JULY, 2009
Hot, that's what it is. Even the oldest professors complain that this is the hottest summer they've experienced here at the Institution- and there's no chance that the heat's letting up soon. Get out your shorts and tee shirts and pray for some rain.

 

 
OUT OF CHARACTER
every day is a new day, man. Just take it as it comes.

IN CHARACTER
It's summertime! What more of an excuse to party do you need? The lessons don't end, but the teachers are certainly more lax.

 


JUST A BAND.
adam.


 

 
redcarpet&&rebellion.

ADVERTISE.
LINK BACK.
AFFILIATE.

THOU SHALT ALWAYS KILL.


 


WELCOME TO TSAK.

NOW ACCEPTING

ORIGINALS OF ALL KINDS, MALE OR FEMALE.

So what is The Institution? A safe haven? A prison cell? A government testing facility? Once someone graduates from Stage Four, they're never seen again. How do we know they've moved on to the real world, or... what?

THOU SHALT ALWAYS KILL is a literate to advanced roleplay. please register with your character's first and last name, all in lowercase; middle name optional.


SHAPE SHIFTING!


SPOTLIGHTS.
CHARACTER OTM
CHARACTER
to be announced.
DUO OTM
DUO
tba & tba.
MEMBER OTM
MEMBER
to be announced.
ADMIN'S CHOICE
ADMIN'S CHOICE
to be announced.


 
ADD REPLY
NEW TOPIC

 Scarborough, Paxton
paxton scarborough
Posted: Apr 15 2009, 11:51 PM



Group Icon

Group: NEW ARRIVAL.
Posts: 1
Member No.: 42
Joined: 15-April 09



Paxton Arthur Scarborough
user posted image


THE BASICS.

FULL NAME Paxton Arthur Scarborough.
NICKNAMES To anyone that knew him, Pax.
AGE 24; October 18th
HOMETOWN Liverpool, England.
POWERS Biokinesis and Neurokinesis.
"When I made my first victim's heart stop, I didn't know that I was able to do it. The powers I wielded were too strong for me to control when I was younger. My thirst for blood came later on in life, and I always picked a random civilian, someone who would probably never be missed. Half of the time I could sense the brain they possessed seized up with little effort from my part. I found out later I could make it move around on its own; effective when talking to another person and the liver someone comes spilling from your mouth."


APPEARANCE.

PLAY BY Jensen Ackles
HEIGHT 6'3"
WEIGHT 169 lbs.
PHYSICAL DIFFERENCES TO MODEL "With each person I take out, I mark it into my skin. The scars go into a vertical row from my left ankle to just under my knee; I plan to make it longer in the future."

PERSONALITY.

LIKES
- Observing. There's always a free show.
- Reading the newspaper. What he can't get from reality there's always words on paper.
- Bitter foods. Helps him think better.
- Fallen trees. They're always good camping spots.
- Cemeteries. The aesthetic appeal draws him in.
- Blood drives. A favorite activity to mess up.
DISLIKES
- Hospitals. The smell is atrocious; the help unwanted.
- Sweet candy. Too much of a bad thing.
- Birds. Annoying, little pests.
- Police. Sometimes they catch wind of him for questioning. Right place at the wrong time.
- Cremation. Burning away bodies, to him, is wrong.
- Most electronics. Things like that never really help him out.

STRENGTHS
- Stealth. Weaving around buildings isn't difficult.
- Lying. There really wasn't any truths for him to rely on.
- Keeping his mouth shut. Being quiet is too easy.
- Manipulation. If he has to, he'll need to get his way out if the two above did not work.
- Swimming. Powerful arms compensate for his bad leg.

WEAKNESSES
- Running. (The scars cut into his legs have reached muscles that inhibit his ability)
- Gambling. Any certain money he comes across will be wasted.
- Parkour. Extreme movements, like running, is difficult.
- Coffee. Counter acts against him- makes him tired.
- Listening. Usually goes by what he wants.
HABIT
- Having things go in one ear and out the other.
- Spacing out.
- Chewing his knuckles.
- Picking out old women as his first targets of the day.
GOAL
- To keep picking people off without getting caught.
SECRETS
"For experimenting, I was wondering what I could do; there wasn't the option of picking up random people off the street and huddling them into a basement. I first discovered my powers at age 12, and I had a stable group of friends. After my first 'accident', I decided to grab some of my closest friends and make them stand in my room. Although it did look weird, I succeeded in having one blink his eyes too much- I knew I had succeeded. But the others failed to do the minor thing I had made one do. they went into drastic spasms, bleeding, coughing up organs that had some how reached their mouth. I cleaned up the place before my caretakers had noticed anything. The one that had not died was disposed of."
RANDOM FACTS
His Neurokinesis powers came first.
Speaks Dutch.
BIGGEST FEAR
"I heavily dislike birds. They creep me out, and I visioned them pecking out human flesh; something that I could possibly do, but they seem to make it better. I also fear my mother and father finding out what I've become."
PERSONALITY
Paxton was always the quiet one in the family, but whenever he spoke up, it was usually a lie. His compulsiveness to lie came from hearing his mother do it all the time to his father, and it occurred to him that it was natural. More natural than usual. With the lying, it came way to manipulation. His mother would put food out on the table and he'd clearly say that it was poisoned, even if it wasn't, and always convinced his mother that it was because he just 'knew'. She usually didn't cook for him anyway after those kinds of incidents.

