Nereus Marinos

[IamLEAM1983]

Name: Nereus Marinos
Age: 570 years old
Gender: male
Species: Void Weaver

Strengths: although deposed on the sociopolitical level, Nereus remains the scion of a bloodline of Void Weaver Prelates who have all served as soothsayers for the Others, for thousands of years. As such, his lasting command of the Black Speech is without compare and is mirrored by his quick adoption and adaptation to the Gentlemen’s developing sanitized version. As dangerous as a Karthian Archon can be when fully empowered by a Dominion of considerable size, there isn’t a single law of Physics he can’t bend or break, and very few physical states he can’t alter or break free of. Notably, he also has no need to outwardly speak in the Black Speech to produce whatever desired effects he might have in mind, which protects his allies’ minds from his own inner workings.

While he may have lost all contact with the resources previously available to him as Renewal’s figurehead, he remains as charismatic and resourceful as before, especially now that Christopher Wesley Chambers’ mental pressure is no longer present in his vicinity. An excessively empathetic soul, he might veer rather close to Empathy as a superhuman concept, potentially because of his long years spent as a religious figurehead and won’t surprise Meris in showing how little of his projected kindness he happened to fake, as a wellness guru. If anything, it might speak to the intensity of Chambers’ subjected abuse, as Nereus outwardly seems like a man with a litany of effective coping mechanisms; most of which are derived from Eastern philosophies. He might have come close to breaking under Amaxi’s chosen, but a few weeks of rest and recovery have made it clear that compared to the average tentacled operative, his will is cheerfully and quietly ironclad.
Weaknesses: for all the above, it’s clear to Shield’s occasionally tapped therapists, from Sariel to Doctor Cerebro, that Nereus was overtly traumatized by his long centuries spent as Chambers’ patsy and power source. Callbacks to the last few centuries are especially rough for him, with some Shadow Lords paying for their impudence in reminding their former leader of his weakness with their lives. While he might effectively cope with his past now that he’s freed of Renewal, Nereus isn’t exempt from occasional flashbacks, anxiety flare-ups or nurtured phobias. As such, most of his trump cards are surprisingly mundane, from certain traditional Greek songs played on the balalaika to the taste of certain wines and cigars, to even certain specific human phenotypes. People who remind him of past individuals he was forced to either enthrall or abuse of put him on edge, and he has an especially hard time with tall, ashen Squids that sort of conform to Chambers’ overall body type. Variable antagonists like Paul Travers also upset him and can lead him to respond excessively to mild threats or comments with certain implications.

Above all, his chief weakness is Meris herself. Ready and willing to sacrifice himself for their shared cause, he’ll openly overestimate his own capabilities on the battlefield and throw himself into whatever scheme is required to either rescue her or keep her safe. While he has no doubts in her abilities, the thought of losing her again terrifies him like nothing else ever could – perhaps more than his allies and friends ultimately losing to the Others. There may be times where he’ll forget her abilities or even her relative immortality and attempt to sideline her “for her own good”. In these cases, he’ll need to be taken aside long enough for rational thought to re-assert itself, at which point he’ll admit he was overreacting. As powerful as he is, he really isn’t much of a combatant, even with his abilities taken into consideration. 

Blow for blow, Lucian Rothchild has a much faster response time than he does, and more of a willingness to resort to crude tactics to be effective. Nereus would be the type to conjure up an exquisitely detailed weapon that takes too long to bring into being, whereas others like Rothchild or Marius Vlastos would likely stick to lancets of force or other immediately available constructs.

Appearance: freed from the need to wear a Flesh Mask, Nereus has still been a Grecian citizen for several generations and spent one average mortal lifetime in and around India, for research pertaining to Renewal’s construction. As such, there’s a bit of a lilt to his English, a bit of the Raj’s clipped consonants and of Thessaloniki’s nasals and vowels. Even without a recognizable nose and a usually-concealed mouth, there’s something to his cheekbones and dimples that feels Mediterranean to the outside observer, something that fits his better days’ Bon vivant leanings. If there’s a terrestrially-manifested Vice he aligns with, it’s certainly Gluttony. A stress eater as well as a lover of food and of good tables in general, he feels like the sort of man who’s likely to develop decent cardio thanks to his obvious efforts in personal training, but who won’t completely manage to remove his oft-described paunch. As time passes, he might come to look even broader than he really is, as muscles develop under his stubborn coat of blubber. As of his arrival in Hope, he stands at close to six feet eight for a more-than-generous three hundred and fifty pounds.

