Post by jamesbutcher on Sept 8, 2008 11:54:54 GMT
About you
Name: My own, but you may call me Illu
Age: 17
How to contact you: MSN & Email, therianthropic@hotmail.com
Role playing experience: Approx 6 years + Admin & Modding
Other Characters on this Site: Lachlan Mackenzie
About your Character
Name: James Butcher
Nickname: Up to you
Age: 26
Country: England
Position: Peasant
Job: Butcher
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Brown
Height: 6’
General Appearance: James takes an unusual amount of care of himself for being both a peasant and a bachelor. His hair is always short, clean, nicely cut, clothes spotless, clean pressed and boots glowing. Even his butcher’s apron, despite the acceptable bloodstains from fresh work, is gleaming white and empty of old blemishes. Long work hours sometimes make shaving difficult, so he does occasionally show up with a beard or stubble, though he always ensures it never becomes anything unsightly. You’d easily be forgiven for assuming James lives with an extremely fussy wife who doesn’t let him out without looking better groomed than Prince John.
Hours of standing up ripping ribcages out of pig (and other animal) carcasses has given him a certain level of upper body strength, but the exercise routines he puts himself through are almost criminal and he sticks to them as hard and fast as any modern athlete. It all hasn’t gone to waste; James is incredibly fit, preferring muscle tone to muscle mass. Partially this obsession with conditioning himself is due to his control issues and his other dark little secret; it’s hard to do what he does without the ability to overpower. More on that little gem later.
In short, he’s the medieval equivalent of the metrosexual fitness nut.
Likes:
- Being Alone
- His Job
- Cleanliness
- Blood
- Music
- Intelligence
- A Plan
- Control
- His ‘Garden’
- Exercise
Dislikes:
- People
- Animals
- Emotion
- People
- Others Self-Esteem
- God
- People
Personality: James has a superficial charm which allows him to make friends easily, he’s always polite and friendly, loves his garden and likeable enough for the most part. He has his vices, like everyone else, gambling in particular, and can often be quite rash and impulsive with little thought of the consequences. To those that know him well control issues quickly become apparent, he likes to know everything about everyone and where they’re going and why, but takes great pains to reveal nothing about himself.
If you want to get into the specifics, he’s a complete sociopath. James wants to win; but the game is as good as anyone’s guess. He’s utterly emotionless but fakes his feelings with a blasé sort of ease, and is also a pathological liar, lying about everything and even using aliases for no apparent reason except to see how long he can get away with it. He is almost constantly bored and can engage in behaviour others would consider downright suicidal, anything to get his next thrill. He also appears to have some sort of addiction to self inflicted pain, usually through exercising to death, subtle stress positions or crushing his toes and he once almost dislocated his finger from leaning on it so much.
The friendships James maintains are very one-sided and he holds onto his ‘friends’ solely as a means to an end. The reason he’s not married is that his relationship with women is very platonic; they’re just another person to be used. If he can’t form friendships, naturally, that includes the next step as well.
Unusually for someone of his mental condition, he’s quite obsessive over his job, but it’s hard to consider gutting animal corpses ‘work’ if you’re James Butcher. He also seems to have some degree of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder over his own personal hygiene and that of his surroundings; you’ll never see a cleaner store anywhere and he’ll cringe the second you walk in touching things or leaving even the hint of a footprint.
Oh, and did I mention he’s a serial killer?
Quite so.
Modern criminal psychology would categorize him as an Organised/Nonsocial offender with a missionary and hedonistic motive, but everyone else would be fairly safe in just shrugging him off as a downright psychopath. His victims are always people who he feels are doing society a disservice in some way, such as whores, adulterers and the like and he thinks he is justified in ‘removing’ them. He’s also quite aware of who is and who isn’t a suitable target, a noble or anyone in power is untouchable, even IF Sherriff Vaysey does deserve all he can dish out. Everything is pre-planned first, and information on his M.O can be found later. James’s cooling-off period between kills varies, and he’s not sure what exactly sets him off some months and not others. He also finds his surname funny for this reason to everyone’s bafflement, seeing as having your profession in your name is hardly unusual enough to be considered an amusing coincidence.
