Post by Mister Stewart on Oct 29, 2010 1:15:52 GMT -8
Canon Character Application
Name: Harry Stewart and Michael Tillotson
Occupation/Skills: Harry Stewart is a capitalist, mostly making money on land holdings at this point. He owns the majority of Greenvale, but is content to let the town run itself, only speaking out with cryptic warnings through his servant. He also has a great deal of surveillance set up...be they cameras about town, or links to satellites to keep his finger on the pulse of the world. Mister Stewart may not be an active worker, but he IS a busy man. He has a high aptitude for puzzles, and he likes to design little contrivances for his mansion.
Michael Tillotson is Mister Stewart's aide, as well as his caretaker and interpreter. He is skilled at any and all domestic matters, be they cooking, cleaning, or even penmanship. For the most part, he keeps busy taking care of Mister Stewart and the mansion, but he still finds time to practice music. He is rather adept at the piano, and has a pleasant singing voice when he chooses to exercise it. Beyond the domestic, however, he has one other skill that is difficult to believe, given his constrained movements...he is an adept fencer, quick on his feet and good with a sword.
Personality: Mister Stewart is, in a word, eccentric. Always wearing that peculiar skull-shaped gas mask and never speaking to anyone except Michael directly, he has a taste and a flair for the theatrical. He's most certainly the type to speak very little but listen intently to what is going on around him...always observing, making notes to himself about the behavior of the world around him. Despite his somewhat reclusive and bizarre demeanor, Harry is a very even-tempered, well-mannered elderly man. If one gets on his good side, they will gain a trustworthy ally with a predilection towards playing little games of logic and wit. His physical health has deteriorated over the years, but that has long since failed to discourage him...he is more than capable of getting around with his wheelchair, and he doesn't feel sorry for himself in the least. He cares deeply for his aide, and one of his chief regrets tends to be that they had to spend so long doing this little act of theirs that the odd young man always seems to act more like a servant and less like a son. Being of a fairly playful nature, he likes to try and get a laugh out of his young charge.
On the other hand, Michael Tillotson comes across as quite stiff and restrained - especially for a man of his young age. Always neat as a pin and straight-backed, Michael is ever the loyal servant, mindful of others before himself - especially mindful of Mister Stewart. He doesn't resent his station in the least...in point of fact, he enjoys taking care of Mister Stewart, glad that he can give something back to a man who gave him so much. He's quite used to being thought of as 'creepy' or 'strange', so he tends to brush off any behind-his-back murmurings; he has a friend and a confidant in Mister Stewart, and he has resigned himself to the thought that he likely will never get close to anyone else. By far the most striking and peculiar thing about Michael is his way of speaking: a constant, compulsive habit of rhyming absolutely everything he says. No one is quite clear on why he does this...perhaps not even Michael himself, for if questioned about it, he mostly acts as if he does not notice and dodges the subject entirely. He is always seen in his white suit, as neat as he can keep it despite the circumstances.
Both of them have seen terrible things, both paranormal and grisly - and both of them have been touched by a terrible, violent force that they will never forget. As such, both are extremely cautious of forces beyond control, and will do everything in their power to become informed.
History: Over fifty years ago, in a town called Greenvale, the world was suddenly turned upside down. On that night, Harry Stewart (then a younger man and bearing a different last name) was out on his own, driving about town to avoid a fight his parents were having at home, when he decided to investigate the newly-constructed clock tower. There he saw some soldiers using some manner of strange device to pump poison into the air. As he headed further into the town, he found that the townsfolk were going mad, attacking each other feverishly as the tower chimed thirteen times.
Choking on the strange, poisonous fog, he tried to make his way through the mayhem...until he saw a man in a red raincoat, more ferocious than any of the others, killing others with a long ax. The figure bowled him over, moving to attack - the last thing he remembered before passing out was the attacker's face.
It was his father's. He never saw him again, and when he returned home, he only found his Mother...dead. The military issued a gag order about the event, and it was reduced to whispers and 'urban legends.'
Harry was never quite the same after that. He went out on his own, growing into a prosperous man with his family wealth (his father had founded the town when he began the local lumber trade) behind him, but he watched the world with a wary eye. He seemed to be the only one who really knew or remember what had happened in the town (besides the 'urban legend' circulating about the Raincoat Killer) - and over time, he noticed that whenever it rained, the residue from the fog would be airborne, leading to violent behavior from the townsfolk. Despite all this, he still found love and married - even had a son. His wife, regrettably, suffered from mental illness, abusing her only boy, fighting with her husband...and one dark night, a dark force came and held his wife hostage. He was given a choice...to kill her and save her, or to let the unthinkable happen.