Notably, his shellfish-white skin has his species’ usual sheen and their usual waterproof tendencies and glistens a bit depending on how effective he’s been at retaining water. His six long tentacles reach about to his sternum even with his belly getting in the way, and usually conceal his black necktie and white shirt. A white suit is usually shucked on, properly secured with both a belt and suspenders, and occasionally complemented with a white or charcoal vest, depending on the setting. He’s clearly developed a thing for food-inspired colognes, with undertones of saffron or cardamom usually following in his wake. Otherwise, his almost-phocine eyes are difficult to miss, as big and expressive as they usually are. Marinos has a terrible poker face, his attempts at looking subtle only fooling the most oblivious of cultists and Prelates. It’s also obvious that he never could really sell the “evil overlord” persona Chambers’ plans required, and that he consequently left most of the talking to Chambers’ acolytes.

As of his arrival in Hope, he usually packs a simple Walther PPK in a side holster that’s easily concealed by his own girth. It might seem futile when considering the terrible power of properly-motivated operatives for the Others, but the downside of so-called terrible power is that most of them forget to defend themselves against the simplest of tools – namely guns and knives… Nereus knows more than enough to capitalize on this.

Behavior: let him host a dinner or join him for a cigar and a tumbler’s worth of Scotch, and you’ll realize that no amount of depression managed to fully snuff out the passionate and dedicated man he is. Nereus is a lover of life, a giver of gifts and a steadfast ally to all those he trusts; a profoundly sensual person who, if he’d been born of the Vices, would’ve probably been Gluttony’s noblest representative imaginable. He manages to savor whatever it is he touches even if he works through it with seemingly desperate relish and somehow samples whatever spirit he guzzles down as precisely as if he’d sipped at it. The Others having left his mark on him, subtlety is something he clearly lacks, when it comes to enjoying the finer things in life. That makes him a particularly energetic host that might remind some immortals of old French innkeepers urging their guests to please try their entire menu in one sitting. The same goes for more intellectual pursuits, as Nereus won’t sit down and read anything if he can’t do so in a single sitting. New skillsets seem to require almost-immediate acquisition, his interest going from zero to a hundred in one or two sessions at the most. Considering how he’s had to pick up basic gunplay since going on the lam, he’s only needed a few hours with his firearm to reach a point where he corrected Aidan on certain maintenance procedures, instead of the other way around.
Similarly, his kindness is both fierce and ruthless. He loves Meris and supports her with the same abandon Chambers has in loathing them, and immediately latched onto Shield’s group as an extended family of sorts. Nevermind the lack of blood relations, he’s sat Anjali, Andrea, Miranda, Nami and Lucas down for talk-downs as required, dispensing tough or gentle love, or pep talks as needed. Mary Jameson’s appearance served as an initial trigger point for his anxiety, but a few meetings sufficed to have him push past this to appreciate her obvious worth and skillset. He might curse her name in the gym, but it’s always in the understanding that he doesn’t really mean anything by it.

However, all this beaming love and friendship has an obvious dark side, in that he now feels free to express his utter hatred of his former agenda. All the pain and agony Chambers would visit upon Rhode Island’s keepers is freely dispensed on his own subordinates by Nereus, who has absolutely no qualms about turning a would-be dangerous operative into a gibbering wretch at the favor of a single close, physical contact. He might need reminders from his new friends and team members on occasion, as a wholly destroyed mind is not something any of them can work out of. Charles and Abraham can attest to his having little remorse at liquefying an aggressor on sight, when subduing them and extracting information might’ve been more productive. He’ll always try to avoid extreme outcomes, but also doesn’t seem too shaken about it if he feels the recipient deserved it.

