Re: QUIETUS [S!5] [Sign-ups]
03-30-2012, 02:15 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
Username:Lord Paradise
Name: Commander Princess Patricia Pastrykisses-Bearonrollerblades
Sex: 100% woman
Race: Human
Color: #8888BB
Description: Assembling a wardrobe is one of the most underappreciated talents of a politician, especially a politician burdened with good taste. After years of hurriedly changing out of a ball gown and into full military regalia in the back of the limo from Tiaran into Jetpaxia, Patricia decided that for her sanity’s sake she was going to have to break some new ground here, fashion-wise. She’s currently wearing a tasteful lowest-common-denominator ensemble consisting of a camouflage evening gown bedecked with medals and diamonds, combat boots, stockings, a backpack, silk gloves, elbow pads, and a combination tiara/headset with the mic hanging within licking distance of her lower-left bicuspids. It’s a good look, you know, for affairs of state.
Physically, you pretty much know the drill: Patricia is an attractive, curvy-within-reason young lady of twenty-four years. She could pass either for a typical Tiaran (or a typical Tiaran’s unattainable ideal of a typical Tiaran) or a typical Jetpaxian’s unattainable etc. etc. When in Jetpaxia, she tends to play up the blue tint in her otherwise black hair, which is currently tied up in a bun but has been known to hang down as low as her bellybutton at parties. Her face alternates between pouting, scowling and other expressions of stress and is likely to age poorly over the next twenty years, if not surgically assisted.
If asked about her personality, Patricia will deny that she has one. A politician to the bone, she thinks, feels and behaves in whatever manner she finds most beneficial and convenient. That’s another lie, of course, but one of which she has at least convinced herself. Truthfully truthfully, Patricia’s innermost desire is the desire for whatever the hell she wants, now. This desire blossomed during a rich and spoiled childhood and transmuted into a single-minded drive for success when responsibility was thrust upon her too soon in her life. Nothing about this is at all healthy, and there’s always a risk that the dam of all-encompassing hatred in her heart will burst forth to catastrophic effects under conditions of extreme stress. Luckily for the world, as of the moment before her abduction, Patricia believed most of the conditions of extreme stress in her life to be behind her.
Weapons/Abilities: In her youth, Patricia’s parents nursed her inborn talent with both machines and animals, but she got taken away from all that in order to better serve the world. Now, her weapons are people.. Patricia’s status and credentials are pseudosociologically enhanced to function virtually everywhere, so that she is consistently recognized as an upper-level bureaucrat. This doesn’t mean that everyone is compelled to obey her—on the contrary, they’re as likely to develop an instinctive need to rebel against her—but the usual boring submissive masses will treat her with the respect due her ill-defined office. She supplements this advantage with her own, more run-of-the-mill talents, having learned or been trained to function in the gymnasium, the podium, the bedroom, the courthouse, and the kitchen, if not in the garage, the wilderness, or the streets. However, being really good at your job is worth nothing without the proper tools, which is what the backpack is for. The contents of Patricia’s backpack include:
-One legal pad for writing up various writs, warrants, I.O.Us, contracts, memos, diplomas, and drafts thereof;
-One very classy pen, for use in writing on the above;
-One desktop nameplate;
-One wall-mounted nameplate;
-An inconstantly large amount of denomination-changing currency;
-Two self-inking stamps, one with the word “approved” and one with the word “denied” on it;
-One megaphone;
-One collapsible soapbox;
-One handkerchief;
-Assorted posters and bumper stickers in support of variable causes;
-One personal planner, full of handwritten addresses, appointments and alibis;
-Makeup, deodorant, and emergency toiletries;
-An assortment of press passes, nametags and other transferable symbols of authority;
-A palm pilot that functions as a tape recorder, a fairly accurate lie detector, a live feed of polls and approval ratings, and a window into alternate timelines, with a battery life of about one week of frequent use.
It can be assumed that all of these things have strange, pseudosociological abilities to manipulate and influence people.
