Klaus Voorhees was one of those kids that was born competitive. He strove to beat anyone and everyone at anything. The only thing Klaus liked more than challenging others to races or fights or dangerous “dares” was being challenged to them. His parents tried to channel that competitive drive into team sports, but while Klaus excelled at soccer, he didn’t find it to his taste. He liked the running and competing but what was lacking for him was brutality.
Despite his indifference, Klaus attracted attention in the athletic world and he made it his goal to become the youngest player ever on the national team. Finally his competitive nature and ego outpaced his skill. He fell into the trap of booze, partying, and the feeling of being “untouchable”. When he missed a practice due to a hangover and was told he wasn’t going to play in an upcoming game, Klaus attacked his coach. When his teammates tried to restrain him, he attacked them too.
Klaus left the field in a fury and tore off in his car, striking two pedestrians before slamming into an oncoming truck. In addition to a concussion, Klaus was left with fractured ribs, a broken collarbone, two separated shoulders, a perforated bowel, and a leg that would be mostly pins for the rest of his life. Had he bothered to ask, he would have found out that the driver of the truck died.
Facing a lengthy physical recovery which would likely be followed by an even more lengthy prison sentence, Klaus couldn’t say “yes” fast enough when approached by an agent for a mysterious company seeking test subjects for a new performance-enhancing drug. The drug was concocted from material harvested from dead NBH’s with reptilian blood enzymes as a stabilizer. When the first injection worked miracles in healing his broken body, Klaus demanded a second. This was unwise.
Within moments of the second shot entering his system, Klaus underwent a catastrophically painful transformation into a huge reptilian beast. He smashed through the wall of the hospital, fell thirtysome feet to the sidewalk, wrecked two police cars, and put five officers in the hospital he had just come from before disappearing into the night. After coming to some sort of terms with what he had become, he chose a life of crime and resurfaced working as hired muscle in Australia where, much to his chagrin, he was dubbed “Salty” due to his mild resemblance to a salt water crocodile as well as his crummy personality.
Tigerclaw never had a desire to be involved in a globe-spanning criminal enterprise. She had intended a life of peaceful seclusion far away from civilization. But the order that trained her had other ideas. The abbot of the temple where she became a master of the Tiger Crane style owed a favor to some unsavory types and 10 years of her service was payment of that debt. After a year of her service was up, her masters passed her along to fulfill another favor for a different group of criminals and so on, with her ten years of service turning into the life of an assassin for hire – only without the part where you get any money.
Honor-bound to obey the dictates of her order, Tigerclaw will fulfill her obligation despite the fact that her loyalty is neither earned nor deserved by those giving the commands. She tells herself that she bears no responsibility for the crimes she is guilty of while acting on the orders of others. Most of the time, she believes this. Her vice is her pride. She will seek to overturn any defeat she suffers. She is not driven by revenge – only the desire to be the best. She has vanity about her abilities, a long memory, and infinite patience.
Tigerclaw is so called for the relic of her order she carries of the same name, a deadly sword said to be crafted by a smith consumed with such pain and suffering that he abandoned his humanity to overcome the torment and turned his heart into a cold, dark rock. Those feelings were poured into the blade as it was forged and are said to give it the capability of draining both the nightmares of its owner and the life of its victims.
Jessi Bardin grew up in southern Canada and married her high school sweetheart, Jason. Jessi and Jason loved the outdoors and spent much of their time hunting and camping. Jason’s belief that federal taxes were unconstitutional resulted in them spending more and more time camping away from things like jails and federal marshals. In Jason’s mind, legal authority ended at the beginning of his land. Or maybe just anywhere he happened to be.
Jessi and Jason started spending more and more time with like-minded couples and when it was time to start raising a family, they moved to a large piece of land north of Denver with several of these new friends. In ’71 the RCMP, backed up by several enhanced individuals associated with law enforcement, raided the compound with a warrant for illegal weapons, and to the surprise of no-one, it turned into a small warzone. Jason was killed in the fighting and Jessi murdered the “superhero” Badger before escaping the firefight.
Traumatized and filled with hatred for the federal government and their costumed lackeys, Jessi, now calling herself Militia, is absolutely convinced that the federal government is unlawful and that she is a true patriot. She is directly responsible for the murder of another Canadian “superhero”, the death of two servicemen, and the drowning of a Navy recruiter.
Jessi and her followers have fled to Madripoor to build up the forces and armory necessary to free a country that exists only in her mind. Jessi’s only “power” is never being without a sidearm and having access to assault rifles, grenades and chemical weapons, and anti-vehicle or anti-aircraft weaponry such as rocket propelled grenades. Given enough time she can acquire military vehicles, weapons, and other gear.