Clarissa Smith von Finkle
Alias: Valaira; Guardian of Eternity; Maiden of the Cardinal Sins; Hel; The Tainted Hand of the Gods
Gender: Identifies Self As Female...Under Quotidian Circumstances
Species: As Appropriate as the Nintendo Brand of "Star Warriors" Might Be Given Clarissa's Inclinations and General Tastes, She Is Officially Recognized as a Member of the "Deathhand" Species (A Fairly Random Designation for a Chaos-Spawned "Goddess" of Sorts)
Divinity Sensors Should Perceive Her as Roughly "Half-Demon" "Half-Angel" by Most Theological Standards and Definitions
Age: Time Is an Invention of Mortals Who Find Their Allotments of it Substantially Limited and Therefore Direly in Need of Direct Measurement; Age Is a Subset of the System Implemented to Accomplish This Mortal Objective; Clarissa Transcends It, Though Her Physical Forms Always (As an Inviolable Rule) Appear as a Youthful, Lively 22 Year Old Teetering This Way and That On the Cusp of Adulthood and Childhood
Alignment: Clarissa is a self-serving egotist, heeding only advice and embarking only on adventure that amuses her or otherwise benefits her in some way or other. She cares only for herself and her own gain...for the most part. She has never had a qualm with exterminating untold numbers of unsung heroes and do-gooders to get her way. Law doesn't hold sway over her either, except in gifting her more thrilling methods by which to spend her infinite life. Breaking them is just one additional way by which she can get her kicks. Clarissa is Chaotic Neutral and verily so, but only because of...
Valaira. Clarissa is Valaira's counterpart. Her other half. Valaira is a repentant mass murderer with the same destructive tendencies as Clarissa but a genuine care for the health and welfare of others. She wants everyone to succeed and live in harmony. Even though she has committed tons of horrible crimes, only a handful of which she was "aware" for, she wants to change and help people, a peculiar stance which offsets Clarissa's "Let the world burn!" attitude.
Power Level (Scouter Scale): Scaled, because scaled is more fun than set. Scaled implies diverting, player-friendly combat each and every time! 
Fairness! Yay!
Occupation: Professional AMENite/"Tyrant" of Hel/Minor (Very Minor) Cultist Icon (Which Is Bound to the State of Being a Progenitor)
Description: Clarissa is exceptionally beautiful. She also boasts sundry carnal vessels. The most recently utilized body shall be detailed herein.
Clarissa: True Form
As she walks, her feet never quite seem to touch the ground. The eye would most certainly repudiate any claim to the contrary and refuse to ever dwell on the matter for a second time. With obstinate persistence and insistence (but no abstinence, mind you, for inquisitive and dedicated scientists cannot help but stare and often gawk at the focus of their studies), the unaided eye would contend that she hovers a centimeter or dozen above the lowly soil, which is not and could never conceivably be worthy to stroke the soles of her feet. And the eye, personified and possibly engendered as such, would staunchly cling, like a maddened dog, to its argument, if only for its stake in it. What wisdom could be derived from upholding an erroneous claim? Incentive drives defense, and reward the eyes of the beholder Clarissa does.
Her legs were sculpted by obsequious gods. They are the idols of obsession. And when I say gods, I do mean gods (which, in this instance, is not the broad term acknowledged to include the garden-variety slew of goddesses), as they doubtlessly were aware of what traits would reduce a man to a euphoric mass of trembling flesh and blood with little to no coaxing or teasing on the part of the seduc-...possessor. Possess she does with haunting subtlety. Back to the topic at hand, her legs are neither gangly like sticks or planks nor thick like drenched logs. They are perfectly poised in between the two extremes. Healthy, trim, and muscular, their functionality is clear yet not exaggerated, as they are ample and supple enough to rally and inspire the salivation glands of many-a-human to manufacture a surplus of product. Her milky-white skin, smiled upon by the sun and blessed by all the other elements cataloged by men who reverently grovel at their and her feet along with a spectrum which haven't yet been and may never be save in the deepest of dreams where even the subconscious lies dormant (dead to the world), stretches over them without wrinkle nor fold. So smooth and soft is it that the qualities of silk pale in comparison to it, as it is an inferior fabric to Clarissa's sublime elegance Such abnormal, perhaps abominable, perfection could only be elucidated by divine heritage, that the bearer is a scion of (or maybe even a) supernatural entity designed for an express purpose in this world. That this is a earthly symbol of her power.
From there, we move to her lower torso, which is completely devoid of a bellybutton or any other similar trait, as it would be nothing more than a special defect on her. For she was never rightly born. 'Tis a stain of mortality that she will forever deny and never-ever deign to wear.
Her abdominal region is slim, but not remarkably so. She is healthily muscular, however comfortably soft and cushiony. She's obviously raring for battle or peace, able to back up her words with force when need be and perfectly content to relax in the sidelines if she can.
