In Prehistoric times, it was thought that mental illness was caused by magical beings playing tricks with the mind...
A changeling, fae kind, and typically taking the form of a young to middle aged man with brown hair, brown eyes and a clean shaven face: his body of the century.
Physically, he can change his form to a limited extent, but to remain in one shape for an extended period of time requires stealing that form from its rightful owner rather than simply emulating it using his ability to shape-shift. If he is capable of changing into anything other than the form of a living thing, then that ability has never manifested or been tried.
He takes a body from birth, replacing a very young infant with himself and leaving the original child (trapped in an 'ugly' constructed form) elsewhere; exactly what he does with these children is unknown, as Trephan never discloses such information.
Trephan, on occasion, can be seen to have wings, and he certainly is aware of them even when they cannot be seen. He has a deep love of music and a hatred of manipulation when it's not being orchestrated by him.
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Trephan Bethlem
"I'm writing an article for the Sprite, Troll and Fairy Union. Aren't you excited for me?"
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The Infinite Void
a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by AugmentationAudit
Description
Personality
Mischievous to a fault, Trephan possesses what might be called a malicious sense of humour, and is often faintly sexual in his thought process which is referenced in his speech in the form of innuendo more often than not. To a woman, specifically a woman that he has some form of interest in, he appears to be a gentleman, and is generally rather polite when he wants something.
As a general rule, men and older people of both genders bear the brunt of his bad behaviour, which tends to be more mocking than actively aggressive. He has not been known to raise a hand to a mortal with the intent to wound or kill, though occasionally he will preform some trick that results in discomfort. He tends not to be interested in causing physical pain unless he is attempting to impress someone who values that characteristic.
Mental anguish and its manufacture in mortals is his speciality, though that particular skill is something that has fallen into disrepair in him over the years; he hasn't exercised his powers in mental manipulation and inducing insanity for centuries, and as such he is very much out of practice.
He is a very vain man, and loathes the idea of being what he classes an unattractive; the bodies he chooses always fit a certain profile in terms of looks, and he judges a child carefully before replacing it.
He is devoted when it comes to his idea of family, and is more than willing to go to great lengths for the sake of successful reproduction with his chosen spouse. He can become obsessive when it comes to relationships, but he rarely falls in love, and only ever with his own kind as far as he is aware so far.
To say that Trephan is vain, narcissistic and arrogant is an understatement, and his feelings of self-importance are monumental.
Equipment
He carries nothing save for a simple wooden flute, being able to magic up anything that he might need. He uses nothing in the way of weaponry, being a generally non-combative creature. Most of the items he creates are not what they appear to be; their face value often more impressive than their actual capabilities.
History
It is said that if you do not keep constant watch over your child, that if you forget the charms and wards to keep the fairyfolk away, then you might wake in the morning to find a changeling has come and replaced the babe you left to sleep.
Over several hundred years he has taken on many forms, one of which he declared as ugly and he has sworn to never inhabit an unattractive body again.
So begins...
Trephan Bethlem's Story
Trephan Bethlem didn't much care that his dart had been deflected, and most certainly had yet to be impressed. "You really are an embarrassment to your kind, aren't you?" he mocked, having listened quite attentively to the little creature's monologue. With a sigh, he conjured another dart and flicked it into the bar counter next to the other. "Boring."
Trephan Bethlem turned his head carefully to observe the little creature. He sighed rather pointedly. "Well obviously not. If I had 'launched it' at you, it would have hit you." He closed his eyes, as if just looking at the other being was causing his intelligence to diminish catastrophically.
"You would appreciate it, would you? Well, then I should really be perfectly sweet and nice so as not to offend your delicate sensibilities then, shouldn't I?" Trephan mocked, still with his eyes closed. He conjured up another dart, just to prove that he could rather than to actually do anything with it, but then it seemed like suck a waste... he cracked open an eye at the sound of a (highly disgusting) snort and flicked the dark at Gokita instead.
Commoners, all of them... Trephan shook his head a fraction.
