Jacob Dalton

[Jacob Dalton]

The Basics

[/i][/size][/right]

Name: Jacob Matthew Dalton
Nicknames: Those who know him well call him Jacob, but the few closest to him call him Jake. A very few pieces of pottery he keeps from his college days bear the initials, not “JMD,” but “TK.” Only a very few people know this stands for “Tempest Knight,” the superhero he dreamed up and imagined being when he was a teenager.
Age: 45
Orientation: Heterosexual
Desired Rank/Job: Professor / Trainer
Powers: Can sense water underground, direction to large bodies of water. Can draw water to the surface, and can control water enough to create waves and be carried by / walk on water. Powers work best at night and on large natural bodies of water: excessive use leads to migraines, light sensitivity and dehydration.
Play By: a younger Alan Rickman (more “Sense and Sensibility” than Snape)

The Details

Hair Color:Light Brown
Eye Color:Hazel
Any Piercings?None
Any Tattoos?None
Any Scars?None outstanding
General Appearance: 5’ 11”, medium build, a very professional-looking English gentleman. His features might be described as chiseled, aquiline, sharp: a very distinctively angled and somewhat narrow face.

He carries himself with the grace of a fencer, and the manners of a courtier. His usual clothing will be sharply pressed slacks, dress shirt, cravat, bow tie or tie, and either a tweed sports jacket or navy blazer depending on whether he has dressed in warm colors or neutral. On occasion he may wear suspenders. But these selections always appear carefully updated: very GQ, never out of style. One gets the impression that if they came on him tilling his garden he would still be dressed formally enough to be comfortable having an audience with the queen.

First impressions are often that he seems cold and intimidating: the warmth of his voice and openness of his gaze tend to cancel this out.
Personality: Dalton has a strong Shakespearian voice which he uses to good effect in the classroom: no monotone lectures from this professor! Before an audience he conveys his grave passion for the classics: in personal conversation, he makes clear that he has an equal concern for and interest in each of his students. First impressions of a hard, crusty, unapproachable exterior quickly fade when one realizes that he is listening carefully to everything one tells him: that he deeply values his students, and is eager to challenge them to grow, without raising obstacles so great as to daunt their spirits. Measuring their capacities and interests: finding the dream that can inspire them to discover how much more they can accomplish than they first dreamed: these are Dalton’s greatest goals and gifts.

Dalton is eloquent in the extreme: dramatic and poetic as needed. He plays the piano and violin well: decent on the guitar. Also trained in (and could teach at need) fencing, classical dance, horseback riding: active and agile, displays a physical confidence not usually expected of English teachers.

Dalton is an idealist, though very practical. He understands the ways of the world, the ways it is not what it should be, and some of the reasons that it is not. He is neither so fanciful as to think he or anyone else can wave a magic wand and change it, nor so jaded as to discourage anyone who will set shoulder to the wheel to try. He is a great supporter of those who have both a passion and a plan - and does his best to encourage those with one or the other to strive for both.

Your Vices

Likes: Elegance and beauty, visual and aural, both natural and by design. Kindness and passion, especially when harnessed together. Horses and cats: can be affectionate with dogs, but prefers a cat’s independent spirit, grace and quiet. Loves a good card game: gin rummy, blackjack, poker (prefers five card draw for the strategy).
Dislikes: Cruelty, especially that born of ignorance: chaos, especially born of destruction. Religious judgmentalism really gets him: both hypocrisy and as misrepresenting his personal faith. Bullying in particular will raise his ire. Most modern club music: especially the loud, obnoxious types. Sloth, indifference, disrespect, messiness, debauchery, laziness, extreme extroverts: people who are too noisy, too demanding, have to be the center of attention.
Strengths: Good at keeping order, defining and explaining issues: music, speaking, dancing: good at inspiring others. Patient, disciplined, focused.
Weaknesses: TECHNOLOGY: Dalton is a barely competent driver: if Hammel were in a larger community than Pilot Ridge, he might have had to reconsider. Having learned to drive in England, he never got over the sense that in America, we all drive on the wrong side of the street. He manages, but has had enough fender benders in parking lots his insurance rates are sky high. No: he _cannot_ teach driver’s ed! And don’t even THINK about him driving a stick shift!

