Thane Keyton Robertson
Sept 26, 2011 14:37:21 GMT -5
Post by Thane Robertson on Sept 26, 2011 14:37:21 GMT -5
[/i][/size][/right]The Basics
Name: Thane Keyton Robertson
Nicknames: Whatever you want to call him is fine with him
Age: Twenty nine
Orientation: Heterosexual
Desired Rank/Job: Security Staff
Powers: Telekinesis
Telekinesis, for Thane, is much like strength and endurance for a normal person. He can move basically any object as long as it is not too heavy. He is unsure of his exact weight limit, as he is not fond of pushing his luck, but he is capable of lifting light cars about a foot off the ground for a few seconds. Smaller items, generally under five pounds, pose no problem to him whatsoever and can be lifted as often and for as long as he likes. Over approximately five pounds, however, and his endurance starts to kick in and strain over time. The side effects of his powers include exhaustion, headaches, and migraine-like symptoms if he pushes himself too far.
Play By: Colin Morgan
The Details
Hair Color: Pitch black, to the point where it looks almost blue in some light
Eye Color: Grey, with a hint of blue
Any Piercings? No
Any Tattoos? No
Any Scars? One on his side, from where he was unable to deflect a bullet accurately, and another just above his right knee and slightly off center, also from a bullet he took when he wasn’t paying attention to the right criminal.
General Appearance: He’s a pretty basic guy overall. Black hair, blue eyes, skinny as a stick. But obvious traits aren’t what people are interested in. It’s the not-so-natural stuff that’s all the rage nowadays. He has no tattoos yet, and doesn’t have any plans on getting one at the moment. Scars, however, are a different story. There is the one on his side and another just above his right knee and slightly off center, both from bullets he was unable to stop.
Clothing-wise, Thane will wear just about anything. He likes looser clothes and materials that can breathe, but he doesn't mind the heavier stuff and long sleeves for chilly weather. The one thing he will not do is wear his pants so his boxers show. He would never wear jewelry, either, as he sees it as unnecessary, a hazard, and basically just plain ridiculous and feminine. He does like his scarves, though. You'll never be able to pull him away from his scarves.
Personality: Thane has a couple of personalities. He doesn’t have DID or anything, but he does have his On Duty and Off Duty personas.
When Thane is on duty, he becomes all business. The second he puts on the uniform, most traces of his real behavior vanish. When he was a police officer, he would take no crap from anyone. He was calm, cool, and collected, but he was also a large fan of justice and obeying every law to the letter, especially if you had been pulled over by him. If you got in his face and shouted at him as he was writing you a speeding ticket, you can bet your bottom dollar that you’d wind up with two tickets. He wasn’t strict, exactly. He oftentimes let people off with a warning, depending on the speed they were going, their reason for speeding, et cetera. But if you made one wrong move, he was going to make sure you understood just how severe that mistake was. Overall, he took his job very seriously, and though it got him shot a couple of times, he firmly believes it was worth it.
As a security guard at Hammel, he won’t be as relentless as he used to be. A kid thought it would be funny to spray paint the building? No charges pressed for vandalism (unless the headmaster or mistress so decided), but he’d personally make sure the kid cleaned it up and painted over it, if necessary. He will try and bond with the kids and become something of a trustee rather than trying to immediately look like an authority figure that made you turn the other direction when you spotted him. If kids are behaving, especially kids who used to be trouble, then he will tell them how much he appreciates it and just how well they are doing. If someone is by themselves crying, he will go over and find out what happened, and if they so need it, then he just might have a couple of candy bars in his pocket.
Off duty, Thane becomes almost the exact opposite of what he was as a cop. He still follows every law to the letter, but by choice, not because of a sense of duty, per se. He is, by nature, a happy, relaxed, overall chill guy. He rarely gets into arguments and never starts them. Instead, he finds it rather amusing when people try to cause problems, and he merely laughs it off and never takes anything people say to heart. He never uses his profession as a threat for others, and though he will try to stop most illegal things he sees, he’s willing to let minor stuff by. He prefers to stick to Scotland’s laws rather than America’s when he’s off duty, and finds things like drinking at the ages of 18 – 21 fairly harmless if done responsibly. He is always up for a good laugh and loves hanging out with people, and he would never judge a soul.
