EYES ||
Mirror grey with icy blue, and piercing as a gimlet. Vidocq’s eyes are the most expressive thing about him. Decode their flashes, glimmers, and narrowing, and one can read his soul.
VOICE ||
Though not exceedingly robust, Vidocq’s voice is quite low and hoarse. His words rumble and crackle like gravel, yet the sound is not wholly unpleasant. There is a curious flatness to his vowels that hints at his foreign heritage. His intonations are influenced by both his parents' origins and the accents he heard growing up. Though English is not necessarily his native language, he mastered it at sea and still remembers a smattering of French. He tends to place emphasis on his consonants, making his words clipped and sharp.
BUILD ||
When met with Vidocq, the first trait noted is his lofty stature. He is able to look down his nose at most everyone he comes across, much to his benefit. When walking beside him, most wolves will soon find themselves making double-time to keep up with his long strides. Though tall, he is not broad in chest nor does he possess a plenitude of muscle. Words such as lanky and meager are better suited to him than brutish or massive. It is almost as if he has been stretched or has skipped a great number of meals. His strength originates from his imposing stature and gaze, which, like a surgeon’s knife, dissects everything it passes over, leaving its innards bare to the world.
Several clues to his heritage may be found in his posture and frame. From shoulder to hip, his back takes on a clear downward slope, much like an everyday German Shepherd. His muzzle, which is somewhat longer than average, has a bit of a downward curve as well. His ears are larger and pointier than those of the usual wolf. He took great pains in his youth to mask the last clue by effacing his hind paws of their dewclaws. Like a soldier before his commander, he is always standing at attention. His posture is excellent and far from relaxed. Beyond all this, Vidocq bears a significant nose, stubborn brow, a permanent central crease like an angry star between the eyes, a gloomy look, a pinched and ferocious mouth, and an air of fierce command.
COAT ||
Due in large part to his heritage, his coarse coat is predominantly piceous black with little variation in color. The only markings to speak of are patches where he is starting to whiten, mostly in a mask of sorts around his muzzle and face. In the simplest terms, it is almost like he waded through a great vat of flour and shook off the excess, leaving his paws a faded white along with silver ticking down the lower half of his body. Varying shades of white and silver guard hairs are peppered throughout his fur. The bridge of his nose, his ears, and the tip of his tail are the darkest portions of his coat. The skin and a bit of the fur around his eyes is especially dark, forming an onyx ring, much like kohl, that contrasts against the silver of his gaze. A mixture of black and white runs along his back, sides, and neck. The most concentrated white forms a sort of bib on the underside of his jaws, on either side of his muzzle, around his eyes, then fades into his cheeks and down onto his shoulders to form a patch. Greying fur also covers his forehead and the inner parts of his ears. His pelt itself feels much like a bristle brush and is of medium length.
SCARS ||
There are very few noticeable scars on Vidocq. The most striking is the absence of the last third of his tail, a result of a scuffle with his father, Herbaux. Other badges earned in civil disputes are mostly well-hidden by his fur. If one were to look closely, they would see the traces of his wretched father’s treatment.
PERSONA ||
Vidocq is a compound of two sentiments, simple and good in themselves, but made almost wretched by his exaggeration of them: veneration of authority and hatred of rebellion. He is driven by a forceful power of will, an intense source of energy much like the sun that propels him to maintain the balance of right and wrong both in his own life and those of others. He sees the law as the final word in all judgments; there are no exceptions, including himself.
In his eyes, there are only law breakers and law abiders. After one enters the former class, one cannot return to the latter. He has nothing but disdain, aversion, and disgust for all who have once overstepped the bounds of the law or committed some error in his eyes. Along with his leader's decrees, he adheres to his own strict morals and beliefs instilled in him by the
Sreté. Honesty, dignity, respect, obedience, and diligence are his core tenants.
He regards all around him with a ‘guilty until proven innocent’ attitude, including those who hold power over him. On one side, he will say,
"An official cannot be deceived; a magistrate is never wrong!" And on the other,
"They are irremediably lost; no good can come of them." He fully shares the opinion of those extremists who attribute to laws an indescribable power of making, or, if one will, of determining, demons, and who place a Styx at the bottom of society.
He is stoical, austere, a dreamer of stern dreams, humble and haughty- like all fanatics. Vidocq marks out a straight path through all that is terrible in this world; his conscience is bound up in his usefulness. He is a serpent who must always be moving in a continuous line, lest he backtrack and devour his own tail. Boredom is a foreign concept to this dutiful worker.
When serious, he is a bulldog; when he laughs, he is a tiger. His life is one of privations, isolation, and self-denial- hardly any amusement. Shrewd, astute, and vengeful in certain cases, he is not one to cross. Vidocq, however, takes great care in being as severe with himself as he is with others. There is a natural, cold rigor about him of one who has never been kind, but has always been patient.
