{{application}} {{info}} - The Games
Apr. 17th, 2019 12:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
atouchofkaOUT of CHARACTER
Name: Jormy
Other characters: Éowyn (shieldofrohan), Merlyn (knittingbackwards)
IN CHARACTER
Name: Alain Johns
Alias: Al, to his friends. He's gone by Richard Stockworth before, when he's needed to be incognito, and might revert to that if he ever needs a fake name.
Fandom: The Dark Tower series
Canon point/AU: Directly before his death.
Journal:atouchofka
PB: Ed Speleers
Age: 25
History: Wiki page, but it doesn't have a whole lot. Therefore, quick-ish summary (focusing on the events of Wizard & Glass, since that's what we have most information about):
Alain's father, Christopher Johns, was a gunslinger of Mid-World. As such, Alain was also trained as a gunslinger. As a young boy, he became close friends with Roland Deschain and Cuthbert Allgood, who were also in his training class. He excelled in riddles and philosophy, and although he wasn't as fast on the draw as his friends, turned out to be an excellent sharpshooter. This was just as well, since Gilead needed gunslingers; they were at war with John Farson, whose armies were gathering strength throughout Alain's early life.
When Alain was fifteen, Rolandfucked up a load of shit like the dumbass he is earned his guns, but put himself in serious danger in the process. Roland's father sent him to the rural town of Hambry to count cattle until the heat cooled off; as his ka-tet, Alain and Cuthbert went with him. In Hambry, Roland continued to fuck up i mean what the fuck roland get your act together immediately got them all into trouble by falling in love with someone he shouldn't have, and all three of them clashed with the Big Coffin Hunters, a group of assholes led by alpha asshole Eldred Jonas. Jonas later turned out to be working for Farson, whose interest in the town was partly due to its oilfields (oil and old technology being quite rare in Mid-World), and mostly due to the presence there of a magical artifact, Maerlyn's Grapefruit, which he very much wanted. Obviously, what with Farson being a generally awful person with an army, not letting him get the Grapefruit quickly became a priority.
Unfortunately, when the three gunslingers did manage to retrieve the Grapefruit, it turned out to have a mind of its own, and possessed Roland at a crucial moment. Alain managed to snap him out of it by knocking him unconscious, and took the Grapefruit for safekeeping when the three of them rode out to thwart Farson some more.
They did this by tricking their way into Farson's camp around the oilfield, where Alain took possession of a machine-gun and blew the oil barrels to hell. After that, it was straight fighting, but the three gunslingers managed to trap the army and drive them into a thinny - a place where the walls between worlds are thin, and which was immensely dangerous. Although Alain survived this experience, it was by the skin of his teeth; the thinny, which had a malign consciousness of its own, had almost persuaded him and Cuthbert to walk into it when Roland snapped them out of it. Alain was still carrying the Grapefruit then, but not for long; as they escaped, Roland took it from him, and was trapped by it again.Because Roland is a fucking moron.
Roland was blacked out for half their journey back to Gilead. He wouldn't let go of the Grapefruit after the first time he woke; he ate but didn't sleep, drank but didn't speak. It was only close to home that he started to come back to himself, and then only partially. Alain and Cuthbert, watching this, were more than a little frightened by it, and when Roland refused to give the orb up to his father, it was Alain and Cuthbert who strong-armed him into it.
Fast-forward a few years. A lot happened in those few years, but that's really Roland's story, not Alain's. Suffice to say, when Alain was 22, Farson's forces took Gilead. Most of the gunslingers there died, including Alain's father and Roland's, and the remainder fled. Along with Cuthbert and their old classmate Jamie DeCurry, Alain joined Roland in his quest for the Dark Tower, until duty drew them back to fight Farson's men. At the point Alain is coming from, he is running a recce for Roland and the gunslingers. Having found Farson's forces closer than expected, and ready to strike, he is riding back at full speed to pass on the information before it's too late.spoiler alert: it's too late. everyone dies.
