Father Set

[SET]

FATHER SET
eternal/male/power-hungry/demi-god

WHAT CAN YOU DO?

Father Set's abilities are drawn through worship. The more people that pray to him, the more powerful he becomes. In years long past, he had legions of faithful, willing to kill or die at his merest beckoning, but in the modern age, his followers have been greatly depleted, leaving him with very little in the way of belief, and thusly he's at a shadow of his former power. While still a considerable threat, he seeks to restore that belief so he can become what he once was, a god.

• Superhuman strength
  
• Superhuman durability
  
• Superhuman reflexes
  
• Rapid healing
  
• Gaze of Set - A petrifying stare that turns the victim into stone
  
• Command of Serpents - Due to his deep symbolic connection with the serpent, Set is able to control and command them to carry out his will
  
• Shape-shifting - Although he's been bound to a human form, Set is able to shape shift on a limited basis. His forms must be serpent related, meaning he can't mimic the appearance of another human. However, his control of this ability is so exercised that he's able to shift into a swarm of serpents and exert precise control every each one. When in a combat situation, Set favors a hybrid man-snake combat form. He's also capable of shifting into a gigantic serpent beast that echoes his true form, but knows how much attention this would bring and so doesn't tend to use it unless he thinks he really has to.
  

TELL US ALL ABOUT YOU!

I have many names. Every culture, every religion has seen fit to grant me a multitude of titles and monikers, each one more colorful than the last. They seek to encapsulate me in words, define me with such pathetic terms. I am beyond definition, beyond reckoning. But for ease of communication and for the sake of my mortal followers, I favor the name Set. Father Set. I am a male, of course.

I am eternal. I have existed before the stars burned in the depths of space and I will exist long after they'd burned out into husks, haunting echos of their former glory. I am not slave to the yolk of ages. Time has no meaning for me, I am immune to its ebb and flow. My glory shall endure for all eternity. I am beyond death. Beyond life. Beyond all things.

My true form is too much for a mere mortal to comprehend. They would go mad with fright or cower in sheer terror when presented with my true majesty, but fortunately for them, I have options. While it pains me to do so, I remain for the most part in my human form.

I find most sapient life forms to be revolting, and the flesh that I wear is no exception. I suppose by human standards it has some appeal... it certainly has excellent bone structure for a glorified monkey. Rather impressive physique... I could even call it handsome. For a human that is. Their standards are so very crude and... lacking.

In truth, I care not for what is suitable to garb my human form in, what clothes are considered fashionable or trendy, and I'd quite honestly deign to forgo attire entirely, but Morgana insists I attempt to fit in, so I defer to her judgment when it comes to that sort of thing. She knows more of this time period than I, so unfortunately I am at her mercies.

Most deities are infamous for a prolific promiscuity. I suppose I'm no different. The lore is quite certain on the details of Father Set's tendency to mate with his followers to bolster his ranks with hybrids, creatures that are more than human, a step closer to my Divine being. That spawn could never hope to come close to my true glory, but they are a small improvement over the base humanity, I suppose.

This... human form of mine seems to crave certain things, and for once, I am not opposed to those cravings. It desires female companionship, and I am not one to shy away from such things - but only if it serves my interests. I suppose keeping my flesh's impulses at bay would be enough justification... Though I find myself drawn to one female in particular, above all others...

What's my goal? My drive? My one true aim? Simple. I wish to be remembered. I wish to been seen as I was once seen. I wish to be regarded with the same awe and reverence humanity used to afford me, the sort of devotion and dedication I so sorely deserve. I wish to bring light to this ignorant time, I wish to rekindle the notion of faith in a populace that is apathetic to such concepts. They will remember me.

The easiest way to accomplish that is to bring the world under my sway, to hold it in my hand and command it, hold complete domination over its inhabitants and give them no choice but to believe in me, to pay me the reverence I deserve. Humans are stupid and blind to the true nature of the world around them, to believe in things, they must be forced to believe. Faith cannot be a choice, it must be an imperative.