It could be said that his face was one never meant to wear expressions. Genuine smiles seem crooked when he wears them; hearty laughter rarely lights up his features. When he does show any kind of joy, it is in a cunning, roguish smirk and a harsh bark of a chuckle. Every other feeling is displayed with a curt frown and a furrowing of the brow.
Everything about him is iron. His gaze, sharp and piercing, grazes the world like a knife blade. To endure his stare is to bear the weight of a razor. At all times, his posture is rigid and inflexible. In rare moments, when he is still, one would think he is a statue waiting to be replaced. Cut him open, and his bones may very well be made of metal.
Though cold, he is not base. He is brilliant, tactical, and possesses great foresight. When moving toward a goal, he makes careful, tedious plans and will not act if the slightest bit of doubt enters his mind, yet a hard head coupled with a fierce temper periodically propel him to act out of passion. If not for a somehow indefatigable source of luck, he would not have lived beyond his first year. He can be brave to the point of recklessness, stubborn as all get-out, and tends to brood.
Total loyalty and sincerity from his allies is what he expects, as he gives the same to them. Earn his trust, and with it shall come his protection as well as a fair amount of heckling. Vidocq is apt at reading the subtleties in others, enabling him to judge whether it is best to push buttons or to smooth feathers. His days as a Don Juan are far behind him now, but he can still be a bit coquettish when he so chooses.
He is crafty, cunning, an artist of sorts who values reason and order above all else. Challenges and confrontation are his playground games, debating his second language. Any fellow who fancies arguing with him will quickly find themselves tongue-tied and looking quite the fool. He is by no means an inflammatory person, yet he can hold his own in a fuss.
He loathes looking inward, and so looks outward. He is remarkably keen and observant, a spy as others are priests, and misses next to nothing of what occurs around him. It is his implacable duty, order, that is as central to him as Sparta to the Spartans; Vidocq is a pitiless detective, fiercely honest, and a marble-hearted informer. He is Brutus united with Poirot.
TALENTS ||
He is quick-witted and sharp as a tack when it comes to making sense of complex issues. If the correct course of action is muddled in a veil of uncertainty, Vidocq is the one to go forth with a light. His mind is his greatest asset. His values, incorruptible as they are, enable him to lead and obey without giving into vices. He is, however, quite willing to do whatever possible to obtain what he wants.
SHORTFALLS ||
Austere as he may be, the wolf possesses a substantial temper. His actions and words often come across as highly imperious and cold-blooded. At times, he is ignorant and hideous in his black-and-white beliefs. This monstrous St. Michael might be called the evil of good.
HABITS ||
In his leisure moments, which are rare, or when in an even rarer good mood, he will allow himself to hum an old Gyptian tune or two from years past. He tends to fidget when resting or addressing someone, as if his body feels it should be attending things elsewhere. His sense of humor, though quite dark, is especially healthy, and he often makes snarky quips or comments.
FEARS ||
Since he left his blackguard days behind him, Vidocq has had nightmares in which all of his work toward a concrete moral center and incorruptible values was for naught. He is constantly watching himself to ensure he does not slip up or fall, and thus become like his father.
PREFERENCES ||
Having considered himself outside of society for years, Vidocq gains great personal pleasure from serving someone or something, and otherwise being useful. When working, he is most content.
AVERSIONS ||
He avoids the rowdy and obnoxious like the plague, along with those he knows to be morally corrupt. Violence is also something he always seeks to circumvent, whether another or himself is responsible. He does not want to become like his father or like the creatures he was surrounded by in his youth; he seeks only to maintain peace and order.
HISTORY ||
Vidocq was born in the remains of a dilapidated jail of a village deep in the Carpathian Mountains, long since devoid of human influence. Carmen, his mother, was a mystic, a Romani mutt who too given to wandering to ever linger with her own kind. She had never cared for a controlled life and left her human troupe as soon as she realized such a thing was possible. Herbaux, her mate and a banished wolf, was too depraved to hold a rank within his own pack, and had discovered her during his travels. His wicked nature and lack of conscience went unnoticed by his next trinket. The two quickly settled as one.
The first period of Vidocq’s life was easy, though far from smooth. His family was always moving and rarely stayed in the same location for more than a few weeks. When he was two months old, the insults began; it started out as simple jeers from his father, like ‘
metis,’ in his native French. Then came words like ‘
salaud’ and ‘
bâtard.’ Things grew progressively more vile and horrible as Vidocq grew older.
He found comfort in his mother, who sheltered him the best she could from the verbal assaults. They would lay on their backs in the darkness, watching the stars. She taught him the constellations, Gyptian myths and legends, the stories of her life years past. She taught him how to read omens: birds’ flight, the sunset, the moon- everything. He absorbed every word. Under the light of the night sky, he was content.
