||[Jul. 9th, 2006|10:00 pm]
Offender's name: Broderick Goran
Fandom: Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time
Role-play Style: Forum-based
Notable traits: An odd BDSM fetish with the local lord's daughter.
Cue klaxon siren.
J: Looks like we have an incoming Stu.
V: Bracing self.
J: The dark side is strong with this one. And by dark side, I mean punctuation abuse.
Name: Broderick Goran
J: More like ‘Broderick GROAN’! Who’s with me?
V: *hops up and down and raises a hand* Me me me!
J: Yeah! High five!
Weight: 145 lbs
Hair color/length: Brown/neck
Eye color: Brown
Quiet and reserved,
J: He’s been put under the counter for a customer.
Broderick, or "Brode" as he is known
V: Not to be confused with Brody.
J: From Mallrats?
V: That’s the one.
J: That explains the smell.
is a fiercley loyal man capable of incredible passions and loves. however, he has been hurt so badly, that it rarely shows.
J: Awww… poor diddums.
V: ...‘fiercley’…that edible?
J: No! All Stus are poisonous.
V: Alright…I won’t make soup out of this one then…
Perhaps with time it will return but he has drawn inward to himself becoming even more quiet and soft.
J: Some would say flaccid.
V: Or squishy…like what happens when a banana goes bad.
J: Has he been left in the sun too long?
V: Either that or someone forgot to wrap him in plastic.
J: Maybe he’s Banana-man.
Born to Lurkan and Sallisan Goran, servants to the House Aitana. Brode grew up quietly,
J: And sneakily.
serving the master and his wife as did his parents. the Master's daughter,
J: ‘Master’ gets a capital but ‘the’ does not? Anyone else sensing some domination play going on?
V: Brode and Morgaine. Has the makings of the second coming of King Arthur…
J: I called being Galahad!
was about the same age as Brode. As Brode began serving the family,
J: Oh, we *know* how he was ‘serving’ them.
V: We are *not* going *there*.
J: These nobles are creepy. Getting seven year olds to ‘serve’ them.
V: I always thought that paedophiles deserve to be shot, three times, once in each kneecap and once in the groin. But that might just be me.
even at the young age of seven, he was fascinated by her, her beauty, her grace. At night she would haunt his dreams.
J: He kept dreaming she was dead, and her spirit was haunting him.
V: Time to call in the exorcist methinks.
Her cold beauty was a winter
J: She doesn’t sound especially attractive at all.
that his heart could not bear.
V: I hope it breaks.
He once mentioned his feelings to his parents, and his father beat him until he bled.
J: They’re into pain too. It’s so hard to get good help these days.
They were very proper about the distance between Nobles and commons.
J: Clearly the commons are the submissives in the relationship.
V: But do they know that in reality, the sub controls the dom…I sense a cataclysmic moment.
J: They do?
V: Everyone knows *that*, J.
J: I must not have got that memo.
V: There should be a copy in the archives.
They were 'proud to be common'.
V: Because being uncommon would mean they didn’t belong to the flock.
J: Sheep servants. These nobles get weirder and weirder.
There are still a few scars on his back from the beating. Every day he saw her at meals. Too small to do much in the way of work, Brode served the family wine or a similar drink
J: Like… not wine.
V: “Unwine…the perfect drink to unwind after a long, taxing day of hard work.”
J: Mostly drunk by the undead. Dracula always said he did not drink… wine.
at their meals. Hovering near the Master's elbow,
J: Is he like a hummingbird?
V: Oooh…can he like fly backwards? Cos like, that would like, be so awesomely like cool!
J: *edges away*
V: I think I need to take my medicine. My brains are starting to come out of my ears.
J: Here’s the morphine.
filling cups that became empty,
J: That’s better than refilling full ones.
and watching Morgaine. Although, thankfully no one ever noticed his fascination.
V: I do believe the word we want here is ‘infatuation’. Romeo suffered from it too, look what happened to him.
J: Yeah, he abandoned his lover Mercutio for a pre-pubescent bint.
At the age of ten, he began training to work in the stables.
V: Because working in the stables takes a lot of training for one to master it.
J: I wouldn’t trust him with a pitchfork. Who knows where he’d stick it.
Horses fascinated young Brode,
J: Do their creepy sex fetishes know no bounds?
V: Apparently not.
and it was one of the happiest days of his life when he learned to ride, and to care for horses. After a year or two of training, he began taking up duties as a stable boy.
V: He’s sure gone down the promotional ladder. Table serving to stables?
J: Tables to stables? Maybe he thinks more letters equals better.
V: It wouldn’t surprise me.
Feeding horses, and grooming them. Mucking out stalls, working quite hard.
V: Not very. Just quite.
J: He’s a slacker, deep down. Maybe he is Brody.
V: We *have* been known to make mistakes.
One of Brode's favorites was Coco,
V: Whose sire was Coffee and whose dame was Cacao.