He uses mostly hand powered devices in his home kitchen, but where he has electronic ones (like the microwave), they are invariably left flashed “12:00” for the time unless someone comes over and sets them for him. Even his alarm clock is a windup. Somebody best help him with the VCR, or he’ll never get to watch another movie…

His cell phone is ten years out of date, and he still doesn’t know most of its functions. GPS? Forget it! But he can sure tell you which way is North, and read a (paper) map.

Yes, he can use a computer. As a word processor, for e-mail, and a calendar. Not much else. He learned to type on a manual typewriter, and pounds the keys hard enough to make modern computer geeks wince.

Dalton is so controlled, he really doesn’t know how (or when) to break free. He has no real concept of when it is appropriate to be casual, or how. If the group is going to a bar, he’s the perfect DD: he wasn’t going to get drunk anyway. He can tell a good story joke from his repertoire, but off the cuff witty banter is a lot more difficult. He isn’t a prude, but he often comes across that way.

A deep irony: the eloquent English teacher cannot verbalize the feelings in his heart. He uses music for that, as well as for control over his powers.

Celiac disease: Dalton’s system reacts badly to most wheat products. This is a genetic condition, greatly limits his diet, and is one reason for him not eating out more often.

Fears: Of drowning, of sharks, and of romantic relationships (gunshy, since his marriage turned out so poorly).
Secret:
- One of the reasons he plays cards is to keep his hands supple, not merely for his music but for legerdemain. He is a competent stage magician: by no means professional, but can perform typical card and coin tricks. He always keeps a few gold coins tucked away, and when he can, a rosebud tucked in his sleeve.

- one small bag in his luggage contains his comic book collection from childhood. They are not in good condition, and none of them are highly sought issues: just ones with storylines he found absorbing and inspiring. To anyone else, they would be junk.

Family Ties

Father: Michael Trent Dalton: retired Oxford Professor Emeritus, now age 67. Still lives in the same house he did for forty years as a teacher. Blames himself for not fighting harder to keep in touch with his son, though in truth the government gave them little choice. As a result he is very uncomfortable around his son and doesn’t know how to re-establish their relationship. If Dalton were to contact him, ask to visit, he would be welcomed, but conversation would be stifled and forced on both sides. As a result, they have not spoken for years even though they don’t actually have harsh feelings between them.
Mother:Jeanette Marie Dalton: Passed away suddenly two years ago of an aneurism. Was much more demonstrative than either her son or husband.
Siblings:One Sister: Elise May Dalton: Would now be age 39: Dalton has not seen since he was age 12. His father has only told him that her job keeps her traveling throughout Eastern Europe. She was six years younger than him, and looked up to him greatly.
Any Other Important People:Martin: stray cat, found in the rain three years ago, injured by a car: has been his main companion since the divorce. Martin appears to have been a fairly tough stray: his ears and face have numerous scars from fights with other alley cats. After recovering from the car accident, he appears to be in good health, approximately five years old when found, so eight years old now and robust.

History

Jacob Dalton - A Penance Ta’en Too Far
Dalton was born to two Jesuit students at Oxford University in England. They later became professors, and Dalton a choirboy. Following the Jesuit tradition he believed in a God of love, not condemnation, who had given humanity all the wonders of the Earth to be explored, studied and by which to be amazed.

A bright young man, he pursued Latin at an early age to understand the words of the songs that he sang. German, Spanish, Italian and French all followed in short order. Driven by music, he also learned piano with the intent of moving on to the organ. But the fanfare of the classics played in full concert soon seduced him and he turned to violin, though his true ambition was to be a conductor. He felt “moved by music,” and would often practice conducting in the basement to the playing of classics on CDs.

At age twelve, one of his play sessions ended with a geyser erupting through cracks in the foundation: his talent had manifested. In time he found he could sense and call forth water from the ground (as long as there was no geological reason for water not to be present), manipulating it into swells which he could ride like a surfer or with which he could soak a target of his choosing. Boating on the lakes he found even more powerful control over the waves, especially after the setting of the sun.

Dalton had little chance to explore his gifts privately: the day after the flooding, upon his return from school, he was immediately greeted by recruiters from the school in Switzerland and shipped off at once.

