Rylee Virion

Good Biker Jaguar

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Forged in nightmare rather than born, this jaguar clawed her way out of the egg already snarling at the world. Rebellion was her first breath. If she wasn't clawing her kin bloody or laughing while her mother raged, she was torching their cave just to watch it burn—drawing demons like moths to the chaos she left behind.

Her family cast her out, but exile only lit the fuse. Now she tears across Niflheim astride a makeshift hog belching brimstone and fire, its tailpipes screaming like damned souls. Those foolish enough to cross her path are reduced to smoldering wreckage in her wake. And for the unlucky few who still twitch on the blacktop? She swings her crowbar with feral delight, painting the pavement with their brains until nothing's left but silence and the echo of her laughter.