Presentation: It's very easy, on meeting Alain for the first time, to assume that he's as placid and mild as his appearance suggests. He's very... well, ordinary-looking, broadset and running to fat, with shortish blonde hair and blue eyes that are hardly striking. He smiles fairly easily, but doesn't laugh a great deal; unlike a lot of the boys he grew up with, he's also quite easily moved to tears, a fact which he's been mocked about a fair amount. His features are quite soft and wide, and this, combined with the fact that he rarely talks, can lead people to the impression that he's not only gentle, but also maybe a little slow.
This couldn't be further from the truth. Once you've known Alain for any length of time, it's obvious that he isn't just not slow; he's actually abnormally quick-witted. He has a natural skill for riddles and puzzle-solving, and he's no slouch at strategy, either. It can take a while to sink in that his natural quiet isn't because he has nothing to say, but because he thinks everything he says over very thoroughly before ever letting it out into the world. The initial assumption that he's gentle and placid is also thoroughly wrong; although he's slow to anger, once roused to it he's a force to be reckoned with, and he has no qualms about killing if that's what's called for. He is, in the end, a gunslinger. No matter how quiet and how kind he seems, at the end of the day, killing's what he's born to and trained for. That can come as a surprise to people who haven't seen him angry, but once you've seen Alain fight, there's no denying the steel in him.
For all that, though, first impressions aren't entirely inaccurate. Alain's kindness isn't a facade. He is extraordinarily sensitive to how the people around him are feeling, and as a result, very sympathetic. He tends to be the voice of reason, mediating arguments and calming people down when they're upset, and usually knows when to help out and when to leave well alone. He's a good person to have around if you're struggling; on the whole, he doesn't judge, at least not until the problem's out of the way, and he's very patient. If you need someone to sit with you and just be there, or if you need to talk, or if you need someone to bring you blankets and a cup of tea, Alain's your man. Assuming, of course, he doesn't have any more pressing business. He takes duty and loyalty very seriously, and generous as he can be, anyone else will take second fiddle to his friends, his ka-tet, and Roland in particular.
Although he's generally quite a serious person, and - as mentioned - tends to be quiet and fade into the background, Alain does have a sense of humour. It comes out at odd times, dry and rather sarcastic, and sometimes really rather sharp. He tends to make jokes in the exact same tone of voice as he talks seriously, which can be very confusing for people who haven't got their head around his sense of humour. He can also be quite self-deprecating, but that isn't out of any real lack of self-esteem. In fact, he projects a kind of quiet confidence on the whole, as if he knows what his place is and that he's in it. Even when he does doubt himself, he's learnt very well how to put it aside and get on with what needs to be done. He rarely panics, although he's far from immune to fear. Particularly when you've ridden with Cuthbert Allgood and Roland Deschain as long as he has, you have to learn to keep a cool head.
He loves riddles and discussions, and can get very invested in them, even watching from the sidelines. He also has a competitive streak, especially when it comes to riddles, which can go unnoticed due to his soft nature - right up until you're the person he's competing against, and then he'll give no quarter.
All in all, he's easy to underestimate. He doesn't look like much. Even at home, with his father's gun at his hip and his ka-mates at his side, he's easily overlooked. But there's more to him than meets the eye, and you miss that at your peril.
Motivations: Probably the most important thing to understand about Alain is that his attunement to other people has never been a purely metaphorical thing. From birth, he's had the Touch - a kind of low-level psychic power which even at its lowest ebb makes it impossible for him not to be at least mildly aware of how people are feeling. To a degree, he's been able to take control of it, reaching out for specific people to feel their thoughts, or at least their presence. Sometimes, he's had flashes of something stronger, more genuinely psychic; premonitions, knowledge of things he shouldn't have any way of knowing, mind-reading in the more literal sense. These are far less controlled, and come and go as they please.
The Touch, and its accompanying sensitivity to the people around him, has shaped the way he views the world. Even without it, he's very skilled at reading people, and when you know how people are feeling, it's hard not to react accordingly. This is one of the reasons he's as generous and as kind as he often is, because he likes to make people happy. "Happy" may, in fact, be a weak word; he wants to make them well, to help them through the world. Not because he feels their pain, precisely. Being aware of it is more than enough.