Dalton was initially delighted with his newfound gifts, but shocked to hear reports from some of his fellow students at the hostile reactions they had faced when they had revealed their powers. He understood he would have to be cautious, but still believed this was a sign of some special calling God had placed on his life. He felt he was no longer a mere pawn in the battle between Good and Evil: that he had become something more.

In Switzerland he learned how to respond to the flow of music but not to set off his powers accidentally, how to direct water with fine control, and how to work with larger amounts of water. But he also realized that exercising these talents too far would lead to severe migraines and dehydration: a limiting factor which he soon learned to respect, and not overdo.

In his early years he still fantasized frequently of becoming a full-scale superhero: adopted the moniker “Tempest Knight,” which he used online and various other occasions, and even sketched a design of a costume: one resembling Green Arrow, except for its shade of Marine Blue, with a cloak brooched by a pin showing the symbol for a knight from chess. He often talked about these dreams with one of the young ladies a class below him: Monique D’Argent, from France, a weather controller with a (natural, not meta) talent in art. Monique liked his ideas well enough she created her own fantasy character named “Sky Blaze,” and a costume mostly composed of sexy white lace: sort of a cross between Storm and the White Queen. She devoted her final project in a painting class to an image of Tempest Knight and Sky Blaze in their full costumes battling evil side by side, and presented the painting to Dalton.

In time Dalton realized how futile these dreams were, but they still gave him drive and motivation. Upon graduating from the academy in Switzerland he returned to England and applied with the Fire Department. He went through full training without ever accessing any of his meta abilities. He felt both that to do so in order to pass the course would be “cheating,” and that it was essential for him to face the material as if he were under the same limitations as his fellow classmates to understand how they would work in the field.

After graduating the training course he served at a station for six months, winning the trust of his teammates and the Station Chief before suggesting the “hypothetically, what if” scenario of using metapowers to help put out fires. Not knowing him to be a meta, some initially responded with scorn: “What could a meta do that a three-inch hose can’t?” or “Idjits wouldn’t know the first thing about fire suppression! Watch ‘em rush in, start a backdraft openin’ the wrong door, or some stupid crap like that!” Others saw his point, hypothetically speaking: that if there were a person who had special abilities that could save lives when they couldn’t, that person could be a valuable addition to the team.

Then came the five-alarm apartment fire which made the possibility not so hypothetical. With children’s lives at stake, trapped by fires the crew could not contain by standard means, he revealed his gift and requested permission from the Chief to use it. The crew directed the spray as close as they could to the apartment, and he used his powers to channel the flow to where it needed to go.

Dalton refused to grandstand or take any credit for this feat, rather praising his coworkers for their skill. Some were aggravated that he had not been open with them from the beginning, but most realized why. He was now fully accepted and approved to use his powers only in circumstances where it was strictly necessary to save lives. He was delighted, and soon wrote to share the news with Monique. She was thrilled.

When Monique graduated that spring, rather than return to her restrictive homeland of France, she emigrated to England. She settled in London and applied to the police department, vying for a position in crowd control where she might be called into duty alongside Dalton. Following his approach, she tested through on her normal human abilities and after gaining the confidence of her fellow officers suggested the possibility of a meta with abilities like hers using them on duty. Most officers immediately reacted strongly against it, for all the typical reasons: but like Dalton, she waited until a situation arose where her skills could save lives, and her actions were accepted and approved.

Then came an incident where they were both called in, but Monique and her crowd control squad first: a concert Featuring a popular band and as opening act, young new singer Delia Travers. Monique was working crowd control: then the Travers tour bus caught fire (faulty wiring), trapping the singer inside. Monique immediately called Dalton’s station: they arrived in minutes, and Dalton was able to channel the foam to suppress the fire without electrocuting the girl. She was so impressed she composed a song about her new hero, and added it to her repertoire at once.

Dalton had always been drawn deeply to music: now, a lovely young siren was singing a song praising his heroism before crowds of hundreds of people. He was totally enchanted and mesmerized by her, and at first it seemed that she felt the same for him. He took a furlough from his job with the Fire Department to join her on her tour: she arranged for him to be hired as a safety inspector with the tour, and when she learned about his early fantasies she took his costume sketches to her wardrobe people and had them create the outfit for him to wear when she would introduce her hero during the shows.