The one place he likes to go to think or unwind is his perfectly manicured garden plot outside the kill-shed his father built in the forest. The unobtrusive building is surrounded by a number of perfectly trimmed bushes, flowers and small fruit trees. It’s not the plants that interest him, but rather what’s buried beneath the roots. The ‘happy memories’ will always be guaranteed to bring a satisfied, knowing smile to his face whenever someone asks him the secret of how his latest saplings grow so well.
Family:
Robert Butcher – Father – Deceased
David Armstrong – Stepfather
MariePotter Butcher Armstrong – Mother
SarahButcher Johnson Baker – Older Sister
Background: James was born in quite a regular family setting in Nottingham, nothing strange, tragic or unusual you would expect would lead him to turn into what he would eventually become. His father was the local butcher, his mother a pretty young thing who had always dreamed for something better, and he had an older sister who’s life he enjoyed making hell.
Much to his parents concern, as he developed they discovered he was left-handed and his mother went to great pains to correct this. The left hand is the hand of the devil after all. James still uses his right hand for most tasks, but also has a certain level of ambidextrousness common in people forced into changing hands.
Questionable behaviours started popping up when he was about five. It’s not unusual for children to lie, but James seemed quite incapable of telling the truth; he would lie about the colour of the sky if it suited him. Frustrated that his mother kept catching him out, he practised rigorously to try and make it as effortless and innocuous as breathing. He often spoke about ‘getting back’, about hurting people he didn’t like, which concerned his mother and she continued to try and instil some ‘noble Christian values’ in him.
At seven, the family cat disappeared. His sister Sarah was quite distraught, but James didn’t even react except to smile grimly whenever the kitty was brought up. Later that year a small pile of animal bones was discovered hidden near where he liked to play. His father pretended to turn a blind eye, claiming James just wanted to follow the family business and started to teach his son his craft. Still, it made him uneasy, the decomposing body of the cat had been there as well, and he hoped James helping him in the shop would help curb his strange tendency to cruelty. The bones never popped up in the same spot again, and his Father always suspected he’d just found a better place to leave them.
At nine, James was no normal bratty, fun-loving child. The lying hadn’t stopped, and he now showed no reaction to anything. No excitement, joy, sadness, fear. He lost friends. He became increasingly introverted. Household items would show up burned in the yard.
Due to complaints about the smell of the blood and bodies in abattoir section at the back of the butcher shop, his father started building a small one-room shed of sorts in Sherwood Forest, away from the houses, to kill the stock animals he purchased. During this time James was shown to correctly kill and butcher live animals.
Their father died when he was thirteen. Still no feeling, which worried even James. In frustration at her brother’s antipathy in such a depressing time, his sister screamed at him. He tuned out for most of it, but what he does vividly recall is her calling him a freak, and demanding that he start acting like a normal human being, that his mother was scared he was possessed. It obviously had some effect, as he steadily began to resort to what seemed like normality, though inside the feels didn’t change, the lies had just went up a whole new level.
Their mother took over the butchers shop and remarried months later when he was fourteen. A woman on her own with children wasn’t a good position to be in just as much then as it is now. Contrary to popular belief, James wasn’t in the least concerned by this, but it made for a good cover. By this stage he was already involved with a group of people known for vandalising buildings and a number of muggings. His mother was able to rationalise this behaviour as him just being scared and confused over the new family situation and he was just lashing out. She never told the law, fearing her son would be punished.
Things continued until he was eighteen. His sister was now twenty two, and well in her rights to find a husband to marry. She naturally did just this, seeking out eligible bachelors and found herself engaged. James wasn’t perturbed by this either, until he found the man she had fallen in love with was secretly married to another woman, leading a double-life. Perhaps it was a rudimentary form of loyalty, or just anger that someone was messing with ‘his property’, but James went over to confront him. The man chose to fight back, and James managed to bash his skull in with a rock. Terrified he was going to get caught; he pulled the body further back into the forest and buried it. Years later he would return to the site and move the skeleton to his father’s abattoir where it would start the chain reaction of using human remains as ‘fertilizer’.