Because he was quiet, he didn't relate to people, and the lying only furthered that. He sometimes didn't know what he liked to do with other people because he convinced himself that everything he enjoyed was a lie as well; he found himself agreeing with everything a person hobbies were just to answer quickly. He found it was just better if he didn't get to know people; he appreciated that his parents were just being parents, but he knew they would do him no good.
Paxton barely listens to what others say, almost to the point where he completely passes them by. His ability to be quiet and conserved makes him wish others would just do the same. Solitary confinement doesn't sound like a punishment to him; it's an escape, where he can be quiet or tell himself in hushed whispers that things will go terribly wrong, or the opposite, both incredibly blatant lies.


ATTRACTION.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION Straight, though isn't really interested.
TURN ONS
- Good nature people.
- Sensible actions and choices.
- A slow talker.
- Musky perfume.
TURN OFFS
- Loud mouths.
- Vivacious, outgoing people.
- Sweet smelling scents.
- Expensive clothing.
PAST & CURRENT RELATIONSHIPS
"I usually killed the people I'm with. No, not be accident; my self control is pretty decent. They irked me."
THE VIRGINITY QUESTION "I don't remember her name, but she was actually pretty. It was around age 21; although, sex isn't that appealing to me anyway."

HISTORY.

MOTHER Alexandra Scarborough.
FATHER Casper Scarborough.
SIBLINGS None.
OTHER "Caretaker Agatha was amiable; she didn't talk much. I liked her."
INCOME "There was nothing left. Nothing."
OPINION OF FAMILY: "I don't blame my family for what happened. It's not like they didn't love me; it was either I suffer along with their broken income or be off with another person that could take care of me."
BEST & WORST MEMORY
"My best memory would probably be turning 10. I mean, after all, I was out of the single digits. It was the time my father got a raise a his job."

"the worst memory was two years later when my father lost his job; my mother didn't work and there was nothing left. The local 'adoption center' took me in, and I was placed with this lady called Agatha. Although she was nice, she wasn't the same as my parents; they were trying to be stable and I was too much money to care for."

GENERAL HISTORY

Born to Casper and Alexandra Scarborough on October 18th, Paxton was the first child of the two and he made them a nuclear family. His birthplace was Liverpool, England, although it was short lived; Casper decided to go back to his birthplace back to Hasselt, Belgium (even though his original family was from Britain in the first place). Paxton grew up in the Dutch speaking community for the rest of his life under his parents, and kept himself away from them, usually going out into the town square and watching people. they were always fascinating, even the ones who came from other parts of Belgium and only spoke French. (By an early age, he was able to say Tu m'emmerdes" to people who bugged him in the town square.) He never questioned his parents why he was an only child, because he didn't want another person around that could be widely different than he.

At the age of 10, his father landed a job as manager of a clothing factory, which payed the bills and got anything Paxton's heart desired. Only, he didn't desire much- a nice pair of earmuffs would suffice. His parents would often scream at night over bills that were unpaid, and he always wondered why, since the money flowing in would have stemmed them anyway. His father, in some nights, would gamble, blowing the money off and steadily declining the bank amount that they had saved all those years. His mother lied to him, telling him everything would be OK.
Everything, however, was not OK when she finally admitted (he remembered it being one of the few times she told the truth) that the money was gone, and a child was expensive. He loved his parents when they didn't get in the way of solitude, and the new caretaker he was put under wasn't all that horrible; her name was Agatha Beauxmont. Taking care of him was all she could do, and the sparse letters he got from his parents about their improving lives didn't make Paxton feel any better.

On a cold night in December, his caretaker thought it would be an improvement in his social skills to play with other children in the snow. A hefty man, older than his caretaker, was a usual passerby- until he fell to the snow, holding his chest and finally passing away. The other children had not glanced over at the time; Paxton's eyes were on him the entire time, knowing that the cake he had in his hands was stolen from the local bakery. He wondered if he had stopped the man from stealing, but the police didn't care about the stolen property when they hauled him away and classified the freak accident as 'Myocardial infarction.'
Being 12 at the time, and convincing himself that he had something to do with it, he experimented on his friends and killed each one of them, proving it was him with the extraordinary gift. He realized, however, he had no control on what the person would die from; only the intent to kill was clear. soon, he had evolved away from that with grueling practice; the practice coming from the occasional guinea pig that walked down the street. The heart attack was rarely used; it wasn't as 'fun' to him.

At the age of 18, he was of legal age, and left his caretaker. Paxton roamed the streets of Belgium and took it upon himself to get the necessary gear one might get for hiking trips. There wasn't a solitary home for him. He knew that his parents were still trying to get stabilized, but they did not know that he was disconnected from Agatha, and the letters had ceased altogether. He was a loner, proving that killing people to make himself feel better was quite the entertainment.


MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN.

YOUR NAME Jacie.
AGE 18
CONTACTS xxaudiomind; AIM
ROLEPLAYING EXPERIENCE 8 years.
MYSTERY PHRASEJOHNNY IS TRUANT. Hey! METAL COREEEEEE.

SAMPLE.
This is from a Harry potter roleplay; hope you don't mind!

QUOTE

Knockturn alley was not always the cheeriest part of town, but the fine selections of Dark objects were basically coveted by most; praying muggle eyes weren't allowed to stoop as much as the first step without feeling the aura that surrounded the place. Most went nutty by the time they realized what their curiosity had led them- a women would sell them something and the fingernails they thought were earrings would scrape out their gray matter, or plunge themselves deep within their inner workings. As if muggles can think.
A pale hand grabbed at said woman's necklace, bringing her close. Her teeth were rotten from the inside out- the ones that were left, anyhow. Her lopsided smile was quivering with fear, but she was let go immediately, the rattling tray of nails dropping to the cobblestone below and spilling everywhere. Low moans seemed to come forth, as if the pieces were possessed; no one who knew the seller would put it past her. "Stop selling these wretched things! No one fucking buys them, Jesus...." Haughty and irritated, Draco swung his scarf around his neck twice, and proceeded down the lane. The haggard scrambled to collect her belongings, scorning the former Slytherin who dared mess her display up. "You'll get what's coming to you!" Her fist high in the air, she wheezed, a hacking cough escaping her lips; and her form disappeared altogether.


"Yeah, you wish." Draco mumbled, walking briskly past other wizards and witches in tattered robes and shawls. Some peered at him with interest, others kept waddling by, lifting up trinkets and jewelry of all sorts, tempting passerby to ward the evil that was somehow lurking with the Dark lord vanished. Some were gullible enough to believe them, while others took it upon themselves to show off what they would like to martyr for someone else safety, as if they actually gave a damn.

Draco slowed his pace outside of the clothing shop and held his head. Was this what Potter felt when the Prophet recorded his little 'attacks?' "I feel like I'm going soft on my worst enemy." He laughed to himself, looking up to his reflection in the shop window. Gaunt and wax-like, the handsome face was destroyed by worry lines and little sleep. He sighed to himself, clutching the thin material of his scarf. Astoria would see him like this and she'd have a good row, but getting shut eye these days wasn't the pinnacle of easy. Rubbing his hands together, he started strolling again, only to look into Borgin and Burkes and take a well deserved second look.

Dark hair....pointed face...it was Pansy, all right, but what was she doing skulking around there? The last time she was there, to his knowledge, was when the cabinet needed renovation and he had brought her in there to do private business. His hands coiled tighter around his clothes, and with a hurry, he reached for the door handle, but stopped himself in mid step. Did he want to encounter her? Yes, god dammit. Draco opened the door as quietly as he could, ducking low so the clerk would not send off a greeting, and crept toward Pansy, who had her back to the counter. A skull was in her eyesight; it looked dreadful and positively foreboding.

"Ugly, Pansy. Waste of money."

Pansy's bemused face, while humorous to Draco, was still etched in his mind after she set off to a different part of the store. He stood there, his light gray eyes tracing the contours of her lithe body. She was undoubtedly skinnier; and Draco pondered if it might have been from the depressing letters that had sent back and forth. The banter they had each written, the libel- it was possible, to say the least. He put his hands behind his back, surveying the amount of trinkets and oddities that Borgin and Burkes had to offer. Slithering eyeballs scoured the inside of a glass box; trapped screams for 5 galleons seemed interested; and the amulet Pansy was holding made his eyebrow raise, his face falter a bit.

He walked up to her, looking over her shoulder and peering down at the jewelry in her hands. Purple and menacing, he only had a scant idea what it might be.

"Well...it's not the Drought of the living death. It needs to be a lighter purple." He said in a casual tone, picking it from her hands, touching her fingers lightly before holding it up to his face to inspect. he twirled it around in his hand, observing it and smirking. "Looks like the opposite of a love potion. Hatred....being bottled up seems very powerful." He cast a dark look to the clerk, who was stony-faced as ever, not telling. Draco's mood simpered.

The amulet was dropped back to the pillow it whence came, and Draco turned toward Pansy. He was a little taller than her, but her black locks of hair tickled his shoulder as he moved closer. "Hope I didn't upset you in those letters." Draco moved away slowly again, feeling as though he was submerged in ice water. he wasn't cheating on Astoria; what the hell were they doing that was making him feel this way?
"You kinda surprised me."


T.OPTIONS
ADD REPLY
NEW TOPIC



Hosted for free by InvisionFree (Terms of Use: Updated 7/7/05) | Powered by Invision Power Board v1.3 Final © 2003 IPS, Inc.
Page creation time: 0.0768 seconds | Archive

SKINNED BY JUDE. OF SKIN_IT.
BOARD SEEN BEST ON FIREFOX