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[sub][h1][b][color=CD9B1D]L  U  N  A  T  A  E[/color][/b][/h1][/sub][img]https://i.imgur.com/cfcHrjw.png[/img]
[sup][b]h e l l e n i s t i c   e r a   m a e n a d ; b a c c h a e[/b][/sup]
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[b][color=white][ [/color][color=CD9B1D] P e r s o n a l i t y [/color][color=white] ][/color][/b][indent]She was something of an enigma, a being that literally emitted frenzy possessed an outlook almost wholly lackadaisical. Perhaps this was owed in part that to simply survive herself was challenge enough. Most things were trivial, some humorous and very few worthy of focused attention. A first impression was hard to reconcile with what most ‘expected’. She had survived the fall of empires and even races. She had watched as the first man gained control over elements and animals, but never over himself. She was a bubbly flighty thing, speaking in exaggerated hand gestures of long dead philosophies and then you would catch her blazing with a drunken fury as she ripped into the flesh of an infant. She would giggle and gossip, batting lashes over brilliant angelically demonic eyes, playing the role of extended youth throwing lavish parties of heightened ecstasy and then the façade would crumble and the vicious untrusting minx would whisper ancient magic directly assaulting what sanity one who keeps the company of such a creature might have. She is not overly intelligent, despite her age, and has a tendency towards trivial grudges that last centuries.[/indent]
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[b][color=white][ [/color][color=CD9B1D] H i s t o r y [/color][color=white] ][/color][/b][indent]Her beginning clawed into the minds of the earliest humans, breeding the race of maenads as their souls hummed for a means of release from the confines placed by their God. She doesn’t remember her own birth, no more than she remembers the waves of time that have passed over her clouded in an orgy of desecration. Her peak was in the time of the Greeks and Romans; a time in which her God was worshipped amongst the humans and revered in the gluttony of upper class. The maenads were strong then, living in the woods together yet venturing into the cities without fear. They hunted the bulls in the woods, taking them down together. They laid in exhaustion amongst fine pillows, dreaming together. They played music and screamed and howled at the moon, dancing naked together.

The memories of this time still roll over her with a delightful nausea of something truly and utterly lost. Once the humans began to band together against the monsters they ran and it seems as if one day she turned to look about her as she ran and she was alone. They had no way to hide. They were helpless in concealing their abilities. Even when she focused all of her attention on stifling; reaching the point of hysterical sobbing and retracted all love she had for her God, it still trickled from her as inherent to her being as the soft smell of honey. For short bursts of time she would play her part of normality. She hid herself for a year in a rotting yet boisterous whore house in the heart of London. She was tired. Tired of running. Tired of herself. The only happiness she had was the influence she subtly placed upon the house, but this couldn’t last. 

The first warning sign came with a shrill scream early in the morning. One of the whores had mistaken her client for a raging bull and she was hysterical. Her naked lithe form twitched in a corner, dripping blood from her pale skin and a dull bed post that she refused to release as she ranted and raved about his intentions to spear her with a horn. The man appeared ordinary to everyone else; save the large gaping hole in his chest where the bed post had been securely lodged. Some even chuckled and shared jokes that incorporated the “spearing” and the “horn” varying in who was giving it to who. The poor disillusioned girl was carted off to an insane asylum while the mistress of the house did everything she could to contain the story and rumors that were sure to affect their business. Then one night the house became a cacophony of sounds that, to this day, are simply described as indescribably wicked. The scene that unfolded before anyone unfortunate enough to bear witness was an elaborate web of debauchery and defilement; limbs scattered about in perverse and precarious situations, simply remnants in comparison to the disjointed forms of their origin. Wine puddles blended seamlessly with the puddles of blood and other excretions; staining a myriad of pillow feathers, glass, flayed flesh, wood and ceramics – anything that was unlucky enough to have been present had ceased to exist outside of this new Frankenstein testimonial to indulgence.

And this is where [i]they[/i] found her, those men in fleshy robes. How they knew to come looking is irrelevant now, but they beat the police and the hunters, finding the exhausted minx perched amongst the not yet decaying filth. Had it not been for her lazy arm movements moving cigarette from lips to side, barely dodging the refuse, they would have missed her. She lounged amongst the scene like a bored monarch and only barely raised a brow as they spoke to her. Once they finished she stood, naked and covered in all means of fluids and material, so much so that none of them could have described her skin tone or hair color without referencing the violent cerise tint. She followed them, her demeanor still the bored monarch and as the stepped outside the fire that would consume the place had already begun from that lingering cigarette.[/indent]
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[b][color=white][ [/color][color=CD9B1D] O t h e r [/color][color=white] ][/color][/b][indent]Her abilities incite a frenzy in those around her. Inebriation, sex, rage and all forms of revelry reach a height beyond gluttony. It is often that the mood will overtake the maenad as well and her appetites will turn to flesh; be it rabbit, deer, werewolf or human child (and everything in between). The influences of her abilities differ depending on a multitude of factors; date proximity to the festival of their God, race, age, mood, predisposition/mental strength, ect.[/indent]
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