History: as the 124th Augur of Dalarath, Nereus was born in 1455 as the product of a mixed union between his predecessor and one of his concubines. Created in the conjunction of Amaxi and Harrogath’s stars and existing in the Charnel House of Sin – if Void Weaver astrology is to be considered – he was destined to a life of unbridled, unrepentant, and largely ignorant luxury and excess, effectively made to serve as a conduit and mouthpiece to the Others’ worst carnal and venal urges. Power and success came easily to him but did so without pleasure or satisfaction, which made him an Augur that seemingly wouldn’t go down in the history books. His celibate years being marked by repeated feasts, almost week-long naps masquerading as research expeditions into the Darkhallow as well as long days spent partaking of his harem’s selection of beauties, political observers of the time in Dalarath were fond of thinking of Nereus as a one-term Augur, who would soon fall to his Chamberlain. All it took was a dash of carelessness, a pinch of wanton ambition, a poisoned blade and focus enough to tear through thick dams of fat to reach exposed organs. Unambitious louts holding office for a few short years before dying in mysterious circumstances wasn’t exactly a new concept in Dalarath. What Chambers missed, however, was what all those yawns, half-awake snorts and chin-wagging sessions with scantily-clad surface women abducted for baser purposes hid: a burgeoning curiosity for the wider world, and the place the Void Weavers might occupy in it.

First, a murder was required. The old Chamberlain was suitably poisoned, and the young and craven man later known as Wesley Chambers claimed the Rites of Accession. The old religious codger that had preceded him had almost served as a butler to Nereus, his initially friendly greeting being replied to with a knife at his throat. Further attempts on the Augur’s life would only worsen and grow in ritual complexity and obvious intent, which served its expected purpose in pushing the Augur towards more complex ceremonies. Comfort was doled out by the Others at Their leisure alone, and he grew both physically and metaphysically. The younger Chamberlain followed suit in his own rituals, constantly pushing his now almost-immobile charge in his power and aggressiveness – while still being forced by decorum to accede to his every whim. If not for his importance in Dalarath’s rituals, Nereus would’ve probably died centuries earlier, crushed by his own weight or effectively poisoned by his determined second-in-command. Thankfully, all the Augur had to do to stay his second and assailant’s hand was keep him tied to week after week of sermons and Word House duty. This was enough for the Augur’s desire to live – and the seeds of rebellion – to sprout.

It started with a few unsuccessful scouting runs along the Hebrides and Northern England, motivated by rumors of the strong curative power of Orcadian and selkie mages. Their society being largely insular, capsizing the occasional fishing boat and making a few disappearances look like the work of rogue waves or strong storms wasn’t too difficult. In return, the Chamberlain did everything he could to ensure that the Augur’s requested healers would disappear in Dalarath’s slave trade. Time and suffering having been enough to at least give him some measure of craftiness, Nereus played the dumb fool Chambers expected him to be, while covertly arranging for the revision and restitution of slaver work orders. Meris was soon plucked from the abusive couple that had purchased her, brought to the concubines’ chambers, fed, cleaned, and clothed – and presented to her would-be master.

Time passed, distrust turned to respect, friendship, and mutual support. Still technically sick after the Chamberlain’s exactions, the Augur’s power might’ve been supernaturally self-evident, but it didn’t quite cover his base physical needs, or the state of his psyche. Healer, conversationalist, friend, teacher, pupil, lover – Meris became all these things to Nereus, and he gratefully, almost desperately followed suit. Willfully ignoring the ritualistic components of the declaration, Nereus believed he would be able to declare Meris to be his Consort while somehow cheating the usually ignoble ends of the ritual. In Dalarath, declaring his love for her and maintaining it was, quite simply, a societal impossibility. Still, they plotted together, the goal expanding from their simple escape to the liberation of all slaves and the sparking of a long-delayed rebellion. Heretical whispers spoke of the Architect, of the Squids’ former creator and guiding patron, some going so far as to suggest that Meris wasn’t just providential; but also fated to bring the City of the Deep to its knees.

Dissent grew and for the first time in centuries, Nereus truly did thrive. Weight was shed even if the Augur’s obvious happiness called for decadent tables and even if he ate like a whale. Every speck of energy he took in was devoted to his and Meris’ continued research, planning and mutual improvement, Dalarath’s required masses and homelies only receiving bombastic lip service. Over time, not a single aspect of the Augur’s usual duties was left untouched, modified, sanitized, or subjected to trickery. Human sacrifices became scripted events with simulated injuries being the work of Meris’ developing talents in other fields. Centuries passed, with Nereus soon becoming a competent actor in his own right, growing able to convincingly fake the trances imposed by Harrogath, Amaxi or Dar-Larath. Seemingly killed chattel were whisked off to Respite Point’s underground network, Abominations were created in increasingly humane ways while preserving their surface-level grotesque nature, and a covert network of reluctant slavers and shadowy assassins began to weaken Dalarath’s societal basis.
Bliss and contentment effectively proved to be the undoing of the couple’s harmonious routine. Not wanting to trigger anything too obvious to the temple’s midwives, Nereus had long-since preferred to lay with Meris in the Darkhallow only, ensuring they would be able to explore the natural ends of their love without endangering their relationship or Meris’ own life. Eventually, however, the need to take his lover in the flesh became overpowering. Nereus hadn’t feared his own power so much as the Prelacy’s realization of her being pregnant, and could do little as the weeks passed and eventually, the selkie’s physical state became impossible to hide.

