{TDE Reference} - Tsar 2.0

UTD with the new format~!


ID: 17
_{Skelt Tracker: sta.sh/018y1tss6n75
Status: Infected, Stage 6
Class: Mutant
Main Effects:
Discolored Eyes, Furless (in patches), Psychosis (Megalomania and Narcissism), Violent Tendencies, Irritable, Physical Mutations, Impervious to (Wound-Related) Pain, Heightened Temperature & Respiration & Cardio, Fast Healing Rate
Optional Effects: Lack of Appetite, Bleeding from Ears, Hypervigilance, Delusions (of Grandeur - LOL), Seizures, Ataxia, Severe Headaches, Vomiting Blood, Muscle Twitching
Mutations: Born with scoliosis, and an elongated neck}

Name: Tsar
Nicknames: Teddy Bear, Neck
Age: 7 years
Gender: Male
Breed: Caucasian Shepherd 50%, Borzoi 25%, Husky 25%

Appearance:
- Height/Length: 32 in. floor-to-shoulder; 7 ft. tailtip-to-nose
- Weight: 195 lbs.
- Voice: With his long neck, and thusly long vocal cords, his voice tends to come out soft and resonant, almost sweet, belying his size and aberrational appearance.

Raider Faction: The Jager Pack
 Rank: Chief, _{Part-time Creeper}
 Alignment: Neutral Evil


Personality: Cold | Ambitious | Patient | Veneered | Blunt | Asexual | Tough
Meyers-Briggs: INTJ       Temperament: Melancholic-Choleric
To put it shortly, he’s a megalomaniac.
_{Cold || Despite his soft visage, he is truly as impassive and dispassionate as a crocodile. He has little compassion for the destitute, as he considers himself the ultimate sufferer, with his mangled back and freakish neck. His warped mind and constant pain bereaves him of any pity for the pain of others. He deems others’ struggles – things like hunger and the bereavement of loved ones – as mere hang-nails in comparison to his purgatory - and glorious burden of bringing the wasteland to 'peace'.
Ambitious || He has a vision of being ruler of his own pack, with an army of servile thrall to do his bidding, and will not stop, short of death, until the wasteland is subdued under his rule. By chronicles of times past, he was inspired to bring forth the proverbial Hammer and Sickle of the Soviet Union, infatuated with Men’s appetite for tyranny all those years ago – and the aptitude of those that were beneath them had to fall under their deceit, the lull of propagandic equality they let themselves become entangled in – the inward desire to be dominated, to be conquered and rent of freedom. Tsar saw this in even his contemporaries of the wasteland. They want a leader, even if the leader would take their wills – they want a shelter, even if it puts them in shackles. The history books proved, however, that Stalin didn’t do it all right. Tsar fancies he would show him where he went wrong by example.
Patient || Just as he has his ambitions (or delusions), he has the patience to wait for his desires to unfold. This, however, does not reflect much on his patience with subordinates; he is a little less abiding of disrespect than the passage of time. Though he has a short temper involving insolence, he can abide the wait that will rid him of all insolence, when his vision of a wasteland under his rule is reality.
Veneered/Deceitful || From a distance, and in common social-interaction, he can often be seen as a pleasant, affable wallflower, if you will – soft, lazy, a little stupid, and open to approach of his comrades. He loves putting on this act, savoring privately the uncertainty of his packmates - as they waffle between a pitying condescension towards him, or a vague and unidentifiable fear. His true feelings for most is a general contempt. He won’t let this show in normal conversation, however, unless it suits his purpose. His sharpest jabs, when under the constant act, only come as verbal blows that he sees fit to make so esoteric that, most of the time, the objects of his insults don't even know they're being insulted, until the time for making a retort to his remark has long-since come and gone.
Blunt || When in inquired of seriously, however, be it by a fellow chief, his queen, or a subordinate, he will promptly (and probably in a smile of utmost innocence), give his opinion utterly blatant and uncensored. He's got quite the fetish for shock value.
Asexual || He fancies himself beyond such things as carnal pursuits (not that very many are attracted to his deformed visage, anyway) – he puts himself above the practices of pleasure. He even detaches himself from activities as impersonal as pack celebrations and hunts - setting himself apart to watch alone with his thoughts and private embitterences. He doesn't even acknowledge coitus as any sort of suitable passtime for the more dignified creatures of the wasteland, reserving it only as a tool occasionally to be used for manipulation. If he had feelings of attraction to any dam, anyway, he would only claim it was an attraction born of her high status or usefulness, nothing emotional or aesthetic.
Tough || Given the fact that he suffers chronic back pain on a daily basis – a nearly-electric pain in his nervous system that will on occasion numb his hind legs and sometimes even cripples them altogether, all other forms of discomfort usually feel only like a fleabite – and considering that his infection already works as anesthetic to normal wounds, it is fair to say that Tsar is not much given over to being conquered by physical pain. His inborn defects have only sharpened his willpower and constitution. <sb>And make him more of an @$$hole.}

