Post by Gethin Maddox on Apr 12, 2010 14:59:01 GMT -5
FIRST MIDDLE LAST
HEY THERE! my name is Blade and i'm pretty darn old.
i'm a dood and i've been roleplaying for many years.
I'm puppetmaster of Rhys Williams here on SIT, but enough about
me, here's my character. =]
nicknames:
age: 63 (apparent) 84 (actual) Born Nov. 5th 1925
religion: none, Moral Nihilist
affiliation: Mercenary, Black Market specialist in alien organ trade.
sexuality: heterosexual
species: Human
marital status: Single
member title: Xenologist
playby: John Bach
cannon or original: Original
hometown: Cardiff
current residence: Ely, Cardiff
parents: His father Brynmor, and mother Morgan, both died of apparent food poisoning sometime between July 10-12, 1940.
siblings: None
brief history: Gethin was born to a dockworker and his wife, Brynmor and Morgan Maddox in Tiger Bay. Brynmor worked the coal shipments from Cardiff, he was away from the dilapidated shack just outside the warehousing district for 18 to 20 hours at a time. Morgan stayed home, caring for her newborn child and bartering her sewing for what items or food she could manage. When Gethin was able to walk, he would chase the cats and rodents in the area, trying to catch them. It seemed a harmless game to his mother, who had quite a lot to be getting on with in the first place. She first noticed his oddity when he finally caught a small rat he had been chasing for hours. Gethin didn’t seem to be afraid of the rat at all, he merely observed it as it struggled to escape his grasp. Gethin held the rat in both hands, squeezing just hard enough to interrupt the rats breathing. The rat struggled more for a while and then stopped moving. Gethin turned the rat in his hands, looking at it with casual interest, then dropped it where he stood and walked away looking for a new game of chase.
Over the next several years, Morgan became increasingly afraid of her son, he never reached for his mother or seemed to even want to be around her. He rarely smiled unless he was torturing some small animal he had found, and when Morgan reprimanded him for his treatment of the animal, his smile would take on a sinister air. Morgan tried to tell her husband, but Brynmor chided her for what he took as her wild imaginations.
The night the bombs came on July 3rd, 1940, Gethin was 14 years old. Brynmor wasn’t working then, the docks abandoned for fear of attack. Both his parents huddled in the hovel, calling to him to stay away from the small opening that served as a window, the ill-fitting shutters offering a good view of the people running like mice scattering before a cat. The small smile on his face the only sign of emotion as the first explosions rocked the docks.
Some time during the heaviest bombings on the 10th through the 12th of July, both his parents had died from apparently vicious cases of food poisoning. Their bodies found with expressions of great pain, twisted in agony weeks after the bombings, with Gethin still there living in the shack. Gethin was sent to an internment camp in which orphans were kept for assignment to facilities to keep them. That night, Gethin escaped back to the docks of Tiger Bay. For the next few years, the people of Tiger Bay would find animals, then children and adults in various states of dissection or vivisection, their faces in expressions of intense pain and fear. The people of Tiger Bay lived in fear, the police rarely bothered to patrol unless they were in groups.
Gethin had progressed in the only thing he was really interested in, the reason why things lived, the dissection of life itself. He found work early on with an old street physician, Avril Bryant, who at first was enamored of the boy who did not get squeamish at the sight of blood or when he had to amputate a limb. He trained him, using the bodies of those that had passed in his care, to train the boy on anatomy and diagnosis. Gethin found that he had an innate gift in the cutting of flesh and investigation of malignancy. His fine detail and skillful cuts, soon became a problem, as the old surgeon soon realized that the bodies of his patients who had left him in returning health were found dead by the police soon after. The doctor was found murdered in his home, his body opened and pinned with nails in a macabre example of his life’s work.
His time with the doctor had honed his skill to a fine point but his curiosity of the human anatomy was ebbing, until the fateful night he found something so unlike anything he had seen as to be alien in nature. He didn’t know the name of the creature he found lurking beneath the planks of Tiger bays boardwalk, but he knew it was something he had not seen before. The creature lurked in the shadows of the late day, it’s long, sharp teeth and leathery skin were evident, but it seemed to have no nose. Intensely curious, Gethin studied the creature for days. He would return to the area each day, sometimes it was there, feeding in the garbage and rotting sealife that collected under the docks. After days of watching, Gethin began bringing food he had taken from the homes of his “experiments”. He would place food upon the ground and back away until the creature felt safe enough to reach the food. Gethin did this for days, a little food eaten, and more trust gained. When the creature would take food from the ground readily and without much inspection, Gethin placed his final tribute to the creature, a piece of meat, most likely horse, he had stolen from a home close by. The meat had been treated in a solution of medicines that should render the creature unconscious. Of course there was the chance that it would kill the creature too, but he was quite willing to risk it.