Your Vices
Likes:
- His cats
- Performing arts
- Whiskey
- Rock music
- A good laugh
- Peace and quiet
- Forests
- Fishing
- Hunting
- His job
Dislikes:
- Snobs
- Criminals
- Wasted time
- PETA
- Ginger ale
- Tennis
- Science
- Lazy days
- People who raise their children like wolves
- Monkeys
Strengths:
- His job
- Biking
- Being brave
- Exercising
Weaknesses:
- Eating properly
- Keeping his opinions to himself
- Taking care of fish
- Holding still
Fears:
- Losing someone he loves
- Failing a test
- Becoming the very thing he’s trying to stop
Secret:
- He remembers his third birthday vividly, but insists he hardly remembers it at all.
Family Ties
Father: Brian Robertson
Mother: Rose Robertson
Siblings: Only child
Any Other Important People:Lucy – female grey tabby cat
Lester – male black cat
History
It all started on Thane’s third birthday. Sure, he had seen violence and hatred, had felt fear and apprehension, and had sensed unrest and wariness before then. But his third birthday was his earliest real memory of it.
Perhaps I should back up. Thane didn’t exactly live a typical life by American standards, but then again, he wasn’t American. He was born in Scotland, just outside the town of Ayr, Ayrshire. Ayr was a beautiful place. Historic, quiet, friendly. The outskirts were not. Thane’s parents were not what Americans would call “well off”. They could afford what they needed, and never lived outside their means, but their means limited them to a two bedroom flat in a shoddy part of town where guns and drugs were about as common as manners were scarce. Thane’s parents, Brian and Rose, respectively, were good people. Excellent, by their neighborhood’s standards. They simply could not afford better for their son.
Thane’s first few years of life were as normal as normal could be in such a setting. He was kept indoors for the most part. He thrived on baby puzzles and noisemakers, refused to eat anything but Cheerios and peaches, and spent his days blissfully unaware of the horrors the outside world had to offer.
That was, at least, until his third birthday. His third birthday was when his life began to truly take form, and his adult passions first took root. His parents had thrown him a small, modest party. Three of his friends had been invited, accompanied by their various parents and siblings. The apartment had subsequently been flooded with eleven occupants, each as unknowing as the next. A lovely chocolate cake with buttermilk icing and strawberry ice cream was set aside for the dessert, and a pizza was in the oven, waiting to feed the pestering offspring.
And then disaster struck. It arrived not in the form of gunfire, or any other fire for that matter, as, looking back, Thane would have expected. It came in the form of a simple traveling salesman. Or so he appeared to be, at least. He was selling vacuums, or, again, so it appeared. Most of the children were unaware that the man had been a common sight in the neighborhood for the past few months. They were unaware that the bag in his sample vacuum was not empty, but rather full to bursting of various drugs.
Thane’s father had been the one to speak to the man, and had asked him quietly to please leave their home in peace. Not quite so high that he didn’t understand the meaning of “no”, the man turned to leave, but not before he spotted one of the women in the apartment pulling out her phone and dialing the police.
That was when the gunfire started. Thane, and just about everyone in the flat, watched in horror as Brian Robertson was shot square in the chest at point blank range. The women screamed. The men lunged. The older children cried. The younger children watched on in bemused ignorance.
All in all, fourteen shots were fired from the .9mm Sig and one from a Colt .45. Eight missed their targets, damaging property rather than people, but six fateful bullets found four souls. Thane’s father took two, in all. Brian’s best friend Miguel, a young mother named Diane, and Corsen, yet another parent, took hits of their own. The drug dealer, who would be identified as Jared Douglas, was declared dead at the scene, having taken the .45 round to the brain. Rose had been the one to fire the deadly shot.
Brian, Miguel, and Diane eventually recovered from the ordeal. Brian’s left shoulder was never the same after that, but his punctured lung healed well. Miguel wore the scar on his thigh proudly, knowing that, had his leg not been in the way, the slug would have found his friend’s head instead. Diane lost two fingers and her middle finger never did straighten out again, but she counted her blessings. Corsen remained in a coma for seven weeks before passing away during brain surgery.
