Post by Keane Wright on Jul 24, 2008 11:44:03 GMT -5
*DECEASED*
Full Name: Keane Joshua Tarleton
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Powers: Fatal Prophecy: Keane is able to 'see' the deaths of others nearby.
Power Limits: Although technically precognitive, the only thing Keane is able to know about the future is the nature of a person's death. He must be within several yards of the person in order for his ability to work. He also experiences the death as though he were the one dying. As his power manifested when he was young, and he was unable to control it for several years, his constant companion was death, a state which eventually warped and twisted his mind.
Personality: Keane is a charismatic young man, quick with his shy smile, and gentlemanly. He is soft spoken and never cruel, happiest when those around him are happy. He doesn't allow himself to get too attached to people, because of his ability to see their deaths.
Likes: peace and quiet, feeling useful, being alone, travelling, coffee
Dislikes: his ability, cruelty, feeling crowded, getting emotionally attached to people, experiencing difficulty
Strengths: physically fit, resourceful, charmismatic, a good planner, believes utterly in what he is doing
Weaknesses: idealistic, not a good fighter, prone to confusion, sometimes is unable to block out a vision, gets flustered easily
Affiliated with: Keane believes he is laboring under the banner of merciful death, but is unable to admit to himself that he's turned himself into the same sort of villain he works to thwart.
Appearance: A young man in the all American vein, Keane is tall, well built, and handsome. His hair is dark and messy, longer than his mother would have liked to see it, and his eyes are a blue so dark as to almost be black.
Celebrity Claim: Chris Convery
Character lives in: Keane is from Texas, but currently is in New York City, as he's heard it has a high crime rate.
History:
Keane didn't have a cute childhood. It wasn't that his parents were abusive; they were just negligent. He was the last unplanned child in a series of four unplanned children, and by the time he came along, well- their limitted capacity for love had long since been exhausted.
He spent most of his younger years quietly, doing well in school but not excelling, having friends but never letting them too close. His favorite thing to do was to shut himself up in the closet he shared with his two older brothers, the only place he could get some privacy, and read by flashlight. One by one, his brothers and sister got out of town as soon as they could.
Meanwhile, Keane was dealing with a new problem. At thirteen, he began to feel uneasy around people, as though being near to someone caused an inexplicable fear in him. After a few months of this intensifying sensation, it happened for the first time.
He was in his room, alone for once after his siblings had moved out. His mother came to the door, asking blandly if he planned to dine with her. In an instant, Keane was transported to another place: driving a car for the first time, in the dark, down a stretch of country road just outside town. Panicked, he realized he was powerless to move; it was as though he were watching a scene out of someone else's head. Then he noticed the hands- his mother's hands, the familiar, simple wedding band on calloused finger. Lightning split the sky and it started to rain. And then Keane could smell the alcohol tainting the air of the car, feel tears crawling down her cheeks. His mother twisted the wheel wildly, clenched her eyes shut, and waited for impact.
For years after that, Keane was a slave to his ability. Forced to see the final moments moments of every person he came into contact with, he became withdrawn and reclusive. Finally, he began to master it, controlling when he would have the visions.
So many of the people in the world came to violent ends, he realized. That wasn't what dying should be about. It should be the gentle celebration of the life lived. The more he turned this idea over in his mind, the more resolute he became. He'd find those destined to die miserably, and thwart fate, granting them instead a dignified death at his own hands.
He started his new life as an agent of merciful death in his small town home in Texas. The first time... Keane didn't like to remember it. But he learned, and got better, and soon the town was purged of those expecting violent ends. Always looking upwards, Keane turned his attention north- to New York City.
Other information:
Sample role-play:
He liked to watch them for a few days, casually trailing a person until a day when they seem ready for him. A patient young man, Keane was nonetheless always aware that although he knew the mode of death, he rarely knew the time. So for this reason, he tended to have a five day limit on his waiting.
This one was sad- an elderly woman, sick and destined to be robbed and beaten to death. He'd been watching her for three days now, and today had to be it. The right combination of emotions he'd read on her face: happiness, sadness, serenity. Now it was getting late in the day, the time when Keane liked best to work. People were typically docile now, getting ready to turn in for the night and relax before bed.
He followed her to her dark apartment, waiting around the corner while she went in. A few minutes later, he knocked at her door. As she opened it, he pushed past her and into the room. Reaching above her head, he shut the door and, grasping her gently by the wrist, he drew her to the couch, sitting with her there.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice soft and defeated.
He took her hand in his, looking her in the eye. "I want to help you."
Have You read the Rules: No, and i never will!
