CRANE, jonathon

[Dr. Jonathon Crane]

Character's Name:
jonathon edward crane

Age
thirty-five years

Birthday:
october thirteen

Birthplace/Hometown:
bangor, maine

Gender:
male

Occupation:
psychological terrorist/bio-chemist

Ethnicity:
caucasian


Physical Profile:

the basics
Jonathon Crane is not known for his size, good looks, or brute strength. 5'7" and one hundred forty pounds, Doctor Crane is tall, lanky, and not very intimidating. He has dark brown hair with a slight curl to it; he keeps it short enough to turn that curl into a mild wave, but long enough to play up his boyish, benign appearance. His eyes are a light blue that bring thoughts of arctic ice to the minds of anyone he turns a glare, indifferent glance, or predatory look to. His face is oval, with light skin, and soft features that make him seem completely harmless.

the dress code
Crane is an incredibly arrogant man, and this arrogance is obvious in his preferred dress. He favors suits of black or dark brown, or sometimes dark grey, and these suits absolutely must be tailored and very high quality. His dress shoes are shiny and black, his tie is always perfectly tied and tucked.

the costume
Although Crane prefers his suits, he has realized that his mask is more effective when coupled with a full scarecrow costume. With his burlap mask, he wears an orange-brown linen shirt, frayed, worn, and old. His pants are just as old, a ugly grey-brown color. His shoes are brown as well, battered, muddy, and well-used.

Personality:
Upon first meeting Doctor Crane, he comes off as being rather dark and eccentric; but virtually harmless. He is a very cold and distant man who always speaks clearly and with proper emphasis; he has a knack for making people feel stupid, and he's quite fond of doing so. He doesn't like the human race, for various reasons, but neither does he have much love for other animals; however, he greatly respects most of them, because he sees them as more honest creatures than humans, and more intelligent. He has an irrational fear of birds that as far as he knows, stems from nothing; he just can't stand them. He is socially incompetent, but is very smooth and clever, so he can fake his way through an encounter with somebody and come off as a perfectly ordinary man. If you were to ask him, he would say he has n o family, and he can say it with a smile; but if you talk about any member of his family, particularly his mother, he'll become bitter and hostile.

It is a common misconception that Crane is obsessed with maintaining a clean and professional appearance; he is very fond of looking presentable, but he has nothing against a little grime, he even likes it; well, only when he's Scarecrow. Another common misconception Gothamites are having is that Crane has a split personality, this is untrue as well; Jonathan Crane and The Scarecrow are not separate entities. There haver been several times that someone has offered that opinion, and Jonathan laughs every time. No, Jonathan Crane has no official mental illness, he is just considered mentally incompetent and dangerous.

Jonathan's not very big on killing people; he'll do it, of course, but it isn't his motive, and he'll usually only kill when he really has no other options, or if you've seriously pissed him off, like the men who fired him from the University. His only criminal desire is to infect people with his toxin and experiment on them, to learn all he can about fear. Like his phobia of birds, Crane's fascination with fear seems to have no real basis, it's simply a natural part of his personality; however, it was only after using fear to murder Kristi and cripple Rodney that his fascination became an obsession. He'd never had any fears of his own other than birds until Batman came along and infected him with his own toxin; the toxin took a permanent effect to Crane's brain, making him deeply afraid of bats.

What Side Is Your Character On?

[/b]
villain

Background and History:
Martin Crane married Tanya Ellsworth on February 12, one week after she told him she was pregnant. Their elopement in Vegas was cliche and frowned upon by their relatives; Martin's mother even went so far as to disown him and his new family. Tanya's aunt took pity on them and let them move into her house in Bangor, Maine, which she no longer used. They had only lived there for seven months when Tanya went into labor; they thought it was false labor, and she went upstairs to lay down until it passed. When she got up there, her water broke, and the baby started coming out too quickly for Martin to get Tanya to a hospital; Jonathan was born in the upstairs hallway of a house in Maine. He was premature and very small, but otherwise healthy, and he only stayed in the hospital for a few weeks. When his parents finally brought him home, Tanya struggled to a good mother while Martin struggled to keep a fragile hold on his job. For five years this went on, until it was time to enroll Jonathan in school, and everything went to hell. Martin finally lost his job, and searched desperately to find a new one; Tanya started picking fights over anything she possibly could, no matter how trivial; and amongst all the turmoil, no one seemed to notice tiny Jonathan's increasingly peculiar behavior. It was during a meeting with Jonathan's teacher that Tanya learned of her son's affinity to scaring things; his teacher told the young mother about the many times she had caught Jonathan terrorizing birds and squirrels, and occasionally students. Tanya shook it off, believing it to be normal behavior for such a young child; she never told Martin about it, and never told Jonathan to stop.