Biography: Patricia was born in a P.O.W. camp, the illegitimate child of renowned Tiaran vegetarian soldier-chef Fredward Pastrykisses and crack Jetpaxian dino-roboticist Jessie Bearonrollerblades. After a peace settlement was reached and the first steps were taken towards uniting the two nations, allowing her parents to continue their relationship in the open, the romance and circumstances of Patricia’s birth made her something of an emblem of peace and a minor celebrity. The Pastrykisses-Bearonrollerblades family became quite wealthy, but the pressures of fame drove Fredward and Jessie apart, with each returning to their own home. The question of what to do with Patricia became rather heated, and several months of poor game theory later they came to the agreement that neither of them could have her and she should be sent to a boarding school on the border. This was about three weeks after her eleventh birthday. She saw her parents but little for the rest of her life.
Patricia excelled in all her classes and made a number of friends, mostly out of spite, and had what might be considered a healthy adolescence to somebody who wasn’t observing too closely. At the age of sixteen, the threat of a second war drove pacifist factions to train and recruit a new generation of diplomats, and Patricia was an obvious choice for a number of reasons. She accepted the new program’s offer, as it seemed like the thing to do at the time, and spent the next two years intensively training to be the most effective politician living in either country. And as the first war panic settled down before her graduation, Patricia was able to use these talents to accumulate power and wealth beyond anything her parents had accomplished, presuming that the time when she would have to save the world would never arrive.
That moment didn’t arrive until after she had turned twenty-one and become the first citizen ever to achieve the titles of both Princess and Commander. A personal vendetta between the Princess-in-Chief of Tiaran and the Triple-Admiral of Jetpaxia forced the militaries of both nations into a dangerous campaign of brinksmanship. A second war seemed inevitable until Patricia organized a sitdown, following which both the Princess-in-Chief and the Triple-Admiral announced their resignations and stepped off the face of the Earth, never to be seen again. The public, relieved at the prospect of peace, never really called for a full investigation, and Patricia, rather than use the event as a campaign platform, allowed it to fade into memory. The subsequent epidemic of mysterious disappearances among the politically inconvenient went completely unpublicized.
Theme song: Game of Thrones -- Orion's Reign
Username:Lord Paradise
Name: Commander Princess Patricia Pastrykisses-Bearonrollerblades
Sex: 100% woman
Race: Human
Color: #8888BB
Description: Assembling a wardrobe is one of the most underappreciated talents of a politician, especially a politician burdened with good taste. After years of hurriedly changing out of a ball gown and into full military regalia in the back of the limo from Tiaran into Jetpaxia, Patricia decided that for her sanity’s sake she was going to have to break some new ground here, fashion-wise. She’s currently wearing a tasteful lowest-common-denominator ensemble consisting of a camouflage evening gown bedecked with medals and diamonds, combat boots, stockings, a backpack, silk gloves, elbow pads, and a combination tiara/headset with the mic hanging within licking distance of her lower-left bicuspids. It’s a good look, you know, for affairs of state.
Physically, you pretty much know the drill: Patricia is an attractive, curvy-within-reason young lady of twenty-four years. She could pass either for a typical Tiaran (or a typical Tiaran’s unattainable ideal of a typical Tiaran) or a typical Jetpaxian’s unattainable etc. etc. When in Jetpaxia, she tends to play up the blue tint in her otherwise black hair, which is currently tied up in a bun but has been known to hang down as low as her bellybutton at parties. Her face alternates between pouting, scowling and other expressions of stress and is likely to age poorly over the next twenty years, if not surgically assisted.
If asked about her personality, Patricia will deny that she has one. A politician to the bone, she thinks, feels and behaves in whatever manner she finds most beneficial and convenient. That’s another lie, of course, but one of which she has at least convinced herself. Truthfully truthfully, Patricia’s innermost desire is the desire for whatever the hell she wants, now. This desire blossomed during a rich and spoiled childhood and transmuted into a single-minded drive for success when responsibility was thrust upon her too soon in her life. Nothing about this is at all healthy, and there’s always a risk that the dam of all-encompassing hatred in her heart will burst forth to catastrophic effects under conditions of extreme stress. Luckily for the world, as of the moment before her abduction, Patricia believed most of the conditions of extreme stress in her life to be behind her.
