alright, Jamesdyer, in exchange for roN, I give you....
thtathee
Name: thtathee (pronounced "th-tay-thee"). thtathee talkth with a lithp, which, ath you can imagine, maketh making other people thpell hith name correctly very difficult. The firtht t ith alwayth lowercathe. People alwayth thpell it with "eth"'th inthtead of "t-h"'th becauthe of thtathee's lithp. thtathee hateth that everyone automatically athumeth that he ith a girl. thtathee inthithtth that everyone call him "t-dog" becauthe he fanthieth himthelf to be a tough badath. [/lithp for thith potht, but he alwayth talkth in one]
Gender: Born a hemaphrodite, had his female genitalia surgically removed, now a boy.
Race: Mother was a human, father was a fallen elf.
Appearance: thathee looks distinctly elvish, with pointed ears and sharp, stunningly handsome features, but his lisp and soft-ish appearance due to his mother undermine any impressive impression he might otherwise have.
Background: thtathee's father died two hours before thtathee was born. He died in a car crash on his way to the hospital. He was wearing earmuffs and a raincoat, and his knee caught on the hem of the raincoat, stopping him from braking in time when the car in front of him screeched to a hault. Of course, the car he crashed into at seventy miles an hour had broken brake lights, and was being illegally driven to an auto-shop to have them repaired before the next day's inspection deadline. ththathee's father didn't hear the brakes screeching because he was wearing earmuffs. He was wearing the earmuffs and the raincoat to disguise his appearance and to help dodge the inquisitive stares on the street that made his cheeks burn and his hands tighten into sweaty fists. thtathee's mom died in childbirth. thtathee was positioned in the womb in such a way that a traditional birth was impossible, so the doctors performed a c-section, and there was a horrible complication. thtathee was brought up by a foster family that was disgustingly happy and nice about everything, the sort you'd find adorning their puffily-cut poodle in a sweater and pink bowtie. Eventually, the teasing at school, false smiles at home, and lack of friends in life cause thtathee's emotions to boil over, and one day he took his foster father's WWII revolver from his desk (thtathee always called his father hi "foster father", which stressed the tense smiles further at dinner when he would politely ask "fothter father, could you pleathe path fothter mother'th potato thalad?") and shot his foster parents in the head while they slept. He was promptly shipped off to a mental facility, being only 8 years old, and his foster parent's children were mentally traumatized beyond repair for the rest of their lives. thtathee was quickly diagnosed with pyschopathy early in his treatment, and underwent over a hundred different medicines in his doctors' attempt to find a working treatment. thtathee was quiet and reserved, and rarely spoke out of turn, except for the day when she attempted to stab another patient in the back of the head with a plastic fork, which broke at the slightest pressure, and resulted only in him getting shipped off to another facility, this time a high-security mental hospital with literally nobody to keep him company. After 15 years in the system, thtathee was released on an out-patient basis, and mysteriously disappeared one day, leaving police with a mudered out-patient doctor assigned to thtathee, a pool of blood, and no leads, ending in a case that sat in the "unsolved" file in a deputy's filing cabinet for a few years before being officially stamped "cold case" and being thrown into a dusty folder with hundreds of other unsolved murder mysetries. thtathee started a new life, and experimented with every drug he could get his hands on before deciding that he preferred killing people and becoming a professional hit-man for hire. A decade after his mysterious disappearance, thtathee was 33 and negotiating a deal to take care of a business man on his way to work. However, a failure in planning resulted in thtathee riding in a car shotgun holding a detonater with the man that hired him driving while a car with their man, a wife, and kids drove twenty feet in front of them. thtathee made a ":\" face and said "oh well, thingth don't alwayth go according to plan", and made to push the button, when the man driving the car pulled his gun and promptly shot thtathee in the head for being the cold, sick, twisted pyschopath that he was.
Ooh, back up real quick, thtathee also decided to kill people for a living because he liked having the luxury of being able to kill people that pissed him off by laughing at his accent or treating him like a big teddy bear, which included smiling incessantly (he hates smiling. HATES it, he likes the truth, the whole truth, and absolutely no sugar-coating or sweetening. he solves problems with bullets and scores with guns. If he can't think of a witty comeback, a bullet to the head will do. He hates smiling, spits on people that say "everything's going to be okay", and just generally hates the world. Okay, where was I? Ah, yes, him getting shot in the face. A few weeks in intensive ICU later, he found himself in a holding cell. His name triggered a series of red flags that rang in practically every police station in every major city the world over. He escaped, leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake, put together a few hundred million dollars in cash, and ran. He keeps a low profile and tries to stay out of trouble, which means he avoids any sort of social interaction at all costs, since even a smile, nod and smirking patronizing glance as he mutters "excuthe me" after bumping somebody on the street is enough to set him off and cause him to, for example, sparta-kick the man in the lower back, then stomp in his head until his skull broke apart and brains stained his shoe. Alright, that's enough of a history lesson for one day, let's move on to
Possessions: A high-caliber pistol or revolver at all times. Working as a professional hitman for several years had a big effect on him, he's always mentally logging escape routes, vantage points, and easy points of entry, and he always carries a gun. This has resulted in him killing people for no real good reason a half-dozen times since he first went on the run, and it's put enough evidence in his file for him to be put in Jail for a couple hundred life sentences. Other than that, he carries a fake ID on him and a few thousand dollars in cash when he's out and about, which is rare, since he usually keeps to himself and stays indoors. He habitually does really creepy, disgusting, perverted, and awful things just to observe their outcome, which brings us to his
Behavior: He drops arsenic in public dog bowls and sprinkles cyanide in the park so they absorb it through their paws. He likes to sit at a bench with a newspaper and wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses and watch the children play. The mothers usually get nervous (very rightfully so, he's locked a little girl in his basement before to observe the progression of her behavior) and take their children away, leaving him to play on the playground when he's sure nobody's watching. He's really just extremely repressed and wants people to accept him and treat him normally, but sadly that can and will never be the case. He has no friends, and his attempts to make friends inevitably fail when they are driven off by his tendencies. He's had a couple girlfriends that stuck with him and actually helped him change, but they could never bear him long enough to see it through. He keeps to himself, and in the rare instances when he approaches somebody or shows any emotion such as smiling, in any reasonably good movie, that would be the cue for the blood-chilling music to start. He drinks a lot and does all sorts of drugs. His favorite dish is kung pao chicken, and he eats it every monday and friday (notice the lack of "s"'s there) at the Great Wall in the corner seat. Some of the most popular fake names he gives people are "Jim" and "Bob". He wants people to accept him and appreciate him, but at the same time he hates for them to act nicely to him. He thinks every nice thing in the world is fake and filthy, and wants to shoot it. He constantly does things to try to get people to like him, such as buying flowers for his neighbors or baking them cookies, but when they say "thank you, these smell lovely", he automatically assumes that they're lying, and either hardens, causing them to quickly become uncomfortable and excuse themselves of his presence, or resulting in him getting sadistically violent.
So basically, thtathee is a pyschopath that comes off as a dashingly handsome man with an adorable name and accent. Just the sort of impression that results in interactions that end with people getting killed. Enjoy
