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Miles Alexandrovich

"Money is everything, there is nothing it cannot buy. However, no amount of it could change worthless rabble like you into something worthwhile."

0 · 379 views · located in Earth

a character in “Spheres of the Aether”, as played by DarwinianAssault



[center]Full Name: Miles Alexandrovich

“I’ve been called many things in my years, not that I care much about the rabble’s thoughts.”

“They say a man is only as old as he feels. If this statement was true I’d be a ripe teen, ignorant to the true nature of this world. Thankfully, I’ve constant knowledge that I’m thirty two.”

“My, I wasn’t aware your vision was that bad. Please, allow me to get you some glasses, courtesy of my company.”

An aristocrat in every way, Miles only garbs himself in the finest of clothing. His suits are made of pure Persian silk, tailored to fit him perfectly at 6’1”. His pants are of the same material, doused in a shade of black as dark as midnight. His chestnut hair falls down the sides of his head in waves, stray locks floating above his forehead. His eyes are like plates of silver, basking in the moonlight.


Miles Alexandrovich is a man on the very top of the social ladder. His pharmaceutical company has raked in more money in five years than the annual budget of the United States for ten. As the president and owner of Biomedics, Miles can get away with pretty much anything, even crime.
A man of class, Miles likes the finer things in life. Art, wine, reading and classical music are just some of his interests. He is very self-absorbed, referring to everybody but himself as rabble, commoners or, in some cases, food. He is also a perfectionist, seeing himself as the only perfect being. When told otherwise, the unknowing insulter will not be found the next day. It is very rare for Miles to do anything himself, instead hiring people to do it for him.

However, beneath his calm façade lies a whole different person. Drunk on power, Miles revels in torture, often kidnapping people just for his own sick amusements. He has so much money, not even the president can do anything about it, so he’s free to do as he wants. To him, everyone below him is just a plaything for him to cut open. Their screaming voices are music to his ears as he calmly jams screws or toothpicks under their fingernails or slowly cuts them to drain their blood.

Due to the Sphere’s influence, Miles now has an addiction to blood, be it human or animal (Though human blood is much richer and tastier). If he goes for a long length of time without drinking blood, he will become very aggressive, doing anything to get his fix.

-His Wealth-
Miles isn’t above using his vast amounts of money to get his way. His philosophy is “Everything in this world has a price, even if I’m the only one who can afford it.” If need be, he could even force the Pentagon to launch a nuke.

-Pure Physical Power-
Because of his consummation of so much blood, Miles is now as strong as a heavy weight boxing champ. This value increases as he drinks more blood.

Sphere & Abilities:

-Blood Sense/Blood Scan-
Miles can sense the presence of blood around him and read its properties. This shows him how old the target is, any diseases or allergies they have and even their personality.

Miles uses his own blood to create spears that impale the enemy.

-Sanguine Pool-
Miles melts into a puddle of blood, moving around at an slower speed and becomes immune to attacks. He cannot attack or use abilities during this. Anyone standing in the puddle is immediately immobile until the duration ends. This is extremely taxing on the body and quickly sucks out Miles’ energy. If he runs out of energy while still in puddle form, he will die.

Miles forcefully rips the blood out of an opponent, causing ruptured blood vessels and extreme pain. This can only be used if the opponent has an open wound.

-Bloody Growth-
By drinking the blood of others, Miles gains power instead of having to train using his powers.

-Vast amounts of wealth
-Blood magic
-An extensive network of spies around the globe.

-Very arrogant.
-Very dependent on his addiction
-Once he gets going, he won’t stop until he’s dead.

Torturing People

People who look down on him
Dragonflies (“Nasty little things, it’s like they crawled straight up from hell”)

Miles Alexandrovich was born into an incredibly rich family. His father, Boris Alexandrovich, was the owner of the world’s largest pharmaceutical company Biomedics. At the ripe age of five, Boris started to teach Miles the family business, calmly showing him how the company worked, how to tell if someone’s lying and how to talk to people.

When he was fifteen, his father died of a heart attack, leaving Miles in charge of the whole company. Using his acquired knowledge, Miles pushed the company into a golden age, making more money in ten years then his father did in his life. It wasn’t until he was twenty seven that his homicidal tendencies became a part of him. Using his secretary as his first test subject, he chained her down and slit her from pelvis to throat to see just how much small intestines humans really did have.

This pattern continued, his morbid curiosities growing to a point where he kidnapped someone every two weeks, delighting in torturing them in a secret basement in his house. One of these victims was a very old man, his skin flushed white with age. The man was tied to a chair, like all the others but just before the first cut, he started to laugh. Blood poured from every orifice, creating a horrible gargling as he continued to laugh. When the crimson flow finally stopped, a dark red sphere rolled out of his mouth, shining like a beacon. Within seconds, the ball shot Miles, dissipating into his chest. A wave of strength washed over his body as the old man’s blood began to swirl around him, slowly flowing into his mouth.

When the blood had all entered his system, a voice rang out in his head. “Kehehehe, so you’re the most powerful man in the world. I’ll have great use for you.”

So begins...

Miles Alexandrovich's Story


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Character Portrait: Miles Alexandrovich
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Silence. This was what Miles Alexandrovich preferred in his personal chambers. Bright red curtains overlooked the busy street from miles above the ground, hanging just above a perfectly polished hardwood floor. Three large chandeliers hang from the roof of the large room, bathing it in a soft, yellow light. The room itself was as much bigger than any of the common folk could afford of their whole houses but of course, that’s to be expected. One as great and powerful as Miles cannot be compared to those who live beneath him.