He couldn't kill her, but she perished anyhow...and ashamed, he left it all behind...leaving his son to finish growing up on his own, unaware of his heritage.
Harry himself built a mansion on the outskirts of town, becoming a recluse. He watched the town from a distance, owning most of the land but letting the town take care of itself. He changed his name, breaking all ties to his past life and hiding his existence from his son. He took to wearing a strange gas mask - both to shroud his identity and to protect himself from the poison he knew still lingered in the soil of this town. He grew old, and he watched the world from his mansion...his body slowly failing until he was confined to a wheelchair. The people of Greenvale viewed him as an eccentric troublemaker - he never spoke with any of them, only watched them go about their lives.
When he was in his sixties, he heard a strange sound out in the rain - someone shuffling around outside his mansion. When he checked his cameras, he was surprised to find a young boy of about fifteen...soaked to the bone, his exposed arms covered in scarring from burns. Pitying the child, he took the boy in - the child was Michael Tillotson, an orphan who had run from his orphanage out of hopelessness. Michael had lost his family in a house fire when he was a young boy, leaving him alone with a torso full of scarred, mottled skin. He had always been too strange for the other children in the orphanage...his curious habit of rhyming and his sleepless demeanor made him a loner, an outcast who kept company more with books than with other children. He had decided just a few days sooner that he would run away, as he was getting too old to be adopted - and somehow, he had slipped through the gates to take shelter from the rain beneath the eaves of his home.
He gave the boy a place to stay at first, feeding him and cleaning him up. He saw no reason he should not speak to this boy - and so he got to know Michael, not in the least bit minding his curious rhyming. In fact, he rather liked it - it was odd, but it was unique, and it was clear that the boy was very bright and well-spoken to keep such a habit up. It was only a few days later that he decided to ask the boy to remain with him, offering a home in return for his help around the mansion. Michael gladly accepted, and turned out to be quite a quick learner with an aptitude for domestic work. He was certainly a bright boy, quite personable and kind once he was accepted for his quirks...and once dressed in a suit that covered his scars, his self-confidence was improved.
After about a month, Mister Stewart decided that his new charge was a joy to have around, and the boy had so easily fit into his life...he asked Michael if he would like to be adopted. The boy happily accepted and legally became Harry's son. As time went by and the boy grew, they would venture out into the town, Michael taking up the role of Harry's interpreter and speaking to the townsfolk. They let the town believe that Michael was no more than an odd servant and interpreter, keeping the fact that he was an adopted son a secret. One was almost never seen without the other. They trusted each other as family; Michael had a father again, and Harry had gotten a second chance at being a father.
Six years after the adoption, a series of strange murders has brought an FBI agent to Greenvale...
RP Sample:
The steady clanking of the wheelchair announced their presence, just as always. Not far behind the sound were the two of them, a spectacle in themselves - Harry in his gas mask and suit, Michael pushing the wheelchair, neat as a pin and straight-backed. They were a presence in the town, though they so rarely spoke to anyone...like a pair of ghosts, shifting in and out of the lives of the townsfolk. There was only one place that they showed up every day consistently, exactly the same time in the afternoon.
Making their way through the A&G Diner, Michael maneuvered them to their customary spot, clasping his hands behind his back as he waited. Without fail, Mister Stewart only ever ordered one thing...and only once in a while did Michael order anything. Sure enough, it was a matter of moments before Olivia brought Harry's order, handing the bag off to Michael with a polite smile. Before she could turn to walk away, Michael stepped forward, clearing his throat softly.
"...Mrs. Olivia Cormack. Just a moment, if I may...I think I will order a burger today." It was one of those rare days where they would remain longer than a few moments in the diner...but strangely enough, whenever they did this, Harry never ate his meal in public. Even as Michael settled the wheelchair beside a booth, taking his own seat, Harry simply began typing upon the console on the arm of his chair, going about his own business. For a moment, Michael looked a little guilty as his food was brought, eyes flicking over towards the other man warily - but Harry only leaned towards him, murmuring something into his ear.
The younger man relaxed a little - as much as he ever did - softly responding with a faint smile.
"I know, I know, I should really eat...I just hate to feel like I'm making you wait."
