Okay, Five, that's a good start analyzing Von Kharkov.
As resident biology-geek, how about I take a stab at how his leopard side might've been responding to all this, in contrast to his faux-human side? (Pardon me if this gets a little abstract, xenofiction's like that...)
Five wrote:
1) "Von Kharkov began life as a panther, but he was polymorphed into a full-grown human by a Red Wizard of Thay. He was promptly named and titled by the wizard, then schooled and trained for combat. Because of his feline heritage, he displayed a strong tendency toward violence and treachery."
Here we see that he is a creation. NEVER will he be truly human. And it is that knowledge that one could have plague him to this day. It is during this time that The Baron would feel the first effects of his conflicting nature. Trying to tame the beast, which is, in essence, his true self. It's a battle doomed for failure.
The cat was a proud hunter: fluid, elegant, bringing down its prey in fear and grace. A fit young male, grown far beyond its mother's coddling, content to live its life in stealth and solitude. But now the cat is captured, frightened, angry. It is trapped, leashed; it lashes out in vain. Then a new thing -- an alien will -- is imposed upon it, and brings with it an alien shape and its inexplicable, insanely-complex, stifling ways. The cat slinks in hiding, wounded, confused. It is beaten, lost and frustrated, pacing back and forth in its cage.
2) "Eventually the Red Wizard brought Von Kharkov together with a female enemy and allowed them to become lovers."
His first dose of extreme human emotion. Later, it will act as his 'drug of choice'. His need to be human and to exist in a foreign (adopted) society, while fully feeling the gamut of human emotions, love being THE pinnacle, probably is what made him susceptible to such a ruse. Sadly, this naivety leads to...
The cat is solitary. It wants no friends, no lovers. Were it free, it would take its proper mate as it takes its prey, in the heat of its blood, then depart and forget. The intimacy of the alien is smothering, repellent, emasculating. Repulsive and risky, to linger.
3) "He then dispelled his polymorphing magic, allowing the panther to tear the woman to shreds. Having forgotten his true roots, Von Kharkov was horrified by the transformation. He suspected that the wizard meant to use him for subsequent assassinations, so the man-panther fled Thay and stumbled into a bank of Mists, which transported him to Darkon."
The horror! The emotional crash/overload. The foundation for a future fear of magic which, ironically, is what led him to his human self and or ego. This fear that will then be reflected later through his subjects of Valachan. Self-loathing perhaps?
Also, here is where I feel there is clear room for arguments for a Jekyll/Hyde type personality disorder. In essence, he is denying his true inner self. Doubting. Loathing. All due to his first betrayal by a 'fellow' human. And it is here that the Baron is, probably unbeknownst to himself, a 'pushover'. Subject, if you will. Not near to being top cat.
Freedom! A moment, an instant, unbound! Strike, strike and flee! Strike at what repels, at the intrusive, clinging closeness! Strike at that which the alien embraces, because the cat cannot strike the alien!
No! Again, the leash, again the cage. Fury, clawing at the cage walls. New bitterness, a rage that permeates the alien's mind, shares its resentment. Make it hate itself, as the cat hates it. Not a deliberate revenge -- that is the alien's way, not the cat's -- but it sinks through, even so: payback for the not-cat mind that cripples it. Cripple it back. Make it bleed with doubt and disgust, not knowing its self-hate is not its own.
4) "There, he learned of Azalin's secret undead police, the Kargat, so he sought out a vampire to induct him into the ranks. When his master was killed twenty years later, he fled into the Mists once more. This time, the dark powers embraced him and created the domain of Valachan."
Rejection. Solitude. Another betrayal. A re-evaluation of Self. Transformation. Prey to Predator, fed by the Dark Powers. Revelation?
The cat has tasted blood. The drive to hunt, to stalk, to feel the power in muscles tensed to spring and scent the rich rankness of prey, is rekindled. A higher grade of lust, a desire that permeates and infects the alien mind. A temptation heeded, a moment's pain and cold and unnatural fear; then, a new manner of hunting, satisfaction. Dominated, for a time -- submission to a greater hunter -- but such is nothing new to the cat: it has yielded up its prey to lions before. The lion slain, the cat survives, to claim a territory for itself.
5) "Von Kharkov quickly adjusted to his new prison. He learned that it was stocked with black leopards and domestic cats to do his bidding."
He is embracing his animalistic self by adopting its (the leopard's) social structuring and habits.
A territory, a home, a hunting ground. Herds scouted, watched, weighed by night, singling out the weak. Lesser hunters -- cheetahs, servals, caracals, others -- give ground before the cat, know it rules here. It marks out its territory with paw-prints and musk and spoor, patrols and guards its range with diligence. It takes mates in season, but grudges the alien its coddling way with them; it disdains their company, and it lashes out when they annoy. Pride, to defy the alien and kill them: pride that it is the greater, the stronger.
6) "Years later he found a small statuette of a cat in the lower reaches of his keep, which proved to be the Cat of Felkouic. The magical item eventually hunted him, but such was his confidence in his lordly might that he did not fear it, so the cat mauled him badly. To this day, that magical item is the only thing he truly fears."
Another clue to him truly embracing his animalistic roots. Weakness. Fear. Bigger, badder cat. Dominance.
Challenge! A rival, stinking of unnatural magic. The territory must be defended. The cat is fierce, determined... but the rival does not bleed, its flesh does not yield, its breath is not stilled by an elegant killer's bite. The cat torn, rent, wounded nigh to death. Confusion in terror, shame in defeat. Flee, flee and survive. Cower and lick wounds, hide and heal. The cat is proud no more, and afraid. Will always be afraid, of this rival. Of this lion that does not die, and is not satisfied with the theft of kills. This cat-killer, that shames and unmans it with the realization that
it is prey.
