The Voices
Inactive Character
[SIZE=9pt]NAME:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] Formerly [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]Mammon Gog III
FACTION: [/SIZE]None
RANK: None
[SIZE=9pt]SPECIES:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]Shi’Ido[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]AGE:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] 94[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]SEX:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] Male[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]HEIGHT: [/SIZE]Varies
WEIGHT: Varies
EYES: Varies
[SIZE=9pt]HAIR:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE]Varies
[SIZE=9pt]SKIN:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE]Varies
[SIZE=9pt]FORCE SENSITIVE:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE]Yes, but unaware.
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At a young age, Mammon was abandoned in the junkscapes of the planet Filth. Not even Mammon himself knows who his family was, or why he was left there. For several years, the young Shi’ido scavenged the junkscape of Filth for food and shelter, barely surviving the freezing temperatures at night. For years his only contact with society was the occasional salvager or criminal that crossed the junkscapes, as well as a Holovision set that he’d found somehow working- which entertained him for many years, and allowed him to get a basic grasp for what ‘the rest of the galaxy’ was like., as well as giving him a way to teach himself how to speak broken b Basic. His only friend, was what he called The Voices. He was to young to understand, and to inexperienced with the galaxy to know, what the voices were. Having nothing to compare himself too other then the characters on his hollovision, he assumed it was normal. Everyone had Voices. He spoke with The Voices, they spoke to him. They told him how to survive, they kept him company. Essentially, they were his parents, his friends, and his family.
They were what made him leave the junkscape. And so he did. After days of wandering for something, anything, other then the junkscape, Mammon came across a city. It wasn’ta particularly large city, but it had people. Real people. Not hologams, not illusions, not voices. People. He spent months in alleyways and back streets, just watcing the people. Observing them, studying them. The Voices kept his company. They told hm who to watch, what to do. And that is how he found the human boy. He wasn’t sure of his name, or who he was, or anything about him. But when he saw him with a group of other humans, all well dressed and fat, obviously rich, The Voices told him to follow, told him to watch. So he did. For days, he did. He watched the boy, watched him talk to the others- one of which, Mammon found, was the boy’s father. Followed the boy’s hoverlimo, watched him through the windows of his father’s mansion. He found that the boy’s name was Sylar, Sylar Klaz. His father was a powerful crime lord on the planet, and practically owned the entire city that he’d found. Most of the people on the planet were poor, barely able to get food- just like Mammon- but these people were rich. A massive mansion, droids, servants, food. He was jelous.
He didn’t know what he was, why he looked different then the humans, what his species was. He didn’t know what a Shi’ido was. And he didn’t know of his species’ power. He didn’t know he could change form. So, naturally, he was amazed when he did. He was watching Sylar, as he had done for months, studying him through the windows, watching him during dinner. A table filled with food. More food then he’d ever seen in his life. He was more jelous then he had beenin the past months. Why should Sylar get this? Why should he get whatever he wanted? Why couldn’t Mammon have it? Sylar was no better then he was! The voices told him how to. They told him what to do. They told him how to change. And he did. He looked no different then Sylar now. He was exactly like him. Exactly the same. But it didn’t stop there.
The Voices made him do it! He wouldn’t have done it himself. It wasn’t his fault! But he did it, nonetheless. Sylar was outside, at the back of his father’s property. Waiting for his father, Mammon thought. Waiting for something, his father wanted him to do something. It must have been a secret, the others couldn’t know. But Sylar was alone. The voices spoke to him. “You could have everything he does. You could be him., You could have family, riches… anything you could want. You could be him.”
It wasn’t his fault. He wouldn’t have done it. But he did. He stood over Sylar’s body, the bloody rock in his hand, and stared. Sylar’s father would be here soon. He had to get rid of his body. Had to get him away. There was a lake. A lake on Sylar’s father’s property. He would take him there. And so he did. He returned just in time to meet Sylar’s father. He needed Sylar—No, Mammon now, to watch his servant staff, there was a spy. Yes, that’s it. That’s all Mammon had to do. He belived he was Sylar. “Do you understand?” He had said. ‘Yes father.’
The Voices instructed him how to act, what to do. No one questioned who hee was. He’d studied the real Sylar, he knew his habits, his actions. He knew how he acted, how he thought. It was easy to mimic him. The Voices told him how. Eventually, he forgot about Mammon. He wasn’t Mammon. What was Mammon? Mammon didn’t exsist. The Voices stayed, though. They stayed with Sylar. They instructed him, taught him. They told him how to kill his father. A blaster shot to the back. Take over his estate.
It didn’t work. They discovered him. He fled. He left Filth.
He knew more now, and so The Voices did as well. The change happened quicker when he changed how he looked. It was easy for him to become a new person. To change. He thought nothing of it, he knew onthing of his mental state. For every person he became, there was another him. He led multiple lives, over decades. Sometimes, he would switch back to one of his old personas, one of his old personalities. He wouldn’t remember what happened, would’nt know that time passed. One day he was Sylar, another he was another personality, a week later, another. He was many people, and he was one. And he never knew. They guessed of course, people in his various lvies. Wondered where he went. But The Voices told him how to deal with them. They’d have to go, they said. So they did. Like Sylar.
The voices knew more then anyone. They had experienced everything that any of Mammon’s personalities had. They instructed him, instructed him to change, taught him when he did. Gave his personalities lives, memories, goals. Mammon became nothing more then The Voices. Mammon constantly changed. The Voices, though. The Voices stayed.
