| Tychon Antony |
 |
| Portrayed By: | Neil Patrick Harris |
| Status: | Alive (Inexplicably) |
| Age: | 20 |
| Calling: | Terrified Whiz-Kid |
| Pantheon: | Atlantean |
| Divine Parent: | Kuros |
| Significant Other(s): | None |
Tychon ("Ty" to his friends, of which he has few) was just a guy living in New York who happened to be in the right place at the right time (or the wrong one, depending on how you look at it). After getting a significant boost in power and skill, he decided to go out of his way to build some super fighting robots and get unnecessarily thorough revenge…
…but that didn't work out so well. The "gift" of his heritage turned out to be more of a curse, giving him knowledge and comprehension of many things originally beyond his ken, but also drawing him to a group of individuals who wanted much more than he did. They turned New York into New Atlantis with the help of his inventions, but what they did after, he couldn't stomach. Tychon ran, disappearing for more than a year and concealing himself from discovery by God or Man.
Until now.
Background
It's always the quiet ones.
Tychon has always lived in New York. Ever since his grandparents (on his mother's side) moved there after immigrating from Greece when the Second World War was just beginning, his family had stuck around. The environment hasn't been the most nurturing one for Ty; he's always been the smart one, the nerd, the guy sitting in the back of the class with his homework done and some kind of project underway, but the schools around there weren't the friendliest to the scholarly. He kept his head down throughout his schooling, built little machines and robots and messed with his computer (and some of those who messed with him), and when he could get away from there or his rapidly degenerating household, he explored the heart of the city.
In a short time, though, everything went to hell. On one fateful day, Ty remembered a bit late that he was supposed to meet up with his parents on Libery Island. He got there, though it wasn't easy, and just in time to see a curious sight: a crystal pod washing up on the shore. He remembers vividly the sight of so many people, his family included, melting away from whatever came out of that, of being lost in the frenzied panic as the as-of-yet-unaffected crowd fled, of stumbling to the shore breathless but alive after freeing himself from the throng. He saw bloody cuts on his body - when did he get those? - and saw a smear of something that was not quite blood across each. He remembers finding a strange item on the shore, and then thrusting the torc he found into his pocket as he fled, but he did not comprehend the more important meaning of things: he had survived where so many others had not, and had been given a strange gift along with the relic he had found.
Tychon spent a long time brooding in his apartment - his only because his parents had been killed by… something. He tried to rationalize what had happened, but couldn't. He tried to talk to someone, anyone, but the words would not come. Finally, he turned to religion, and like so many others, was not calmed by it. Was there a God, he wondered, and did He even care? Were there gods out there, who were causing all the weird heroics throughout the city? Why hadn't they been able to stop it?
Embittered, Tychon left his home, hatred boiling up in him. He couldn't do anything about it. If there are gods, if they are as strong as they say, he could hardly stop them. He needed an edge, some kind of power. His little inventions couldn't do anything. Maybe if he was better…
Tychon found himself at Times Square, looking up as necromantic energy flowed outward. He found himself thrust to the ground, an invisible force pressing down on him. He felt his whole body scream in pain as if it were being crushed, though he was not. A wound opened on him and in the air, the blood of what seemed the wind flowing into his veins… and more divine ichor, enough to allow him to survive the terrible ordeal and be changed utterly. He felt something else in his mind and soul, a burning inside him flaring up. The feeling was indescribable.
Tychon awoke in a pile of garbage the next day several streets over, a crystal clutched in his cold hand. His memory was hazy for a time - did he walk or was he brought there? - but he knew one thing: he had power. He cleaned himself off and left for the library, finding books on things he had wanted to know. With a touch, he knew everything inside. With a look, he could communicate with a computer. He could trace the tiny lines on the crystal with his bare fingers, and he had ideas, so many ideas, and memories as well! Memories of Atlantis and the corruption that spread through it, of going to sleep for so long, and the injustice that the Gods had wrought while the Titans laughed.
Tychon had found his answers. Now all he wanted - all he needed - was to make those who would be heroes and the Gods above them pay for what they could have stopped, and for what they had done. He stood up to make a difference, to change the world for the better no matter the cost, and found family waiting for him. They gave him what he really needed - a sense of acceptance, and a place in the world - and for them, he made wonders that would shake the very Earth.
They did. The world changed as they willed it, and New York became New Atlantis. The rise of their lost utopia filled him with joy, but in his heart, he knew it was flawed. Wrong. Like their world before this, it was corrupt at its heart, and the wound would grow, fester, and destroy his new home just as it did their land of old. Someone had to stand up and stop it, to let the utopia be a place of peace and prosperity, of knowledge and learning. To cut out the corruption before it drew the ire of the divine once more. They needed a hero.
But he was no hero.
