Satyrical appears to enjoy lying and head games. He is overtly sexual and very flirtatious but remains in love with Pretender. He also participated in the battle against Khonsu. Further, he knows how to use these traits to his advantage.
Was willing to kill to keep people safe and to achieve goals. Was willing to kill selfishly and selflessly.
Satyrical is capable of splitting apart into multiple clones in a "oozing process" that starts with a polyp that grows seperates from him and then takes on more defined features, he can vary the time it takes for this to happen. These clones in turn have their own shape shifting ability, but while he can make them physically stronger than a target of equivalent mass, he can not replicate any powers they might have. Once killed or dismissed, the clones wither and collapse into bloody messes respectively.
It is unclear how he processes his clones, whether he retains a link to them or if they are largely autonomous.
He is very skilled at bluffing,  psychology, sign language and cold reading.
When it came out that Cauldron was behind many parahumans within the Protectorate. With Satyr being zeroed out as a client Pretender killed a Watchdog Thinker after she had discovered Satyr's past. When The Protectorate came to take Pretender away for his crimes Satyr was not happy about it.
Best "friend" was kidnapped by the same people.
Attended the fight at New Delhi, arriving in a way separate from the rest of the Protectorate. When Behemoth attacked the hospital Satyr was seen marching out to defend the building.
Infiltrated the Cauldron Compound to find out what had happened to the Doormaker, ambushed Revel and Exalt to control the situation. Tried to side track the follow up team led by Weaver but was unable to.
Used his power to kill many of the Case 53s that made up the Irregulars, either by ganging up on them, or infiltrating them and using Floret to clean up any evidence.
“Brain dead. Her body’s peculiar. Doesn’t really age. Hair doesn’t grow, nails don’t grow. Wounds don’t really heal or get worse. She used cosmetics to look older, to throw people off. Only the brain was left pliable, adaptable. Even then, most of it was hardened, protected, those duties offloaded to her agent.”
Satyr studied Pretender’s new body without shame. His eyes rested on Pretender’s forehead. “I see. And with that plasticity, the brain was left more vulnerable.”
“Only a little. Enough to be an Achilles heel. She’s a case fifty-three, I suppose. All of us may be.” - Excerpt from Interlude 24.y
↑ 3.03.1Satyr seemed to take that into consideration, rubbing his chin. When he spoke, though, he spoke of something else. “What you did… you knew that they’d figured you out, and that I was next in line, that I’d get questioned too. You killed her for my sake, to buy me time.”
“Are you mad?”
Satyr shook his head. “We’ve killed before. Selfishly, selflessly. Only difference is you got caught.” - Excerpt from Interlude 24.y
↑Satyrical, Satyr for short, wore a helmet sculpted to look like a goat’s head, the mouth in a perpetual smile. On a good day, I imagined his eyes were bright with mischief, his shaped eyebrows quirked behind the large eye-holes of the helmet. This wasn’t a good day. There were circles under his eyes, and he glowered. With the smile on his helmet, it made him look… I didn’t want to say deranged, but it was the word that sprung to mind.
His bare chest was muscular, waxed hairless, the belt and leggings of his costume slung low enough that I could see the lines of his lower stomach that pointed to his… yeah. It was admittedly distracting. It was meant to be distracting. - Excerpt from Drone 23.2
↑He split in two. A slow, oozing process, a lump swelling, pulling free, then forming features. The arms and legs were quick enough, and the details followed, but the new him had no helmet, but slowly reshaped his exterior to match the original Satyr’s costume.
“If you keep doing that, I’m going to have to attack,” I said.
“What’s he doing?” Canary asked. There was a note of panic in her voice.
“Splitting up,” I said. I willed Canary to pull it together. Satyr bulged, clearly preparing to make another double. I called out, “Satyr, I might need to rephrase. If you finish making that copy, I’m going to attack you.”
“He can’t stop once he’s started,” Floret said. “It’s a drawback.”
“I don’t buy that at all,” I said. “So either you need to be more convincing, or I’m wrong, and Satyr has to learn how to cancel a copy in progress in the next five seconds.”
The bulge stopped growing more parts. It began retreating into Satyr.
“We need to talk, Weaver,” Satyr said, still distorted, withdrawing the mass into himself. - Excerpt from Venom 29.6
↑ 6.06.1Satyr forced another copy out in record time, as the other charged me.
I set my bugs on it. On her. My double. She didn’t have my powers.
She was strong. Tougher. She closed the distance to me with ease, with a runner’s strength.
↑ 7.07.1We came face to face with the group that had been working their way through the steel. A mole-man, an ‘extreme deviation’ case that seemed to be made up of lasers, with her petrified body parts capping the ends.
And others, dead. Satyr’s clones littered the area, where they’d brutally fought and killed several of the digging capes. Where they’d died, they’d withered. - Excerpt from Venom 29.6
↑ 8.08.18.2“Great,” I said. “Great. Now let’s drop the fucking act.”
“I gave you the answer you wanted,” Leonine said, smirking. “What the fuck?”
“Spur?” I said, “Raise your right hand?”
He did. There were bugs on the fingers.
“He was moving his hand. A one-handed sign language. I assume everyone on your team knows it.”
“I was thinking of Canary’s music,” Spur told me. He stepped forward, putting a hand on Canary’s shoulder as he did so. She turned, so they were both facing me. “Piano keys. Mnemonic tool. That is something our team uses.”
“You’re being a little crazy paranoid,” Imp said. “Just a little.”