Suddenly Dalton’s dreams seemed to be coming true: fame, acceptance, music, and a devoted, loving, gorgeous lady. But the fame and acceptance were merely an illusion: audiences appreciated Delia’s first album, but not her sudden pro-meta stance or her song about Dalton. Her contract to open for the other band was canceled, as was the offer from the record company to put out her second album. Delia’s fifteen minutes of fame were over, and all because of Dalton.

What had begun as a fairytale romance was now on the rocks. As hard as he tried to comfort her, there was no denying he was the source of her woes, and he could not change that. Though she did not openly accuse him of anything, nothing he did could repair the breach between them. Any reference to his old job, friends or dreams was met with anger: she had lost everything for him, he should be prepare to lose everything for her. And in truth he was, if it would only bring her peace again.

He returned to London, seeking to return to his old job, but had violated their trust: when fame came calling, he had reached for it and left them behind. Monique had also been deeply hurt, feeling passed up: he re-established a tenuous friendship with her. Then he discovered that Delia was pregnant, and considering an abortion.

Rather than allow his own unborn child to perish, Dalton sought (against the advice of all friends and family) to work things out with Delia. They did marry, and in time had a daughter named Allison.

Their relationship did not heal, but rather remained as stormy as before. In his efforts at appeasement, Dalton abandoned any and all efforts to hold on to the past: gave away his costume to charity, ceased to practice his skills, and moved with Delia and Allison to the United States. He settled down to a quiet life of teaching high school: English, Drama and Music.

And so, sixteen years passed. Allison grew to a teenager: fretful and anxious, as temperamental as her mother, but even more beautiful. Her father doted on her, but did all he could to maintain the balance in her life he felt she so desperately needed to gain peace. Sometimes he felt he gained ground: certainly his daughter did not seem to hold resentments against him the way her mother did. But when he grew closest to his daughter, Delia’s ire seemed to rise again: she began to throw barbed remarks and veiled accusations that perhaps his affection for his daughter was more than fatherly.

Though this incited great rage in his heart, Dalton held his temper. He was beginning to see that Delia’s supposed reasons for her anger had little to do with actual reason. But in the face of her insinuations, he held firm: Delia’s descent into irrationality would not divide him from his daughter. Their family needed counseling: if Delia wished to accuse him of anything less than outright incest, even her implications suggested the same.

Delia failed to show for appointment after appointment with counselors. Finally the counselor suggested a family weekend retreat at a lodge by the river: a place where she would have no further excuses, no other priorities to keep her away. Still determined to heal this broken family, Dalton packed the three of them into the car and headed for the lodge. He was so intent on making sure they did not miss the event, he failed to take note of severe weather warnings and a flood watch in effect for the area.

The rains and flood caught them unawares, driving along a valley road approaching the river. Dalton was distracted by the rain, and didn’t even sense the approaching floodwaters until the car was suddenly awash. He struggled desperately to stem the raging current, but could not: the car was washed into the river and flipped over. He managed to undo his belt and Delia’s, open his door and drag them out, but they were washed away from the car by the current before he could free Allison. The car was dragged under, and they never saw Allison again.

This was the final straw for Delia. She refused to accept that he could not have saved their daughter, and insisted it was all his fault. When she filed for divorce, he did not contest it.

Once Delia left, Dalton found a lake near his home and began to practice his skills once more. He would dance on the water late at night, the waves he created serving as his dance partners. Unfortunately some of the parents of kids from the school found out about these nocturnal forays, and insisted they did not want their children being taught by a psycho night-stalking meta. And so, Dalton sought out Hammel, and has submitted his application. He leaves it to you if it will be accepted…

Roleplay Example

(Edited joint post for two of my characters, Frank and Doug, on another site. Nikki was written for by a co-author. With pardons: moved down to allow personal info to stay together with charry stuff…)

<<The bell of the shop rang as the two men walked in. Nikki quickly turned her back, checking her face. There was a small cut on her lip, but it was already healing. She tucked the tissue into the pocket of her sweater and smoothed her hair down, then turned back around. >>

She noticed one of the men was younger: mid twenties, clean cut, in a light gray duster. The man next to him, slightly shorter, older, heavier built, with a salt-and-pepper beard and hair was wearing a black trenchcoat, and seemed to be leading the way. The older man gazed at the flower arrangements before coming back towards the counter and smiling pleasantly.