Another thing that his experience with the Touch has lent him is a healthy caution of what he says around people. Sometimes, that's as simple as knowing that what he's about to say will upset them, but also, when you frequently know things others don't, you learn early on that you need to be careful about sharing them. Alain is, indeed, very careful. This has spilt over into other aspects of his life, and is a big part of why he's as slow-acting and quiet as he is most of the time. He's not a coward, but he lacks that brash, obvious courage common in gunslingers. To him, what's important isn't that something be done immediately, but that it be done right. It's vital, as he sees it, to keep a cool head and try to see things from all angles, wherever possible.
The final major impact the Touch has had on him is in his view of magic, and of fate (or rather ka, as it's called in his world). Part of the Touch is in being very attuned to such things, and Alain has both respect and a little fear for magic. As for ka, feeling the flow of it has left him with a kind of serenity. What will be, will be. He isn't likely to rant and rail against it, even if it sits badly with him; he'll swallow his pain and keep going with the tide of it, just as he always has.
Alain is quite sentimental, and very, very loyal. He will do just about anything for his friends, even if it means risking himself, or his reputation... or, in some cases, his relationship with them. This goes double for his ka-mates, and triple for Roland, who, as his dinh, has his full respect and love. This has sometimes been very painful, but as Alain doesn't tend to hold grudges even with strangers, there's never been any doubt in his mind that he would forgive Roland, Cuthbert, and Jamie anything they did. Not necessarily like it, but certainly forgive it. He assumes they know that, and tends to just let the matter drop as soon as possible.
One thing Alain is not, though, is a leader. He can hold his own in charge of a posse, but he shrinks away from the limelight, and frankly, is quite glad of his own unremarkability. His natural place - the place he will gravitate to, and feel most comfortable - is half a step behind, supporting rather than leading, but ready to catch the pieces if they start to fall.
Setting: Although Alain is liable to find both the Games and the Capitol thoroughly abhorrent, he's unlikely to need telling twice that he should watch his footing in saying so. Being a naturally cautious person, and one quite sensitive to which way's the wind's blowing, he's much more likely to bide his time and play the game until he sees a better way. He will, however, immediately and desperately try to escape - not because of the moral issues or any fear of the Games, but because the message he was carrying when he was taken was extremely important and extremely urgent, and the lives of his friends are at risk if he can't get it to them.
SAMPLES
First Person Thread: [Alain is silent for a long moment after the speakers have clicked off - silent, but not idle. He's thoroughly occupied checking his surroundings, checking himself for damage, and trying to get his head around what just happened]
[His head. That was it. Someone struck him in the head, and they must have knocked him out. But that slides wrongly in his mind, so he readjusts it: he felt the bone over his temple break, and now there's only smooth skin where he ought to feel a raw, jagged wound. That blow should have killed him. Slowly, with a sense of dawning wonder and horror, he realises it did]
My, uh. My feelings?
[His fingers press lightly against the place where he was hit. He shouldn't have been taken off-guard that way. Cort would have been furious, his father disappointed, Roland and Cuthbert mocking. But it was like going blind, having the Touch pulled away from it the way it's been. It disoriented him, made him careless. He'll have to learn from it]
[But now, he wets his lips and looks down at the recording device, still chirruping at him, its light shining like a malign eye. He hates it. But he also hates being trapped here, and he's not going to stand on pride. Reaching over, he picks the device up, examines it closely, then begins - cautiously, haltingly - to speak again]
Disappointment, I guess. That I let myself be took so easily. But Mercer... Mercer says the hardest lessons are those which stay the deepest. So I guess I ought to be grateful, for that's like to be as hard a lesson as I'll ever be able to remember.