The creature ate the meat, and slowly after only moments, sat down and lay on its side, asleep. The creature woke, a pain searing across its face. Gethin was standing over the creature, its limbs and neck were tied tightly through holes in a makeshift table, the abandoned warehouse far enough away from homes to allow the creature to scream mindlessly as he pulled the skin away from the creatures face. The vivisection took many hours and the creature lasted a very long time before it succumbed to death. Once he finished, he cut the meat into portions and sold it to less-than-reputable vendors as horsemeat. The organs, he used, experimenting with animals, transplanting or adding them to see what effects they may have. He hunted more of these creatures, calling them Metanastis Superstes (immigrant survivor) or commonly as “lurkers”, poisoning their food in areas and waiting for them to fall unconscious or die.
He started looking for other creatures, those who came out at night, or who cloaked themselves in disguise, his awareness of these creatures seemed to be a catalyst in which the more he encountered them, studied them, the more he found. Occasionally, he would find orphans who were not affiliated with the thieves or gangs. Lost and alone, he would take them in and feed them, the chemicals causing almost instantly asleep. Some never woke again; others awoke to find they have had surgeries performed on them. When those who survived actually thrived, he began documenting the effects. His collections of meticulous notes on each creature become an encyclopedia of alien physiology. He also experimented with dried alien parts used as powders or potions, using his found children as fodder for his curiosity. By the time he was twenty, his knowledge of alien anatomy, for he knew them now to not be of this earth, was formidable. In the people that could find him, those who benefited, he was the foremost Xenologist in Cardiff, though he suspected he was probably the foremost in the world as well.
He funded his research, his curiosity, by selling his services to the worst elements in Tiger Bay. Grafting retractable spines into the arm of a murderer, transplanting an all seeing eye into the eye socket of a local crime lord. He had even paid a surgeon a great amount of money, his entire savings, to implant a gland from a creature that, through experimentation, was found to slow aging. After the surgery was complete, and he had healed, the surgeon was found in his office, dead of an apparent heart attack.
During his searches for alien subjects, he often found himself in the same area as those who called themselves “Torchwood” and learned, through observation, that they would be problematic at best if encountered. His first encounter was shortly after his first several takings of Lurkers in the area, it seemed that Torchwood was after these creatures as well, though he didn’t know for what reason. He restricted his taking of alien creatures to other areas that Torchwood either feared or were unwilling to enter. Thereafter, he stopped his practice of surgeries on others and began selling alien organs, devices and medicinal concoctions on the black market. Choosing to keep to himself, now supposedly long lived, from prying or interested eyes.
It was only the first of such complications, for in the many years that he had lived and hunted in Tiger Bay, change was coming to the area. Whispers of restoring the now dilapidated docks circled among the people of Tiger Bay. In 1999, everything changed for Gethin. They had bulldozed many of the derelict and decrepit buildings and streets, his hunting grounds and laboratory. They had created new living spaces and shops, bringing people and business into the area, which was not at all conducive to his trade or his anonymity. He had to find a new home, so he destroyed what stock he could not readily carry and traveled to find a new place.
He found his new and current home in Ely, in an abandoned school, which had served after as a disease containment center, which made the price of the place quite low. He bought the building and rebuilt the front as a funeral home, an apparently ridiculously expensive one at that, to ward off those who actually wanted service. For the few that were willing to pay the exorbitant prices of Bryant Funeral Home, he would of course, prepare the corpses and put them in a fine box to be thrown into the dirt. But other than the extremely rare occasions in which this happened, he was left to his experiments. The hearse and coffins also made the transport of his captured or dead creatures easier. The coffins he used for his creatures were specifically reinforced and modified to not only contain them, but to allow for sedation of the creature as well.[/size]
[/ul]
dislikes:
~Complications to his plans
~Torchwood operatives
~Undue attention
~Peace
~Human frailty
~His impending death
~Morality
~Displays of affection
~Crowded areas
strengths:
~His adaptability
~His curiosity
~His lack of emotions
~His longevity
~His scientific methods
~His knowledge of alien anatomy
~His patience
~His observational skills
weaknesses:
~Curiosity
~Fear of his own death
~Greed
~Lack of humanity
~Flawed human response
secrets: He has murdered aliens and humans, children and adult since the 1940’s, starting with his parents. His longevity attained by grafting alien glands and organs to his own.
fears: Gethin is afraid of dying before he satisfies his need to dissect and catalogue all alien creatures. He will do anything to prolong his life so that he can continue his experiments.
habits: He keeps his hands impeccably clean. He avoids bright lights; they hurt his eyes, due to his many years of a nocturnal lifestyle. His victims (i.e. experiment subjects) are found pretty much throughout Cardiff, but he always brings them back to his lab (funeral home) taking the most direct route.