The man in the wheelchair just shook his head fondly, going back to his typing once he was satisfied that the young man was eating.
Name: Harry Stewart and Michael Tillotson
Occupation/Skills: Harry Stewart is a capitalist, mostly making money on land holdings at this point. He owns the majority of Greenvale, but is content to let the town run itself, only speaking out with cryptic warnings through his servant. He also has a great deal of surveillance set up...be they cameras about town, or links to satellites to keep his finger on the pulse of the world. Mister Stewart may not be an active worker, but he IS a busy man. He has a high aptitude for puzzles, and he likes to design little contrivances for his mansion.
Michael Tillotson is Mister Stewart's aide, as well as his caretaker and interpreter. He is skilled at any and all domestic matters, be they cooking, cleaning, or even penmanship. For the most part, he keeps busy taking care of Mister Stewart and the mansion, but he still finds time to practice music. He is rather adept at the piano, and has a pleasant singing voice when he chooses to exercise it. Beyond the domestic, however, he has one other skill that is difficult to believe, given his constrained movements...he is an adept fencer, quick on his feet and good with a sword.
Personality: Mister Stewart is, in a word, eccentric. Always wearing that peculiar skull-shaped gas mask and never speaking to anyone except Michael directly, he has a taste and a flair for the theatrical. He's most certainly the type to speak very little but listen intently to what is going on around him...always observing, making notes to himself about the behavior of the world around him. Despite his somewhat reclusive and bizarre demeanor, Harry is a very even-tempered, well-mannered elderly man. If one gets on his good side, they will gain a trustworthy ally with a predilection towards playing little games of logic and wit. His physical health has deteriorated over the years, but that has long since failed to discourage him...he is more than capable of getting around with his wheelchair, and he doesn't feel sorry for himself in the least. He cares deeply for his aide, and one of his chief regrets tends to be that they had to spend so long doing this little act of theirs that the odd young man always seems to act more like a servant and less like a son. Being of a fairly playful nature, he likes to try and get a laugh out of his young charge.
On the other hand, Michael Tillotson comes across as quite stiff and restrained - especially for a man of his young age. Always neat as a pin and straight-backed, Michael is ever the loyal servant, mindful of others before himself - especially mindful of Mister Stewart. He doesn't resent his station in the least...in point of fact, he enjoys taking care of Mister Stewart, glad that he can give something back to a man who gave him so much. He's quite used to being thought of as 'creepy' or 'strange', so he tends to brush off any behind-his-back murmurings; he has a friend and a confidant in Mister Stewart, and he has resigned himself to the thought that he likely will never get close to anyone else. By far the most striking and peculiar thing about Michael is his way of speaking: a constant, compulsive habit of rhyming absolutely everything he says. No one is quite clear on why he does this...perhaps not even Michael himself, for if questioned about it, he mostly acts as if he does not notice and dodges the subject entirely. He is always seen in his white suit, as neat as he can keep it despite the circumstances.
Both of them have seen terrible things, both paranormal and grisly - and both of them have been touched by a terrible, violent force that they will never forget. As such, both are extremely cautious of forces beyond control, and will do everything in their power to become informed.
History: Over fifty years ago, in a town called Greenvale, the world was suddenly turned upside down. On that night, Harry Stewart (then a younger man and bearing a different last name) was out on his own, driving about town to avoid a fight his parents were having at home, when he decided to investigate the newly-constructed clock tower. There he saw some soldiers using some manner of strange device to pump poison into the air. As he headed further into the town, he found that the townsfolk were going mad, attacking each other feverishly as the tower chimed thirteen times.
Choking on the strange, poisonous fog, he tried to make his way through the mayhem...until he saw a man in a red raincoat, more ferocious than any of the others, killing others with a long ax. The figure bowled him over, moving to attack - the last thing he remembered before passing out was the attacker's face.
It was his father's. He never saw him again, and when he returned home, he only found his Mother...dead. The military issued a gag order about the event, and it was reduced to whispers and 'urban legends.'
Harry was never quite the same after that. He went out on his own, growing into a prosperous man with his family wealth (his father had founded the town when he began the local lumber trade) behind him, but he watched the world with a wary eye. He seemed to be the only one who really knew or remember what had happened in the town (besides the 'urban legend' circulating about the Raincoat Killer) - and over time, he noticed that whenever it rained, the residue from the fog would be airborne, leading to violent behavior from the townsfolk. Despite all this, he still found love and married - even had a son. His wife, regrettably, suffered from mental illness, abusing her only boy, fighting with her husband...and one dark night, a dark force came and held his wife hostage. He was given a choice...to kill her and save her, or to let the unthinkable happen.