Everyone and everything are pawns to my will, means to an end. Tools. They bring me closer and closer to my goal and that is it. When they have served their purpose, they are to be cast aside, forgotten, rejected, dispensed of. I have no time for something that has fulfilled its purpose, it's simply a waste of my efforts, a waste of my focus.

How would I describe myself? Ambitious I suppose. Imposing ones will over the entire globe isn't exactly what one would consider to be the most grounded and realistic of goals. Not that I especially care of course. What concern do I have for what less capable individuals would think of my efforts? They are insects to my prowess. Mere vermin in comparison to my grandeur and scape and ability. What they see as impossible, unthinkable, I see as very doable.

I have lived for countless ages, I was birthed before time began, and thusly I have learned the virtue of patience, of candor, subtlety. Many are unaware of such discretion, preferring more blunt and crude approaches to problem solving, preferring to beat their heads against an obstacle and hope that it gives way purely through blunt exertion and nothing more. They are fools. One does not live as long as I by partaking in such idiotic attempts.

While I am patient, I suppose I can occasionally display a certain... desire for retribution when I am suitably provoked. Those who would earn the ire of a god and provoke my frustration deserve their punishment, and if I must be the one to exact justice, then so be it. At least I can be sure that the punishment is suitably thorough and fitting. It wouldn't do if they got off easy now, would it?

Serving in a role such as I have for as long as I have, one tends to develop a certain taste for the dramatic, the theatrical. My followers always seem to expect a show, a display, an event. Some sort of grand and terrible ceremony that reaffirms their faith and confirms my divinity. I resent such things much less than I used to... it's habit now I suppose. You get into the routine and it's hard to get out of it.

Most beings define their creation in such simple terms. "I was born, I grew up." I am not most beings. I am something altogether different than anything you have ever encountered before. I am - or I was - a god. But more than that. I was a force of creation, a primordial construct, present since before the dawn of time, existing long before the rise of man. But it was man that gave me form. It was man that gave me shape.

Before man, I was a primeval force. A constant in the universe. I was the darkness between the stars. The thing that slept in the void, watching and waiting, regarding the universe with hungry eyes. Man gave me form. Man gave me purpose. I became... more refined. Focused. I was once but a swirling mass of chaotic impulses, a concept without true form or definition. I became something far more coherent. A darkness. An orderly darkness. A creeping darkness.

Even the very earliest of man's descendants harbored within them a desire, a lust for power, a covetous envy toward their neighbors. Ambition. Boundless ambition. And with that came a violent pursuit of ambition, an unquenched desire to sate appetites, to fulfill hungers, to achieve goals and become what they dreamed of becoming. Wealthy. Powerful. Respected. Loved. Feared. From that desire, I was truly birthed.

Man will consider any avenue to be a viable one in the aims of getting what he wants, and faith is no exception. Prayer is a favored method for attempting to achieve ones desires, and back then it was no exception. Early man prayed. And some of those prayers were dark. Unspeakable. The beings who represent light and purity would never ever consider listening to them because they understood the selfishness and the malevolence behind them. I was not shackled with such self-righteous concepts.

I was defined by lust, and fear and anger and death. Many forces were shaped in such ways, given form and focus and purpose by man's desire. I was but one. My influence grew as I began to listen to mans' darker desires and do what I could do nurture them, and with it, my power grew. As mankind raised itself up and started to build toward a civilized future, my power only grew, my influence only spread.

Aspects of my being became disseminated, filtered down, passing through the myths and legends of mankind and taking shape, becoming deities in their own right. They were aspects of myself, extensions of my being. For the most part they were misconceptions, based on falsehoods and mistaken information, but they always had one thing right, at least one aspect was completely true. And thus as mankind prayed to these new gods, my power grew even more, this self-delusion simply serving to further my purposes.

A few among the humans saw me for what I really was, and a true cult began to take shape. They saw me... saw... Father Set and they dedicated themselves to my true nature - or as close to my true nature as any human had ever managed to get, at any rate. I took a deep fascination in these mortals, simply because of the lengths they were willing to go to seek my approval, my favor. Some wished for wealth, others for glory, still others wished for powers, and others still simply wanted to be able to know that there was a higher power that actually existed and listened.

