Liam Desron, this is your life.
You were born in a small town, who cares where.
You were a military brat, moving roughly once every three years, and never bothered making friends after the second move. Your parents bought you a computer, and for a while, that kept you out of trouble.
Then you turned 16. Freedom.
Not so good to one who hates himself, his life and his parents.
You shoplifted every day, until you were eventually caught stealing software by Mall Security. No good. You have a scar from where your dad hit you when he brought you back home. You don't show that scar to anyone. That's okay, though. No one's asked.
You've had one girlfriend, and that was when you were 18.
The details are better left unsaid.
You went to college to study the rapidly burgeoning field of Computer Programming. Only problem is, so did everybody else. Your lack of motivation and skill landed you right with the coulda-been hacks and dregs of humanity - Telemarketing.
You've been told you've got a sweet voice, when you want to use it. And use it you do.
You found yourself working for a large newspaper when you moved to New York city. You were an assistant investigator for the Regional editor . Simple stuff, really.
Your job was to sweettalk witnesses into giving more of an account then they'd given the police. Life'd been fairly stable, until you started stealing again.
It started out at the office. Small things. A stapler, a box of markers, some paper. You thrilled at getting caught, fired, sent packing.
You learned where the cameras were, who was in charge of the supplies, how much was expected to disappear. You never got caught, did you? You're a smart one, sometimes.
But soon it wasn't a thrill anymore. But you couldn't stop. Oh no, couldn't stop now.
Local bars would have to order new glasses. One time you even walked out with a stool.
You got beat up pretty badly when you came around the next night. Guess someone squealed on ya.
Coworkers stopped inviting you to their homes. People stopped talking to you, in general. You dreamed it was because you were carrying the stench of guilt. You never noticed the everpresent sneer on your face. Always there, except when you doused it in saccharine-sweet smiles. You always got what you wanted when you smiled. It made you sick, didn't it?
A short time later, you needed a new computer. You hadn't been saving, and needed some money fast. Picking up a paper from work, you tore through the want-ads, hoping for easy money.
You disqualified plasma donation -- you're rather frightened of needles, aren't you? Don't think about it too long or you'll get nighmares.
Sperm donation was too humiliating. Not that you weren't familiar with the steps to extracting your own semen. Again, more guilt. Damn protestant raising. If you'd believed in a god, maybe he could forgive you.
No such luck.
Onto the medical research venues. Hmm, one looked interesting, didn't it? Didn't have a catchy slogan. Those make you wary, always a scam with the slick looking ads. This looked legit. Pure.
Turns out you were exactly who they were looking for.
No immediate family, reasonably bright. You scoffed at that, didn't you? Easy money, though. Just sit in a brightly lit room and read for an hour, each day.
The pay was excellent, and you bought a fully-upgraded computer. Even had enough to upgrade your connection to the internet.
Then one day the lights in that room got intense. They burned your skin, blinding you for a week. You didn't have the money to sue, so you just stopped going.
You started to call in sick to work more often. The headaches were tremendous. One time it got so bad you woke up to your apartment in shambles.
It took you a while to figure out how you poked a gaping hole in your 10-foot high ceiling.
You don't eat much anymore.
You don't have to.
Your skin's three shades whiter than it was in high school. You're 24, you're alone, and you're jobless.
But think of the possibilities.
Liam Desron
alias: The Incubus
born March 27, 1976
Caucasian
6 foot 0 inch
130 pounds
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
*UNINSURED*
Priors:
Shoplifting
11/16/92
Piedmont, VT
Pursuant: Wardensoftware
Sentence: None; suspect was a minor
Fine: $150 and 13 hours community service ordered by Hon. Judge Bartell. Never fulfilled
No major credit cards
Currently living in: Unknown
Stats:
IQ: 13 - above average
ME: 9 - slightly unstable
MA: 19 - very glib
PS: 9 - scrawny
PP: 8 - gangly
PE: 13 - relatively fit for size
PB: 13 - angular face, bright eyes, charismatic smile
SPD:20 - quick
Class: Experiment
Drawback: Must transform physically to use powers
{-------Gains a full 3 feet in height
{-------Skin Pigment turns dark brown
{-------Gains 60 pounds
{-------Adds 40 to SDC
{-------Adds 5 to physical strength
Major Power:
--------Bio-Ghost
deletes the need for food
inserting the need for energy, from living hosts
Feeds by 'physical' contact with host
In feeding state is completely non-material, translucent and silent
Must feed twice a day or suffers adverse effects
Excessive feeding (over 2 touches in 10 minutes) results in supraheightened speed, heightened resistance to drugs/poisons, heightened senses, supernatural strength.
followed by severe weakness until 2 hrs pass.
Minor Powers:
---------Impervious to Heat and Fire
just what the name implies - even magical heat or fire does no damage or adverse reactions
---------Energy Expulsion - Electricity
able to shoot bolts of electricity from eyes, doing 3d6 +1d6 per level S.D.C. damage
---------Power Channeling
kicks and punches release faster, with incredible kinetic energy. Able to destroy small S.D.C. structures easily, dent large S.D.C. structures.
Attacks per round: 5
(Hand to Hand: Basic +2
Superhero/villain +2
Boxing +1)
Hit points: 15
S.D.C.: 53
Bonuses:
---------55% Trust/Intimidate (MA)
