Post by Poison Jam on Aug 14, 2016 20:59:34 GMT -6
Name: Tibault "Tibs" Sharpe.
Age: 32
Gender: Male.
Occupation: Fluctuates between street surgeon, unlicensed masseuse and chiropractor, gambler, street game conman and general alternative medicine purveyor. He also plays a mean game of darts.
Race: Human.
Physical Appearance: Of just above average height and moderately heavyset build, Tibault is fairly typical in appearance in many factors beyond his vaguely blunt features and reasonably athletic figure, although it's concealed somewhat by his preference for thickly padded clothing. The street-surgeon's hair is a different matter entirely, and a source of considerable pride for the sleazy medical practitioner: Coaxed upwards into a loose fauxhawk by combined effort of comb and gel, Tibs' almost metallic-red hair is shaved in places to create a pair of fiery lines on either side of his forehead, above his similarly dyed and carefully-maintained sideburns. Perhaps for the sake of further distinctiveness, the street-surgeon has neglected to apply the same eye-searing dye-job to his naturally black eyebrows or seemingly-permanent facial stubble. A fan of tattoos, although not visibly displaying any while clothed, Tibs bears a curling motif of intertwined snakes and rose thorns wrapping around a winged staff, which reaches from the lower left side of his chest up to his collarbone, hints of rose petals and forked tongues occasionally visible on his neck and shoulder through the collar of his much-loved jacket. Seemingly always found with an idle slouch in his shoulders, reclined against a wall or otherwise in a state of apparent total comfort, Tibault's default lazy grin, whether entirely disingenuous or genuine, never shows teeth.
Clothing Appearance: When you think medical practitioner, you might think white lab-coat, stethoscope, clipboard and doctor's bag. Although the doctor's bag (and often the stethoscope too) is still present in reality, you probably don't think of a thickly padded and fur-collared (which conveniently doubles as a furred hood) brown pleather jacket marked with myriad indecipherable stains, and a pair of simple and durable dark jeans (or more rarely some comfy but hideous bell-bottoms) and well-loved sneakers. In the rare eventuality that Tibs wanders outside without his jacket firmly zipped (and commonly secured all the tighter by the strap of Spin Doctors ACT1), it would become apparent that the lackadaisical 'doctor' has a fondness for colourful paisley, Hawaiian or plaid (or some horrifying combination of all three) button-up shirts. Seemingly ever-present also is a pair of thin cords leading from an inner pocket of his jacket, and connected to earphones either jammed into ears or being swung in casual *whooshing* loops at his side.
Personality: Tibs' demeanour, mannerisms and speech seem to make the medical-focused Stand User ooze sleaze, apathy and insincere charm from every last pore, his face a well-coached mask of casual, knowing smugness that only seems able to fluctuate from wry amusement and curiosity to open gloating. Long-since used to being viewed with suspicion because of his somewhat scruffy appearance, morally-dubious occupation and casually smarmy demeanour, Tibs is adept at making the prejudgements and assumptions of others work for him; easily ingratiating himself with the 'undesirables' of society and therefore maintaining a wide web of contacts, remaining beneath the attentions of the snooty and high-class (often even while he's pinching their 'lost' belongings), and skilled at explaining his way out of arrest or other trouble with the law (although he prefers to keep the law on his side rather than break it flagrantly). Always ready to take the the easy way out, Tibault makes it a policy to never sweat anything smaller than his life or a very large sum of money (or far less frequently, close friends). Although he plays the disreputable braggart and layabout charlatan to the hilt (finding it almost impossible to resist being a smartass shit-stirrer at every possible opportunity) and feels no guilt over preying on the wealthy, trendy and gullible, Tibault feels deep sympathy for the helpless dregs forgotten by society, and frequently provides his services pro-bono to those who are unable to pay. Finally, although his armour of snarky, good-humoured cynicism is crafted partially to prevent him from forming personal or serious connections with others (leading to him using teasing nicknames for virtually everyone he meets) and partially to hide his myriad vulnerabilities, Tibs can be a trustworthy, helpful and genuinely caring ally to any who manage to worm their way under his emotional guard despite the steps he's taken to shut others out, as well as his own deep-seated issues with trusting others.