As expected, Nereus declared Meris to be his Consort before all of Dalarath – but not before working with her and Lucian Rothchild on a stopgap measure that would keep the city stabilized and oblivious as slowly, its slave contingent would be stolen away and as all three of them would work on reception points across the Atlantic seaboard to allow for the freedmen’s reception. Before the declaration came the announcement of a new power structure in the Prelacy, the Council of Oracles. Nereus presented his eventual departure for the surface world as a new chapter in Dalarath’s dark conquest and announced that his and Meris’ son would become the first Oracle of Dalarath; a spiritual and intentional go-between for the Augur and the Others, in his absence. Obviously, his and Meris’ shared hope was that their hybrid son’s natural inheritance of selkie blood would make him less receptive to the Others, and it would leave him as crafty as his father; likely to help his parents sway his birthplace away from the Dead Ones’ worship. In concept, they would’ve been able to remain in close contact using conjured brine pools, allowing the family to effectively stay together despite the son’s inherited responsibilities.

It might’ve worked, if not for the fact that bliss and rising hope all but blinded Nereus to his Chamberlain’s duplicity. For all of the royal couple’s plotting, Chambers had effectively stepped away and acted as though Meris’ growing power had effectively humbled him. Bribing courtiers and servants in the palace, he managed to remain abreast of the growing rebellion’s plans. The couple had hoped that the crowning and birth ceremonies would provide the freedmen and rebels with enough time to escape the sunken cavern. Amaxi’s loyal servants soon had soldiers posted at every accessible brine pool, which turned a simple covert op into outright war. Enough of Lord Lulroth’s freed slaves and family managed to make the crossing, the elderly Squid included; but the family that would soon be known by the name of Rothchild still paid a heavy cost. More importantly, Chambers succeeded in planting a fanatic in the person of the baby’s deliverer.

Meris and Nereus tasted of glory for just a few minutes, but Chambers’ plan was well and truly in effect. The zealot used old rites to consign the newborn Weaver’s soul to the Darkhallow and replaced it with the preserved soul of one of the city’s finest human thralls: that of Nikolaas Buck, founding father of Hope, Rhode Island. Worse still, he ensured that both parents would realize the extent of this infamy – and that Meris would at least temporarily come to believe that her lover had conspired against her. 

In practice, the deception would’ve been solid – at least by Dalarath’s standards. Bending edicts of his own, Chambers had copied Nereus’ signature and signet ring down to the smallest details and forged all the documents Meris would’ve ever needed to convince herself of her husband’s treachery. Realizing he had no hand to play and knowing that further resistance would doom those slaves that had managed to escape, he had no choice but to fall in line with Chambers’ stated plans.

Their original goals were now twisted, Nereus being forced to openly claim that everything had been part of a ploy designed to earn and corrupt surface-level power, to gain a measure of their opponents’ capabilities come their eventual invasion of Europe. Holding back his tears and rage, he had Meris arrested as she fled, and later had her brought to him so he could “formally” accuse her.

He'd also known that an early start would be Meris’ only chance. He sent a hunting party after her which he knew she’d be able to overpower, hoping beyond all hope that the selkie would at least be able to read between the lines of this horrible turn of events. As for him, he had nothing other to do than to continue their now-changed plans, this time with the goal of sending covert operatives the world over. Thus began an effective circle of abuse that would last centuries on end. Amaxi ate away at his resilience, Chambers berated and belittled every passing moment of weakness, and Nick Buck didn’t waste a single opportunity to remind the Augur of what he’d lost. This Calvary Road mostly stretched on between 1892 and 1991, the nineties finding him forcefully latched onto a comically elaborate New Age grift that frustratingly worked quite well. Chambers, it seemed, also had an eye for learning from the surface-world inhabitants, but he only really focused on their major weaknesses. With a dedication that made L. Ron Hubbard’s own grift laughable in comparison, Wesley Christopher Chambers effectively crowned himself the CFO of Renewal Entreprises, and installed Nereus as its defacto communicator and CEO, under the name of Xenophon Thanos.
For decades, Nereus hid a piteous depression behind placid airs of mindfulness and equanimity, his and Chambers’ chattel growing at the cost of about fifty thousand per mind. Turning indoctrination into such a slow burn, cultivated over years of information packets, VHSes, DVDs and the occasional booked stay at their private San Francisco ashram was a stroke of genius in its own way, as it resulted into some of the most stable thralls the Prelacy would’ve ever seen. They’d always done things quick and dirty, whereas carefully crafted engrams resulted in the absolute picture of normalcy, behind which waited an activation phrase or a trigger.