[He isn't grateful. He feels sick to his stomach, and if he had his gun, things might go very differently. But he's alone and unarmed in this little room, and he's already died once today. No sense testing his luck. He has to keep himself alive here. He's needed at home]
...I guess that's it. Disappointed, but I learned something, anyroad. And I hope... [He smiles a little, dry and rather sarcastic] I hope whoever killed me at least does well, for my pride's sake.
[He looks down at the device again, frowning, waiting to see if anything further happens. More instructions, a different light, something like that. When it continues to lie cool and dead in his hand, that little red light blinking, he clears his throat again to fill the silence]
Uh. That's all. Thankee-sai.
Prose: He felt utterly lost - lost in a way he had never felt in all his years of travelling and fighting. He couldn't feel Roland or Bert or Jamie, couldn't get a handle on the bonds of khef that tied their ka-tet together. He had no idea where he was, or how he had gotten there. For all the use his Touch was doing, the guards at his elbows might as well have been robots; he had no sense of the shapes of their minds, or even if they had them. Imagine a ship unmoored, its helmsman blinded. That was how Alain felt in that moment, and steady and cool-headed as he usually was, there was a growing sense of panic swelling in his throat.
In a strange way, that panic was calmed by the room they led him into. It was still coldly alien, still with that sense of emptiness and mindlessness, but he at least knew what was expected of him. Looking at his guards - one young man, one older woman, both schooling their expressions as well as the most seasoned gunslingers he'd known - Alain cleared his throat and stepped forwards, looking up at his judges. For a long moment, that was all he did - just looked. His heart was thudding, hard but steady, in his chest, the anger and fear in him threatening to harden into something dangerous, but he held himself steady, breathed slowly, and looked.
What he saw there wasn't encouraging. He knew at once he would find no pity in them, but that was hardly a surprise. What was more disturbing to him was the look behind that mercilessness, the one that said mercy would never even have occurred to them, that they weren't seeing a man where he stood at all. If they saw him as human, then that would only frighten him more, because looking at their expressions, Alain saw no sense of fellow-feeling. Still, he had to try.
"Alain Johns, son of Christopher." He bowed, tapped his throat in salute to them, tried to settle his nerves and force down the awkwardness that was all too common in him. "Hile, sais. Before I show you my mettle, I beg a boon of you. You will not send me home, I kennit. But the message I bear is important. You cannot understand how important. Let it be delivered. By any means you can. That is all I would ask of you." Trying not to flinch under their level stares, he fidgeted one hand against his thigh, where his pistol ought to hang, and cleared his throat as he moved towards the weapons racks.
Show them wonders. Make them happy. Hope it's enough. It was a slim hope, but it was the only hope he had. It wasn't only his life in their hands, but Roland's, Cuthbert's, Jamie's... all his friends, all his few remaining kin. Alain swallowed, closed his eyes for a moment, and let that cool gunslinger's rage fall over his mind.
He wasn't as fast as Roland or Bert, but he was still a gunslinger, and one with something to prove. For all his bulk, he moved like liquid, with spear and knife and bow, almost like dancing. When the last dummy fell, split in half, to the floor, he spun on his heel and replaced the knife he was using in its stand, looking back up at the solemn, heartless faces judging him.
"Consider it. Consider it, I cry you." He bowed, very aware of the sweat on his brow and the thonk, thonk of his blood in his ears. Very aware that, unless he missed his guess, it hadn't been enough. But what more could he do? "Thankee, sais." And please.
What is your character scored: As a gunslinger, particularly one who's spent a lot of time on missions, Alain is very proficient both at fighting and survival skills. He's also extraordinarily good at reading people and situations, Touch or no Touch, which is likely to give him an edge in making alliances and friendships, but also in exploiting the situations around him. On the other hand, he's very plain and, as noted earlier, rather shy and awkward in a lot of situations, which is likely to damage his reputation outside the Arena. He's bulky, and not the fastest or the nimblest person out there, although he's faster than average. All things considered, I'd probably give him a 9, maybe an 8 at the lowest.