All his life Jonathan had been a very small child, both in height and weight, but in the summer before he entered junior high, he hit a growth spurt that caused him to become abnormally tall for his age; this in turn made him look thinner than he was, and his mother tried stubbornly to add some weight to her son, but to no avail. Jonathan went into junior high as a tall and lanky loner, doomed to being friendless for the rest of his life. It was here that Jonathan's peculiar behavior, ignored by his mother, began its transformation into something more dangerous. The athletes of the school used Jonathan as a punching bag, mocking him and calling him names. His parents began arguing more frequently, and his mother started to drink. On his last day in junior high, a pep rally was held, and during it, the football team attacked him, spraying him with whipped cream and water. During the attack, someone shouted out "Scarecrow", and the whoile group began chanting it. It was this nickname that carried on into high school. Jonathan entered high school as Jonathan Crane, but by the end of the first week, everyone, even the teachers, only knew him as Scarecrow. He was beaten more frequently, and took out his anger on the only person he could; his mother. He terrorized her the same way he had terrorized birds as a child, and she drank even more heavily. Part of him felt horrible; he loved his mother, but he didn't know what else to do.

Tanya's fear of her son and resentment of her husband drove her over the edge, and she demanded a divorce, as well as no custody of Jonathan. Martin blamed Jonathan for his divorce, and after Tanya had moved out, he began beating Jonathan as well; making life just that more miserable for the young boy. He began taking refuge in an old barn outside the city limits, since his house was so close to the edge; it was here that he met Kristi, the head cheerleader at his high school. At first, they avoided each other, Kristi took the hayloft and Jonathan would stay on the ground level, studying and messing around with chemicals. One day, Kristi came down and asked him about his experiments; her questions were shockingly intelligent and they formed a weak friendship that only existed inside the barn, or when no one else was around. In their second year of high school, Jonathan became Kristi's math tutor, and she was willing to be seen in public with him; however, to avoid being taunted by her friends, she joined them in mocking Crane behind his back. When people began getting frazzled over prom, Jonathan worked up the courage to ask Kristi, only to get shot down, and to his chagrin, laughed at. The next day at school, the jocks cornered Jonathan in the locker room, and it was during the vicious beating they gave him, that he decided it was time to get revenge.

He had to stay at home for the next two weeks to recover from his injuries, but he didn't mind missing school; it gave him a chance to work on his scheme. On the night of prom, he arrived at the dance wearing a simple, ragged red shirt and brown pants, with a ratty straw hat covering a burlap mask. Somehow, he smuggled a tommy gun in, and shot out all the lights in the ballroom. Everyone panicked, but he wasn't finished; he went outside to see Kristi and her jock boyfriend climbing into a red pickup; as they drove away, Jonathan fired at them, blowing a tire and sending them careening into a wall. It was only later that Crane discovered that Kristi had died; a fact that gave him a sick pleasure. Jonathan was never charged with Kristi's murder or Rodney's attempted murder; not even for the vandalism of the prom ballroom, although he suspected many people knew it had been him. He assumed that everyone was too afraid to rat him out, and that gave him a very twisted satisfaction. No one really ever bothered him after that, not even his father, and Crane was happy with that. He went on to college soon after.

When Jonathan was about twenty-five, he accepted a job at the University of Gotham, as the psychology professor; it was a job he kept for only two years. At first, his techniques were not particularly worrisome; his specialty was fear, and he used benign, legal ways to teach his students; the worst thing he did was bring a rat into the classroom and drop it in a student’s lap. However, by the time his second year at the university arrived, his tactics had become so controversial, many students were too scared to attend their classes, and a few dropped out of college to avoid him completely. The final straw came when he brought a 9mm into the class and fired it above the heads of his students; one girl panicked, and much like the way quails fly from the ground when hunters approach, she rose from her seat in an attempt to run, and the bullet nicked her upraised arm. He was fired that very day, and it took the combined efforts of his very expensive lawyer and the university-employed lawyers to keep the young woman and her family from suing either him or the school. To this day, Crane still cannot believe he never had to pay the whiny bitch a dime.

After that, it was nearly a year before Jonathan found work again, and it was during that year that he first became a criminal; he supported himself by selling diluted versions of his newly designed toxin, a weak concoction that only gave mild hallucinations for short periods of time. It was January when he was offered the job of director of Arkham Asylum, and he pounced on the job eagerly, more out of desperation than anything, and found within a short few weeks that he very much adored that job. He was his own boss, and he had plenty of time to hone and perfect his toxin, as well as countless human minds to test it on. If any of Arkham’s inmates weren’t crazy when they entered the asylum, they were when Doctor Jonathan Crane was through with them. It was only a couple of years later that he was contacted by a mysterious organization known as the League of Shadows, inviting him to help them destroy Gotham City; he was only too thrilled to oblige, and well, you know the rest...

