Fera, The Beast's page

About Fera, The Beast

Fera "The Beast"

Normal:
Str: 10/0/11; Dex: 14/+1/7; Con: 13/+1/8; Int: 13/+1/8; Wis: 16/+2/5; Cha: 8/-1/13

Hardiness: 14; Evasion: 14; Spirit: 13

HP 9

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Connection on:
Str: 19/+4/2; Dex: 14/+1/7; Con: 16/+2/5; Int: 13/+1/8; Wis: 16/+2/5; Cha: 8/-1/13

Hardiness: 11; Evasion: 14; Spirit: 13

HP 12
AC 8
Effort 2
Influence 2

Attack Bonus +1
Fray Die 1d8

Facts:
1) Fera is a child of the wilderness. A decade of living as an animal in the jungles and savannas of South America has made him as much beast as man.

2) Fera is a hunter of monsters. Years of experience fighting off mutant abominations has taught him to be cunning and careful in fighting them.

3) Fera is mistrustful of the Organization... then again, he's mistrustful of just about everything.

Words:

Beasts: Eyes of the Cat, Red in Tooth and Claw, Many-Skinned Mantle

Health: Intrinsic Health, Vital Furnace

Strength:

Personality

Fera is... prickly. One might even go so far as to accuse him of misanthropy. Despite his wariness and mistrust towards just about everyone around him, however, he still doesn't like to see people suffer. Most of all he hates to see nature despoiled.

Appearance

Lean pickings while young combined with genetics have left Fera short in his human shape, with darker skin and brown eyes.

Background

South America had never been near the ‘center of the world’, so to speak. This spared it the worst of the world’s final global war… and condemned it to the worst of the world’s descent into warlordism. The worst of its scars come not from nuclear weapons but from the Gifted.

Brasilia, built as a capital and dependant on distant portions of the nation for its support, suffered more than most. Without industrial fertilizers the soil around it was poorly suited for agriculture, and between the constant raids and the terrible beasts of the wilderness livestock soon grew scarce. It took a long time before the region could really be called stable, and even now Brasilia is a ‘poor’ place even by the standards of the altered world.

Fera was born amongst the poor of a poor city, and most of his young life was dedicated to finding ways to get a bit more food. Sometimes this involved risky trips foraging beyond the defended portion of the city, other times begging or stealing within it. He, his parents, and his sister managed to not starve, but they often went hungry.

This all changed when Fera was about twelve, when he awoke to his Connection. He was a little ways out of the city, on his own, foraging, when he saw a beast charging towards him. He knew he couldn’t run, he couldn’t hide, so he decided to fight, knowing he was doomed.

And then, he changed. He wasn’t quite sure what he did, but somehow he was suddenly larger than the creature, fanged and clawed and full of strength. It wasn’t hard to frighten the beast off at this point, but Fera was old enough to know what this meant. He was Gifted. The Organization would come for him.

...If they knew. But what if…?

He did not return home. Did not turn to speak to anyone. With an understanding of his new powers he could not have explained, Fera turned into a hawk and flew northwest, never to return.

For many years he lived as various animals, wandering wherever he could. He learned the ways of jaguar and eagle, of rabbit and capybara, and of a hundred others. He explored deep jungles and wide savannas, always avoiding signs of current human activity. He fought off terrible mutant beasts to defend his new friends and saw the scars even now left on the earth.

And he loved it. He loved wearing feathers or fur or scales. He loved soaring the skies or slithering through underbrush. He loved the freedom to go where he wanted and be what he wished.

But it did not last. He did not know how they found him, but Fera one day noticed he was being chased. He led his pursuers on for days, but eventually they cornered him. They spoke of a great purpose, of the need to protect the world against the ravages he had seen. But he knew the truth, the Ultimatum that lay behind their fair words. Not wanting to die, he submitted. When they asked his name, he called himself Fera--”Beast”--for he would no longer acknowledge his former name.

He hated it all--having to wear his human form again, being cut off from his real friends, leaving them on the other side of the ocean, having to be back among humans again. Humans talked about caring, about defending the world, but in his eyes they were just hypocritical animals. Better to be with the animals who had no pretensions.

Fera’s prickly, standoffish personality didn’t exactly win him friends in the Organization, but he obeyed the rules and did his best to be helpful. You see, much as he disliked them, he knew the rules… and that meant if he wanted to fly again, to feel grass beneath his belly scales or stone beneath his paws, he had to obey.

For there was one thing he had learned about himself: even if he had to be another’s hound, he would rather be a hound than a man.