Weapons/Tools: Tibs relies on Spin Doctors ACT1 to give him everything he needs for the sake of self-defence, but his most common demand (to the point he often carries a few on his person) is for a handful of large acupuncture needles which have been carefully weighted and shaped for throwing. He's also the proud owner of a somewhat old (but still functional) mint-green Vespa named (and lettered as such along its side) as: "Little Miss Can't-Be-Wrong~"
Skills: Sleight of hand, misdirection, deception and insincere charm, ingratiation, etiquette with the criminal and low-class element, precise and steady hand-movements, thrown weapons and objects, medical knowledge, surgery, first-aid, chemistry and physics, long-distance running, hiding himself and concealing objects.
Are they a Stand User: Yes, Tibs is the user of Spin Doctors, which is currently in its first ACT.
Quotes: "Relax chummer; it's medicinal~"
"Listen, most people come to me because buying from a 'herbalist' like yours truly gives you the kind of cred that's necessary to stay in their clique of 'alternative' friends. The fact that I can actually cure them is just a bonus."
"They say a baker always burns their first batch, but I feel like I came out pretty good. Okay maybe a little singed, but lemme ask you; who in this crazy world is perfect?"
"You really need to learn how to stop worrying and trust the Tibs~"
"Don't be preying on my sappy heart now, kid. I might ooze from the trees for a sob story, but that's only if I believe it."
"The deep and eternal bond between man and pleather jacket is truly a mystery unexplainable by modern science."
"Why would I cure them in one sitting? Then they wouldn't have to come back every week under threat of crippling chronic pain. Most people can only dream of that kind of job security, let me tell ya."
"Oh fuck me with a white-hot waffle-iron.. Uh, Stand-buddies? We've got a problem over here.."
"You know the Caduceus has been used to refer to both medicine and commerce, throughout history? I think it's a pretty good symbol for yours truly. I figure in another life I'd have made a killing on rattlesnake oil."
"So what are you here for, kid? Liposuction? The opposite? No worries; I don't judge~"
"You'd be hard pressed to find a surgeon more street than ol' Tibs here."
"Kid; you pull that shit again and I swear I'll Spin your colon until you're permanently incontinent."
Their Goal: Although undeniably curious about the nature and origin of the strange abilities he has possessed since he split with his former gang, Tibs is (apparently) an easily contented, go-with-the-flow kind of guy. As such he has little drive to change up his life beyond whatever's necessary to evade the authorities (in the event of being caught doing something expressly illegal) and his rising count of detractors and enemies in the city's seedy underbelly. Although.. Before he passed, Tibs' Spin Master spoke at length about a healing art as ancient as the Spin, if not moreso. Even if his elderly Master had viewed the discipline of 'Hamon' with the smug derision of a competitor who believed himself superior, surely looking into another art apparently as miraculous as the Spin couldn't hurt? At the very least it could provide inspiration to help him overcome the roadblock he'd reached in his studies of the Italian healing technique.
Finally, deep, deep down, even as untrustworthy and duplicitous as he ordinarily acts, and buried so heavily even he isn't aware of it yet; Tibault craves the opportunity to defy his past and prove himself as an ultimately good, loyal and dependable person to a group of true companions.
Their Secret: Deep down Tibault feels no small amount of shame for his failures in academia; outwardly shrugging off his downward spiral of missed attendance and disastrous exam and assessment performance as a result his apathy towards the subject and study in general, even though it resulted in fact from the unsavoury connections the once-promising medical student made during the course of his degree. Although he isn't above using his Stand to produce marijuana for his own use and the occasional sale to a friend, Tibs holds a deep-seated disgust for drug users and a hatred for dealers as a result of his college experiences, these same experiences making him somewhat adverse to using violence unnecessarily, or ingratiating himself too closely with violent gangs.
Weaknesses: Because his Stand does not possess a physical body, Tibault is exceedingly vulnerable at short ranges during Stand Battles, lacking any real methods to attack or defend himself against a close-range Stand. In a more physical sense, his past experiences with drug abuse and gang violence have left him with some physical and emotional scars, and a (slightly safer) addiction to copious amounts of alcohol which threatens his health in the long run, and his mask of playful smugness whenever he drinks heavily. Mentally, although his shell of cheerful apathy and insincere charm keeps him from forming deep connections for the most-part, the seemingly-always comfortable and confident street surgeon harbours deeply buried feelings of inadequacy and self-disgust which make him reliant on the impression of control and confidence created in others (and to some extent himself) by his theatrical conman-esque ways.