“G’day, ma’am. How might you be doing this fine afternoon?”

<< She smiled sweetly and stepped out from behind the counter. “I’m good, and you? ...is there maybe something I can help you with, or are you just looking?” she asked, trying to sound cheerful. The strap of her top hung down along the side of her chest in plan sight, as her sweater was left open. >>

The man's nostrils flared slightly as she came within arm’s reach, and he considered her for a moment. A trace of sadness passed across his eyes.

"I am tempted to buy an arrangement of lilies for a dear departed friend: but I don't know the address to send them to. Her name was ‘Lost Innocence:’ something tells me you knew her long ago."

<< She smiled as he first spoke, but slowly her smile started to fade. He slowly pulled something out of his pocket: a police badge. Her blue eyes flicked to it as he drew it, then she looked to the other man, and back. >>

The older man spoke again. "I’m Detective Frank Miller, Miss. This is my partner, Doug Radcliffe. Please don't be concerned: you're in no trouble. But perhaps you can help me with a bit of information?"

<< Nikki shook her head. “I am sorry …I really don’t know how I can be of any help to you, I am just a nobody,” she said. She pulled her sweater tightly around her, hugging it to herself as she stepped back. >>

Frank frowned and returned the badge to his pocket. "Ma'am: you most certainly are not a 'nobody.' Somebody's been feeding you a line, there: and it wasn't for your own good. "I'd be willing to bet that's what you've been told many a time by the man who walked out that door just a few minutes ago: one Michal Phillips? Can you tell me what relation he is to you?"

Inwardly, Doug shook his head in wonderment. Of course Frank knew that was her stepfather: that’s why they were there. Obviously his new partner was studying her reaction. Doug tried to watch himself, see if he could gather some clues from it.

<<Nikki’s throat went dry and locked up for a moment. She took another step back, as if putting space between them all was going to help, but it didn’t. “He… he is my step-father,” she said softly.

“He was just visiting me,” she said all too quickly, after that trying to make it seem like nothing. “Family always comes to check in on one another; he feeds me no lines… I really do not see what reason you have for asking me these things, and if you’re not planning to take me in or arrest me, I think it might be best if you both leave,” she said, looking to the floor, for the statement was too bold for her to look at him to say. >>

Frank nodded. "Your stepfather. Yes, he is. But 'just visiting?' I have to say, 'fatherly love' doesn't seem to mean what it used to."

Inwardly, Frank was raging at himself. How could he have not realized before what was going on here? How could he have let this continue for… how long?

"Ma'am: I'm not meanin' to scare you: wouldn't have the heart to if I could, and I doubt anything I could threaten you with would be as scary as what just walked out of here. But we need your help: it's terribly important, and I'm beginning to think it's even more important to you than to us.

"You don't have to live in fear, Nikki: in fact, it's a crime if you do. A real, honest to goodness crime, for which someone should pay. You know what I mean, and you know I know: you can admit that, can't you, Miss Phillips?"

<< She suddenly looked up with anger in her eyes. “It’s Johnson,” she almost growled out. “Nikki Johnson: I would never take his last name,” she said, as if the idea disgusted her. >>

Frank smiled. "Nikki Johnson. Good for you: you kept that much of yourself from him."

His voice was gentle and encouraging. "Sometimes we can only fight back in small ways, because we get hurt too much if we fight back in big ones. But it is always important to fight. Good girl..."

Doug was starting to get really weirded out by this. What were they talking about? He was aghast as he realized what Frank was saying, and how clearly the girl's reactions were showing him to be right. But how had Frank known?

What About You?

Name: Gwalihir (Dave)
Age: 40’s.
Experience: Online writing games: approximately eight years. Star Wars, Vampire/Werewolf, X-Men, Superhero, and School sites. Have run a couple, moderated others: but just getting back in the swing right now.
How Did You Find Us? Two friends with whom I have written on previous sites.

Ready To Play? *Dusts off his tweed jacket and recites*

“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger. . .”

(In his more direct and personal voice): “…and thus the play begins anew…”

[/blockquote]

[Admin!]

Accepted!

[/size][/b]
Spectacular! It's time to have fun, but first hit up our CLAIMS.[/blockquote][/center]