J: And whose offspring would be Mochaccino.
an all black horse that was quite laid back, much like Brode.
J: He doesn’t seem laid back. He seems angsty.
For the next four or five years, Brode worked hard in the stables, learning all about horses he could, and learning to love them with a passion.
J: I feel sorry for those with a dispassionate love. “Eh, I guess I kind of love them.”
They were a cure for his heart, a protection against the winter of Morgaine Aitana.
J: She’s got seasons? I thought only planets could have those.
V: The Second Coming of King Arthur’s wreaking havoc already.
J: She must be a *big* girl.
His thin frame had changed form
J: He had become a tadpole.
V: So much for the Frog-Prince theory.
small to strong and wiry. Calluses decorated his hands, and the young man was not afraid of work at all.
J: I’ve seen grown men flee in terror after a request to take out the garbage.
V: Or doing the dishes.
This would benefit him greatly in life later on, but he did not know it yet.
V: He wouldn’t, would he, because that would mean that he’d need Foretelling or Dreaming or something…and we can’t have that.
J: No, that might indicate forethought into the character.
V: That too.
Then when he was about fifteen years old, Morgaine was riding Spirit, her magnificent fourteenth birthday present.
V: A horse, by the way, just for clarity.
J: Are you sure it’s not just another servant?
She had learned to ride well over the years he had been working in there.
V: I don’t even want to know *where* he means by ‘in there’.
J: Looks like he wasn’t the only one being ‘trained’.
Brode always managed at least a few minutes to admire her riding whenever she choose to.
V: I’ll bet.
J: When she didn’t choose to ride, he admired her from the bushes outside her bedroom window.
Once during this glance, he managed just in time to see Spirit start bucking.
J: Once in a lifetime chance to see something everything horse does.
Brode was inwardly pleased now he would get a chance to look at Morgaine's riding prowess.
J: He was also pleased he had been able to jam two sentences into one.
But Spirit proved to be the tougher of the two, he threw Morgaine, and Brode looking around wildly, saw no one else who could help.
J: This is why Stus are poisonous. Punctation intoxication.
Sprinting out of the barn, Brode ran towards the rearing white horse. If it was not calmed down soon it would trample Morgaine!
J: Oh noes!!
V: …> And Spirit reared up and came down again with a thud, cracking Morgaine’s skull open. Brode was so devastated he walked off a cliff. The End.
Fortunately, he managed to reach it in time, grabbing a hold of the reins, he led it on a great chase as the maddened horse tried to get him.
J: Why was it so mad?
V: Because he led it on a great chase. They were playing tag and good ol’Brode was cheating.
The noise had attracted more hands,
J: How do disembodied hands hear? Or are there disembodied ears too?
V: Any other interesting limbs wandering about? …just where is this again? No one said anything about Autopsy.
J: Brode had been collecting them. You see, he’s a serial killer and Morgaine is his next target.
V: Ah. I knew there was a catch.
J: A catch to a creepy stalker groomsman following a teenaged noblewoman?
V: Yes, that catch.
and the men managed to help him calm Spirit down, and tie him. Morgaine never knew as far as he could tell, but the Master ordered the horse pur down.
J: Horses can’t purr at all, let alone downwards.
Brode helped bury it out by the creek, where it would be happy he hoped.
J: He just killed it and now he hopes it’s happy?
Fortunetley Morgaine was mostly unhurt,
J: Just a fractured skull, which makes her suitable for the bio.
and the Master himself thanked Brode for his quick thinking. As a reward, and perhaps a safeguard, Brode became Morgaine's personal horse boy.
J: … I think we get the idea.
V: …I should hope we do.
What a cruel mistress fate is!
J: Oh what bad Shakespearian prose!
One the one hand he got that which he most desired, to be close to and noticed by Morgaine. The first time she said his name he almost fainted.
V: I thought he was a boy. I guess I was wrong.
J: Well, he was tied to a rack at the time.
Then, Moragine was taken away,
J: But not *Morgaine*, so everything was OK.
to the White Tower to become an Aes Sedai. Heartbroken, Brode returned to his horses, morbid and uncaring.
J: I think he was already morbid. Remember the hand collection?
He never noticed how a horse would suddenly do what he told it to, when it had refused to obey, or other strange things that occurred.
V: How many books can you cram into one lifetime, d’you think, J?
J: I dunno. How many unnecessary commas can he cram into a sentence?
Until about two months later, an Asha'man came by when the strange occurrences happened. He found that Brode could channel, and dragged him off the the Black Tower.
J: Not just any Black Tower, but the ‘The Black Tower’.
V: As opposed to the Black Tower where the black sheep go.
It was hard work there, but Brode was used to hard work. besides, perhpas he would find Morgaine?
V: And perhaps…hope beyond hope, he would learn to spell.
J: That’s asking a bit much.
V: I can always dream.
J: But hey! Guess what?
V: Dreams don’t always come true? I knew that already.
J: No. It’s over!