Weapons/Abilities: In her youth, Patricia’s parents nursed her inborn talent with both machines and animals, but she got taken away from all that in order to better serve the world. Now, her weapons are people.. Patricia’s status and credentials are pseudosociologically enhanced to function virtually everywhere, so that she is consistently recognized as an upper-level bureaucrat. This doesn’t mean that everyone is compelled to obey her—on the contrary, they’re as likely to develop an instinctive need to rebel against her—but the usual boring submissive masses will treat her with the respect due her ill-defined office. She supplements this advantage with her own, more run-of-the-mill talents, having learned or been trained to function in the gymnasium, the podium, the bedroom, the courthouse, and the kitchen, if not in the garage, the wilderness, or the streets. However, being really good at your job is worth nothing without the proper tools, which is what the backpack is for. The contents of Patricia’s backpack include:
-One legal pad for writing up various writs, warrants, I.O.Us, contracts, memos, diplomas, and drafts thereof;
-One very classy pen, for use in writing on the above;
-One desktop nameplate;
-One wall-mounted nameplate;
-An inconstantly large amount of denomination-changing currency;
-Two self-inking stamps, one with the word “approved” and one with the word “denied” on it;
-One megaphone;
-One collapsible soapbox;
-One handkerchief;
-Assorted posters and bumper stickers in support of variable causes;
-One personal planner, full of handwritten addresses, appointments and alibis;
-Makeup, deodorant, and emergency toiletries;
-An assortment of press passes, nametags and other transferable symbols of authority;
-A palm pilot that functions as a tape recorder, a fairly accurate lie detector, a live feed of polls and approval ratings, and a window into alternate timelines, with a battery life of about one week of frequent use.
It can be assumed that all of these things have strange, pseudosociological abilities to manipulate and influence people.
Biography: Patricia was born in a P.O.W. camp, the illegitimate child of renowned Tiaran vegetarian soldier-chef Fredward Pastrykisses and crack Jetpaxian dino-roboticist Jessie Bearonrollerblades. After a peace settlement was reached and the first steps were taken towards uniting the two nations, allowing her parents to continue their relationship in the open, the romance and circumstances of Patricia’s birth made her something of an emblem of peace and a minor celebrity. The Pastrykisses-Bearonrollerblades family became quite wealthy, but the pressures of fame drove Fredward and Jessie apart, with each returning to their own home. The question of what to do with Patricia became rather heated, and several months of poor game theory later they came to the agreement that neither of them could have her and she should be sent to a boarding school on the border. This was about three weeks after her eleventh birthday. She saw her parents but little for the rest of her life.
Patricia excelled in all her classes and made a number of friends, mostly out of spite, and had what might be considered a healthy adolescence to somebody who wasn’t observing too closely. At the age of sixteen, the threat of a second war drove pacifist factions to train and recruit a new generation of diplomats, and Patricia was an obvious choice for a number of reasons. She accepted the new program’s offer, as it seemed like the thing to do at the time, and spent the next two years intensively training to be the most effective politician living in either country. And as the first war panic settled down before her graduation, Patricia was able to use these talents to accumulate power and wealth beyond anything her parents had accomplished, presuming that the time when she would have to save the world would never arrive.
That moment didn’t arrive until after she had turned twenty-one and become the first citizen ever to achieve the titles of both Princess and Commander. A personal vendetta between the Princess-in-Chief of Tiaran and the Triple-Admiral of Jetpaxia forced the militaries of both nations into a dangerous campaign of brinksmanship. A second war seemed inevitable until Patricia organized a sitdown, following which both the Princess-in-Chief and the Triple-Admiral announced their resignations and stepped off the face of the Earth, never to be seen again. The public, relieved at the prospect of peace, never really called for a full investigation, and Patricia, rather than use the event as a campaign platform, allowed it to fade into memory. The subsequent epidemic of mysterious disappearances among the politically inconvenient went completely unpublicized.
Theme song: Game of Thrones -- Orion's Reign