Algernon, The Noble Beast

"As far as the violin is concerned, savagery is my forte."

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a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Tæfarós



He's a tall, wiry man, his complexion pinkish and pale. Dark brown hair wisps and curls atop his head, and stubble always dots his face, tapering off near his high cheekbones. Algie is known for the benevolence in his amber eyes, the smile with which he punctuates it, and the dapper clothing he wears. Various off-color marks line his skin, a bit rough in texture, to hint at his other side. They are most obvious around his inner arms, most noticeable round his ear tips. Wherever he walks, he struts. It's a habit.

A nontraditional shifter, Algernon's ability can be loosely described as a speedy metamorphosis. Rather than instantly summoning his altered form at will, his focus is channeled into parts, one at a time, until the full beast is produced. The result is an animal akin to a werebat. He normally begins with the wings and the ears, letting the process gradually take shape until the creature is revealed. The amount of time this takes is dependent on his situation (such as during the full moon, when he may stir into a frenzy), reaching completion after several minutes or mere seconds, although he has been known to lengthen the period for deliberate effect. As Noble Beast, he gains limited repertoire of his original mammal, including echolocation and flight, and his instincts are sharpened, primal, yet still conscious; prolonged sessions with this form, however, will gradually consume his human mind, as they have already begun to do to his psyche. Ask him of insects; he would rather not eat anything else.

Upon transforming, the man within is still recognizable. His ears grow and broaden, rounding at the ends, and the bridge of his nose folds into a snout. His face, for the most part, retains a humanistic look, most notably his eyes, which, aside from intensified, darkened irises, see little such alteration to speak of. Golden brown tufts of fur accent his cheeks, becoming more prominent around his upper body. His incisors elongate into fangs, his nails into claws, while leathery auburn wings (wingspan: seven feet) adorn his arms with his three-digit hands located on their peaks. Following a more animalistic approach, his legs are streamlined to support roosting, and a tail nearly evens out at the length of his torso. His bones are strong, yet lightweight. The Beast lives up to his namesake: his navy frock coat gives him an air of nobility, its sleeves tailored and slitted to accommodate those appendages. Said coat is sometimes replaced with a simple gentleman's cape. His wardrobe in its entirety is decidedly Victorian; trousers, braces, and the occasional top hat may be laced with grime and smoke, channeling his wild facade, but his formal intentions are clear. And if the mood proves fair, he might even don the monocle and curled mustache.


Algernon, wry and spirited, is undoubtedly a man of honor, yet one would not be mistaken to claim oddness about him, a peculiarity emphasized by his succumbing to the thrills of the night. He is hesitant to call himself an eccentric, but no term is more appropriate--his cultivated facade shields a boyish, excitable ruffian, one whom would prefer to spend his days entertaining his peers or theorizing nonsense before engaging in his "studies." Notoriously difficult to chide in debate, he will still show his respectable side if you do the same. He is a victim of academics and the musical and dramatic arts, and thus has a rather difficult time devoting equal amounts of love to all three—one can often find him brooding in his roost, wing raised to shield himself, as he recites Shakespearean wisdom, sings of whimsy, or churns out an original violin piece.

Pretentious? Ah, well. Call him a silly uncle.

The Beast storms, parades, and ravages before withdrawing into silence, untamed, unforgiving. Algernon hams it up like a wounded, self-absorbed artist. However, the thorn in his palm is easily removed by one who listens--not merely this, but someone who feels. Those strangled notes from his bow are said to manifest the pain of his younger days, days when he questioned why he was denied the beauty of the avian. Really, he's just a tense thing that longs for companionship--and scones.

It is said that he once lived the life of an aristocrat--it was written in Godwin, his former family name--by a different moniker, and yet he gave it up for something more thrilling. His newfound ability had been rife with opportunity, whether to indulge in the pleasures of drink and needle, to take as he saw fit, or to roam where the winds carried him. To his nineteenth century English society, he was known as a dandy; by night, a monster. He recalls joining the Cirque some time around the turn of the century, but the exact details elude him.

So begins...

Algernon, The Noble Beast's Story