<div class="floatright">(https://scontent-dfw5-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/fr/cp0/e15/q65/35361796_5254466324615447_133453335490461696_o.jpg?_nc_cat=107&amp;efg=eyJpIjoidCJ9&amp;_nc_ht=scontent-dfw5-2.xx&amp;oh=ed0b71f4ee12f2d595fe17967b4800e6&amp;oe=5CF6CDFB)</div><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_u"><strong>TUESDAY KNIGHT</strong></span></span></div><br/><strong>Name</strong>: Millicent Stokes, Margolynn Chambers, Kimber Buckley, Adelaide Meeks, etc. currently goes by Brigitte Noone Cuccioli<br/><strong>Stage name</strong>: Tuesday Knight<br/><strong>Race/Class/Gender/Orientation</strong>: Human/Warlock/Female/Lesbian by preference (Omnisexual by vocation)<br/><br/><strong>Personality</strong>:<br/><br/>An illusionist of the highest caliber, she delights in manipulation and pleasing lies, deception is the very air she breathes. After decades under masks, she has a very unusual sense of self. But she readily fills in the gaps with fresh lies.<br/><br/>She was a lover of epic poetry, grandiose opera and interpretive dance even before the gift of the Patron. That said, her knowledge on these subjects is broad but superficial. She embraces her shallow understanding of the arts, very much like Herotodus, retooling history and legend to suit the ebb and flow of a popular storyteller. Her histories are not 100 percent accurate, and her operatic performances tends to focus less on the intrigues of the original and more on violence and sensuality. She revels in exploitation, claiming that she is reproducing them for the common man.<br/><br/>Capricious by nature, Millicent falls in love easily and with a pure intensity that is as sincere as it is dangerous. Woe to the woman who spurns her affections. Those she can not beguile with her charm, she will manipulate and when that fails, often blackmail and threats are brought to bear. Her obsessions burn brightly and fierce but briefly, often losing interest in her paramours.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">History:</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/>Millicent found that when you are born into a cult, you are always the last to discover that you are in a cult. The word “cult” has such negative connotations, painting a mental picture of long robes, human sacrifice and burning the enemies of your flock! But to Millicent, it had been family, friends and a way of life. <br/><br/>Admittedly she was not Millicent back then, but it had been so many years and faces ago she was hard pressed to remember her birth name. What she DID remember was that as a rule they didn’t wear robes often. In fact they wore very little, almost as a rule. And the only sacrifice she recalled was occasionally burning holy incense. Most importantly, one of their main tenants was that they never lay a finger on their “enemies”. Violence was a weapon of last resort, because a clever tongue and whispered word could topple kingdoms. <br/><br/>That wasn’t to say there were not rituals of an unsettling nature to outsiders, but it was all between consenting adults and fiends. Case in point, as one of the “favored”, she had caught the eye of one of their “guests”. She said she liked Millicent’s face and asked if she might like to trade. Flattered, she accepted the honor. Admittedly... the ceremonial exchange was NOT bloodless, but as with the agony of childbirth, the human mind is adept at budding out the sharper edges of painful memories. And decades later, she would make the same trade again, as she had never been partial to her bushy eyebrows and cherubic cheeks. Harder lines and higher cheekbones suited her. <br/><br/>Their Order hid beneath a mask of decadence, its adherents providing companionship and entertainment and comfort all in pursuit of secrets. Millicent Stokes was a couturier to wealthy nobles wives, while Margolynn Chambers was a saucy bordello worker who catered to refined clientele, while Adelaide Meeks was a messenger and dilettante who lurked in taverns reading maudlin poetry with political malcontents. They were all the same woman, and all shared the same goal... as a collector of secrets. <br/><br/>For two decades and a handful of loose years, she could measure the passage of time by Adelaide’s growing collection of books and the changes in popular fashion that guided Millicent. Margolynn found that the bordello was a static environment, moans and slapping flesh a soundtrack that never grew unpopular. She added a few dashes of grey and a hint of time creeping in to her disguises, but sometimes she would slum it as an apprentice in the dress shop or a fresh faced whore new to the brothel. She was doing the work of her Lady and despite the unconventional nature of it all, she was quite content. <br/><br/>Until the tragedy...<br/><br/>Millicent of Many Names called her own personal apocalypse by quite a few titles not fit to be repeated in friendly company. But the name her mother gave her was Nicolette Lemoyne. Nicolette was a delicately built creature who had the sort of deep green eyes that one could drown in. A tongue like a cat and skin of cream, her frizzy auburn hair gave her the look of a wide eyed innocent just cresting the summit of adulthood. Like Millicent’s face, it was a mask for a predator. Nicolette’s tongue was sharp and her appetites dangerous...<br/><br/>Millicent saw something of her younger self within the woman when she gazed at her and when she closed her eyes, she dreamed of putting something of her CURRENT self inside Nicolette. The scent and thought of her drove Millicent to madness and as weeks passed she used all of her favorite masks to try to discover some way into her heart. (And failing that, at least a path into her knickers.) But Nicolette was glacial... <br/><br/>A flawless sculpture of ice. Too perfect by far in fact, Millicent should have seen her for the honey trap that she was. Out maneuvered and out played at the game she practically invented, she grew sloppy and Nicolette stole more than her heart. She stole her notebook.<br/><br/>With the secrets of the wealthy elite at her disposal she rose quickly and viciously, blackmail through outside agents furthering her cause. All of Millicent’s best disguises were disgraced or hounded by tax collectors or riddled with scandals. If not for her ability to blend in, she would have been killed or placed in debtors prison a dozen times under seven different names. Licking her wounds, she retreated to a small tavern and made a new identity. <br/><br/>It is here that the Patron reached out to the new tapstress, Kimber Buckley, entreating her to burn what was left of her former life. She had applied the torch to seven other of her names this year... what could one more hurt?</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Audition/Future Acts:</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Audition:</strong><br/><br/>Her act brushes just at the edge of copyright infringement of the Valerian burlesque show. Utilizing her acrobatic skills and choreography in conjunction with her mask of many faces, she uses the magic not to alter her features but rather as a quick change parlor trick. She showcases both her the range of her knowledge of dance and tantalizes across a wide array of fetishes from scantily clad priestess to top heavy bar maid to barbarian beauty to girl next door. <br/><br/><strong>Future Acts:</strong><br/><br/>Epic poetry reading in a thousand voices with misty illusions accompanying the tales. <br/><br/>Bawdy dance numbers elevating tavern songs with her own brand of production value. <br/><br/>Opera for Drunkards, testing her vocal range in one woman Opera’s with considerably less clothing and more explosions than scholars of the subject might remember. </div></div><br/><strong>Link to your Ons and Offs</strong>:<br/><br/>https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=9706.msg345746#msg345746<br/><br/><strong>Character Sheet</strong><br/><br/>ddb.ac/characters/8427123/QKoieJ (http://ddb.ac/characters/8427123/QKoieJ)