Slender build, DeClan stands 6’2” with reddish brown hair that is prematurely graying. His eyes are a silvery gray and always seem to shimmer with an intensity that betrays his dark past, highlighted by the slightly dark shadows that seem to linger below the dark lashes these days and the 5’oclock scruff that never seems to go away. At work he is in his blue scrubs and white coat, but away from work he tends to be comfortable in jeans and tees or soft slacks. His attire always neat and polished.
Only his ears betray the transformation that took place during the resonance, the extended helix holding the characteristic point of the elves.
DeClan is fairly brooding. He is intense when it comes to work but a little lost when it comes to social settings. He is torn between his desire to be alone and an innate need to be with others. He is level headed most of the time, but suffers emotional swings tied to a his lingering PTSD. But to those that know him well and understand these unpredictable swings, he is a very loyal ally.
He has only a few things that he would be violent for… one is his 1942 fully restored XA 750 Harley Davidson… one is his Ocean Star 56.1 sailing yacht… and the last is a silver chain necklace that is always around his neck… its hanging treasure always hidden inside his shirt…a platinum ring with an inscription inside… the match sits on his left ring finger. He has also recently aquired a gun with two magazines - not his favorite possession but for now he is keeping it.
STAFF APPROVED ABILITIES/SKILLS/HISTORY
TECH DISRUPTION - This potentially could be a real threat to others if he ever learned to use it but the ability is passive at the moment. Technology tends to fritz around the good doctor. He no longer bothers to carry a cell phone nor has a TV or computer in his home. His renown as a skilled surgeon has only grown because he has been forced to perform without the help of the high tech gadgets that have been evolving in the last century. Some see it as arrogance but in truth its out of necessity as he doesn’t trust the displays to tell him the truth when he is at the helm.
HEIGHTENED DEXTERITY - His mutilated race has given him some of the typical characteristics of the elves but this has become fairly potent. DeClan always was very agile, his propensity for rock climbing just one way he developed this skill in the past. Now his lean form is very nimble, his balance rivaling any feline on a roofs edge.
HEIGHTENED HEARING - His ears had more than a physical transformation. Like other elves, his hearing is almost dog-like now.
LANGUAGE AFFINITY – Since the world fell apart, DeClan has discovered he has the ability to pick up languages at an alarmingly rapid rate. Other than English he currently knows Amharic (learned in Ethiopia), Latin (learned as part of Medical research), Gaeilge (learned in Ireland) and Portuguese (Learned in Angola), with several other languages already known on a very basic level. He is now reluctant to expose himself to more languages, still unnerved by the strange ability.
Unsurpassed skills as a surgeon including microsurgery.
Skilled free form rock climber. He doesnt like to use harnesses - a bit of a death wish perhaps.
Fixing and riding motorcycles and sailing yachts.
DeClan was a driven kid of an upper middle class family who had a soft spot for helping injured things. Everything from fallen baby birds to cats that had been hit by cars were dragged into his mother’s kitchen to get his very “serious” attention. His above average intelligence put him ahead of kids his age by the time he was five, graduating from high school at just fourteen, going on to study medicine at both Harvard and Hopkins. Graduating top of his class, DeClan was invited to do his internship actually at John Hopkins in Baltimore before being offered a position on their Cardiac team. It was at Hopkins that DeClan met Sam (short for Samantha). She was on her first year of residency and he had been three years on the Cardiac staff. The attraction was obvious to everyone. They were living together in three months and married just eight months later. They were soul mates.
It was shortly after their first anniversary that DeClan and Sam joined Doctors without Borders. They both wanted to take the skills they had and offer people that would never have access to that knowledge their help. They worked in Somalia and Burundi before ending up in Ethiopia in early 2010. They had survived everything from months of drought to sand storms, giving aid to children that were dying from lack of food and water, inoculating against the most basic diseases that had been wiped out elsewhere in the world. Both avid athletes they had been together eight years and were prepared for everything… except December 2010. The light had been blinding.. the cloud of soot that came with it suffocating. People were losing their minds, chaos was the new norm.. abilities that shouldn’t be possible were emerging in often violent ways as they stayed to help the people who had nothing, exposing themselves further to the Nevus seepage.
Sam wasn’t the same. Within days she was showing signs of dementia… DeClan catching her more than once out in the desert eating sand. He became fixated on getting her out and “curing” her, unaware that he himself was being changed. But they were in the middle of nowhere Ethiopia and there were not exactly life flight coming in the days that followed. On the seventh day he went out to get water to try and ease his wife’s fever. He returned to find her with a knife dangling in her fingertips.. blood everywhere. She had torn her stomach apart.. her entrails exposed as she lay in the last throws of death. She had been pregnant and he hadn’t known… the child changing within her… driving her mad…. He was a top surgeon of John Hopkins…. and he couldn’t save her…. the child and his wife lost all at once.
And through his grief, his own body was altering.. DNA melding into something hybrid. He buried her in Ethiopia… in the shifting sands beside children she had cried over… her wedding band hanging around his neck as he screamed his grief into the soot covered winds of the harsh Africa plains.
For three days he sat on her grave.. unable to feel anything for those dying around him…for those slaughtering others around him… his oaths forgotten in his pain, amidst a new kind of war.
It was a blur from there, death upon death and more than once, his own hands had wrought it. Little of what happened to him in Africa is known by anyone. He never speaks of it, trapped within an erratic case of PTSD that seems to trigger at random his outbursts.
He got out of Ethiopia on his own…stealing a boat and sailing all the way around the cape, stopping only once in Angola to restock his supplies… he wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and that hell on earth. He found out only later that hell had consumed everything.
DeClan spent the first two years after the event covering the tell tale signs that he wasn’t wholly human anymore. Hats pulled low over the elongated ears. They were a sign of everything he hated in the world, of what had stolen his precious Sam from him. He wanted nothing to do with Altered, nothing to do with medicine, nothing to do with himself.
DeClan packed up their home in Baltimore, putting everything that reminded him of her in storage before getting on the Harley he had been storing while they were in Africa and heading for New York. He discovered he had a tough time with the equipment when he started working again, suddenly beginning to understand it wasn’t the equipment, but his effect on the equipment causing it. It was about this time that a bottle of vodka began to be his normal breakfast and dinner.
He has spent the last several years working in the ER of the remains of the New York Downtown Hospital. He spends most of his nights in the lab he set up in his loft apartment, researching how to not only improve the antivirus into a cure… but cure those like himself, bastardized races that blended into something else, hoping to one day wipe the blight away from the earth once more….thus far failing miserably. The loft is now his sanctuary… watching out the big windows to scowl at the world around him.