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"And stay the fuck outta my reality." -Kastor to the Dark Templar's "Rampage".

Tin Man, Gear Head, Nerd, Monster, Hero, Hermit. Kastor is a man of many names, and few faces. His cold, stand-offish, and often times mockingly insincere demeanor, coupled with his utter disdain for attention nets him a great deal of personal space, but little renown. Of course, this isn't much of an issue. So long as the bills are paid, and the populace leaves him to his own devices.

Player: @Ascher
Kastor 2.jpeg
Character Build
Class Focus: Confidential
Power Level: 40
Research & Development: Arms
Biographical Data
Real Name: Kastor Charles Marcellus
Known Aliases: Clockwork, "The Beast"
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Ethnicity: Indeterminate Foreign Origin
Place of Birth: Kingston, NY
Base of Operations: Global.
Relatives: No comment.
Age: 34
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 210 lbs.
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Auburn
Complexion: Olive
Physical Build: Dense, surprisingly trim
Physical Features: Two deep, obvious facial scars: One running from just below his right nostril, over his lips, and to the left side of his chin; One "C" shaped near his left eye/on the bridge of his nose; Various, diffuse scarring over his extremities.
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Chaotic Good

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Identity: Publicly Known
Years Active: Undetermined
Citizenship: United States
Occupation: CEO/Lead Engineer of Ancile
Education: Confidential
Marital Status: No comment.
Known Powers and Abilities
Electrokinetics, technopathy, electromagnetic field manipulation.
Equipment and Paraphernalia
ReldinBox Template


Appearing to be equal parts playfully mischievous, frighteningly calculating, and uncompromisingly brutal, Kastor is something of an issue to pin down accurately. A history of misleading, and contradicting psychological profiles suggest that this lack of reliable insight is purposeful.


More often than not, the only visual memory people retain of Kastor is his suit of armor. A glossy black, smooth-lined construct bearing external power conduits, his exoskeleton seems to be more a work of art than a tool of war. Since his last public sightings, this construct has undergone several modifications, altering it's appearance drastically. Amateur photographers have even captured blurry pictures that show a sort of solar corona around some semi-lambent shape in the sky.

The few who have laid eyes on his face are likely to forget it. A thin man of dense bone structure, olive complexion, brown eyes, dark hair, and diffuse, faded facial scarring is likely to go unnoticed. His style of dress is plain enough, to boot. Typically T-shirts, cargo pants (as he tends to carry a variety of tools), and beaten work-boots. It would be fair to speculate that this isn't an accident. As far as social camouflage goes, it's proven to be quite effective.


If one were to take a porcupine, dip it in glue, and roll it in broken glass, you would end up with something that is still easier to get close to than Kastor. He seems to devote a large amount of energy and consideration to keeping everyone and anyone he meets at more than an arm's distance. Usually, they are all too happy to oblige. Those that hang around long enough for Kastor to forget they're there (Or become bored with taking jabs/preoccupied with something more interesting) will catch glimpses of an individual who genuinely means well, but can't always bring himself to act accordingly.

There may in fact be more to it, but there aren't many people willing or able to "stick it out" long enough to find out.

Local man bites Batboy.

From the ridiculous, obviously fabricated pages of tabloid news papers to the urban legends spread about by mush-mouthed swamp dwellers making their way to market in Vibora, Kastor has established himself, or rather his armor, as a thing of myth. A sort of avenging spirit known to appear to those who's guiding light has long since faded to black. The following blurb has recently become popular on several modern-day-myths forums, fansites, and blogs:

"I had been having nightmares for the past few months. My family's got...you know, we've got a history. Mystics, psychics, you name it. God help me, I thought it was all a bunch of bullshit my grandmother cooked up out of boredom and senility. So these nightmares...there aren't even words for them. These grasping, flickering worm-faced things that just loped through the streets, dragging people on hooks, and by hand. The screams, and the smells...burning skin. I'd never smelled it before in my life, but in those dreams, I knew what it was. I thought I would go get some help, you know? See a shrink and talk all this out. Just make it go away so I could get some sleep. Didn't seem to matter how much I talked, the dreams just kept coming. Come the third month, I stopped going to work. I can't tell you how, but I could feel these things all around us. They were...I don't know, pushing on something. Trying to get through. And they were so close. So damned close. I tried everything. I tried to warn people, I tried to get one of those caped guys you see flying around every now and then to look into it, but I don't know. I guess they were busy. I even went to some'a those guys in robes? You know the ones. Up in that big, fancy building by the church? They just assured me that everything was going to be taken care of, but I don't think they bought it either. Another week went by, and I started seeing 'em. Always just outta the corner of my eye. It was hard to tell, but I thought they were getting closer. I stopped sleeping all together" The interviewee had to pause at this point. As soon as he collected himself, he continued "Then, about three-four days ago? They just...came out. From nowhere, from nothin'. I thought "This is it.", you know? "This'll be the end'a me." I just fell to my knees, and I tried to close my eyes. I could see light, kind of like...you know, if you look at a lightbulb, then close your eyes? Well, there was this light, and then it was quiet. I couldn't feel them anymore. When I finally let myself look, there was just ash, and him. He just floated. Didn't say a word. I tried to talk to him, whoever he was, but he just turned around and left. Right into the sky. And I'm not the only one who's seen 'im either. Big, black thing with little lights on it. I don't know if he, or it, or whatever reads these rags, but thanks."