He couldn't kill her, but she perished anyhow...and ashamed, he left it all behind...leaving his son to finish growing up on his own, unaware of his heritage.
Harry himself built a mansion on the outskirts of town, becoming a recluse. He watched the town from a distance, owning most of the land but letting the town take care of itself. He changed his name, breaking all ties to his past life and hiding his existence from his son. He took to wearing a strange gas mask - both to shroud his identity and to protect himself from the poison he knew still lingered in the soil of this town. He grew old, and he watched the world from his mansion...his body slowly failing until he was confined to a wheelchair. The people of Greenvale viewed him as an eccentric troublemaker - he never spoke with any of them, only watched them go about their lives.
When he was in his sixties, he heard a strange sound out in the rain - someone shuffling around outside his mansion. When he checked his cameras, he was surprised to find a young boy of about fifteen...soaked to the bone, his exposed arms covered in scarring from burns. Pitying the child, he took the boy in - the child was Michael Tillotson, an orphan who had run from his orphanage out of hopelessness. Michael had lost his family in a house fire when he was a young boy, leaving him alone with a torso full of scarred, mottled skin. He had always been too strange for the other children in the orphanage...his curious habit of rhyming and his sleepless demeanor made him a loner, an outcast who kept company more with books than with other children. He had decided just a few days sooner that he would run away, as he was getting too old to be adopted - and somehow, he had slipped through the gates to take shelter from the rain beneath the eaves of his home.
He gave the boy a place to stay at first, feeding him and cleaning him up. He saw no reason he should not speak to this boy - and so he got to know Michael, not in the least bit minding his curious rhyming. In fact, he rather liked it - it was odd, but it was unique, and it was clear that the boy was very bright and well-spoken to keep such a habit up. It was only a few days later that he decided to ask the boy to remain with him, offering a home in return for his help around the mansion. Michael gladly accepted, and turned out to be quite a quick learner with an aptitude for domestic work. He was certainly a bright boy, quite personable and kind once he was accepted for his quirks...and once dressed in a suit that covered his scars, his self-confidence was improved.
After about a month, Mister Stewart decided that his new charge was a joy to have around, and the boy had so easily fit into his life...he asked Michael if he would like to be adopted. The boy happily accepted and legally became Harry's son. As time went by and the boy grew, they would venture out into the town, Michael taking up the role of Harry's interpreter and speaking to the townsfolk. They let the town believe that Michael was no more than an odd servant and interpreter, keeping the fact that he was an adopted son a secret. One was almost never seen without the other. They trusted each other as family; Michael had a father again, and Harry had gotten a second chance at being a father.
Six years after the adoption, a series of strange murders has brought an FBI agent to Greenvale...
RP Sample:
The steady clanking of the wheelchair announced their presence, just as always. Not far behind the sound were the two of them, a spectacle in themselves - Harry in his gas mask and suit, Michael pushing the wheelchair, neat as a pin and straight-backed. They were a presence in the town, though they so rarely spoke to anyone...like a pair of ghosts, shifting in and out of the lives of the townsfolk. There was only one place that they showed up every day consistently, exactly the same time in the afternoon.
Making their way through the A&G Diner, Michael maneuvered them to their customary spot, clasping his hands behind his back as he waited. Without fail, Mister Stewart only ever ordered one thing...and only once in a while did Michael order anything. Sure enough, it was a matter of moments before Olivia brought Harry's order, handing the bag off to Michael with a polite smile. Before she could turn to walk away, Michael stepped forward, clearing his throat softly.
"...Mrs. Olivia Cormack. Just a moment, if I may...I think I will order a burger today." It was one of those rare days where they would remain longer than a few moments in the diner...but strangely enough, whenever they did this, Harry never ate his meal in public. Even as Michael settled the wheelchair beside a booth, taking his own seat, Harry simply began typing upon the console on the arm of his chair, going about his own business. For a moment, Michael looked a little guilty as his food was brought, eyes flicking over towards the other man warily - but Harry only leaned towards him, murmuring something into his ear.
The younger man relaxed a little - as much as he ever did - softly responding with a faint smile.
"I know, I know, I should really eat...I just hate to feel like I'm making you wait."
The man in the wheelchair just shook his head fondly, going back to his typing once he was satisfied that the young man was eating.