Commoners, all of them... Trephan shook his head a fraction.
Trephan Bethlem chuckled and looked away from the little creature with the pin blade, choosing instead to waste his braincells on Gokita. "Do I really? And how have you come to such a delightful conclusion? You should know by now that an answer, whether right or wrong, won't be accepted unless you show your workings."
Trephan Bethlem waved a lazy hand at the room in general, making sure to glance at the angel, as well as the other fools. So boring, all of them; why couldn't they just be interesting? Was it really so hard? "You have a brain? Well, that is open for debate. Then again, given the state of things in here at the moment; killer angles, hairpin fairies and strange demon-like-things sitting down to drink pints and chatter about the pains of everyday life..."
He huffed the comment away with a sly smile. "Why should you show your workings? I never said you should, but your opinion will be disregarded until you do, and calling me an insolent pest; not helping towards me being more polite now, is it?"
He huffed the comment away with a sly smile. "Why should you show your workings? I never said you should, but your opinion will be disregarded until you do, and calling me an insolent pest; not helping towards me being more polite now, is it?"
Trephan Bethlem raised a manicured eyebrow at that comment, yawning daintily into his hand. "When did I say anything about being- oh! How quaint. Hello there!" Trephan swiveled around on his stool to face Daemon Zagan and waved the tips of his fingers at the creature. "Do you not speak English? Because I'm sure I can find you a dictionary around here somewhere that translates 'idiot' into something more manageable..."
Trephan Bethlem reached into his pocket, decidedly unconcerned about the hostility directed at his person. He extracted a handkerchief (monogrammed, of course), and offered it to Gokita. "I'm sorry, do you need this? Only you keep-" He made a faintly disgusted motion toward his nose. "-snorting. If you need to blow your nose, I suggest you do so. It's really quite simple if you have a handkerchief."
That said, he turned back towards Daemon Zagan and wince. "Ooh, good gracious. I'm afraid all the handkerchiefs in the world aren't going to help you..."
That said, he turned back towards Daemon Zagan and wince. "Ooh, good gracious. I'm afraid all the handkerchiefs in the world aren't going to help you..."
Trephan Bethlem was faintly appalled that anyone (even someone as clearly mentally deficient as Gokita) would refer to his delicately green silk handkerchief as a (he shuddered)- snot rag. Really, how very vulgar. Why on earth would Trephan have a used handkerchief in his pocket?
"You intend to slap me? Really, violence never did solve any- dear me!" His eyes had fallen upon Daemon Zagan again. "Uh, are you aware that you, well-" He coughed awkwardly. "Have something on, well, all of you, actually?"
"You intend to slap me? Really, violence never did solve any- dear me!" His eyes had fallen upon Daemon Zagan again. "Uh, are you aware that you, well-" He coughed awkwardly. "Have something on, well, all of you, actually?"
Trephan Bethlem blinked, frowned, and then blinked again for good measure. "Excuse me," he said, raising a sharp pointer finger. "Just a few points that I think need to be made before you're allowed to continue your pointless rambling in the general vicinity of my person." He cleared his throat, and took on a faintly lecturing tone.
"Firstly, for my charming friend at the front." He offered Gokita a mocking little bow. "I'll have you know that I said nothing about the rather distasteful term 'snot-rags', and it really is quite intrusive to read a person's mind without his permission, don't you think?"
He then turned to Daemon Zagan. "And yourself, well, what to say first, really. I'm going to start with your flagrant use of badly thought out Japanese insults, because seeing as you have so delightfully transformed into a European dragon..."
"Firstly, for my charming friend at the front." He offered Gokita a mocking little bow. "I'll have you know that I said nothing about the rather distasteful term 'snot-rags', and it really is quite intrusive to read a person's mind without his permission, don't you think?"
He then turned to Daemon Zagan. "And yourself, well, what to say first, really. I'm going to start with your flagrant use of badly thought out Japanese insults, because seeing as you have so delightfully transformed into a European dragon..."