Any Special Abilities?
Genius level IQ

Pets:
none

Name of Play By:
cillian murphy

Example Role Play:
this is a recycled post from Sobibor.

They call it Liberty Shores, but how much liberty does it truly offer? What kind of liberty comes from being trapped within a herd, expected to surrender your mind to the leaders of the mass? I shudder violently at the thought as I meander along the beach, weaving around mares and wolf b*tches as they stand or sit, some sleeping, others looking around hopefully; mostly they stood by themselves, with a few standing in twos or threes; watching and waiting for the few males to turn their attention to them. It's so depressing here, so disgusting and pathetic. I glide past a male wolf on his way towards a pretty b*tch, and he growls ferally; I only pay him enough attention to throw a half-hearted kick at him; it misses, but who cares?

I'm only passing through, I'm not stopping until I'm safely on the outskirts of this sorry place; I won't take any d*mned chances. That's right, Addy, keep walking, you already have a herd. My eyes fell onto the reddish wolf that raced past me on his way back to his lands, three females tailing him. His yellow eyes glanced at me briefly, and deep within, past the curiosity of the beast himself, were the iron eyes of Darkrite. My eyes snapped away and I ignored him, switching my tail; he had been pestering me all day, and my nerves were fraying. I willed the hard-headed control freak to be silent, and felt the soft nudge of Sakura and Brilla, encouraging me to be calm.

My hoof nicked the top of a whitened piece of driftwood as I passed over it, and the soft scraping noise squeaked almost inaudibly. Viral's high-pitched voice came to mind briefly and my lip curled up resentfully. I continued to walk slowly across the white sand, chatting idly with various Muses, their bright colors dancing across my brain. The fog that I am so accustomed to rolls across the bodies in front of me, and I wonder if the border to this area is close. The random strangers I often meet in my wanderings always expressed confusion when I told them I couldn't see them until they were close, and it was from those experiences that I learned that this fog, this washed-out world around me, was unnatural. Just another ugly scar gifted to me by Mother Dearest. The only decent thing she gave me was the Muses, for I also know that it is abnormal for a horse or other beast to hear the voices of others in their mind. The big cats, on the other hand, well, it is very normal in their culture.

A soft breeze ruffles my fetlock, and I toss my head into it, letting it tug gently on my ears and mane. The waves of the ocean crash onto the sand, small and foamy; the sea itself seems grey, but I can feel the sun on my back and tell it's a hot, bright day; to anyone else, the sea is likely a brilliant blue. But I don't care, I would not trade the vibrant colors of the Muses for the bright ones of Mother Earth for anything. I gaze at the sea for too long, and feel my breath whisk out of my chest as it collides with something warm and hard. I glance around to see I've collided with a black friesian stallion, he twists his head to scowl at me, and pivots his body to face me, baring his teeth. I assume an innocently bewildered look, apologetic yet slightly witless; I have found that few can remain angry with a well-meaning fool.

He curls his lip and snorts violently, clearly he is one of the few; I feel a weight in my stomach that I think is panic, and I feel Viral retreat as Darkrite lurchs forward, prepared to toss me aside and deal with this brute himself. The weight becomes heavier as another Muse lurks into consciousness; the demon of my mind and my personal tormentor, Beetle. Darkrite falters, but It does not get in his way, simply watches, a sense of eager delight brightening the vemonous color of It. Darkrite turns, and I'm suddenly sitting in the darkness, a color surrounded by color, and I'm watching through my eyes like a spectator.

Darkrite snarls, demon-like, at the friesian, and the opposing beast says something, I can't quite hear what; Darkrite laughs, a bitter, mocking sound, and tells the stag to 'shove off'; he says 'she's not interested', and the beast looks bewildered. I laugh as I realize that the brute thinks Darkrite is a mare, and why shouldn't he? Mine is a mare's body. But truthfully, I like to think of myself as like Beetle, genderless, just existing, and that the organs within me only exist because the Gods could only fairly give me a few deformations. But I would be willing to trade those organs for a proper voice, and sometimes I feel resentment at their choice. I feel Sakura and Beetle laughing with me, Sakura's a gentle, secretive thing, and Beetle's histerical, mad, frightening. I stop, and concentrate on the confrontation between Muse and Fool.

Password?
-admit edit-[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Harley Quinn]

Accepted Wonderful app, dear.