Most of the people in the room suffered mentally far more than physically. Doors were opened much more cautiously, there was a sudden spike in handgun sales for home protection, and one young girl, Diane’s daughter Anette, spent the next several years learning to get over a deep-seated phobia of vacuums. But Thane stayed strong for the most part. He was too young to fully comprehend the catastrophe, but he was old enough to realize that something bad had happened, something that should have, could have been prevented.
Almost every week, Thane and his family would hear gunshots, and every night Thane would wonder why they weren’t stopping. As he grew, he learned more about the justice system and what it was capable of, and his wondering grew to be a full-blown search.
When he was fourteen, his search turned into an obsession.
When he was fourteen, he was shot at for the first time.
When he was fourteen, he discovered his gift.
He had been walking home from school, as he did every day. Usually he walked home with some mates, but today he was alone. It was nearly five thirty, long after school had let out and his friends had left. Thane had stayed late for play practice. He had been interested in theatre for as long as he could remember, and since he entered first year, he had participated in plays all year round. This year’s spring play was a student-written tragedy called At the Fringe, and Thane had been cast as the lead male role. His parents had eagerly fed his love of theatre, knowing their boy could make it in the acting business. However, because both of his parents were employed, they were unable to pick him up after practices, and so he was made to walk home by himself every evening. Usually the walks were nice, peaceful even. This one was anything but.
He was seventeen blocks from home, he knew, when he came across the young man. He looked to be in his late forties, but an inner instinct told Thane that the drugs had simply aged him, and he was more likely in the twenty five to thirty year old range. He was haggard, thin, pale. His hands were shaking, and his eyes were bloodshot. Thane knew that look all too well. The man was looking for a fix, but was probably too broke to buy from his usual supplier. Men like him were dangerous at best, but Thane was cornered.
The druggie demanded money, his voice cracking and his eyes tearing up as he pleaded for any spare change from the young boy. Thane turned out his pockets, trying to prove to the poor soul that he had not a single pence on him. The man was beyond reason, however. He pulled a gun out of his jacket pocket, whimpering as he did so. Thane stared at the weapon calmly, trying his best to coax the man to put it down.
The shot to his stomach told him he had failed miserably.
He flinched, bracing himself from the pain, but it never came. When he opened his eyes, the druggie was gone, and the bullet was hovering just inches away from his shirt. He blinked, the bullet fell, and he promptly passed out.
It only took ten days after the shooting for the true force behind the miraculous bullet to be discovered. A middle aged man arrived at his home and told Thane and his parents that he was a meta-human. The notion came as quite the shock, of course, but his parents were incredibly proud of their son and agreed to send him to Switzerland's school for people as gifted as him.
From the day of the shooting onward, Thane’s interests shifted from theatre to police work. He wanted desperately to stop the horrors that had gripped his life and the lives of so many of his friends. He wanted to keep tragedies from Corsen from ever happening again. And most of all, he wanted to find out how he could use his abilities to help.
But his parents didn’t approve. They understandably feared for their son’s life, knowing the risks he would take if he became a cop. They struggled to keep him in theatre instead, or perhaps teaching or something quiet and lovely, and for the most part he cooperated, if grudgingly. When he graduated the normal part of his schooling at 18 and his ability training at 19, he tried to apply for the local college’s criminal justice program, but his parents refused to pay for it, so he was instead made to go into acting. For two years he majored in theatrical arts, taking classes on history, make up, drama.
When he turned 20, however, life leaned in his favor.
His father’s mother, Glynnis, was an elderly woman who had moved to America shortly after Thane’s birth. Her husband’s work had taken them overseas to Boston, Massachusetts, and when he died fifteen years later, she had remained in the States, taking up a job in dog kenneling. Her business had taken off, and with her family’s old money, her husband’s insurance and work paychecks, and her fresh business, she was financially fairly well off. Unfortunately, she could not say the same for her health. Cancer of the liver was beginning to sap her strength, and she was forced to sell her business and house and move into a smaller house on the outskirts of Boston. She needed someone to take care of her as well, and that was where Thane came in.