In the light bulb’s warm glow sits a rather large chair, perfectly fitted for the man inside it. Made out of the finest black silk, it was by far the comfiest chair in the world and is another of the many things that distinguish him from the rabble of the streets. A crackling fireplace adorns the wall, contributing the sound of crackling flames to the turning of pages and the swirling of wine.

““We do not need magic to transform our world. We carry all of the power we need inside ourselves already…..what nonsense.” He exclaimed, sipping his wine. Paper clunked as he closed the book and placed the biography of J.K.Rowling on the table beside him. He had decided that if any of the rabble would know about magic, it might as well be this one. Of course, she too turned out to be no different from the rest, just like every other author and musician. A few hours ago, he had asked Critchton to pick up every book he could find on the subject of magic. Now, the only one left was barely a book at all, Just a bunch of yellow pages held together by bronze rings.

Without even having to call him, Crichton entered the room, a rather slim man who had gotten on in the years. Still, even at the age of 83, Crichton served him faithfully and, if asked, would gladly die for his master.
“Yes sir?” He asked politely, his eyes widening at the incredibly large pile of books beside the chair.
“Crichton, where did you find this?” Dust rose from the pages as he slapped the “book”.
“It was being held in the back of the Library of Congress under strict protection. It seemed to be under the world threat section sir.”
Miles waved his hand towards the door. “Thank you Crichton, you may leave now.” The butler nodded silently and left the room. Miles turned back to the book, the delicate pages crinkling under his touch. The cover was donned in a strange symbol. Twelve spheres created a circle around the page, each with a specific symbol inside. These were all connected with a twelve pointed star. A rainbow gem rested in the middle of the paper, seemingly staying on without glue or any adhesive.

‘This is it! This is the Tome of the Aether!’ Sanguik shouted, his raspy voice echoing inside the rich man’s head like nails on a chalkboard. Ever since Miles gained his powers, this old man had taken up residence inside his mind. Though he was extremely helpful in learning to use his abilities, his constant presence became rather annoying, especially when trying to relax.

“And this will tell me all I need to know?” Miles said impatiently, running his hand across the thin paper.
‘This will tell you everything about every Sphere. Where they come from, what they can do and even who currently holds them. This is your key to granting your wish!’ He could feel the old man smiling, it was one of the only things in this world that sent shivers down his spine. With utmost care, he opened the book, a smug grin spread upon his face. With this, he had already won the bat-

“What kind of game are you trying to pull here Sanguik, these pages are blank.” The old man snickered, sounding more like a sneeze than anything else.
‘Patience my young prodigy, It just needs proof of your worth.’ He snickered again and pointed to the adjacent wall. ‘Feast upon those who give their power to you and bath the book in their filth.’ With an air of calmness, Miles walked to the wall and pressed the cleverly hidden buttons hidden in the floor, bookcase and desk.
Silently, the wall retracted into the ceiling, revealing a stone tunnel lit with tube lights across the roof. At the end of this hallway sat a heavy metal door, nearly 1000 pounds in weight. In the center of the door was a handprint, a small hole visible in the palm.

As his hand was placed into the marking, a small tube punctured his hand. The doors sung open noiselessly into his torture chambers. Miles had no qualms calling them his torture chambers; it wasn’t like he did anything else there. In fact, just calling them the torture chambers brought him a sense of sick satisfaction, a reminder of the twisted things that took place in this hidden room.

The walls were made of cool stone laced with lead to stop life scans from picking up his victims. Verious devices lay neatly organized along the walls. Racks, wheels, bronze bulls and many others were his instruments of pain and though it was very rare for them all to be occupied, it offered him so much variety. Instead of being caked in blood, the floors were perfectly clean. While most of the prisoners resigned to their fate, there was one woman who had been particularly resilient to his methods.

The young woman screamed for help, rattling the chains holding her to the wall. If she didn’t have severe scars on her arms and face, she might have been quite beautiful. Her host had seen that changed. Miles sighed, holding a finger to his lips. The woman stopped; at least he’d trained her well. Silence gets a reward was the first thing he taught to all of his captives.

“Cassandra Harvey. Age 27. Blood type A+. Mother of two young, beautiful children named Alex and Peter. Would you like to see your kids again, Mrs. Harvey?” Cassandra nodded vigorously, her wrists raw from the manacles around them. Miles stood, watching gleefully as the flash of hope entered her eyes as he detached her restraints. Her legs wobbled, barely holding her up from the wounds covering them and her lack of strength. A malicious smile spread across his mouth.

“Then it’s a shame you never will.” Blood exploded from the cuts on her legs, turning them into jumbled messes of bone and flesh. A single scream was all she could manage before she passed out from the pain and crashed to the floor, music to his ears. Miles bent down, a crimson tendril extending from the pool of blood and plunging itself into her throat. The man leaned over, greedily drinking the blood pouring from the wound. When he had drunk his fill, he stood and raised his arms. Slowly, the red liquid began to rise from the ground into a large ball, hanging silently in the air above the tome.

Blood began to drip onto the book, creating a stark contrast to the yellow pages of age. A bright blue light began to fill the chamber as the tome began to glow, soaking up the blood and turning it into words on its pages.
Sanguik laughed triumphantly. ‘We’ve done it! This battle is ours!’

Suddenly, the blue light vanished, the tome landing on the table. Miles eagerly turned to the first page. Upon it were only four words, etched in crimson ink.