Statistics:
Dexterity -    
Strength -      
Constitution -
Wisdom -      
Intelligence -  
Charisma -    

Strengths: Calculation | Reach | Coercion
<sub>- Calculation || He is good at anticipating the actions of others, given, as he was, a vague education on psychology from his father. When not using his psychoanalyses for amusement, he uses it to translate others’ actions into intent, to interpret their emotions by the expressions on their faces, and to use thusly gathered intelligence to his advantage.
- Reach || His long neck allows him to lunge with a greater distance and range of motion in combat. He also enjoys employing it to look down upon others.
- Coercion || Whether it is by sheer physical intimidation when he flaunts his horrifying abnormity, or eloquently worded ‘suggestions,’ Tsar is good at threatening compliance into others. Though, mostly his threats consist of ingratiating smiles and ‘advice,’ unless he is particularly vexed and goes on a serene tirade of grins and violence-depicting words. The only time it is difficult for him to coerce others is when they are either larger or smarter than he, and he relishes such challenges. The bigger they are, the more useful they will be as thralls.</sub>

Flaws/Weaknesses: Unbalanced | Scoliosis | Self-Isolation
<sub>- Unbalanced || He is easy to knock off balance, especially in combat, as he is front-heavy with his excessive neck. His usual mode of carrying himself is keeping his head and extra neck mounted upon his shoulders, to keep his front appearing with a normalish-looking-but-a-little-high-set neck and face, extra vertebra doubled-back upon themselves to have his neck looking a little less unusual. When he is in thus a posture, he is a little less unbalanced.
- Scoliosis || His back is crooked, his legs are uneven of length, and many of the bones related to his spine are malformed. Not only does this make him considerably less graceful, but his vertebra tend to pinch nerves in his back, and when he is not experiencing pain akin to electric-shock in down his legs and back, he can occasionally lose feeling and have diminished muscular control in places. This daily pain is probably one of the reasons he is so freaking grumpy evil.
- Self-Isolated || He has never desired to make any friends and has not – only maintaining assets and tools of varying degrees of confidence. These may grudgingly do his bidding, but would never save him if he were to ever, say, find himself falling off a cliff into a ravine of stampeding wildebeest.</sub>

