Having finally written an introduction for my Agents ...

Both for Mary Sues, RC 612.

Coriander Beon
Male, elf, Lord of the Rings
He has short black hair due to the Sue from his origin fic cutting it against his will. He hates Urple prose, yet is forced to speak in it constantly. He also hates fire and noncanonical species. In his badfic of origin he was betrothed to Arwen in order to make Aragorn single, he asked to join the PPC rather than see Arwen everyday with another. It was understandably nauseatingly melodramatic.

Mare Elm
Female, witch, Harry Potter
She has plain brown hair and eyes due to having started life as a Generic. In her origin fic she was a Sue's best friend, there only to set up said Sue with Draco Malfoy. Mare's name results from a spelling mistake where her original name, Marlen, was misspelt Mareln. She has a fear of Professor Snape, is a Slytherin pureblood with all that entails, hates apples and Cute Animal Friends and won't stop matchmaking.

Writing Sample: (warning: unbeataed by any but myself.)

The newly christened Agent Mare Elm was skipping through the halls of the PPC. Luckily for her someone actually helpful had given her directions and a song sheet.
"But still in matters vegetable, animal and mineral, I am the ver-gak!" Picking herself up from the Generic Surface, she glared at the door that had decided to appear in her path. She peered round the doorframe at the corridor beyond, then checked the numbered plaque. RC 612.
"I hope this 'partner' I have to meet is single," she mused out loud, whilst searching for her wand. After a few minutes and a large number of empty pockets she found it tucked in her boot. "Alohamora."
The door swung inwards and Mare stepped through purposfully and found herself in a brightly lit, cluttered room. A sword rested on Mare's neck.
"State thy name and purpose mortal," a male voice ordered.
Mare grinned and ducked under the sword to face a strangly shadowy corner. "Mare! Your sword's all stripy, like a zebra!" she proclaimed. "Coriander, I presume."
" I go by Beon," the shadows replied. "And I wish to know what you are doing in my Response Centre."
"I'm your new partner." Mare answed, then dragged Beon into the light. "Hmmm, you look Middle-Earth Elven, but what's with the short hair? Oh, are you single? Have you been on many missions? Where do I sleep?" she asked in one breath.
Beon took a few moments to try and figure out what had just been said to him, only for Mare to lose interest and begin poking random items.
"Pardon?" Beon finally managed.
Mare rolled her eyes, then asked, "Who uses words like pardon and thy anyway?"
"My author either read too many novels of the romantic persuasion or owned a thesaurus. I ask that you stop poking my possessions."
The subsequent argument, that I assure you would have been memorable and incredibly funny, was alas cut short by a very familiar sound.
BEEEEEEEEEEEEP!