Din: Kastor's armor

The suit of powered armor named "Din", built and piloted by Kastor, is an anomaly wrapped in a puzzle, and drizzled with a healthy amount of "wait, what?" During his more public tours with The New Vanguard and F.A.T.E, the suit rose to notoriety, only to drop off the face of the earth with no schematics shared and no patents filed. Known systems/capabilities, courtesy of Kastor himself:

"Airavata" flight system: The "Din" suit utilizes some form of magnetic levitation technology that far outstrips most anti-gravity systems in both raw speed, and maneuverability. Most notably, the mechanism is almost entirely silent, save for a faint humming when in close proximity.

"Marut" twin particle cannons/LIPC's: A strange hybrid weapon system mounted to the palms and gauntlets of the Din suit, these dual-lensed weapons are capable of either firing a stream of concentrated, charged particles at both lethal and less-than outputs, or utilizing a Laser Induced Plasma Channel, through which immense amounts of electrical charge can be directed over long distances without much of the energy loss that would normally occur.

"Vajra" heavy particle battery: Mounted on the crested ridge of Kastor's breastplate is a series of extremely small particle projectors with individual ranges of motion measuring about 80 degrees. When firing at a singular target, these lenses actually seem to pool their particle streams at a focal point somewhere just outside the physical frame of the armor. A magnetic charge coursing over the surface then hurls the collected energy at their intended target. Kastor has remarked on several occasions that this particular weapon is not only his go-to anti-material option, but that it's capable of doing a great deal more damage than he typically has use for. As a secondary function, the streams can be fired individually, and are usually sufficient to disperse and detonate explosive ordinance.

The "ADDS" (Accretion Disk Defense System): Mounted in each gauntlet is an almost impossibly small particle collider. When activated, the system generates an accretion disk out of whatever is thrown into the field. Held in check by Kastor's own control over electromagnetism, the disk continues to draw other objects into it's mass, where the gravitational force of the new, incredibly dense core further compresses the mass drawn in, releasing EM radiation, which in turn feeds more power into the Din.


Official records state that Kastor's sphere of influence is limited to the immediate area around him. Any and all eyewitnesses, of which there are a growing number, would adamantly disagree.

Kastor's electrokinetic and technopathic potential is, in a word, nightmarish. Never shy about his equipment, he has been known to proudly state that his suit consumes exactly one Terawatt/hour (roughly equivalent to the amount of energy present in a single lightningstrike), and has been noted to have no discernable limit on operation time. Given that this immense output seems to be an effortless "baseline" state, one can only imagine what might happen if Kastor were to truly exert himself toward any singular end.

On the subject of his ability to interface with, and manipulate machines, recent events have shown that he is capable of not only identifying Destroyer tech, but is also quite able to track, and read it. It has also been suggested that continued exposure to newer/alien technology may be forcing him to adapt to new systems, and broaden his catalogue of manipulable objects.

Not noted in his ASPRA registration is his seemingly improving ability to generate and control electromagnetic fields in order to manipulate physical objects. More recent reports suggest that he has some measure of control over the very molecules present in his power armor, and that he simply reclaims and re-assembles damaged components and plating without any apparent concentration.


Kastor's history is a boring one. A child of a single parent in a small town in the mountains of upstate New York. Records indicate that his home-life was marked by run-of-the-mill turbulence, and his birth records all check out. His education, from elementary school to college, to graduate school is all easily verifiable. There is, however, a four year gap in Kastor's history that simply can't be accounted for. Upon receiving his P.H.D. in Parapsychology, he simply vanishes. He has no known whereabouts, no known contacts, nothing. What is known is that he reappeared in Millenium City, seemingly out of nowhere, destitute, exhausted, malnourished, confused, and apparently in possession of a detailed knowledge of particle physics and metallurgy along with a mash-up of military combat training owing it's origins to countries around the world. He rambled about remora-faced monsters, people as green as leaves, and of men and women in red armor. He claimed that he might be the last of the "people in red", and demanded that a tattered utility vest found in his possession be returned, as "someone has to carry the colors." Also of note, a military dogtag of unknown origin was found in his pockets. It simply read: Kastor "Clockwork" Marcellus, and listed a number. The number, unsurprisingly, has matched nothing in any database. It is speculated that he may have fabricated this item himself.


