Lycaon
Art Deco Wolfman
LYCAON
(music)
Character Basics
Name: Lycaon
Nicknames: Subject 17 (bravo), Red Claw, Gentleman Jack
Age: 46 (chronological) 30 (biological)
Sex: Male
Species: Unknown (Presumed Shistavanen genetic hybrid)
Size: 2.4m
Eyes: Red
Skin: Black Fur
Force Sensitive: Yes
Faction: The Family
Character Appearance
Eight feet of muscle and fur, a sharp, angry looking muzzle with razor sharp teeth, hands and feet with non-retractable claws - never mind the horns or the unnatural red eyes. No one can mistake Lycaon for anyone other than who he is - nor imagine he was born for anything but battle, which is ironic, given his clipped, Imperial accent and languid, polite mannerisms. But even those affected mannerisms cannot hide the predatory stalk of every step, the sharp eyes and keen senses of a hunter that are constantly on alert.
And when his life is threatened, or he needs something done personally... no effort is made to disguise the eight feet of biot-powered killing machine.
Character Details
Strengths
+ Predator - A genetically and biot enhanced Shistavanen hybrid is tough, fast, agile and strong with a superb healing ability, the neo-adrenal and neo-koltic biot impants provide even more strength and speed when push comes to shove, as well as a healing ability that is actually visible in real time. Superb senses and long term endurance make Lycaon the perfect 'natural' lupine predator.
+ Gentleman Savage - Lycon may look like a beast, but he doesn't think like a beast. While his predatory urges can get the better of him, his intelligence registers in the top decile of the galaxy. He is a social creature, with polite manners and a charming air that utterly clashes with his monsterous appearance.
+ Witch - Quite where the disturbingly suave savage learned to 'use the Force' (he insists that he is a mediator with the spirits, despite evidence to the contrary) is unknown. He rarely uses it in battle - having difficulty even using a lightsaber and performing almost all 'magic' through ritual. He does however perform a mix of Sith Alchemy, Sorcery and Dathomiri magic that can universally be regarded as 'black magic'.
Weaknesses
- Curse you, opposable thumbs! - He does actually have opposable thumbs, but Lycon's form requires all equipment be custom tailored to his size and strength, unlike the Hutt, he finds the need to special order pens and datatablets to be infuriating and as a consequence almost never makes use of conventional personal arms and equipment.
- Greed is Greed - Lycon has a taste for the finer things in life, wine, women, song, gambling - he can and will consume all of them with relish. He's no Hutt level of glutton, but he is exceptionally greedy and sometimes foolishly so - offer him something pretty and he'll take many steps to obtain it.
- Red Meat - Likely intended as part of his role as a super-solider, Lycon has a taste for raw flesh - indeed, he requires to consume it to power his biots and internal processes. This can be regarded as one of the primary flaws in his design, while capable of inhuman endurance within his limits - he literally has to stop to eat on the battlefield if pushed into overdrive.
- Territorial - It's not he's jealous. He just doesn't like people touching his things and is prone to very personal and up front over reaction to people who do so.
Story
The first thing I remember is the womb. I know, most species don't remember their womb. But I remember mine, all warmth, growth pain and her gentle voice.
Then I remember being born. The pain of light. The tentacles unwrapping, the sterile latex on the hands of the men. But not her - she was barehanded, I remember a dark light around her. She spoke gently to me, even as my inflamed nerves felt air for the first time.
The second thing I remember is the tank. The misty figures moving outside. The injections. The surgery. The pain. So much pain it sometimes seemed as if my world was consumed by it. Then the lessons, spoken over and over again. Hunting. Killing. Weapons. Tactics. Images others would call horror that made me... hungry.
And the other lessons. The ones I now suspect were her doing, sabotage. Galactic culture. Basic. Economic theory. Trade routes. Crime syndicates. Corporate law. Law enforcement techniques. A realm more than what my makers wanted me to learn.
To my shame, remember clearly what happened next - oh, not the shame of the slaughter, of the blood on the walls and the crack of bone. That was - and is - exultation, it's everything they made me and exactly what they deserved. But I should have heeded her lessons, I should have stopped to ask who they worked for, so I could thank my creator.
And I mean that sincerely. I wouldn't be anyone else in this galaxy.
After that I ran with a gang - what else is a massive, warped Shistavanen going to do in the Corporate Sector? Get a job as an office manager? I could have qualified for CEO of half the companies there, but vat-lessons are not the same as experience. I'd learned that. So I ran with a gang, I hunted, I killed. Jack, they called me. Gentleman Jack. The name still makes me grin. I hear children down in Sector 415 still tell stories about the patchwork wolf named Jack. Good.
Criminals are stupid, particularly violent ones, or the type employed by the Hutts - or as fodder by the CSA or any individual corporation. There was no way I was ending up like that. Besides, I had... memories. Memories of Magic, of Witchcraft and other... talents that could elevate me high in the ranks of society, as long as no one - particularly the Sith or Jedi, found out I was manipulating the spirits.
The story of how I made it to where I am is... irrelevant, at least to this discussion. Let's just say that there are plenty of people in the Corporate Sector with needs, it was pretty easy to cater to those needs with my talents. It's even easier to gather information through those needs.
When your mother told you crime didn't pay, she was lying. Crime does pay, particularly if you invest - and I'm one of the Kings.
That means you make enemies as well as friends, more, really.
But I'm still here, and still hungry.