When he was three months old, the disdain was exhibited in more physical ways. Pushes. Nipping. Swats of the ears. Vidocq bore it all. He learned to endure after his words of protest ceased to mean anything. His mother continued to shield him, yet she and his other siblings became targets as well. It was then up to Vidocq to guard them. At four months of age, he confronted his scoundrel of a father while he was in the middle of berating his meager family. The scuffle that ensued was short-lived, ending with both Vidocq and Carmen severely injured. She did not survive the next winter.
After her death, Vidocq followed her teachings and took to vagrancy himself. He fled his father’s treachery, knowing that his siblings were far too frightened to ever take their brother’s side. He learned quickly to fend for himself; the lessons were painful and difficult, yet he endured, as always, with remarkable tenacity. Though he was cautious of approaching unknown characters, Vidocq made efforts to join various packs for fear of becoming like Herbaux in solitude. Each and every time, he was hounded out of the territory and chased by wolves snarling the same insults of his youth. He rarely escaped unscathed.
Midway through his third year of life, Vidocq grew bitter and angry. He ceased trying to join communal life. He mocked, scorned, and, on occasion, stole from those better off than himself. His roguish nature intrigued many a forbidden maiden, luring them to meet in secret by the light of the full moon until their affairs would be discovered. Without fail, he would be chased out by a seething father or brothers, snarling despicable curses at him. He never truly cared for any of his trysts.
In his fourth year, he grew to thinking himself outside of society, and despaired of ever entering it. He had noticed that the world irrevocably closes its doors on two classes: those who attack it and those who guard it. He could choose between those two classes only. Severely disheartened and with little desire to continue his miserable existence, he consigned himself to wandering for the rest of his days. Over the course of a few days, he covered hundreds of miles in a numbed daze, half hoping he would simply die somewhere in the mountains. He would have met some untimely end or another if not for a few like-minded wolves who formally called themselves the Brigade de la Sûreté (Surety Brigade).
A major portion of its members were brigands and mongrels like himself, all seeking to improve. They found Vidocq at his lowest point and took him in without question. Their leader, a fellow known to them only as The Prefect, taught and upheld a strict code of honor, loyalty, order, courage, and respect, which he took to heart. The band was unlike any pack he had encountered before; it was a court, a school, and a chapel all in one, forever traveling the landscape. Its mission was to take cons, liars, thieves, and vagrants like him, build them into upright figures, and return them to the world. It was from these wolves that the nickname '
Vautrin' originated, a reference to his former career as a rogue and a cheat. He entered their society from the dredges of his own; he succeeded. By the end of his fourth year, he was the pride of The Prefect.
While part of the Sûreté, his hatred of his father had grown to encompass his mother as well, for her blood, the blood that flowed through his veins, was the source of his misfortune. Out of those two classes, he chose the latter, vowing to take an eternal watch and become a shield for society. He spent the ensuing years of his life continuing to better his conscience and his character, hardening his new-found beliefs and his hide against the words of his peers. He cast himself in steel, turned his green sprout of a heart into firm oak. He shed the chaos of his past to be reborn in the order of the heavens- his guide. He became unshakable.
PARENTS ||
Herbaux - father - unknown |
Carmen - mother - unknown
SIBLINGS ||
Brevet - brother - unknown |
Esmeralda - sister - unknown
LOVES ||
There was a time when Vidocq took whatever he wanted from the madams he encountered, yet those days are far behind him now. These days, he has little interest in chasing tail, so to speak. Although he has Gypsy blood, he does not know what the future will bring to his life.
FRIENDS ||
Though not the most affable fellow, he is not opposed to gaining friends. His trust, however, is quite difficult to earn. Once you are in his good graces, you will likely stay there for a long while and endure a fair bit of heckling.
ENEMIES ||
The only true enemy Vidocq has is his father, Herbaux. He seldom truly hates anyone enough to wish them ill, though he is not fond of liars, cons, thieves, or those who are lazy.
SIDENOTES || Vidocq is based on an actual person by the name of E.F. Vidocq, the first private detective on whom Sherlock Holmes, Javert, and nearly every other character like them is also based. His mother's name, Carmen, is a nod to the fiery Gypsy seductress and titular character of Bizet’s most famous opera. The name Herbaux is a part of the real Vidocq’s past; the two met in the Tour Saint-Pierre prison in Lille. Vidocq witnessed Herbaux's execution in Paris, and soon after decided to turn his life around. The ‘dog and the wolf’ lines are by Poul Anderson.
HOW DID YOU FIND US? || During a fit of nostalgia-induced whimsy, I found this site's link on an old site and saw that a bunch of friends were on here.
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Subject: Le Chien, Vidocq 
