The Dewan, who also holds the title of The Earl of Upper Slaughter, is a werewolf Loner and a member of the Shadow Council where he holds the position of werewolf adviser to HRM Queen Victoria. He is gently considered to be the most powerful werewolf in the country, although no one would ever mention as much in Lord Maccon‘s presence.
Although he holds no actual country seat, he is well respected as a military man and Commander in Chief of the Royal Lupine Guard. In his role with the Shadow Council, he sees to werewolf assignments in the army, among his other duties, which include overseeing the command structures of the BUR and regulation of the werewolf population of the empire.
The Dewan is a large, older-looking man with dark hair, a wide face, and deep set eyes. He can assume Anubis form, although it is considered most impolitic for Loners to metamorphose mortals into werewolves.
The following quotes from The Parasol Protectorate novels give some insight into The Dewan, but are not required reading for the character. Your character sheet, supplied at the con, will have all the information required to play this character.
That’s why the dewan works for the queen. Keeps peace between the Alphas
Alexia had spent long hours wondering over that mustache. Werewolves did not grow hair, as they did not age. Where had it come from? Had he always had it? For how many centuries had his poor abused upper lip labored under the burden of such vegetation?”
The dewan was a large gruff individual who reminded Alexia of her husband, in character if not in appearance or manner. Not that she would ever tell this to either of them.
“Well, there you have it,’ snarled the dewan, ‘The affairs of the British Empire must wait on squatters and your good graces.’ Landed as the Earl of Upper Slaughter but without any real country seat, the dewan was one of the few werewolves in England who could give the Earl of Woolsey a fight for his fur and had had occasion to prove it.
Thus, the dewan and Lord Maccon tended to circle each other, both in and out of polite company, rather like two tugboats drawing freight – widely and with much tooting.
“So, what are we dealing with? A whole pack of preternaturals?’ That was the dewan. He was prone to thinking in numbers, the consequences of an overabundance of military training.
Right at that moment, there was a scuffle in the hallway and the door to the drawing room burst open to reveal the dewan. ‘What is the meaning of such a summons as I just received?’ He barreled into the room all loud bluster, bringing along an odor of London night air and raw meat.
“I am not bringing it to BUR. I am in bringing it to the Woolsey Pack. Lady Maccon, regardless of the gossip, is still married to a werewolf. And I am still the dewan. The vampires simply cannot be allowed to indiscriminately kill one of our own. It’s not on. Why, that is practically as bad as poaching clavigers and cannot be allowed, or all standards of supernatural decency will be lost.”
“Just keep my name out of it. This is a domestic matter between Woolsey and the vampires. I wash my fur of the entire debacle. I told you not to marry that woman, Conall. I said no good could possibly come of it. Imagine contracting to a soulless.’ He sniffed. ‘You youngsters, so brash.”