“They’ve been playing us since the start,” I said. “The men were batting their eyelashes at you and Canary, probably the targets they thought they could work. Revel… I’d think she’s under some kind of compulsion.”
“A lot crazy,” Imp said. “Way crazy.”
“Maybe Tattletale can chime in,” I suggested. “Tattle?”
“Mostly right. Exalt, Revel, Vantage, Leonine, Floret, all fakes.”
“No shit,” Imp said. Her mouth dropped open. “No way.”
“Jig’s up,” I said. “We know.”
One by one, the Vegas capes changed. Flesh altered, and they assumed identical appearances.
Six copies of Satyrical. Leaving only Spur and Nix.
One of the Satyricals looked at the two who remained. “Take care of yourself. I’ll see you shortly.”
“I know,” Spur said.
Satyr looked at us, as if taking us all in. “And you, I suppose, we’ll run into. Sooner or later.”
Then the Satyrs died. Flesh withered, and the Satyrs crumpled up. They made bloody messes as they hit the ground, like overripe tomatoes might, but with teeth and the occasional bit of withered organ.
Self duplication, and each duplicate had shapeshifting abilities.
I bent down and picked up the devices from the heads of Revel, Exalt and Vantage’s clones. Earbuds, phones…
“Revel,” Cuff said, her voice small.
“Where are the real ones?” Golem asked.
“With the real Satyr,” I guessed.
“And how did he know the passwords?” Golem asked.
“He guessed the cake thing through cold reading. White with blue, like Weaver’s costume. Made sense. That Taylor didn’t eat much… well, look at her. The rest… torture? Coercion through other means?” - Excerpt from Venom 29.3
↑“I know you?” one of the pair asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway.
The viking was still walking, but turned around to walk backwards as he called out, “Costume change to fit in with the new era, my friend! You’ll figure it out, and I’ll be very upset with you if you don’t!”
They rounded the corner.
“Did you know him? This Ironscale?”
The viking smiled. “Ironscale? No. A face in a file, at some point. But I have a good memory.”
Liars have to. “It was dangerous, baiting him. Better if we don’t draw attention.”
“Trying to avoid attention is attention-getting enough. You brought me on board for my skills, Teacher. Trust me to use them." - Excerpt from Teneral e.5
↑The other was numb too, but not in the same way. He was very much himself. If he was disconnected, it was a natural sort of disconnection, the sort that had happened billions of times throughout human history.
But the man was talented. He wasn’t acting like he belonged, because he did belong. He was a free spirit, and the world was his oyster. He could put on a different face, and it wouldn’t be a mask, but a role.
He was a warrior, wearing heavy armor. Gruff, rugged, with a beard and the stylings of a viking, complete with fur as part of his costume. When the woman in white found herself off balance, stumbling, he picked his words to counterbalance it, changing the thrust of their interaction. He teased, leaving the road open for clear and unambiguous responses, making small jokes so she could laugh and find her mental footing.
In a very one sided way, he was sustaining and supporting what appeared to be a very natural dialogue between longtime friends. - Excerpt from Teneral e.5
↑But what can you do in their shoes? What would you do differently?
The info about what Alexandria is was inevitably going to leak, even before she died, and the death could readily be a catalyst for many people talking about it. Only Contessa was really holding them back (and Cauldron, behind the scenes, decided to stop protecting the Triumvirate: see number man’s interlude). So it was bound to get out somehow.
Alexandria dies, and you have to tell the public -something-. Chevalier makes the call to tell the public about her shady background, with the caveat that he has to reassure the public that the Alexandria situation won’t recur. He promises to vet the leadership, makes it public so the ones in power know to step down while there’s still an excuse.
But you get isolated cases like Pretender, who are too committed to their careers to leave, people who know they have immediate subordinates who are Cauldron Capes. Who find themselves between a rock and a hard place, in a situation where things were already strained at best (ie. Las Vegas). - Comment by Wildbow on Drone 23.2
↑Nix, Blowout, Leonid and Floret joined Satyrical in their anger. Heroes in more flamboyant and colorful costumes than normal, their moods a contrast in how dark they were. Spur and Ravine seemed more lost than angry, but the way they retreated into their group as we passed told me that they would side with their team over us. - Excerpt from Drone 23.2
↑“Custodian. We’ve crossed paths, as my group ran some errands for the good Doctor. I think she likes me, even.” - Excerpt from Venom 29.6
↑Blood, corpses. Three dead case fifty-threes. Two men and a woman. A cat-man with far too many teeth in his mouth, even covering the roof and the space beneath his long, narrow tongue, something that looked like keyboards on his forearms. A reptile, not so different from Newter, but with no mouth or nose. Only two overlarge eyes. The last was a girl, squares of flesh intersped[sic] with patches of cloth. Her mouth was only a tear in the cloth.
Their throats had been neatly slashed -the patchwork girl bled like anyone else might- and they’d been dragged into this room. It was clear from the way that the blood trail suddenly stopped that someone had cleaned up.
“Stragglers. The Irregulars were moving as a tight group, keeping close to one another, but Satyrical and his team blindsided the ones at the back. Killed them, dragged them off, then one of them cleaned up the evidence. Floret, probably.”
“And Satyr probably masqueraded as these three,” I said. “He’s in Weld’s group.”
I glanced into the room as we passed. Two more bodies. Two men, large, both bristling with horns. One with curling horns like a ram, the other with horns like a bull.