But as the ages past and the world grew older, so too did my influence fall. Mankind turned to science, technology. My subjects began to dwindle, their numbers hunted down, persecuted, my teachings forgotten, lost in time. A few carried on in secret, praising my name in cellars, in crypts, in the secret places of the world, the dark corners, but in time even they dwindled into nothingness.

My power began to dissipate, and it was at this time that an angel sought to bring me low, sought to roll back my influence and drive me into a state of nonexistence and irrelevance. He was successful up to a point, smashing the remaining bodies of my devoted subjects, confronting me in physical combat more than once by attacking various ceremonies when I was summoned. It was at once of these that I was driven away from this plane, into limbo, into insignificance.

But there was still faith enough to stop me from simply fading away into nothing. Although laid low, I wasn't quite forgotten as of yet. My name was whispered into occult circles, tribute still paid to me every now and then, mostly by some irrelevant little witch seeking to curry favor from me.

My time would come again at the hands of one of the few faithful that still remained. A demon. Morgana. My High Priestess. She summoned me onto this plane, my rage and indignation at being forgotten allowed for me to tear past the boundaries of my prison and manifest once more in the mortal plane.

To my... dissatisfaction, I must do so with the aid of a human form. The flesh I wear tints my viewpoint, colors my perceptions, it's proving to be a rather irritating host. However, I shall make do. Morgana promises to bring me up to speed with all that I have missed, and I know it won't be long until this world remembers my name. Father Set shall rise again. I shall squeeze this world in my coils and every man, woman and child will know who is their true master.

wow, i'm glad to be joining URBAN ARCANA. my name just so happens to be rob, and the celebrity who i am using just so happens to be christian bale. i've been doing this for a few years, so i pretty much know how this all works.

-- rp sample here... it can be from another site. more than 450 words please.

The DuBois residence was unusually quiet this evening.

The master of the house Eric DuBois couldn't help but feel unease the silence that greeted him as he entered his home after fumbling with the key for a few moments. He was a little tipsy, the result of a rather thorough celebration with his friends down at the local watering hole. He'd made his hundredth real-estate sale last week, and the celebratory party had been... fun.

Setting his keys on the table next to the door, glancing around the quiet darkness, feeling a little nervous in his slightly addled state, he closed the door behind him and took a few careful steps down the hall. His wife had left early, saying that she was getting a headache from the loud music and louder conversation. He smiled and told her he'd be home before too long. That was about five hours ago. He really hoped she wouldn't be too mad at him.

Passing the stairway, he paused for a few seconds, lingering near the bottom step, wondering if he should try his luck, see if she'd recovered a bit from that headache of hers, he thought better of it. He was a little drunk, but he wasn't that drunk. His wife could be a real prude when she wanted to be, and if he pushed too hard, he knew he'd be sleeping on the couch tonight. He didn't really feel like capping off this whole party thing like that.

So, sighing to himself, shaking his head and mumbling about the unfairness of frigid spouses, Eric made his way to the kitchen, feeling pretty hungry all of a sudden. He intended to grab a snack, then head upstairs, plop into bed and hope his wife was sleeping soundly enough that she wouldn't shriek at him for getting home this late and waking her up.

As he walked toward the kitchen, he noticed light emanating out from underneath the door. Was someone cooking something? Maybe his wife had decided she was hungry after all after skipping the dinner part of the celebration and was grabbing herself a bite to eat. He really hoped she wouldn't cause a fuss if he walked in slightly buzzed. But she probably would. She was just like that, getting worked up over nothing.

Twisting the doorknob, opening the kitchen door and looking around, he furrowed his brow in confusion when he saw there wasn't anyone around. Had his wife turned on the light and forgot to turn it off again before she went to bed? He really didn't know, but he was starting to get kind of concerned with everything that was going on right now.