Strengths: Despite his status a dropout and his possession of various less than legitimate medical licenses, Tibault is nevertheless an impressively skilled surgeon and general-practice doctor, having a broad-scope understanding of biology, chemistry. physics and medicine, as well as steely nerves and almost preternatural manual dexterity and precision. These together make him as effective at providing first-aid for massive trauma he is at filling out prescriptions of chemicals from his bottomless Stand, providing Spin-augmented massages and acupuncture sessions, or even carrying out complex surgical procedures in cramped conditions and on rushed timeframes.
Bio: Firstborn son of a determined but frequently absent single mother, Mrs Sharpe pushed Tibault hard (mostly by proxy through various nannies and tutors) in the hopes that he would one day be as successful as she herself. When the young, largely work-focused medical student received his first taste of freedom in the dormitories of his college, all those years of well-intentioned repression and stuffy mothering backfired immensely as Tibault began to engage more and more with the partying scene of the college and surrounding city, rather than his studies, with Tibs himself content to coast on natural ability for the first few years.
Developing a sense of apathy towards his work and an appreciation for debauchery, drugs and alcohol, the then impressionable and naïve youth fell in with what his mother would have called 'the wrong sort' and before long found himself skipping classes entirely to party with his new 'friends' and spend time with the first woman who had ever taken more than a friendly interest in him. Over time things worsened, and Tibault slid subtly into further and deeper debauchery at the urging of his buddies and girlfriend, his grades and attendance suffering more and more as he began to experiment with harder drugs in the seedier streets of the city, life seeming like one continuous and thoroughly exciting party until his mother caught wind of his ailing grades and severed her financial support without hesitation.
Practically disowned after his stern mother discovered what he had become involved with in his later college years, Tibault found his 'friends' rapidly drying up now that he was the one asking for financial and other favours rather than providing them, his attempts at returning to study and his mother's good graces repeatedly scuttled by the increasingly needling and caustic insistence of his girlfriend that he needed to abandon his pipe-dream and work to support them, until he dropped out of college entirely and used the last of his money to rent a flat in the city for the pair of them.
By this point the eldest child of the Sharpe family had lost contact with them entirely, his various addictions and vices impinging on his health now that his drained finances could no longer allow him to indulge in debauchery without consequences, the drained and sickly former college-student eventually finding 'work' with the very same group with which he and his friends had found the resources to make their partying lifestyle possible; putting his chemical knowledge to use as a cook of various illegal substances to work off his and her impressively vast debts. When finances were especially tight due to his girlfriend's habitual spending-bouts, 'work' sometimes necessitated that the lost and broken dropout acted as extra muscle for the gang, much to his barely-suppressed disgust.
Mired in his new, seedy, physically and habit-fulfilling but soul-crushingly bleak life, Tibault received a moment of clarity when he walked off the job rather than obey the orders of a superior to rough up a whimpering vagrant who had attempted to steal the fix he couldn't afford. This only became all the more potent when he found his girlfriend at home with another of the gang's higher-ups, an uncharacteristic instant of blind range causing him to manifest his Stand for the first time and promptly beat the taunting thug into a bloodied and broken mess on the stained carpet.
Without a word, and with his new 'gift' in hand, Tibs turned on his heel and left his old life behind entirely, ripping the vileness from his life in one yank like a Band-Aid, the Stand-User travelling on foot and public transport across the country with his meagre savings until he was sure he wasn't being pursued by his old gang, toughing out the ever-increasing pangs of withdrawal with every shivering step. Legitimate work came later, in the form of assisting at an old Italian man's herbal remedy shop, his natural hand and still-sharp medical mind prompting the shop's owner to invest in Tibs his teachings about an ancient medicinal art called 'The Spin', which he used to tend to the ills and aches of the shop's frequent customers as well as Tibs himself.
Tibault remained as the Spin-Master's student and assistant for many years, receiving treatment for his withdrawals and vices in the process until the old man's long-overdue departure from the world, at which point the prematurely aged young dropout inherited the shop and his understandings of that ancient art. With a stronger foothold in the world and a deeper understanding of its unsavoury elements, but beyond disgraced in academia, separated from his family and never again able to study or practice medicine legitimately, Tibault began to reinvent himself, crafting a new identity which would let him make his way in the world without ever suffering again. Using his guile and skill to earn money which was at the very least dubiously legal, and practicing the science of medicine he was still so very passionate about even jaded and cynical as he had become, Tibs became a street-surgeon and Spin practitioner; using his Stand and Spin and the resources of the shop he had inherited to both treat those looking to go under the knife surreptitiously or cheaply, and to con the wealthy and gullible out of their money.
Appearance Image (Open in New Tab for Full View): Based on Blitz, from Shadowrun Dragonfall.