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Anton Taylor

"Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity"

0 · 284 views · located in Folksdale

a character in “Turning Pages”, originally authored by carefreex3, as played by RolePlayGateway



"Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity."

Image Image

Anton Taylor



Origin Story:
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

The Huntsman



◆ Anatomy
"The psychical appearance of a human is remarkable. It's intricate, delicate, and oh so unique."

"I guess a part of me wants a quiet lifestyle, but in the end the reckless side of me wins."

"Ever since my last employer I've grown fond of mirrors. They reflect what other people see."

◆ Winter
"Everything is dead, enough said."

◆ V-42 stiletto
"I have a strange attachment to the objects I use to kill"


▮ Apples ▮ Dishonest People ▮ Backstabbers ▮ Selfishness ▮ owls ▮ Cheapskates ▮


【Atelophobia 】- "I need things to be perfectly done."

【Drowning】- "I know how to swim, I just choose not to."

【Dying without anyone knowing】- "While I may not seem like the type, I don't want to be alone. "

Hobbies: ⑉ Hunting ⑉ Science ⑉ Drawing ⑉
"Many people don't know this, but I draw a lot."

「Divergent Thinking」
- Not all situations are the same, and some prey are harder than others. I use my creativity to think up the most effective way of killing something.

「Shooting」 - While he prefers the knife over gun, he's still pretty good at shooting from distances. A crack shoot of sorts, but he'd much rather kill the thing up close. It makes for less of a chance of them escaping.

「Loyal」 - He's very loyal to someone whom he trusts. He can tell if someone will back stab him, and will do the same to them.

﹂ Cooking ﹁ - Everything he cooks end up in either flames, destroyed, or inedible. Anton tries, he really does, but food doesn't seem to like him.

﹂ History ﹁ - History to him is like reading a book you don't care about a hundred times. Everyone has a past, and everyone has a future, no use dwelling on what should have happened. If things were perfect, life would be incredibly dull. Because it's not what you say about the past, it's what you do about it.

﹂ Kindness ﹁ - Being kind in his line of work isn't very helpful, especially when he's hunting them. It makes the job a lot harder when he has an attachment to those whom he kills.


Hunters were meant to be cold, ruthless, and void of emotion. They’re surpassed to kill without any attachment, and obey their employers every command. Being a bastard was in the job description along with narcissism and gluttony. Although to be fair, Anton isn’t quite like other hunters. No, he has a heart and he berates himself every day for it. Caring is not an advantage, and even if it was it isn’t. He had to learn that the hard way.

Unlike the stereotype he’s meant to be, he isn’t ruthless. Rather he pities them enough to let either let them send a message to their loved ones, or make the dying process easier. While both have the same outcome it makes him feel less bad about what he’s doing. Some twisted people might actually say he has a lot of valor for doing that. But that’s why they’re twisted, because he knows what he does is wrong and yet he cannot stop himself. It’s his sixth sense, to kill or be killed.

If a pedestrian saw him on a normal day they would describe him as a bit odd, but a nice bloke overall. And that would be true, some of the time. Anton tries to keep his work and his “life” as separate as possible. That arrangement gives him the normalcy he needs, but keeps the danger that excites him.

Anton was born like a normal child, well as normal as a family who kills people for a living can be. He went to school, did his homework, and got good grades with the exception history – and even then it was only a B. His parents loved him and his fraternal twin Anna. They were two peas in a pod, almost inseparable.

By the time he was in his eleventh year his father taught him all his tricks of the trade; scoping the area, shooting from afar, hand to hand combat, and even the most painless way to die. Anton was fascinated by everything his father did. From the unwavering stare his face held to the steady hold of his gun. His mother was the one who got him into anatomy. She was the doctor for the family, never wanting to go to the hospital in fear of recognition from past clients. But they always reminded him and his sister one thing; the victims they kill were people too so show respect.

In twelfth grade his family was murdered by a vengeful client’s friend. He struck while they were sleeping making sure they were defenseless. Anton was working out late that night for he was slacking the whole week. Needless to say when he found his family with their entrails everywhere all he saw was red. He tracked down the murderer and killed him in the most painful way possible. The next morning he realized what had happened and buried his family’s bodies. Oddly enough he felt no remorse for either of them. It didn't quite sink in yet.

Since then he had stuck to killing animals for food and for relief. It wasn't that he was poor, oh no. He wasn't poor at all. He just liked to hunt.

