let off one of her explosives a bit closer to Fear than he was happy with. The infuriated Fallen Herald doled out quite the punishment, nearly killing Fury in the process. A rough beating fractured her spine in several places, and a swift slice across her wrists tore both hands from their master. It was only through luck and the mercy of the other Aengels Fury managed to be spared, a pair of replacement hands and a shiny new metal spine formed just for her use and built to increase her power. The sight of metal jutting out from her skin still makes something in her brain pop with unease…The near loss of her life finally reined in Fury’s mania, at least when the Herald is nearby. She doesn’t dare disappoint him again.

~Writing Sample~

There that giant oaf slept. The big drugged oaf. Nice goatee, Mountain Man. If she were in charge she’d slap him back on that snow globe planet he apparently hailed from (at least she overheard something about cold once, or snow, or fur coats…Whatever, let her go on – It’s good! Shhhh…), and have the other crazy aboriginals beat the sucker to death. Funny, isn’t it?! Her twisted grin spread at the thought of Greed’s head being bashed in by a caveman with a club. A nice loud CRACK as the wooden weapon met with his skull, which sunk in heavily with the blow. BRAINS EVERYWHERE! And metal. Metal from that creepy eye of his…

She wondered…

Yeah, she wondered…What would happen if she zapped that green orb just a little bit – JUST A LITTLE! No, she wouldn’t want to break it, really. Then Fear might get mad. She didn’t want him mad…But what would happen. Anything was possible, wasn’t it? Maybe butterflies would soar out from his socket! Then she could FRY ALL OF THEM. Her eyes darted back and forth as the drug haze in her brain conjured up the winged creatures, bright colors flapping here and there within her confused vision.

Her gut warned her not to do it. But Fear might be mad…But Fear might be mad…

Ok. So she wouldn’t zap it. No…A white flash crossed the red-head’s eyes as she dashed for the table, plucking up a fork from Rocco’s half-eaten plate of macaroni and cheese. It looked good when it was hot. So she took it. But then she got distracted by the television. Now it was cold. It didn’t look very good anymore. Her brow furrowed as she glared down at the abandoned meal. She wasn’t going to eat it now.

Ah, RIGHT. The fork. HA! The fork!

The Kathenin quietly approached Greed’s sleeping figure, the utensil held firmly in her fist. She’d make a nice quick jab – “AGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Her fist opened immediately, jerking backward and flailing in an attempt to shake off the angry current that passed through her body. Hair standing on end, she jumped back like a wounded animal, eyes blazing with absolute hatred. “Fuck you!” She bellowed at the Glacian as he shot up from his slumber.

The aengel slunk away as quickly as she could, wanting to get away from that menace. Apparently the bearded bastard had a few tricks up his sleeve. WELL SHE’D FRY THE FUCKER NEXT TIME! Nasty little eye! NASTY GLOWING GREEN FUCKER!