Savagery on command, double, triple, or quadruple agents unaware of their own loyalties – Chambers was the true mastermind behind an ironically renewed network of operatives and spies, and only had to make sure that his adipose charge receive the occasional token victory: a glimpse of Meris here, one successful escape and rescue by an operative of low rank there – the rest could be handled with drugs, food, alcohol and the trappings of luxury.
It's at this point that Chambers slips up without realizing it… Normally, Meris meeting Shield’s members in Hope should’ve been grounds for a complete stop of all updates regarding her, or even for a forged lethal incident to convince the lovelorn priest of his lover’s demise. Delegating his priming and debriefing of covert agents served as a breach a still-conditioned operative slipped through, as the wrong guard reached Nereus and unknowingly informed him of his wife’s whereabouts.

Chambers fumed, and Nereus waited for nightfall to bawl his relief into his pillows – and to beat his returning rage into them. Then came Azorthagal’s gift, which Nereus more than gratefully used. He had an edge now, something to hold onto at least – but nothing to use it against. That wouldn’t come until 2026’s early Infernal incursions. Still requiring primed operatives, the Miami chapter of Renewal served as the bunker where Nereus, Chambers and a handful of conditioned soldiers and followers waited for the Apocalypse to blow over. Growing isolation made Chambers’ deteriorating condition difficult to tend to and allowed Nereus to plan forward.

Renewal being a nationwide movement, Nereus soon began to broadcast messages to the wider cult members, unbeknownst to the Chamberlain. Connecting thralls to the Darkhallow, he motivated a cross-country line of faithful to arrange for clothes, tools, forged credentials, and dead drops of cash to be scattered Eastward, and carefully prepared the specifics of his escape attempt. Add growing night-time contact with the East Coast’s resistance, and all that remained was the need to countermand Chambers’ exit-procedure directives. By the Goat’s fall, Nereus had managed to activate more operatives to prepare other resources ahead of his arrival in Hope, including former film star Dieter Van Der Faals; but the process left him morally and psychologically drained. He was, in essence, enthralling his own followers to prime his escape attempt, in a manner that he considered as despicable as the Chamberlain’s conditioning of his own goons.
The penultimate day had been mentally rehearsed thousands of times, and Nereus’ actual escape was a tightrope of synchronicity that wouldn’t have been possible if his fellow bunker residents hadn’t been under his direct sway. The end-result was simple enough, however: an apparent act of prestidigitation Chambers completely missed in the otherwise uninterrupted morning routine, followed by several engineered delays in the Augur’s pursuers and their own preparations. Once in Oregon, he felt sufficiently safe to assume his elected cover and inform his first rally point – Charles Jenkins and Abraham Zahavi – of his approaching New England in a little over a week.

The former Prelate’s most tense days ever lived through then unfolded. His forged cover came complete with a shipping licence, cargo, and an itinerary, which meant he’d have to live as a trucker wholly and completely for as long as he wouldn’t have rejoined his friends’ allies – with no other protection or intimacy than his truck’s small living quarters. The American and Israeli soldiers of fortune’ own truck showing up by Point Judith Road’s rest area almost made him jump for joy, unsurprisingly.

Finally, after centuries of patience, suffering, doubt, anger and near-constant danger to his person, Nereus was free to shuck off Xenophon Thanos like cast-offs meant for the closest dumpster, and to take the first few steps towards living as the man he’d always known himself to be.

Loyalists informed of Chambers’ failure tend to rationalize it all on Nereus’ weakness. His son should be appointed, now, according to their bickering. Little do they know how blind they are, and how powerful Nereus Marinos has yet to show himself to be.