Glancing toward the dining room, he was very concerned to see a figure just sitting there in the dark. The kitchen was all lit up, but the dining room was in complete darkness, he could barely make out who it was. It didn't exactly help that his head wouldn't stop swimming from the nights revelries either. Just made it all the harder to tell who was in there.

Walking through the kitchen, squinting his eyes, he realized that it was his wife.

Moving into the dining room, flicking on the light, his words were slightly slurred but his tone was still one of concern, "Helen? Something the matter sweetie?"

She didn't turn when he spoke, so he assumed she was mad at him, annoyed that he'd turned up so late and came home more than a little drunk. He didn't know why she couldn't understand that this was his night, he deserved to cut loose a little, have some fun.

Placing a hand on her shoulder, giving it a little shake, "Helen?"

Nothing.

Very concerned now, he rounded the table, wanting to look her in the eye, even if she refused to look at him. Maybe he let her down, but that was no reason to act so...

As soon as he moved in front of her, he saw why she wasn't speaking to him, why she wasn't moving.

Someone had slit her throat ear to ear.

Her head lolled forward, and as Eric removed his hand from her shoulder, her body crumpled, slumping onto the table.

Alarmed, he looked around, frantic, eyes darting about the room, fearful, afraid that whoever had done this could still be here.

"Looking for me Mr. DuBois?"

The voice wafted in from behind him, each word crisp, dignified, spoken in a bassy and accented voice.

Wheeling around, facing the connection to the kitchen, Eric stared at a man who had not been there a moment before. It seemed as if he'd just appeared out of thin air, conjured up from nothing.

Tall, built, dressed in a dark suit, his hair pulled back into a ponytail, the man watched Eric with a smirk, drinking in his alarm, his fear, savoring the sweet scent of his terror.

"Hope you don't mind. I let myself in."

Strolling into the dining room, the smirk never leaving his lips, growing as he glanced to the figure of Eric's deceased wife, "My apologies about your wife by the way, she kept threatening to call the police. It got tedious."

Flashing Eric a knowing look, a look that was returned with sheer horror, "Women eh? Always repeating themselves. Always going on and on..."

"W-w-what do you want?"

Eric didn't know where he'd found the courage to speak, where he'd discovered the ability to form coherent sentence when he felt a gut wrenching sense of terror, of sheer unshakable dread, but somehow he had. Somehow he'd managed to ask. And he knew as soon as those words left his lips that he wouldn't like the answer he was about to get.

"An interesting little question Mr. DuBois. Are you asking in a general sense or a specific sense? A philosophical, spiritual or material sense? What do I want in life? What do I want to achieve in this lifetime? Or something more trivial? Something less integral and soulful? What do I want for Christmas, perhaps?"

Glancing to the confused man, ever-present smirk gracing his lips, amused at how confused he was starting to look, "What does anybody want Mr. DuBois? Humans are very simple little creatures when you get down to it. They want to eat, they want to sleep, they want to fornicate. They want shelter, they want security. To get those things, they're willing to do many, many things. Terrible things. Lie, cheat, gamble, steal, kill. Nasty business. I'm sure you must have done your fair share of sinning to get what you are in your life Mr. DuBois? You have a nice home, you had a nice wife, and if that is your Porsche in the driveway which I do believe it is, you seem to have a good deal of financial security."

Standing still for that portion of his speech, the man started to pace, strolling about the dining room as he continued, "So what do I want? What do I want? That's the question you're asking me, and here's your answer Mr. DuBois."

Turning to face the terrified man, "I want you. Sauteed with onions and spices in a nice white wine sauce and served with a Chilean sea bass, and a bottle of Chateau d'Yquem to drink. That is what I want. That's what's on the menu. You can struggle, you can scream, you can beg and you can cry, but you my friend? You're the main course."


did i mention this application template was created by JESSICA. She was bored, and felt inspired. So yeah, credit is due where it is due. She goes by GAGA @ CAUTION. Not that it matters since she rarely posts anything there.

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[THE POWERS THAT BE]

ACCEPTED!
very nice!