FACTION: [/SIZE]None
RANK: None
[SIZE=9pt]SPECIES:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE][SIZE=9pt]Shi’Ido[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]AGE:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] 94[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]SEX:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] Male[/SIZE]
[SIZE=9pt]HEIGHT: [/SIZE]Varies
WEIGHT: Varies
EYES: Varies
[SIZE=9pt]HAIR:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE]Varies
[SIZE=9pt]SKIN:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE]Varies
[SIZE=9pt]FORCE SENSITIVE:[/SIZE][SIZE=9pt] [/SIZE]Yes, but unaware.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At a young age, Mammon was abandoned in the junkscapes of the planet Filth. Not even Mammon himself knows who his family was, or why he was left there. For several years, the young Shi’ido scavenged the junkscape of Filth for food and shelter, barely surviving the freezing temperatures at night. For years his only contact with society was the occasional salvager or criminal that crossed the junkscapes, as well as a Holovision set that he’d found somehow working- which entertained him for many years, and allowed him to get a basic grasp for what ‘the rest of the galaxy’ was like., as well as giving him a way to teach himself how to speak broken b Basic. His only friend, was what he called The Voices. He was to young to understand, and to inexperienced with the galaxy to know, what the voices were. Having nothing to compare himself too other then the characters on his hollovision, he assumed it was normal. Everyone had Voices. He spoke with The Voices, they spoke to him. They told him how to survive, they kept him company. Essentially, they were his parents, his friends, and his family.
They were what made him leave the junkscape. And so he did. After days of wandering for something, anything, other then the junkscape, Mammon came across a city. It wasn’ta particularly large city, but it had people. Real people. Not hologams, not illusions, not voices. People. He spent months in alleyways and back streets, just watcing the people. Observing them, studying them. The Voices kept his company. They told hm who to watch, what to do. And that is how he found the human boy. He wasn’t sure of his name, or who he was, or anything about him. But when he saw him with a group of other humans, all well dressed and fat, obviously rich, The Voices told him to follow, told him to watch. So he did. For days, he did. He watched the boy, watched him talk to the others- one of which, Mammon found, was the boy’s father. Followed the boy’s hoverlimo, watched him through the windows of his father’s mansion. He found that the boy’s name was Sylar, Sylar Klaz. His father was a powerful crime lord on the planet, and practically owned the entire city that he’d found. Most of the people on the planet were poor, barely able to get food- just like Mammon- but these people were rich. A massive mansion, droids, servants, food. He was jelous.
He didn’t know what he was, why he looked different then the humans, what his species was. He didn’t know what a Shi’ido was. And he didn’t know of his species’ power. He didn’t know he could change form. So, naturally, he was amazed when he did. He was watching Sylar, as he had done for months, studying him through the windows, watching him during dinner. A table filled with food. More food then he’d ever seen in his life. He was more jelous then he had beenin the past months. Why should Sylar get this? Why should he get whatever he wanted? Why couldn’t Mammon have it? Sylar was no better then he was! The voices told him how to. They told him what to do. They told him how to change. And he did. He looked no different then Sylar now. He was exactly like him. Exactly the same. But it didn’t stop there.
The Voices made him do it! He wouldn’t have done it himself. It wasn’t his fault! But he did it, nonetheless. Sylar was outside, at the back of his father’s property. Waiting for his father, Mammon thought. Waiting for something, his father wanted him to do something. It must have been a secret, the others couldn’t know. But Sylar was alone. The voices spoke to him. “You could have everything he does. You could be him., You could have family, riches… anything you could want. You could be him.”
It wasn’t his fault. He wouldn’t have done it. But he did. He stood over Sylar’s body, the bloody rock in his hand, and stared. Sylar’s father would be here soon. He had to get rid of his body. Had to get him away. There was a lake. A lake on Sylar’s father’s property. He would take him there. And so he did. He returned just in time to meet Sylar’s father. He needed Sylar—No, Mammon now, to watch his servant staff, there was a spy. Yes, that’s it. That’s all Mammon had to do. He belived he was Sylar. “Do you understand?” He had said. ‘Yes father.’
The Voices instructed him how to act, what to do. No one questioned who hee was. He’d studied the real Sylar, he knew his habits, his actions. He knew how he acted, how he thought. It was easy to mimic him. The Voices told him how. Eventually, he forgot about Mammon. He wasn’t Mammon. What was Mammon? Mammon didn’t exsist. The Voices stayed, though. They stayed with Sylar. They instructed him, taught him. They told him how to kill his father. A blaster shot to the back. Take over his estate.
It didn’t work. They discovered him. He fled. He left Filth.
He knew more now, and so The Voices did as well. The change happened quicker when he changed how he looked. It was easy for him to become a new person. To change. He thought nothing of it, he knew onthing of his mental state. For every person he became, there was another him. He led multiple lives, over decades. Sometimes, he would switch back to one of his old personas, one of his old personalities. He wouldn’t remember what happened, would’nt know that time passed. One day he was Sylar, another he was another personality, a week later, another. He was many people, and he was one. And he never knew. They guessed of course, people in his various lvies. Wondered where he went. But The Voices told him how to deal with them. They’d have to go, they said. So they did. Like Sylar.
The voices knew more then anyone. They had experienced everything that any of Mammon’s personalities had. They instructed him, instructed him to change, taught him when he did. Gave his personalities lives, memories, goals. Mammon became nothing more then The Voices. Mammon constantly changed. The Voices, though. The Voices stayed.