Thane and his parents agreed that life away from their worn down neighborhood would do him some good, and perhaps Boston was a safer place for him to finally learn to be a cop. He packed his things, said goodbye, and within a week of the phone call from Grandmother Glynnis, he was on a flight to America.
For four years he lived in Boston with his grandmother, caring for her and her cat Sophie. He attended college as well, majoring in criminal justice. When he was 24, only a month after receiving his Bachelors degree, Glynnis passed away, leaving him her house and money. For four years he remained, tending to the decrepit feline and two new playmates he had adopted to keep the two of them company.
When Thane was 28, the old, grey cat finally passed away quietly. Deciding that there was nothing keeping him in the little house any longer, Thane started looking for a dream job, something where he could help people before it was too late, stop crime, use his abilities as best as possible, and just generally be happy.
At the age of 29, Thane found that dream job at Hammel Institute. He applied and was accepted as a security officer, and from the very first day of arrival, he knew he was going to love it.
Roleplay Example
The bar was fairly loud, dark, smoky, and exciting. It was crowded, but not unusually so. Saturday nights, Thane knew, were always pretty busy. He walked in to his favorite bar, taking a moment to breathe in deeply. The aroma of hamburgers and other fine dinner meals was almost as thick as the smoke, coming from a few tables in the corner being served by a waitress. Men and women alike, though mostly men, were scattered haphazardly about in groups. Some were sitting in the dining booths, but not many, now that it was past 8:00 and most had eaten their dinners. A couple of handfuls of men were gathered around a set of pool tables on the far side, enjoying their Budweiser’s and hearty games of billiards. On the corner of one table was a stack of 20’s and Thane wondered who everyone had bet on to win.
The off duty police officer strolled over to the bar, the most popular place in the pub. He chose an empty seat between a man and a woman and ordered a Jameson’s whiskey. His usual drink was a Tennant’s lager, more partial to his native country, but it had been a hard week and he had kept a level head, so he figured he deserved something a bit stronger for his first drink. He wasn’t one to get drunk, usually, but he did enjoy a good buzz every now and then.
As he took sips from his glass, Thane leaned slightly against the counter and looked around. The group of four men and two women who had ordered the hamburgers was in the throes of their meal, alternating between taking bites of their food and laughing at their conversation. Their drinks, five Miller Light beers and one margarita, remained untouched. Thane counted nine men by the pool tables, five of which had pool sticks in their hands. Three of the players also had beers, as did three of the onlookers. One onlooker had what looked to be a vodka rocks, and judging by the way he was swaying, the bartender would probably cut him off soon. His mates didn’t seem worried, however, instead coaxing on his ridiculous behavior. Thane shook his head slightly and smiled, knowing that the strapping young man would soon wind up crying like a baby on a bathroom floor, more likely than not.
The bar was the chosen home of seventeen men and women. Most of the women were paired up. There were six women total. Two looked like they were alone and one of those two was sitting next to Thane. She seemed to be content, but the other woman didn’t look happy until one of the single men came over and offered her a drink. Thane watched as she turned the charm up, and he knew that a dangerous little game would be played between the two that night. Three of the four coupled women looked to be honest wives, fiancés, or dates of the men they were with, and one looked like a hooker. Instinct compelled Thane to find out the truth and possibly arrest her, but this was the start of his weekend off and he wasn’t going to ruin it by working on petty cases that didn’t involve him.
Eleven men were sitting at the bar. Four were occupied with their ladies, two were now passively aggressively competing for the lone woman’s affections, and five were sitting alone. One of the five looked utterly depressed and was in the process of shooting back far too many jello shots to be good. He looked like he was about to keel over, and though the bartender was telling him he had had enough, the man was demanding more and offering up a hefty sum for the extras. Thane shook his head slightly and frowned, wondering what had happened to the poor man to think he needed to drink himself to death. The other four men looked to be more in their right minds, though two were quickly on their way to being drunk if they hadn’t reached that point already, and the other two seemed to be like Thane, content to settle for the buzz without taking any risks. Overall, it looked to be a pretty good crowd.
What About You?
[/blockquote]
Name: Pariah
Age: Twenty
Experience: 8+ years
How Did You Find Us? Advertisement surfing
Ready To Play? Absolutely