After his first murder he was determined to make things go back to normal and became quite good at avoiding an eternally moping Sarah. Everyone had assumed her fiancée had been killed by outlaws between villages, which worked just fine for James. He went to church, subjecting himself to his minister's illogical ravings and pretending to be truly a devoted Christian. God? There was no God. God wouldn’t make a man like himself knowing full well his creation would never have a chance at heaven. James also took over working at the store, and tried his hand at having some girlfriends. However, no relationship lasted very long; the emotional attachment was one-sided, and as he had discovered, murder held an even greater thrill than sex. He promptly gave up on the idea of a wife.
A prostitute was the next victim to fall by his hand when he was nineteen. James had seen his stepfather visiting her several times, and decided to put his own special brand of end to the relationship. She, whoever she was, was the first one to end up meeting the same exact same fate as the livestock that went through his store in the way that became James ‘Modus Operandi’. To him, she was no better than an animal, why should she fare any differently?
Years later when he was twenty three, people were regularly disappearing, but in no greater numbers than what usually find their end to rogues. Couldn’t make it too obvious now could he? Sarah remarried and moved out of Nottingham and his mother and stepfather went with her owing to their mother’s ill-health; his stepfather thought she’d be better cared for in a new place.
James has been living alone at the shop since then, ‘doing what he does best’ when the need arises, and getting stock from several surrounding farms including Mortimer Merrik’s. Though, Mort’s sheep might not always be the only thing in the mutton...
Anything else: James’s Modus Operandi (M.O) is as follows:
Victims are preselected beforehand and approached alone at night and made to follow to a location free of any potential witnesses. Prostitutes are easy; others are usually lured by the threat of blackmail for their ‘crimes’.
At the chosen location, often a forest or an abandoned house, victims are garrotted via use of a rope, other tool or by the arms to cut off blood flow to the brain, rendering them temporarily unconscious. The eyes are stabbed through the pupil to the middle of the vitreous humour, left eye then right, to blind the victim without causing any blood loss. The Achilles tendons are then cut at its thinnest point in the same order using a narrow implement so as to avoid hitting the lesser saphenous vein and causing excessive bleeding. After this, it doesn’t matter if they regain consciousness; in fact, he prefers it, as it allows him to dish out brutal beatings at the sign of a struggle.
Now incapable of escape, victims are shoved into a sack, dragged and secured to the back of a cart where they are taken to James’s father’s old hunting shed refitted as a makeshift abattoir. Victims are kept alive to be allowed to hear him preparing knives for later use and he often talks to them, reminding them of their predicament. If they attempt to humanise themselves or do anything other than beg for mercy, he strikes them again until they are silent. Eventually they are strung upside down via meat hooks through the ankles over a large collecting tub. After allowing them some last words, their throats are slit severing the jugular vein, trachea and carotid artery, causing death by exsanguination in minutes.
The corpse is decapitated and skinned, then the abdominal cavity is cut open and the unpalatable entrails allowed to fall into the already blood-filled tub. Organs that may of use such as the liver and tongue are extracted and stored. The carcass is cleaned then taken off the rack and onto a wooden table for the useable parts of the meat to be cut out. The offal and remains are buried in the garden plot outside, and a tree or shrub is planted on top via use of cuttings or seedlings. The house and tub are then fully cleaned.
The process can take days, and James doesn’t sleep throughout. The parts of the body he kept are taken back with him to the store and used as filler in mince or as part of the sausages. Having them any other way would be too obvious.
... Thaaaat’s right. Always check what exactly it is you’re buying.
---
James is also the owner of a 6 year old chestnut mare for transport. He's never really cared for her at all and she went quite neglected for a few years until James was forced to hire a young boy to look after her in response to people commenting on the horse's state. To his surprise, the boy gave the mare a name, Kaddy. Why, he's not certain. They're dumb animals, what's the point in naming them after all?
Face Claim: Michael Vartan
RP Sample: - - -
Password: Oh, la di da! (So not James. Soooo not.)