His powers are fairly variable, and not always controllable even when he has them. The Touch always gives him the ability to sense other people and a natural intuition about fate and the confluence of events; sometimes includes telepathy or knowledge of things happening elsewhere; occasionally gives him flashes of real precognition. He's been shown, when fully powered, to have an affinity for magical things and an abnormal ability to control them, but he has no real magical powers of his own besides what's listed.
Token: The copy of Mercer's Homilies & Meditations his mother gave him many years ago. Some people might think it's strange for him to carry a book into the Arena with him. But he carried that book in Hambry, he carried it away from Gilead's ruins, he carried it all through his journeys, and he's damned if he's going to stop carrying it now.
Name: Jormy
Other characters: Éowyn (
shieldofrohan), Merlyn (knittingbackwards)IN CHARACTER
Name: Alain Johns
Alias: Al, to his friends. He's gone by Richard Stockworth before, when he's needed to be incognito, and might revert to that if he ever needs a fake name.
Fandom: The Dark Tower series
Canon point/AU: Directly before his death.
Journal:
atouchofkaPB: Ed Speleers
Age: 25
History: Wiki page, but it doesn't have a whole lot. Therefore, quick-ish summary (focusing on the events of Wizard & Glass, since that's what we have most information about):
Alain's father, Christopher Johns, was a gunslinger of Mid-World. As such, Alain was also trained as a gunslinger. As a young boy, he became close friends with Roland Deschain and Cuthbert Allgood, who were also in his training class. He excelled in riddles and philosophy, and although he wasn't as fast on the draw as his friends, turned out to be an excellent sharpshooter. This was just as well, since Gilead needed gunslingers; they were at war with John Farson, whose armies were gathering strength throughout Alain's early life.
When Alain was fifteen, Roland
Unfortunately, when the three gunslingers did manage to retrieve the Grapefruit, it turned out to have a mind of its own, and possessed Roland at a crucial moment. Alain managed to snap him out of it by knocking him unconscious, and took the Grapefruit for safekeeping when the three of them rode out to thwart Farson some more.
They did this by tricking their way into Farson's camp around the oilfield, where Alain took possession of a machine-gun and blew the oil barrels to hell. After that, it was straight fighting, but the three gunslingers managed to trap the army and drive them into a thinny - a place where the walls between worlds are thin, and which was immensely dangerous. Although Alain survived this experience, it was by the skin of his teeth; the thinny, which had a malign consciousness of its own, had almost persuaded him and Cuthbert to walk into it when Roland snapped them out of it. Alain was still carrying the Grapefruit then, but not for long; as they escaped, Roland took it from him, and was trapped by it again.
Roland was blacked out for half their journey back to Gilead. He wouldn't let go of the Grapefruit after the first time he woke; he ate but didn't sleep, drank but didn't speak. It was only close to home that he started to come back to himself, and then only partially. Alain and Cuthbert, watching this, were more than a little frightened by it, and when Roland refused to give the orb up to his father, it was Alain and Cuthbert who strong-armed him into it.
Fast-forward a few years. A lot happened in those few years, but that's really Roland's story, not Alain's. Suffice to say, when Alain was 22, Farson's forces took Gilead. Most of the gunslingers there died, including Alain's father and Roland's, and the remainder fled. Along with Cuthbert and their old classmate Jamie DeCurry, Alain joined Roland in his quest for the Dark Tower, until duty drew them back to fight Farson's men. At the point Alain is coming from, he is running a recce for Roland and the gunslingers. Having found Farson's forces closer than expected, and ready to strike, he is riding back at full speed to pass on the information before it's too late.
Presentation: It's very easy, on meeting Alain for the first time, to assume that he's as placid and mild as his appearance suggests. He's very... well, ordinary-looking, broadset and running to fat, with shortish blonde hair and blue eyes that are hardly striking. He smiles fairly easily, but doesn't laugh a great deal; unlike a lot of the boys he grew up with, he's also quite easily moved to tears, a fact which he's been mocked about a fair amount. His features are quite soft and wide, and this, combined with the fact that he rarely talks, can lead people to the impression that he's not only gentle, but also maybe a little slow.
