This statuesque beauty has an unsettling countenance. She is invariably seen with a snake slithering about her neckline. Her large, unnatural eyes always seem to stare a little too long. Her idea of a conversation is to wait impatiently for an opportunity to go on a disturbing tangent. She will burst into a grin for no apparent reason; except maybe to show off her teeth...
Acrasia does not share her ancestors' predilection for cruelty; but the differences end there. Mischievous, manipulative, jealous, and proud; she is more predator than person. Fortunately, her formal education and natural wits have allowed her to become somewhat socialized. She has at least an abstract knowledge of loyalty and compassion; understanding THAT they are valued, if not why.
Infernal Sorcerer Heritage, Infernal Sorcerer Howl, Bloodline Arcana,
Eschew Materials, Augmented Summoning, silent spell, Still spell, Arcane bond:Tiny viper, Alterness, Metamagic adept
Vulnerable: Acrasia's reckless arrogance leaves her somewhat inept at avoiding threats.
Ouro: Tiny Viper
Acrasia belongs to a class of decadent nobility. The family safe saw so many withdrawals, its location could hardly be kept a secret. By the time she was ten, it was devoid of all its funds and carelessly left open. Yet the precocious girl found it wasn't completely empty. There were books and manuscripts in there. Strange ones. Frightening ones. Tomes that explained her freak arcane manifestations. Archives exposing the dark secrets of the house's origins. This was a psychic apocalypse for young Acrasia. The plucky, robust girl lost all color and began having apoplectic fits. The condition lasted for weeks. Doctors were losing hope. Then, one day, she began laughing...
As stated earlier, Acrasia's family were prodigious spenders. They were unlikely to even maintain an inheritance to pass on to her. Aware of this fact yet unwilling to forgo their hedonistic legacy; she resolved to employ her developing powers over others to preserve her estate. The ultimate danger of her ambition was not in manipulating and robbing the unwitting; but containing the excesses it could afford. Her attempts to hide her demonic inspiration waned. She would wear Ouro, her serpent familiar, as an accessory to formal events, and chew Mertoran leaf (a habit curiously developed around the same time her affliction ceased.) right in front of the hosts. One fateful night, a group of aspiring socialites were posturing, reciting poetry in Elven and Draconic. Acrasia interrupted them with some fanciful contributions from the Abyssal tongue. Had she not been so eager to offend, she may have noticed that it was the host's visiting mother that the group sought to impress. The old woman flashed her pendant of St. Cuthbert and swatted the insolent youth with it. In retaliation (or self-defense, as she maintains), Acrasia uttered a ferocious howl of sonic energy, puncturing and rupturing the poor woman's feeble frame.