"Oh, so it's just a coincidence that you speak like an Englishman trying to- shall we say (charitably)- enhance, his speech with the occasionally placed, badly dramatized word in a foreign language, then? How unfortunate for you." Trephan did his very best to look sympathetic, and mostly succeeded.
"I must congratulate you though, seeing as you've somehow managed to survive in a foreign country that is positively rife with native dragons. Impressive, really, seeing as any other stranger introduced to an unfavorable habitat populated with large, vicious and understandably territorial creatures would have been hunted down and killed."
Finally realizing that Gokita had spoken, he turned just enough to fix her with a single mocking eye. "Did I? Rather convenient then, isn't it. I'll be sure to continue to shudder at exactly the right time for you in future, so you can give off the impression of reading my mind when you're really, how did you put it? Ah yes, reading my face and shudder."
"I must congratulate you though, seeing as you've somehow managed to survive in a foreign country that is positively rife with native dragons. Impressive, really, seeing as any other stranger introduced to an unfavorable habitat populated with large, vicious and understandably territorial creatures would have been hunted down and killed."
Finally realizing that Gokita had spoken, he turned just enough to fix her with a single mocking eye. "Did I? Rather convenient then, isn't it. I'll be sure to continue to shudder at exactly the right time for you in future, so you can give off the impression of reading my mind when you're really, how did you put it? Ah yes, reading my face and shudder."
"Really?" Trephan looked overly shocked, slapping his hands to his cheeks and widening his eyes as far as they would go. "You can tell what I'm thinking by my face?" The hand went over his mouth, a look of exaggerated fear sweeping over his face. "I guess I'm just terribly transparent to someone of your frightening intellect..."
His hands were set gently back into his lap, face unreadable once more as he cast an eye at Daemon Zagan. "Hm?" he asked, eyes glittering with interest all of a sudden. "Are you a new breed of dragon-demon?" The expression slipped into something close to sadness. "Or telling porkies, perhaps?"
His hands were set gently back into his lap, face unreadable once more as he cast an eye at Daemon Zagan. "Hm?" he asked, eyes glittering with interest all of a sudden. "Are you a new breed of dragon-demon?" The expression slipped into something close to sadness. "Or telling porkies, perhaps?"
Trephan Bethlem took on a rather pandering expression, and even went so far as to look up at the creature. "Are you really," he said, not a question at all, certainly a statement. There was a smile lingering somewhere, and not a very nice smile at that, but it was so well hidden that it could have easily have been a trick of the light.
Trephan Bethlem simply smiled as he stood from his stool, disregarding his untouched drink as not worth his time. He made his way towards the door, but then paused, seeing as they were still talking to him. He looked back over his shoulder. His eyes twinkled with mischief, he flashed even white teeth at them in wicked amusement.
"What do I mean? Well, that really depends on what you assume now, doesn't it?" He winked at Gokita. "And you seem to have fallen behind the conversation; would you like me to slow down so that you can keep up?"
"What do I mean? Well, that really depends on what you assume now, doesn't it?" He winked at Gokita. "And you seem to have fallen behind the conversation; would you like me to slow down so that you can keep up?"
"Sure thing, darling," Trephan cooed, blowing her a mocking little kiss as he sauntered out of the door. "Have fun talking-to-slash-deluding yourselves while I'm gone, my loves!" With that, and another happy little wink, Trephan exited the bar.
In a brief show of power, Trephan appeared in a flutter of unseen wings at the bar, chuckling to himself as dark, stolen eyes flicked this way and that. Well, that was terribly boring; a gathering of children? In a bar? He pulled a dainty face (because a full scowl would have been unsightly) before taking out his flute. Maybe a few turns as the Pied Piper would brighten his day.
Trephan Bethlem slowly lifted the flute to his lips, wrapping magic into his breath as he blew. The instrument produced a single, mellow note that cried dance with a vibrant voice, seeking. There was a smile on Trephan's face as he finally found it in himself to play again, a little malice tickling at his soul as he looked for the right thing to make dance. Two children and one dead cat were the only things on offer, but maybe one of them would have a mind for music.