Her tails are worth mention as well. All nine of them indulgently flick through the air indicating her mood. They are basked in golden splendor, a shimmering light glimmering like the heavens above. Like shining constellations glowing high in the evening sky, their patterns blink into existence as the night fast approaches, as it often does on days plumb full of merriment and joy and fade with the dawn's first breath, evaporating long before the dew on the grass. It is a splendid little quirk of Clarissa's, and no vapid thing to watch. Her tails are even softer than her skin. Far more. Furry and bushy they are, arrayed behind her like a peacock's stunningly vibrant plumage. They ooze confidence and are a major weakness in her build, upon both superficial and immersive contemplation, as they are ticklish and sensitive (the first an oddity, the second a staple of tails). Calamitous consequences will ensue from Clarissa's distress if they are tugged at all.
Clarissa's back and upper torso are equally as magnificent, but describing a back is boring and it would be a mistake to enumerate every feature of her upper torso here.
Clarissa's arms are healthy, well-toned, and attractively muscular. One wouldn't be able to discern that she could rip a car apart with her hands if the challenge set the bar high enough. One could still logically reason that she works out daily (nearly) from their condition.
Clarissa's neck is a fine thing, but not removed enough from the norm to merit more than this sentence.
Clarissa's face is a delicate thing. Throughout it, all things strike a balance. Her eyes are soft, shaped out of malleable gemstones twinkling with spectral emerald brilliance. Surrounded by a contrasting field of untarnished, pearl-white, they are. These orbs of telling glory do not belong to earth or any of her children. The pair is reserved for things more innocent or formerly more innocent than newborn life. They portray understanding and compassion naturally, but destiny would have it that these aspects are overshadowed by Clarissa's own grudge against sapient life. Malevolence, hatred, and a tinge of disgust burn behind her fiery spheres leering out at the world's ugly countenance when she takes offence to a judgmental iniquity slung at her out of ill-will. Her cheeks are soft with high, noble cheekbones, and they are often blushing, depending on the season. Her lips are strips of crimson ribbon, streams winding back on around one another in an endless loop. Gentle are they, though the rows and rows of jagged teeth which lurk behind like those of a starved shark, the cavernous maw they guard, and the forked tongue of a slithering serpent which inhabits it welcome foolish interlopers solely to their ultimate demise. Her adorable nose and bland ears which taper off to an acute point are nice as well. Her hair animatedly and rhythmically waves where it draws to an effortless end at the center of her spine. It is colored so as to match the fur of her tail seamlessly. They are composed of the same fibers, so that attribute is entirely self-explanatory.
She also sports a set of giant, fluffy, velvety, feathered, stereotypical, white angel wings that have been grafted onto her upper back. Her wingspan is no small deal either, being approximately two and a half times her height from the tip of her left wing to the tip of her right wing. They are ironically inexplicably comforting and protective. In them, one may feel as if no harm could ever really be inflicted upon him/her. Clarissa doesn't generally face ridicule or receive flak for her none-too-wicked angelic wings as she stores them in a special camouflaged nook in her upper back when they are not in use.
Equipment: Clothes. In all honesty, that usually about it, though she does own a ring Dave gave her on her wedding day that tastes like various candies with inset ruby, sapphire, and emerald colored jewels. She has a generic violet cell phone and carries a pouch of gold pieces on her frequently as well. She keeps a temple, several mansions, piles of emergency riches, and a legendary blade, but she never ever carries them with her, so they can't rightly be considered equipment.
Abilities: Conjuration; Heat Manipulation; Shapeshifting; Life and Spiritual Manipulation (Flesh Bending); More Realistic Kirby's Eating Ability (Blame Nintendo for the Nightmarish Horrors!); Super Strength; Cellular Body Structure (No Organ Systems or Veins); Poison and Virus Resistance
Validation For Vagueness (aka Note): Depending Fully Upon the Unique Situation Being Considered, This List of Skills May Be Rendered Obsolete or Be Majorly Limited, Especially During a Combat Sequence; These Abilities Are Expansive, But Not Clarissa's Maximum Potential And They Aren't All Included In Her Standard Arsenal Every Single Time Either, Thanks To Her Scaled Power Rating
Personality: This actually hasn't been nailed down. And I doubt it will ever be. Clarissa reacts differently to every character she encounters. There's no hard and fast rule to it, with the exception of two regulations.
1) If a character doesn't like nature, Clarissa won't get along with him/her.
2) If a character is perfidious, utterly self-absorbed, or openly dislikes one of Clarissa's friends/Clarissa, she won't delight in their company in the least.
Right now, it might be safe to say that she is usually of good-humor and chipper to a fault, but distrustful of most of the sapient population of everywhere, really. That's primarily due to her gloomy backstory.
Backstory: A segment of this backstory has been released in the Nexus, but the remainder of it is still classified until it is revealed IC. And the story won't make a whole lot of sense if I leave so much of it out, so I'll write it all up later.
Public Allies:
Spoiler
Show
-Dave
-Becky
-Zefir
Private Allies(As They Are Made Known):
Enemies:
Re: Nexus Character Directory
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