This couldn't be further from the truth. Once you've known Alain for any length of time, it's obvious that he isn't just not slow; he's actually abnormally quick-witted. He has a natural skill for riddles and puzzle-solving, and he's no slouch at strategy, either. It can take a while to sink in that his natural quiet isn't because he has nothing to say, but because he thinks everything he says over very thoroughly before ever letting it out into the world. The initial assumption that he's gentle and placid is also thoroughly wrong; although he's slow to anger, once roused to it he's a force to be reckoned with, and he has no qualms about killing if that's what's called for. He is, in the end, a gunslinger. No matter how quiet and how kind he seems, at the end of the day, killing's what he's born to and trained for. That can come as a surprise to people who haven't seen him angry, but once you've seen Alain fight, there's no denying the steel in him.
For all that, though, first impressions aren't entirely inaccurate. Alain's kindness isn't a facade. He is extraordinarily sensitive to how the people around him are feeling, and as a result, very sympathetic. He tends to be the voice of reason, mediating arguments and calming people down when they're upset, and usually knows when to help out and when to leave well alone. He's a good person to have around if you're struggling; on the whole, he doesn't judge, at least not until the problem's out of the way, and he's very patient. If you need someone to sit with you and just be there, or if you need to talk, or if you need someone to bring you blankets and a cup of tea, Alain's your man. Assuming, of course, he doesn't have any more pressing business. He takes duty and loyalty very seriously, and generous as he can be, anyone else will take second fiddle to his friends, his ka-tet, and Roland in particular.
Although he's generally quite a serious person, and - as mentioned - tends to be quiet and fade into the background, Alain does have a sense of humour. It comes out at odd times, dry and rather sarcastic, and sometimes really rather sharp. He tends to make jokes in the exact same tone of voice as he talks seriously, which can be very confusing for people who haven't got their head around his sense of humour. He can also be quite self-deprecating, but that isn't out of any real lack of self-esteem. In fact, he projects a kind of quiet confidence on the whole, as if he knows what his place is and that he's in it. Even when he does doubt himself, he's learnt very well how to put it aside and get on with what needs to be done. He rarely panics, although he's far from immune to fear. Particularly when you've ridden with Cuthbert Allgood and Roland Deschain as long as he has, you have to learn to keep a cool head.
He loves riddles and discussions, and can get very invested in them, even watching from the sidelines. He also has a competitive streak, especially when it comes to riddles, which can go unnoticed due to his soft nature - right up until you're the person he's competing against, and then he'll give no quarter.
All in all, he's easy to underestimate. He doesn't look like much. Even at home, with his father's gun at his hip and his ka-mates at his side, he's easily overlooked. But there's more to him than meets the eye, and you miss that at your peril.
Motivations: Probably the most important thing to understand about Alain is that his attunement to other people has never been a purely metaphorical thing. From birth, he's had the Touch - a kind of low-level psychic power which even at its lowest ebb makes it impossible for him not to be at least mildly aware of how people are feeling. To a degree, he's been able to take control of it, reaching out for specific people to feel their thoughts, or at least their presence. Sometimes, he's had flashes of something stronger, more genuinely psychic; premonitions, knowledge of things he shouldn't have any way of knowing, mind-reading in the more literal sense. These are far less controlled, and come and go as they please.
The Touch, and its accompanying sensitivity to the people around him, has shaped the way he views the world. Even without it, he's very skilled at reading people, and when you know how people are feeling, it's hard not to react accordingly. This is one of the reasons he's as generous and as kind as he often is, because he likes to make people happy. "Happy" may, in fact, be a weak word; he wants to make them well, to help them through the world. Not because he feels their pain, precisely. Being aware of it is more than enough.
Another thing that his experience with the Touch has lent him is a healthy caution of what he says around people. Sometimes, that's as simple as knowing that what he's about to say will upset them, but also, when you frequently know things others don't, you learn early on that you need to be careful about sharing them. Alain is, indeed, very careful. This has spilt over into other aspects of his life, and is a big part of why he's as slow-acting and quiet as he is most of the time. He's not a coward, but he lacks that brash, obvious courage common in gunslingers. To him, what's important isn't that something be done immediately, but that it be done right. It's vital, as he sees it, to keep a cool head and try to see things from all angles, wherever possible.
