Birth Name: You'll have to try a little harder than that--
Aliases: Baroness; Goblin Queen
Apparent Age: Exceedingly well-maintained early 30s
Height: 5'8"
Weight: Have a little decency.
Hair: Rich black
Eyes: Deep brown

The woman known as Baroness likes to keep her past close to her chest, though it's unclear whether she has something to hide or simply enjoys the mystery of it all. Her appearance is immaculate. Her face is mathematically perfect in its symmetry. An hourglass would envy her figure. Her hair like night sky and skin like porcelain. She is gorgeous and--unsettling. As if she were grown in a lab as the, at least empirically, image of female beauty.

Her face exudes a certain coldness until it shifts into subtlety. Her lips seem to curl in aloof humor or mockery, yet her eyes might hint at a brave face hiding weakness. Her smile might show just too much canine before flickering into a truly care-free laugh. Her gaze probes deep before glinting in shared laughter. All of it creating a shifting mask of possibility.

While she clearly does not try to hide herself as Nova--it isn't until her "little ones" appear that any doubt of her capabilities are shattered. She is rarely seen without at least one homunculus at her side or perched upon her shoulder. They are squat, grotesque mockeries of the human form, made all the more glaring beside her. They are masses of mottled flesh that bulges and sags in equal measure. Their limbs often too long, their muscles either too large or too small to seemingly support them. Often their mouths show sparkles of shark like teeth and their spidery fingers end in jagged nails. Yet, she treats them with true and unadulterated love. Nova scientists who have studied her powers claim that there is no telepathic link and that her homunculi are in-fact empty automatons without independent thought or feeling. However, she can often be seen lavishing attention on them or even speaking to them, responding and laughing to their garbled, guttural noises. She takes great pleasure in the way they distract many from asking too many questions.

She almost always dresses for "simple elegance." Black dresses (a sleak and tight eufiber number being her most common piece,) a single pearl accessory, quiet clutch purses. The one luxury she seems to allow is rather impressive high heels that would have a baseline woman wobbling or with a broken ankle if she dared walk in them. Her style is geared around accentuating the canvas of her body and face which she seems uninterested in distracting from. She wears no make-up but her face looks as if she has flawless skin with just the right hint of rose to the cheek and red lips that other women would have to slather on to create. She is also fond of keeping her nails long and manicured a little sharper than they should be before coating them in pitch black polish.

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Birth name: Lorelei Dumont

Background/History:


Who was Lorelei? Nothing. Filth. A pathetic speck of humanity burrowing in the corners of the world. At least, this was how she had always seen herself. A lazy thyroid meant Lorelei had always been larger than other girls. Coupled with plain, at best, features she found herself ridiculed, pitied, and dismissed. She wasn’t strong enough to resist the jeers and cruelty. She internalized it all. She was smart enough to lie to her teachers, parents, therapists. She knew how to sound like she was strong and brave, but inside her she harbored the seed of self-hatred. The voice in her mind was constant—Fat, ugly, useless. She could only drown it out in food and the secret world she had woven on the internet. She was a member of several forums, often posting as several involved personalities at once. She would escape into the manipulation of these strangers, never letting herself be honest because her truth was only ugly.

Things began to brighten when she went to college. She found people less judgmental. Though that dark voice in the back of her mind remained, it quieted in this new acceptance. It only got better as she graduated with a double major in Anthropology and Psychology. She had even gained an amount of renown in the academic community due to her intricate and detailed exploration of the social dynamics of internet cultures. She found herself in a prestigious graduate school and speeding towards a professorial track. One of her classmates had fallen in love with her, starting as a fan of her work no less! They were making plans for a home, a family. In these years she began to think that just maybe she could be happy.

On the eve of her twenty-ninth birthday she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. The ordeal of chemotherapy strained her budding career and relationship but she had recently gained hope and allowed herself to believe it would all work out. Ultimately it was recommended that she undergo a total hysterectomy. The blow was devastating. Lorelei felt that her future, one she had once believed impossible and had finally allowed herself to dream of, had been shattered. It was made all the worse when her fiancée left her only two weeks after the surgery. He said he was sorry but that he “just couldn’t do it anymore.” It broke Lorelei. The voice screamed in her mind in every waking moment—that she was worthless, broken, unwanted. She spiraled into a year-long, deep depression. She cut herself off from the outside world entirely. She lost herself in her own abusive fantasy until finally she knew what she had to do. She had to repair herself. She had to tear herself apart.

It was strange. She knew she was screaming and she knew the pain was unbearable as she attempted to remove the excess of her body. But the worst pain was in her mind. It was blinding—to the point of tranquility. It felt as if her entire being had disintegrated into the white-hot sensation that shattered her senses. A moment, or a millennia, Lorelei couldn’t tell. When she regained consciousness she stumbled into the bathroom, unable to comprehend her memories or surroundings. Her bleary consciousness slowly came into focus as she stared into the mirror. What she saw was impossible and beautiful. It was her body. She had transformed into the very ideal of perfection. She was flawless, as if a woman had been grown in the lab for mathematically accurate beauty. She lost herself in her new reflection. It was only the pitter-patter of small feet that brought her back to focus. As she looked down she saw she was surrounded by small, hideous humanoid creatures. Yet, she wasn’t horrified. She could feel it—they were a part of her. They were made of her flesh. They were her children. Broken and beautiful. Lorelei did die that night, but Baroness was born.

In the following few years she found that a woman who understood the very essence of manipulation and who could place entirely loyal spies, who’s very memories she could absorb, into nearly any location was a valuable commodity—Something she had never been but was now determined to become.

Over the next few years she explored her powers as under the radar as she could. She was of course contacted by Utopia, which she considered before deciding to avoid like the plague. Instead she found herself with many lucrative "consulting" jobs for technology corporations looking to gain a leg up on their competitors. It was little work for her to play them all off one another so that each party left satisfied but none had actually gained very much. She swayed political figures. She had no particular ambition other than to see if she could. They were certainly amusements but she found she wanted something more. She needed a real challenge.