overall personality: Gethin lacks any real human emotion; his needs dictate what emotional responses he believes he should display. His years of isolationist tendencies have made those judgments a bit faulty, so those around him always see him as being a bit off even at the best of times. He is quiet and contemplative, choosing to study those around him rather than interact. He has no moral compass; he is just as easily able to vivisect a still living child as he is to pick a flower. His need or ultimately his curiosity being the only real motivational guide he has. He is callous and uncaring about the needs of others, or their emotional responses to his actions, unless it furthers his goals of learning or if threatened with what he believes is a real danger of dying before he is finished. [/size]
[/ul]
Gethin walked around the large basement, it was crowded thanks to the makeshift tables made from old, warped lumber. Few people were allowed here, the black market was hard to find for most and harder to gain entry to once you found it. This time it was setup in the basement of a taxidermy office, which accounted for the smell of death and chemical in the air. Gethin was used to both and noted it but didn’t form an opinion about it.
There were four other people here, one the seller, a female by the name of Taff. She was probably ugly by most standards; Gethin did not have use for her except to sell his merchandise, alien organs, medicinal concoctions and a few devices. He never sold directly anymore, preferring that he keep his anonymity.
Gethin rarely came to the sales, preferring to wait for Taff to contact him regarding items or species that were truly unusual before he would appear. Tonight, the sale included the possible rage gland of a particularly brutal alien species he had yet to encounter. If the costs were not too much, and it proved authentically alien, then he would put in his bid for the gland.
He walked among the tables, taking care to let his left hand trail close to the various goods, illegal weapons, and devices laid out. The dark green/gray ring on his third finger vibrated slightly and then more strongly as it came close to the gland. The ring, made from the malleus bone found in the remains of an ‘Anapoda novo’ or by it’s common name Krillitane, which is found to be sensitive to rift energy, vibrates stronger as it comes into contact with chroniton particles.
The gland confirmed as genuine, Gethin was about to signal Taff for his bid, when he noticed one of the males had stopped to watch him. The male appeared to be dressed in a RAF greatcoat, and his style seemed to be that of what Gethin remembered during his time in Tiger Bay during the 1940’s. The male was attempting covert surveillance through a relaxed series of glances. Gethin stepped away from the gland with reluctance and positioned himself into the darker areas of the basement in order to watch this male with a captain’s coat.
The male was different from the others here; he could spot them, the alien items, though he did not show it overtly. A glance or a hesitation betrayed the Captains interests to one who knew what to look for. Gethin was in no doubt also, that the Captain had marked his current position as well. Those blue eyes had raked across the shadowed basement in his area several times with a casual air. He was unsure of the males’ intentions, but Gethin decided to keep him wondering, as he left while the Captain was inspecting one of the very organs Gethin had harvested the previous night.
He would contact Taff later, to place his bid as well as to find out if the Captain had approached her for information about him. Taffs usefulness as liaison to the market may be at an end, the females’ answers would indicate her continued existence.
There were four other people here, one the seller, a female by the name of Taff. She was probably ugly by most standards; Gethin did not have use for her except to sell his merchandise, alien organs, medicinal concoctions and a few devices. He never sold directly anymore, preferring that he keep his anonymity.
Gethin rarely came to the sales, preferring to wait for Taff to contact him regarding items or species that were truly unusual before he would appear. Tonight, the sale included the possible rage gland of a particularly brutal alien species he had yet to encounter. If the costs were not too much, and it proved authentically alien, then he would put in his bid for the gland.
He walked among the tables, taking care to let his left hand trail close to the various goods, illegal weapons, and devices laid out. The dark green/gray ring on his third finger vibrated slightly and then more strongly as it came close to the gland. The ring, made from the malleus bone found in the remains of an ‘Anapoda novo’ or by it’s common name Krillitane, which is found to be sensitive to rift energy, vibrates stronger as it comes into contact with chroniton particles.
The gland confirmed as genuine, Gethin was about to signal Taff for his bid, when he noticed one of the males had stopped to watch him. The male appeared to be dressed in a RAF greatcoat, and his style seemed to be that of what Gethin remembered during his time in Tiger Bay during the 1940’s. The male was attempting covert surveillance through a relaxed series of glances. Gethin stepped away from the gland with reluctance and positioned himself into the darker areas of the basement in order to watch this male with a captain’s coat.
The male was different from the others here; he could spot them, the alien items, though he did not show it overtly. A glance or a hesitation betrayed the Captains interests to one who knew what to look for. Gethin was in no doubt also, that the Captain had marked his current position as well. Those blue eyes had raked across the shadowed basement in his area several times with a casual air. He was unsure of the males’ intentions, but Gethin decided to keep him wondering, as he left while the Captain was inspecting one of the very organs Gethin had harvested the previous night.
He would contact Taff later, to place his bid as well as to find out if the Captain had approached her for information about him. Taffs usefulness as liaison to the market may be at an end, the females’ answers would indicate her continued existence.
credits! template by MOLLIVER ! @ Caution 2.0.
lyrics are from "one more time" by the epically awesome daft punk.