Name: My own, but you may call me Illu
Age: 17
How to contact you: MSN & Email, therianthropic@hotmail.com
Role playing experience: Approx 6 years + Admin & Modding
Other Characters on this Site: Lachlan Mackenzie
------------------------------------------------------------
James Butcher
James Butcher
About your Character
Name: James Butcher
Nickname: Up to you
Age: 26
Country: England
Position: Peasant
Job: Butcher
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Brown
Height: 6’
General Appearance: James takes an unusual amount of care of himself for being both a peasant and a bachelor. His hair is always short, clean, nicely cut, clothes spotless, clean pressed and boots glowing. Even his butcher’s apron, despite the acceptable bloodstains from fresh work, is gleaming white and empty of old blemishes. Long work hours sometimes make shaving difficult, so he does occasionally show up with a beard or stubble, though he always ensures it never becomes anything unsightly. You’d easily be forgiven for assuming James lives with an extremely fussy wife who doesn’t let him out without looking better groomed than Prince John.
Hours of standing up ripping ribcages out of pig (and other animal) carcasses has given him a certain level of upper body strength, but the exercise routines he puts himself through are almost criminal and he sticks to them as hard and fast as any modern athlete. It all hasn’t gone to waste; James is incredibly fit, preferring muscle tone to muscle mass. Partially this obsession with conditioning himself is due to his control issues and his other dark little secret; it’s hard to do what he does without the ability to overpower. More on that little gem later.
In short, he’s the medieval equivalent of the metrosexual fitness nut.
Likes:
- Being Alone
- His Job
- Cleanliness
- Blood
- Music
- Intelligence
- A Plan
- Control
- His ‘Garden’
- Exercise
Dislikes:
- People
- Animals
- Emotion
- People
- Others Self-Esteem
- God
- People
Personality: James has a superficial charm which allows him to make friends easily, he’s always polite and friendly, loves his garden and likeable enough for the most part. He has his vices, like everyone else, gambling in particular, and can often be quite rash and impulsive with little thought of the consequences. To those that know him well control issues quickly become apparent, he likes to know everything about everyone and where they’re going and why, but takes great pains to reveal nothing about himself.
If you want to get into the specifics, he’s a complete sociopath. James wants to win; but the game is as good as anyone’s guess. He’s utterly emotionless but fakes his feelings with a blasé sort of ease, and is also a pathological liar, lying about everything and even using aliases for no apparent reason except to see how long he can get away with it. He is almost constantly bored and can engage in behaviour others would consider downright suicidal, anything to get his next thrill. He also appears to have some sort of addiction to self inflicted pain, usually through exercising to death, subtle stress positions or crushing his toes and he once almost dislocated his finger from leaning on it so much.
The friendships James maintains are very one-sided and he holds onto his ‘friends’ solely as a means to an end. The reason he’s not married is that his relationship with women is very platonic; they’re just another person to be used. If he can’t form friendships, naturally, that includes the next step as well.
Unusually for someone of his mental condition, he’s quite obsessive over his job, but it’s hard to consider gutting animal corpses ‘work’ if you’re James Butcher. He also seems to have some degree of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder over his own personal hygiene and that of his surroundings; you’ll never see a cleaner store anywhere and he’ll cringe the second you walk in touching things or leaving even the hint of a footprint.
Oh, and did I mention he’s a serial killer?
Quite so.
Modern criminal psychology would categorize him as an Organised/Nonsocial offender with a missionary and hedonistic motive, but everyone else would be fairly safe in just shrugging him off as a downright psychopath. His victims are always people who he feels are doing society a disservice in some way, such as whores, adulterers and the like and he thinks he is justified in ‘removing’ them. He’s also quite aware of who is and who isn’t a suitable target, a noble or anyone in power is untouchable, even IF Sherriff Vaysey does deserve all he can dish out. Everything is pre-planned first, and information on his M.O can be found later. James’s cooling-off period between kills varies, and he’s not sure what exactly sets him off some months and not others. He also finds his surname funny for this reason to everyone’s bafflement, seeing as having your profession in your name is hardly unusual enough to be considered an amusing coincidence.