Trephan Bethlem chuckled into the music, creating a bright crescendo in his secretly moving song. Two little minds, one oblivious, one tempted, and one cold dead thing with just enough flesh left to stay together... Trephan's mind was more suited to horror than delight, and these children were strangely resonant to his song. Likely, they came under some other musician's domain, but he could at least have a little fun with them before he retired; show them that some other being played far better than their control.
Dance the music said once more, but this time speaking to the rotting dead thing also, notes wrapping around and around and around to hold all of those fraying parts into place. His music could be puppet strings, if he so desired. His music and his magic could bring some sham of life to something long gone and empty.
Trephan smiled; this was life, music and magic; this was children, thievery and delight. This was fun.
Dance the music said once more, but this time speaking to the rotting dead thing also, notes wrapping around and around and around to hold all of those fraying parts into place. His music could be puppet strings, if he so desired. His music and his magic could bring some sham of life to something long gone and empty.
Trephan smiled; this was life, music and magic; this was children, thievery and delight. This was fun.
Trephan Bethlem winked as the child's eyes found his own. The bigger of the two was musically inclined, the other all but deaf to his charms. The True Piper couldn't take the crippled child, and Trephan knew broken when he saw it. Such a shame; somebody other than himself had had a wonderful time with that little girl. No matter, though, no matter at all. He kept just enough of his intent focused on the boy, letting him think and dance but not get too close (he hoped; the music was a fickle thing, just as Trephan himself was) as he turned towards the little dead thing.
It was all to easy to forge new flesh from music, notes and lines and ink and paper weaving out of his tune and into that broken little body, a method of control in more ways than one. Bones of white paper, blood of the tune, notes to make the finer structures, black ink forging into fur. The light in those eyes came from the soul of his music, flooded into the empty container and bringing- not life, surely, but something.
Trephan's song became triumphant; self perpetuating music! The dead-not-dead thing, kitten once and lost song now, was self perpetuating music!
It was all to easy to forge new flesh from music, notes and lines and ink and paper weaving out of his tune and into that broken little body, a method of control in more ways than one. Bones of white paper, blood of the tune, notes to make the finer structures, black ink forging into fur. The light in those eyes came from the soul of his music, flooded into the empty container and bringing- not life, surely, but something.
Trephan's song became triumphant; self perpetuating music! The dead-not-dead thing, kitten once and lost song now, was self perpetuating music!
He had a pretty little voice, that one, and Trephan would have stolen it, if it was his to steal. But as much as he liked to play, the soundtrack to the life of these children was not his own. He could add a little- he looked down at the reanimated not-quite cat with a faint smile, but it would never be his.
Slowly, he lowered the flute, the tune humming around his unseen wings for a few moments longer.
"Hush," he whispered. "I'll leave this song to you."
With that he turned away, but he didn't pull the music from his new creation; let the little broken one have her fun, and maybe a little of his as well. It would live, as much as self-perpetuating music could live, and always come back with the ghost of the tune that made it.
Trephan was pleased as he started to slip away.
Slowly, he lowered the flute, the tune humming around his unseen wings for a few moments longer.
"Hush," he whispered. "I'll leave this song to you."
With that he turned away, but he didn't pull the music from his new creation; let the little broken one have her fun, and maybe a little of his as well. It would live, as much as self-perpetuating music could live, and always come back with the ghost of the tune that made it.
Trephan was pleased as he started to slip away.
Trephan Bethlem slipped into the room, dressed in forest green and holding a wooden flute in his left hand. There was a pleasant smile on his face, telling of a very productive day, a spring in his step as he made is way over to the bar counter. "Hello!" he said brightly to Edward Carnby, who happened to be near him.
Glittering eyes swept across the people now beginning to arrive, and a little smirk twitched the corner of his lips; clearly his adoring fans had heard he was coming.
Glittering eyes swept across the people now beginning to arrive, and a little smirk twitched the corner of his lips; clearly his adoring fans had heard he was coming.