"Heaven rains on fingers wave
Another star denies the grave
See the nowhere crowd
Cry the nowhere tears of honor
Like twisted vines that grow
That hide and swallow mansions whole
And dim the light
Of an already faded prima donna
But the memory remains..."
|Faith:||4||Perm. Torment:||4||Temp. Torment:||0|
|Pass Without Trace||HT: Sense the Hidden|
|Eyes of Fat||HT: Improved Initiative|
|Enhanced Awareness||HT: Enhanced Dodge|
|Wings||HT: Aura of Misfortune|
Title: Keeper of the Eternal Lore
Kelton Michaels is an approaching his middle age in years, and he certainly looks it. A touch frail at 5'9" and barely 135 pounds, the look of weakness is amplified by the cane that he has to rely on to walk. His hair is a touch ragged, falling to his shoulders and having a steel tint to it, which goes well with his pale blue eyes, which look out under wire- rimmed glasses. He has a tendency to dress in a business casual style...dress shirts and slacks, with loafers to complete the ensemble, and he prefers blacks, subtle greens, and grays in his coloring. All in all, he looks very much the eccentric academic that he is.
Low Torment: The form before you is tall and ethereal...indistinct, swathed in shadow like a cloak around it. Lithe and long-limbed, it moves with a preternatural grace. No tracks follow it it's wake, no sound left in its footsteps or movements. It's face is indistinguishable as to sex, and is as indistinct as the rest of it, but for the blue eyes that shine with a same-colored light when it moves into darker shadows. It has a sense of timelessness, and those eyes seem to carry the weight and knowledge of the world inside them, of all-time.
High Torment: Like a shadow itself come to light, the creature speaks with the sound of keening wind over jagged stones. It's body is black as night, but for those blue, timeless eyes, shining with a cobalt light. They seem to carry the weight and knowledge of the world inside them, of all-time...and the bitterness of such carries in it's gaze. There's a palpable cold coming off it it, and one wonders, if one were to touch it, whether the sensation would be like touching dry ice. Lithe and long-limbed, it moves with a preternatural grace. No tracks follow it it's wake, no sound left in its footsteps or movements.
His cane (Diff 6, Str+1 Bashing Damage)
A home in Queens
Kelton Michaels was born on a cold, brisk day in November, 1967 to an affluent family in Boston, Massachusetts. Kelton's father Derrick was a doctor doing research for Harvard Medical School on the effects of radiation on the genetic structure of living beings, while his mother was the perfect doctor's wife.
Kelton grew up as a nice, but somewhat shy young man, sheltered by his parents with a very privileged lifestyle. Once of the benefits of money is an excellent education, and Kelton grew up wanting to be a scientist. He graduated from his high school, predictably, as Valedictorian, and went to his father's school, Harvard, to study an exciting new theory known as Chaos Theory, whereby small variations in initial conditions result in huge, dynamic transformations in concluding events; i.e. the "Butterfly Effect" that a butterfly flapping it's wings in New York would affect weather patterns in Teiping, China. His father was actually very proud that his son was getting into this particular radical new mathematic theory, and encouraged his son heavily.
Then, it all came crashing down. On December 23, 1992, Kelton and his parents were driving to a family friend's house for a Christmas party. The road was covered with snow...his father never saw the black ice. Kelton to this day wakes up screaming from nightmares about being in a spinning car, and looking out his window to see an oncoming truck trying unsuccessfully to stop... Kelton woke up three weeks later in Boston Medical Center. He was alive...but barely. His right leg had been smashed in five different places, and he had suffered several other injuries. The doctors told him he would never walk without at least a cane again. But he was luckier then his parents. Derrick and Janet Michaels died on the scene of the accident.
During his slow, agonizing physical recovery, which would last a year, Kelton became obsessed with trying to figure out what caused the accident. I mean, sure, the ice, the fact that the other driver was drunk, of course all that...but something was at the beginning of the whole thing. Chaos Theory, remember? Kelton was determined to find out what butterfly killed his parents by flapping its wings, and where. He worked himself into fevers, not sleeping for days as he tried to do the complex calculations that would lead him to the answer.
Then, in late 1993, someone gave him the answer. Kelton had just finished his final physical therapy session, and was walking with a cane out of the Hospital, when an older, distinguished-looking man in a black suit came up to him. The man told him that he had the answer Kelton needed, then handed him a card. The card named the man as Steven Helms, of the Harvard Medical School. Kelton followed behind immediately, calling after the man. Steven smiled and waited for him to catch up, then walked Kelton to his car. He explained that he had known Kelton's father Derrick, and they had been close friends. Part of a secret society of sorts, Steven said. And he believed, as Kelton did, that there was more to his parents' death then just simple accident. He asked Kelton if he would like to help him figure it all out, to which the young man gave his immediate agreement.
That was the beginning of Kelton's introduction to the ways of the Euthanatos. Dr. Helms took things very slow, focusing at first on Kelton's father. Derrick Michaels had been a brilliant man who had spent years trying to undermine some of the Technocracy's radiation theories, and get rid of the notion of radiation being a killing force (unless used in large forces, like nuclear weapons). This is what Steven believed got Derrick killed. As he slowly brought Kelton into the world of the Awakened, he began introducing him to magical style as well. Kelton slowly became an acolyte of Steven's, learning the ways of the Euthanatos and coming ever closer to Awakening.
Then, the Reckoning came. September, 1999. Kelton never really knew what happened...only that his nightmares over the course of a week became much, much worse. In addition to the usual nightmares about the car accident; there were new elements; the sounds of a thousand other people in the car with him and his parents, screaming in terror; the truck coming towards him on fire, being driven by a five- headed dragon...he had to take more then usual of his painkillers, as his leg was hurting stronger then it had since the accident. When it was over, Kelton came out of his room to find Steven missing, and he addicted to painkillers.