Kastor is eerily similar to a freight train. Sure, he's powerful, implacable, and imposing, but there's a kind of naked complexity that leaves the chance for a great many things to go wrong. Known monkey-wrenches:

Paranoia: Kastor is not a trusting man. He fully expects anyone and everyone he meets to place a knife firmly in his back at any given time. As such, he spends more time than anyone rightfully should watching, checking, and double-checking those he comes in contact with. Those looking to exploit his paranoia would only need to suggest that those he works with do not have his best interests at heart. However, that door does swing both ways. He would also suspect that the individual handing this information over to him would have some alterior motive, and would become increasingly suspicious of their comings and goings.

Tunnelvision: His focus is a double-edged sword. While pursuing his objective, he often forgets the rest of the world. Quite literally, in some cases. He will ignore team-mates, cries for help, and collateral damage until his goal is accomplished. This has often resulted in a "too little, too late" outcome for situations that most heroes would deem more important than throttling the costumed threat of the day.

Familiarity: While surprising to most, Kastor is unfailingly loyal. As hard as it is to gain his trust, it is even harder to lose it. His reluctance to handle any kind of threat from a face he knows and holds dear is beyond obvious. Those looking to exploit this would find they would be granted a kind of "carte blanche" where Kastor was involved. For a time, anyway.

EMP bursts: Though it would have to be extraordinarly powerful, Kastor's electronics are, as any electronics would be, vulnerable to electromagnetic pulses. If one were to catch him off-guard, he would likely be unable to react fast enough to neutralize the incoming burst, rendering his suit of armor little more than an excessively heavy ornament.


  • Kastor is quite the cook. He reasons that if he must eat, it may as well be bearable.
  • Ever the hermit, Kastor's sleep schedule continues to swing toward the nocturnal.
  • Upon the termination of his contract with PRIMUS and subsequent incarceration, a rather cryptic message stating that "There's gonna be a party when the wolf comes home." was recently left in the personal mail-boxes of several high-ranking UNTIL and PRIMUS officials.
  • Known only to his closest contacts, Kastor has an incredibly extensive music collection, and is proficient in a number of instruments.

Roleplaying Hooks

"From another time":His history in this world, plain as it is, is also somewhat of a sham. Events recorded by old friends and loved ones certainly did happen, just not to this Kastor. Powerful and subtle telepaths may be able to bypass his inherent psychic defenses, and eventually corner him on who he was before showing up in Millenium.

"Not if you were the last man on earth": Kastor's help, dubious as it may seem at times, comes with or without the consent, or even acknowledgement of others. If you've got a problem, and it's sufficiently bizarre, one can be sure that Kastor will poke his nose into it as soon as he becomes aware.

"Rock you like a hurricane": Kastor's disappearance from the ever-present sight of media outlets isn't due to any kind of subtlety. Where he goes, ruin follows. Chances are good he's broken something of yours.

"Who you gonna call?": Kastor's specialty is in the creepy-crawly things that most people won't touch, and few even know about. Does it seem too horrible for words? Why not pit one boogeyman against another?

"Secret Agent Man": Kastor's history as a former government spook is well-known. He's almost as good at espionage as he is at wrecking city blocks. Almost.

"Dog house music.": Kastor is a regular at the Blues club down by Vibora's harbor.

Thoughts on Kastor

If you've met Kastor, and have some thoughts you'd like to post In Character, please feel free to add them below.

"Kastorrr. He is a best friend because he is smart, and he helps me understand things better. He always has treats, and he knows what I like, yez." -- Sweet Zee

"The man is blunt, direct, and to the point. His words can sting and burn like a brand, but as such, they leave a mark of some sort. Mr. Marcellus helped me get past something I had bottled up, and said what an old friend would've said to me on the spot. I'm glad to have met him. Perhaps we'll speak more some time." -- Darius Phen

"He's definitely one of the strangest men I've met... Who would have thought under all that armor and noise lies a generally caring person?" -- Brittania

"'Human sandpaper' doesn't even begin to describe the man's gift for rubbing people the wrong way. Nonetheless, a part of me is glad to have this steelclad reservoir of anger and realpolitik on my side, even thhough I'm not about to turn my back on him." Thundrax

"A man with delusions of secret grandeur. Unable to overcome petty preconceived opinions. Maybe he'll get what he wants... he will regret being right if he does, however." -- The Emissary

"Is this guy supposed to be on our side? The fact that he always seems one move from twisting someone's head off tells me no." -- Avro