The one place he likes to go to think or unwind is his perfectly manicured garden plot outside the kill-shed his father built in the forest. The unobtrusive building is surrounded by a number of perfectly trimmed bushes, flowers and small fruit trees. It’s not the plants that interest him, but rather what’s buried beneath the roots. The ‘happy memories’ will always be guaranteed to bring a satisfied, knowing smile to his face whenever someone asks him the secret of how his latest saplings grow so well.
Family:
Robert Butcher – Father – Deceased
David Armstrong – Stepfather
Marie
Sarah
Background: James was born in quite a regular family setting in Nottingham, nothing strange, tragic or unusual you would expect would lead him to turn into what he would eventually become. His father was the local butcher, his mother a pretty young thing who had always dreamed for something better, and he had an older sister who’s life he enjoyed making hell.
Much to his parents concern, as he developed they discovered he was left-handed and his mother went to great pains to correct this. The left hand is the hand of the devil after all. James still uses his right hand for most tasks, but also has a certain level of ambidextrousness common in people forced into changing hands.
Questionable behaviours started popping up when he was about five. It’s not unusual for children to lie, but James seemed quite incapable of telling the truth; he would lie about the colour of the sky if it suited him. Frustrated that his mother kept catching him out, he practised rigorously to try and make it as effortless and innocuous as breathing. He often spoke about ‘getting back’, about hurting people he didn’t like, which concerned his mother and she continued to try and instil some ‘noble Christian values’ in him.
At seven, the family cat disappeared. His sister Sarah was quite distraught, but James didn’t even react except to smile grimly whenever the kitty was brought up. Later that year a small pile of animal bones was discovered hidden near where he liked to play. His father pretended to turn a blind eye, claiming James just wanted to follow the family business and started to teach his son his craft. Still, it made him uneasy, the decomposing body of the cat had been there as well, and he hoped James helping him in the shop would help curb his strange tendency to cruelty. The bones never popped up in the same spot again, and his Father always suspected he’d just found a better place to leave them.
At nine, James was no normal bratty, fun-loving child. The lying hadn’t stopped, and he now showed no reaction to anything. No excitement, joy, sadness, fear. He lost friends. He became increasingly introverted. Household items would show up burned in the yard.
Due to complaints about the smell of the blood and bodies in abattoir section at the back of the butcher shop, his father started building a small one-room shed of sorts in Sherwood Forest, away from the houses, to kill the stock animals he purchased. During this time James was shown to correctly kill and butcher live animals.
Their father died when he was thirteen. Still no feeling, which worried even James. In frustration at her brother’s antipathy in such a depressing time, his sister screamed at him. He tuned out for most of it, but what he does vividly recall is her calling him a freak, and demanding that he start acting like a normal human being, that his mother was scared he was possessed. It obviously had some effect, as he steadily began to resort to what seemed like normality, though inside the feels didn’t change, the lies had just went up a whole new level.
Their mother took over the butchers shop and remarried months later when he was fourteen. A woman on her own with children wasn’t a good position to be in just as much then as it is now. Contrary to popular belief, James wasn’t in the least concerned by this, but it made for a good cover. By this stage he was already involved with a group of people known for vandalising buildings and a number of muggings. His mother was able to rationalise this behaviour as him just being scared and confused over the new family situation and he was just lashing out. She never told the law, fearing her son would be punished.
Things continued until he was eighteen. His sister was now twenty two, and well in her rights to find a husband to marry. She naturally did just this, seeking out eligible bachelors and found herself engaged. James wasn’t perturbed by this either, until he found the man she had fallen in love with was secretly married to another woman, leading a double-life. Perhaps it was a rudimentary form of loyalty, or just anger that someone was messing with ‘his property’, but James went over to confront him. The man chose to fight back, and James managed to bash his skull in with a rock. Terrified he was going to get caught; he pulled the body further back into the forest and buried it. Years later he would return to the site and move the skeleton to his father’s abattoir where it would start the chain reaction of using human remains as ‘fertilizer’.