His life was a shambles once more. Kelton tried to go back to work at Harvard, teaching Chaos Theory, but by now, his theories were far too radical to be accepted. He moved to New York to live with a friend and find a job...and here, he found his savior. While posting his theories on a website in the hopes that someone would find it and give him a grant to work, the Order of Hermes found him. He was contacted by them, brought in, and initiated into their ways. He came to New York, joining the Four Elements chantry, and did well there...until evidence of Nephandi within the ranks drove him out. He left the Order, claiming the 4E to be a den of corruption, and attempted, without success, to join the Euthanatos. Eventually, he left New York, supposedly never to be seen again.
Then, he came back.
Kelton returned to New York in June of 2005. Inexplicably, he had risen to the level of Master, and assumed the Deaconship of the Four Elements. He did well in this position, being the approachable member of the Deacons, and generally was bringing the 4E out of it's autumn. Of course, then disaster struck. The Technocratic Union struck the Covenant in December of 2005. Reports state that Kelton told one of the Hermetics, Dragana Lindonar, to leave, and then detonated the Chantry. He was believed killed in the blast.
And in fact, he was. Too bad, then, that Zachriel was looking to escape from Hell.
Zachriel, Keeper of the Eternal Lore, was the Angel of Memory before the Fall. The Neberu was in charge of storing and recording the records of all mankind, and he loved his job. Within him, all memories found a home, and he treasured each of them like a precious jewel. Zachriel served Tyriel and his Vigil without question…for a time.
Word of the coming catastrophe the Oracles of the Fourth House foresaw was hidden from most of the Neberu, and Zachriel was no exception. The Diviner was unaware of the whispers of what the Oracles were seeing…and he probably wouldn’t have believed it anyway. It wasn’t until the Great Debate echoed through the Fourth House that he began to hear of it, and true to form, he rejected it at first. It wasn’t possible. All had to be as the Creator wished. And yet…something stirred within him. He was the Memory…he knew better then most mankind’s ignorance. The Great Debate began a rift deep inside Zachriel, and one from which he has never truly recovered.
In the end, it was the knowledge that the Vigil had deceived their fellows that convinced Zachriel. It was a deep betrayal throughout the Fourth House, and many joined the rebellion out of anger and betrayal. For the Keeper of the Eternal Lore, it was the final straw that convinced him, logically, that the rebellion was right. With a heavy heart and troubled mind, he joined with Lucifer in opposition to the Creator, alongside many of his brethren.
The events that followed left Zachriel in utter horror. Michael and the Host filling the sky in condemnation, and the realization that shook the Fourth House that they caused the very catastrophe they had foreseen…that was bad. The hand of the Creator coming down…that was worse. Zachriel shook with horror as the world was sundered, and the touch of His hand threw Entropy into the world.
Like many of the Neberu, Zachriel was forever changed by the Creator’s wrath. Guilt and shame caused him to withdraw, to find escape in himself. Hell was coming…somehow, like many of his House, he sensed that this was the end. Asmodeus became the head of the Silver Legion, and many followed him…Zachriel did not. He, much the rest of the Sources, found himself part of Lucifer’s personal staff, recording the course of the war. Unlike the others, though, he traveled around alone. He would go from battle site to battle site, like a ghost among the dead, recording what he saw. He was still functioning in the role created for him…he would be the Memory of this terrible age, much as he was the Memory of Paradise. The desolation and loneliness drove him to the brink of madness, but still he traveled on. Often, he was mistaken for one of the “stormcrows,” the Fiends who wandered prophesizing ruination and trying to avert the worst of the war. But for Zachriel, there was no preventing it. Only watching…standing by and keeping record of it all. Occasionally, he would come into contact with one of the other Sources, and they would exchange information…but by and large, Zachriel’s participation in the war was lackluster at best, and he reported only to the Morningstar when called to do so, summoned back to Genhinnom to fill in the Great Library with what he knew. The Time of Atrocities only further strengthened the Keeper of the Eternal Lore’s resolve to stay out of the War as much as possible.
When the Time of Babel came, Asmodeus called the Sources back to prepare the information on Belphagor’s Eugenics research to bring the Grand Experiment to ruination. This, Zachriel refused. He hid himself from the Archduke’s wrath, but he would not be responsible for the creation of such a thing as the Nephilim. However, he also stood by, and did not report back to Lucifer about it…perhaps his greatest crime, that of apathy. When everything came crashing down, Zachriel cursed himself. He had a chance to do some good, but fear of his House’s leader made him weak. It is something he has not quite forgiven himself for, along with all of his lack of participation in the War. When Hell came, he found himself fearing what was to come, like most. He was thrown in, screaming the entire way down.
Hell was a place where Zachriel found his fire, ironically enough. Hated by his brothers for his stance of mostly non-involvement in the war, he was scorned and tortured. This was how Zachriel realized his final error...not that there was anything he could do about it. He was in Hell forever, and he could only dream about the chance to set things right.
Wrong again. So very, very wrong.
Ironically, Zachriel did not take the first opportunity to rush out. He held back, wanting to make sure this was not some trick by the Creator, a testing of their resolve. Only when he was sure did he make his way through the cracks, back up to Earth. And as he did, he found a body, torn and broken, with so much desire to make the world a better place. And Kelton Michaels and Zachriel merged.
How strange it was to Zachriel, and at first, he was horrified. He, the Angel of Memory, Keeper of the Eternal Lore, was in the body of a man who's memories he could not recall. He wandered for a time, trying to make sense of it all. A brief encounter in Battery Park further confused him...people who claimed to know him. They made him nervous, and he leapt away. He has spent the last few months sorting things out in his head...and now, he is ready to make himself known again.