Biography:
 <sub>- Born to Subdue || Tsar was sired by a physician exiled from Eden, and a raideress. His mother left her pack, the Rage, when she became pregnant, absconding with her mate, the clinician, to give birth to seven severely deformed pups – as they’d been conceived in a heavily irradiated location in the wastes. Most of them were too infected and too warped to survive past weaning, and Tsar was the only one to survive, despite the fact that he’d been the runt of the litter.  By the time the runt’s eyes were open, to reveal their violet color, his last sibling had perished of organ failure. Marveling at his aptitude for survival and the brilliant color of his eyes, they named him Tsar – Caesar, in a dialect of the dead world past. His veritably neurotically-protective mother and father raised him almost worshipfully into his juvenile years and into maturity, his father, who’d been exiled for experimentation and manipulation of his patient’s psyches, ingraining into his beloved son all the knowledge he had from Eden. He taught his son how to read, and how to speak in some dead language, and told him tales of the history of Man before its end. Of wars that destroyed the world and rejuvenated it and destroyed it again, of peoples enslaved by regimes, hunger, or lies willfully believed. He told him of rulers past, of humans named Stalin and Lenin, and nations named Germany and Russia, who took starving nations and brought them prosperity and vindication, and in those tales, Tsar could think of nothing but the wasteland. Perhaps, his father said, if the other places had not come to smite the rising phoenixes of the mourning nations – and young Tsar thought of Eden and the Raiders – that the blossoming powers would have thrived, and perhaps there would be no wasteland at all, no warping, destroying, brutalizing, perverting radiation. Perhaps there would be none at all, if the world had allowed itself to be homogenized under peace. The peace of ‘tyrants,’ the books said.
Speculation. Mere speculation, on his father’s part; but what delicious speculation it was.
The time came when his father died; but he left his son with a dying wish: “Subdue the world. You were born for it. Subdue the world, and unite it under peace.”
Tsar dwelt with his mother in her hermitage from The Rage, until she grew intolerant of his tirades of the world’s imperfection and how easy things would be, if not for individual error, petty ineptitude and disinclination for what needs to be done. “Fools – imbeciles – invalids – they must be put in line!” When he came home to her one day, bringing to their abode two frightened incarcerated wastelanders, naming them his new helpers, she killed them. “You cannot follow your father’s will!” she’d said. “He – he was mad! Insane!” Tsar hadn’t spoken a word to her since her act of denial, staring at his dead thrall, at her. She pleaded with him, tried to explain to him the futility of the lunatic’s vision. But he said nothing, turning around and walking away, never to see her again.
- The Rage || He was inducted to the Rage, where a young queen ruled, privately deeming it to himself as his first conquering grounds. Tsar’s mother’s vague renown in the pack aided him in getting in; his disfigurement would be an amusement to the pack, if anything, and he was a large and friendly sort anyway, a good dog to have for a meal during lean winters. Never mind that he turned out to be a useful Creeper, enjoy, as he did, acting friendly and wheedling into Edener conversation. Tsar was really quite satisfied with himself, that he was an asset to the pack, figuring it was half blind without him – and holding within himself a sadistic glee, satisfaction that none of his pack mates knew how inferior they were to he. When he figured himself satisfactorily ingrained into the pack, he began to go around under cover of innocuous chatting and a façade of extrovertedness, ‘befriending’ lesser members, with whom he planned to stage a mutiny against Vance, the queen.
- Thwarted Mutiny || A satisfying number of peons coerced in secret to his allegiance, Tsar made his move on Vance’s right-hand dam, pernicious Isadora. Without her help, intimate as she was with his rival, his plan would not go smoothly. But even as he was under the intention of enthralling her, she was under the intention of influencing him. So, in a mutual desire to dominate one another, they became ‘lovers,’ if so warm a word may be used to define such a pair of black-hearted individuals. When, in their series of trysts, Tsar guessed she would be most amenable to his plan, and he presented it to her, she finds out that she would keep no place of power in his new designs, and so refuses to go along with it – and threatens to tell Vance unless Tsar leaves the pack and abandons his plan.
- Jager Transplant || Infuriated, Tsar absconds her then and there, swearing to himself revenge upon Isadora and her leader, swearing to himself that he would conquer Vance and take over the Rage. To bide his time and regenerate followers, he decides to enter the Jager Pack – and he manages, for a price. When he petitioned Mynx for induction, she, suspicious of him and his former allegiances, she gives him the ultimatum that he must add three convoyer masks to her wall of trophies to prove him, in all his crippledness, useful and worthy for the ranks of her pack. He goes out, cajoling his prey into absconding their convoys, to dispatch them and receive their masks one by one. A month later, he returns to Mynx with four masks. Yet dubious of his smile and polite affectations, Mynx lets him join the pack – not without, of course, the precaution of inciting her handmaiden, a small weakling by the name of Tin Roof, to be his shadow.
Tsar received Tin Roof’s apparent servility with delight, privately dubbing her his first kirpich of many – she seemed not to fuss too much about accommodating his whims, anyway.
- A Materializing Vision || Beyond Mynx’s Tiny Tin, Tsar assessed the rest of his packmates: volatile Ajax, brooding Vlad, bipolar Mynx, effervescent Zahara – a horde of ramshackle, nearly comical, he grew to realize, barbarians. This was nothing like the stringent ranks of The Rage, he grew to realize, in horror, judging that all their brains put together would only amount to the size of his because of the presence of Mynx and Vlad. He learned much from them – from all of them – things he never thought he’d have to adapt to in the Wasteland: how to appear unbothered, fawning even, when Mynx sprinted over and held on to his face, how to endure conversations in which not all of the good humor and camaraderie was synthetic. They were erratic. They were erratic, all of them.
But they were the tools he was allotted, and would not be wasted. He had only to win them over, and his dream would come forth: to bring perfection to the land, to smite vengeance upon the Rage, and to subdue all the Wastes before him.</sub>