The final major impact the Touch has had on him is in his view of magic, and of fate (or rather ka, as it's called in his world). Part of the Touch is in being very attuned to such things, and Alain has both respect and a little fear for magic. As for ka, feeling the flow of it has left him with a kind of serenity. What will be, will be. He isn't likely to rant and rail against it, even if it sits badly with him; he'll swallow his pain and keep going with the tide of it, just as he always has.
Alain is quite sentimental, and very, very loyal. He will do just about anything for his friends, even if it means risking himself, or his reputation... or, in some cases, his relationship with them. This goes double for his ka-mates, and triple for Roland, who, as his dinh, has his full respect and love. This has sometimes been very painful, but as Alain doesn't tend to hold grudges even with strangers, there's never been any doubt in his mind that he would forgive Roland, Cuthbert, and Jamie anything they did. Not necessarily like it, but certainly forgive it. He assumes they know that, and tends to just let the matter drop as soon as possible.
One thing Alain is not, though, is a leader. He can hold his own in charge of a posse, but he shrinks away from the limelight, and frankly, is quite glad of his own unremarkability. His natural place - the place he will gravitate to, and feel most comfortable - is half a step behind, supporting rather than leading, but ready to catch the pieces if they start to fall.
Setting: Although Alain is liable to find both the Games and the Capitol thoroughly abhorrent, he's unlikely to need telling twice that he should watch his footing in saying so. Being a naturally cautious person, and one quite sensitive to which way's the wind's blowing, he's much more likely to bide his time and play the game until he sees a better way. He will, however, immediately and desperately try to escape - not because of the moral issues or any fear of the Games, but because the message he was carrying when he was taken was extremely important and extremely urgent, and the lives of his friends are at risk if he can't get it to them.
SAMPLES
First Person Thread: [Alain is silent for a long moment after the speakers have clicked off - silent, but not idle. He's thoroughly occupied checking his surroundings, checking himself for damage, and trying to get his head around what just happened]
[His head. That was it. Someone struck him in the head, and they must have knocked him out. But that slides wrongly in his mind, so he readjusts it: he felt the bone over his temple break, and now there's only smooth skin where he ought to feel a raw, jagged wound. That blow should have killed him. Slowly, with a sense of dawning wonder and horror, he realises it did]
My, uh. My feelings?
[His fingers press lightly against the place where he was hit. He shouldn't have been taken off-guard that way. Cort would have been furious, his father disappointed, Roland and Cuthbert mocking. But it was like going blind, having the Touch pulled away from it the way it's been. It disoriented him, made him careless. He'll have to learn from it]
[But now, he wets his lips and looks down at the recording device, still chirruping at him, its light shining like a malign eye. He hates it. But he also hates being trapped here, and he's not going to stand on pride. Reaching over, he picks the device up, examines it closely, then begins - cautiously, haltingly - to speak again]
Disappointment, I guess. That I let myself be took so easily. But Mercer... Mercer says the hardest lessons are those which stay the deepest. So I guess I ought to be grateful, for that's like to be as hard a lesson as I'll ever be able to remember.
[He isn't grateful. He feels sick to his stomach, and if he had his gun, things might go very differently. But he's alone and unarmed in this little room, and he's already died once today. No sense testing his luck. He has to keep himself alive here. He's needed at home]
...I guess that's it. Disappointed, but I learned something, anyroad. And I hope... [He smiles a little, dry and rather sarcastic] I hope whoever killed me at least does well, for my pride's sake.
[He looks down at the device again, frowning, waiting to see if anything further happens. More instructions, a different light, something like that. When it continues to lie cool and dead in his hand, that little red light blinking, he clears his throat again to fill the silence]
Uh. That's all. Thankee-sai.