He ran. Tychon ran as fast as his legs would carry him, intending to leave to go across the world and hide in the most remote reaches he could find. To get away from them, to escape it all, to live through the spiral of death that would inevitably come for them and what they've built. He couldn't do that, either. Every time, his path always led him back to New York, back to the city he loved that he turned into something he would grow to hate. He took refuge there, on the outermost edges of the city, turning a warehouse into a refuge for himself and no one else. He rode out the storm as a coward, the creator's spark he was granted shielding him from what would come.
It passed. He survived.
And he hates himself for it.
Personality
The quiet one. Occasionally arrogant. Lies to survive. Working on the evil laugh.
Relationships
Tychon doesn't have any friends. He's a pretty lonesome sad-sack.
Events Thus Far
Tychon was behind the giant mechanical spider attack on the Mayor, wanting to test out his newest invention and get some publicity for it. Nobody but the other Atlanteans knows it was him, though.
Character Sheet
| Attributes | ||
|---|---|---|
| Strength 2 | Charisma 3 | Perception 2 |
| Dexterity 5 | Manipulation 2 | Intelligence 5 |
| Stamina 2 | Appearance 2 | Wits 4 |
| Abilities | ||
| Academics 2 | Art (Sculpture) 2 | Athletics 3 |
| Awareness 3 | Fortitude 1 | Integrity 2 |
| Investigation 1 | Marksmanship 3 | Occult 3 |
| Stealth 3 | ||
| Abilities: Craft | ||
| Electronics 5 | Mechanics 5 | Metalworking 5 |
| Abilities: Control | ||
| Automobiles 2 | Aircraft 1 | Seacraft 1 |
| Abilities: Science | ||
| Biology 5 | Chemistry 5 | Computer 5 |
| Engineering 5 | Metallurgy 5 | Nanotechnology 5 |
| Physics 5 | Robotics 5 | |
| Relics | ||
| See below. | ||
| Boons | ||
| Scire 1: Fundamental | Scire 2: Literati | Scire 3: Intuitive Adaptation |
| Psychopomp 1: Unerring Orientation | Psychopomp 3: Unbarred Entry | Sky 1: Sky's Grace |
| Sky 2: Wind's Freedom | Spell 1: The Unlidded Eye | Spell 2: Fork In The Road |
| Spell 2: Bona Fortuna | Spell 3: Deus Ex Machina | Magic 3 |
| Knacks | ||
| Microscopic Precision | Photographic Penmanship | Untouchable Opponent |
| Fast Learner | Star Pupil | Concept to Execution |
| Perfect Memory | Wireless Interface | Don't Read The Manual |
| Blockade of Reason | Tireless Worker | Divine Fortitude |
| Holy Fortitude | Jack-Of-All-Trades | Rabbit Reflexes |
| Rabbit Reflexes | ||
| Epic Attributes | ||
| Strength 0 | Charisma 0 | Perception 0 |
| Dexterity 3 | Manipulation 0 | Intelligence 3 |
| Stamina 1 | Appearance 0 | Wits 3 |
| Virtues | ||
| Duty 1 | Intellect 4 | Order 1 |
| Piety 3 | ||
| Pools | ||
| Legend 4 | Legend Points | 16 |
| Wounds 0 0 0 | Willpower 7/7 | |
| Health -0 -1 -1 -2 -2 -4 I D | ||
| Name & Rating | Purviews & Powers | Other Functions, Enhancements and Description |
| The Lair: Relic 1 | None | A lair of sorts for the Atlanteans. Group pool of Relic points. |
| Scholar's Torc: Relic 2 | Grants Math Genius, Multitasking | A bronze torc made with an intricate metallic weave, the Scholar's Torc came into Tychon's possession when it washed up on the beach during the incident with the crystal coffin on Liberty Island. |
| Sigil of Kuros: Relic 3 | Grants access to Psychopomp, Sky, Magic | A shard of multicolored crystal on a leather band dropped in Tychon's pocket by someone he didn't catch a glimpse of when the Dark Hour in Times Square initially appeared to the world. Cut with numerous incredibly tiny Atlantean runes mistaken for random scratches from afar. |
| The Godhand: Relic 5 | Grants access to Fire, Chaos; Earth Interred, Add Legend to Dex+Brawl | The Godhand is an item that's basically an arm made from a god's skin, bone, and other assorted arm things, making the attached individual's attacks faster and more powerful, and of course offering some magical abilities. When released, it glows brightly with magical runes and inflicts very deadly strikes, though it drains the wearer of life if not properly suppressed. Works on the Brass Knuckle template with -1 weapon speed. Acquired from Wesley after he had it chopped off and retrieved by Melanope, now sitting on a shelf along with the poor guy's other hand. |