After his first murder he was determined to make things go back to normal and became quite good at avoiding an eternally moping Sarah. Everyone had assumed her fiancée had been killed by outlaws between villages, which worked just fine for James. He went to church, subjecting himself to his minister's illogical ravings and pretending to be truly a devoted Christian. God? There was no God. God wouldn’t make a man like himself knowing full well his creation would never have a chance at heaven. James also took over working at the store, and tried his hand at having some girlfriends. However, no relationship lasted very long; the emotional attachment was one-sided, and as he had discovered, murder held an even greater thrill than sex. He promptly gave up on the idea of a wife.
A prostitute was the next victim to fall by his hand when he was nineteen. James had seen his stepfather visiting her several times, and decided to put his own special brand of end to the relationship. She, whoever she was, was the first one to end up meeting the same exact same fate as the livestock that went through his store in the way that became James ‘Modus Operandi’. To him, she was no better than an animal, why should she fare any differently?
Years later when he was twenty three, people were regularly disappearing, but in no greater numbers than what usually find their end to rogues. Couldn’t make it too obvious now could he? Sarah remarried and moved out of Nottingham and his mother and stepfather went with her owing to their mother’s ill-health; his stepfather thought she’d be better cared for in a new place.
James has been living alone at the shop since then, ‘doing what he does best’ when the need arises, and getting stock from several surrounding farms including Mortimer Merrik’s. Though, Mort’s sheep might not always be the only thing in the mutton...
Anything else: James’s Modus Operandi (M.O) is as follows:
Victims are preselected beforehand and approached alone at night and made to follow to a location free of any potential witnesses. Prostitutes are easy; others are usually lured by the threat of blackmail for their ‘crimes’.
At the chosen location, often a forest or an abandoned house, victims are garrotted via use of a rope, other tool or by the arms to cut off blood flow to the brain, rendering them temporarily unconscious. The eyes are stabbed through the pupil to the middle of the vitreous humour, left eye then right, to blind the victim without causing any blood loss. The Achilles tendons are then cut at its thinnest point in the same order using a narrow implement so as to avoid hitting the lesser saphenous vein and causing excessive bleeding. After this, it doesn’t matter if they regain consciousness; in fact, he prefers it, as it allows him to dish out brutal beatings at the sign of a struggle.
Now incapable of escape, victims are shoved into a sack, dragged and secured to the back of a cart where they are taken to James’s father’s old hunting shed refitted as a makeshift abattoir. Victims are kept alive to be allowed to hear him preparing knives for later use and he often talks to them, reminding them of their predicament. If they attempt to humanise themselves or do anything other than beg for mercy, he strikes them again until they are silent. Eventually they are strung upside down via meat hooks through the ankles over a large collecting tub. After allowing them some last words, their throats are slit severing the jugular vein, trachea and carotid artery, causing death by exsanguination in minutes.
The corpse is decapitated and skinned, then the abdominal cavity is cut open and the unpalatable entrails allowed to fall into the already blood-filled tub. Organs that may of use such as the liver and tongue are extracted and stored. The carcass is cleaned then taken off the rack and onto a wooden table for the useable parts of the meat to be cut out. The offal and remains are buried in the garden plot outside, and a tree or shrub is planted on top via use of cuttings or seedlings. The house and tub are then fully cleaned.
The process can take days, and James doesn’t sleep throughout. The parts of the body he kept are taken back with him to the store and used as filler in mince or as part of the sausages. Having them any other way would be too obvious.
... Thaaaat’s right. Always check what exactly it is you’re buying.
---
James is also the owner of a 6 year old chestnut mare for transport. He's never really cared for her at all and she went quite neglected for a few years until James was forced to hire a young boy to look after her in response to people commenting on the horse's state. To his surprise, the boy gave the mare a name, Kaddy. Why, he's not certain. They're dumb animals, what's the point in naming them after all?
Face Claim: Michael Vartan
RP Sample: - - -
Password: Oh, la di da! (So not James. Soooo not.)