Prose: He felt utterly lost - lost in a way he had never felt in all his years of travelling and fighting. He couldn't feel Roland or Bert or Jamie, couldn't get a handle on the bonds of khef that tied their ka-tet together. He had no idea where he was, or how he had gotten there. For all the use his Touch was doing, the guards at his elbows might as well have been robots; he had no sense of the shapes of their minds, or even if they had them. Imagine a ship unmoored, its helmsman blinded. That was how Alain felt in that moment, and steady and cool-headed as he usually was, there was a growing sense of panic swelling in his throat.
In a strange way, that panic was calmed by the room they led him into. It was still coldly alien, still with that sense of emptiness and mindlessness, but he at least knew what was expected of him. Looking at his guards - one young man, one older woman, both schooling their expressions as well as the most seasoned gunslingers he'd known - Alain cleared his throat and stepped forwards, looking up at his judges. For a long moment, that was all he did - just looked. His heart was thudding, hard but steady, in his chest, the anger and fear in him threatening to harden into something dangerous, but he held himself steady, breathed slowly, and looked.
What he saw there wasn't encouraging. He knew at once he would find no pity in them, but that was hardly a surprise. What was more disturbing to him was the look behind that mercilessness, the one that said mercy would never even have occurred to them, that they weren't seeing a man where he stood at all. If they saw him as human, then that would only frighten him more, because looking at their expressions, Alain saw no sense of fellow-feeling. Still, he had to try.
"Alain Johns, son of Christopher." He bowed, tapped his throat in salute to them, tried to settle his nerves and force down the awkwardness that was all too common in him. "Hile, sais. Before I show you my mettle, I beg a boon of you. You will not send me home, I kennit. But the message I bear is important. You cannot understand how important. Let it be delivered. By any means you can. That is all I would ask of you." Trying not to flinch under their level stares, he fidgeted one hand against his thigh, where his pistol ought to hang, and cleared his throat as he moved towards the weapons racks.
Show them wonders. Make them happy. Hope it's enough. It was a slim hope, but it was the only hope he had. It wasn't only his life in their hands, but Roland's, Cuthbert's, Jamie's... all his friends, all his few remaining kin. Alain swallowed, closed his eyes for a moment, and let that cool gunslinger's rage fall over his mind.
He wasn't as fast as Roland or Bert, but he was still a gunslinger, and one with something to prove. For all his bulk, he moved like liquid, with spear and knife and bow, almost like dancing. When the last dummy fell, split in half, to the floor, he spun on his heel and replaced the knife he was using in its stand, looking back up at the solemn, heartless faces judging him.
"Consider it. Consider it, I cry you." He bowed, very aware of the sweat on his brow and the thonk, thonk of his blood in his ears. Very aware that, unless he missed his guess, it hadn't been enough. But what more could he do? "Thankee, sais." And please.
What is your character scored: As a gunslinger, particularly one who's spent a lot of time on missions, Alain is very proficient both at fighting and survival skills. He's also extraordinarily good at reading people and situations, Touch or no Touch, which is likely to give him an edge in making alliances and friendships, but also in exploiting the situations around him. On the other hand, he's very plain and, as noted earlier, rather shy and awkward in a lot of situations, which is likely to damage his reputation outside the Arena. He's bulky, and not the fastest or the nimblest person out there, although he's faster than average. All things considered, I'd probably give him a 9, maybe an 8 at the lowest.
His powers are fairly variable, and not always controllable even when he has them. The Touch always gives him the ability to sense other people and a natural intuition about fate and the confluence of events; sometimes includes telepathy or knowledge of things happening elsewhere; occasionally gives him flashes of real precognition. He's been shown, when fully powered, to have an affinity for magical things and an abnormal ability to control them, but he has no real magical powers of his own besides what's listed.
Token: The copy of Mercer's Homilies & Meditations his mother gave him many years ago. Some people might think it's strange for him to carry a book into the Arena with him. But he carried that book in Hambry, he carried it away from Gilead's ruins, he carried it all through his journeys, and he's damned if he's going to stop carrying it now.