Relationships:
Enemy
Hate
Rival
Jealous
Target
Predatory
Minion
Disdain
 Acquaintance
No Use for them yet Apparent
Value
Asset
Respect
Ally
Devotion
Genders: () - Female, () - Male

Wasteland
() Mynx || Sargeant-Knoxx
_{She is an amusing dam, and knows what she’s doing better than her moronic chiefs, at least.}
() Vance|| Falconicide
_{He is going to die.}
() Isadora || allytrian
_{She is going to die, too.}
() Tin Roof || Takethra
_{She is something of a non-factor. But she’s close to Mynx. Perhaps I can use her. She’s got some interesting legs, anyway…}
() Ajax || TheCannibalAutopsy
_{A blundering waste of a lot of meat.}
() Zahara || ferret-ears
_{She’s annoying and not at all fit for her station of power, but her moods may prove useful to me.}

Eden
~

Relationship Information:
Relationship Status|| Open, but not looking.
Orientation|| Straight, Asexual
Preferences|| Competence, Intelligence, Influence, and Obedience. But he’d be looking for a loyal servant and means to forward his genetics by, more than anything like a ‘partner in crime.’ A relationship or two seems like a rational way to subdue the more hedonistic or emotional of his objectives.
Current Attractions Objectives || Tin Roof, Xelha
Past Attractions Objectives || Isadora


RP Example:
Taken from my RP with Zahara!
_{The eyes, an audience, Zahara’s braying brought form the darkness did not sway him overmuch. He only flicked his rusty ears in distaste and smiled abidingly down at her as she roved. He did not deign to move or adjust himself to compensate for her motion – he would not appear swayed or cowed by her empty menacing.
“Teddy Bear…” he purred, ignoring her question. “Listen, Zahara,” he began softly as though teaching a lesson to a particularly slow pup. “I’m sure an intellectual dam like yourself knows what a euphemism is. If you do not, I shall be perfectly happy to explain without your asking, if not for the sake of all the less sentient creatures that are senseless enough to feel like listening. A euphemism is something one says or calls something to, let’s say, sugarcoat it. For example, if Mynx were to bring to you the news of Ajax’s noble demise, she would kindly say ‘he passed away,’ instead of a flat ‘he is dead,’ or ‘you will never see him again.’ That would be a euphemism. It is the renaming of something horrific, or unspeakable, or dreadful to make it seem nicer, less terrible, less of a threat.” And he took this moment to smile sweetly. “That is why I am called Teddy Bear.”}

Sound-Bites:
- “Who, me?” : )
- “I can’t wait to kill those ugly morons.” ^ - ^
- “How would you like to come under my protection?” : )
- “Ah, Isadora – I see you’ve gained weight since last we met.” ^ __ ^
- “That is a lovely name, but you would not mind if I called you Kirpich, da?” : )  : )  : )

Hobbies:
- Reading
- Psychoanalyzing his peers
- Helping Mynx reach things on the top shelf
- Evaluating Convoy routes and talking to dogs from Eden, as he deems them more intellectual than his fellow wastelanders

Other:
- His father taught him how to read, and he learned to speak rudimentary Russian.
- He hardly ever calls someone by their name unless he’s angry with them. His go-to titles for his contemporaries are as follows: “Comrade,” for packmates and ‘friends’, “My Lady,” for the Queen of Jager Pack, “Telka,” [Russian word for Heifer] for all other females, and “Kirpich,” [Russian word for Brick] to those he deems his minions.
- Theme Songs:
  - Pet, by A perfect Circle - www.youtube.com/watch?v=m5i3Wt…
  - Chimes, by Project 86 - www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tIH05…
  - The Recipe, by 10 Years - www.youtube.com/watch?v=v_71CV…
  - Now is the Time, by 10 Years - www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2yq3g…
  - I Can’t Decide, Scissor Sisters - www.youtube.com/watch?v=OFKUnf…


Sexy Art by Sargeant-Knoxx
The Rest of the Art (Headshots etc.) by Me |-D
TDE by Falconicide and Growlipsis
Body by Milk Vodka and Radiation