When he turned twenty his third job came to him in the form of a beautiful woman. All she told him was that a girl by the name of Snow White was to be killed, and her heart taken out and brought to her. He had accepted of course, knowing the money he would get for the job.

He found her in the woods, crying her pretty little eyes out while sitting by a tree trunk. Anton understood why his employer wanted her dead. She was gorgeous, enough to rival her beauty. Too bad he knew the queen was going to kill him after he brought her Snow’s heart. He let Snow White go with the promise of not killing her.

Turns out he was right in his instincts. He brought her a pig’s heart with a plan in mind. Give her the fool’s heart and see if she tries to kill him. She did, and he knew what had to happen. Right before he put the blade to her throat he whispered, “Snow White’s alive, and that my dear friend, is a pig’s heart. “
If revenge was sweet, killing them was the most delicious dessert of all.

- The feeling of his parents death hasn't quite gotten to him yet.
- He likes Red Velvet Cake a lot

So begins...

Anton Taylor's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alice Kingsley Character Portrait: Jack Helyer Character Portrait: Jane Banks Character Portrait: Maleficent Dejana "Mal" DeBrock Character Portrait: Gretel Character Portrait: Hansel Houwen Character Portrait: Marigold Lokes Character Portrait: Lacey Swan Character Portrait: Ali Marchwood Character Portrait: Anton Taylor Character Portrait: Peter Pan Character Portrait: Leona Hopewell Character Portrait: Michael Richard Banks Character Portrait: Christopher Robin Character Portrait: Wendy Darling Character Portrait: Eddie Bern Character Portrait: Gabriel Leroy Character Portrait: Samantha Arthur Character Portrait: Daniel Wolfe
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#, as written by Issa

Time: 7.30am, Saturday
Weather: Fine, light breeze
High of 23ºC (73ºF)

Folksdale Morning Radio:
'Good morning Folksdale, I'm your morning host Jiminy and what an excellent morning it is. Beautiful blue sky, stunning outlook onto our fairytale town and the promise of a magical day to come. There's little to announce from the night, but today promises to be a stunner. Gepetto is having a sale on wooden figurines and Belle's Bookstore will be hosting a book signing with the award winning author of 'Lamps: 101 uses'. I've also been told to remind all our listeners to watch out for the bridge just past Spinners' Lane, it appears a troll has taken up residence beneath...'


Sunlight filtered through the white curtains, a gap in the hangings letting a single ray of golden sunlight spill into the room. It landed across Jane's eyes and acted as well as any buzzing alarm to tell the girl that it was time to rise. With a single groan of protest Jane pushed the blankets off her and sat up straight. She stretched, her arms out behind her back and then above her head. A moment later, sleep finally receding, she set her legs onto the carpeted floor and stood. A snap of her fingers flicked the light switch across the room up and the bulb turned on, illuminating the chaos of Jane's room. Clothes covered the majority of her floor, clean and dirty mixed indiscriminately. On her desk a spell book sat open surrounded by scribbled notes. Jane had been looking through the tome late last night, hoping to find any useful spells to help replace Mary Poppins' protective spells on the town.

A scratching at Jane's door alerted her to the presence of a persistent visitor. Another snap of her fingers saw the knob turn and the door opened. The visitor, the black and grey family cat, was old, tubby and probably thought that he ruled the house.
"Morning Thomas" Jane murmured as the cat wondered in. Thomas didn't deign to respond, instead he pranced over to Jane's bed, jumped up and immediately began to make himself comfortable. "Lucky for some" Jane muttered to the cat as she pulled off her pyjamas and swapped them for her running gear. Luckily the shirt, shorts and sneakers were all in a neat pile on her drawers and not amongst the mountain of clothing on her floor. Dressed, Jane left her room and wondered downstairs, dropping into the kitchen for a bottle of water and a light morning snack. Not seeing any of her family up yet Jane let herself out of the house quietly, grabbed her bike and pushed it out to the street.

The ride to Eddie's place was relatively short. Traffic was light early morning and the weather was fine. No doubt the day would prove a stunning one, even know Jane could see little sign of the weather turning fowl. The morning was bright, crisp and perfect for running, which was coincidentally what Jane was about to do. With a final pedal on her bike she cruised down the street before skidding to a stop outside Eddie's house and jumping onto the pavement. She pulled her bike up to the front of the house and let it rest beside the front door. Jane glanced at the watch on her wrist, 7.20 am exactly. Right on time. She hopped up to the front door and gave the frame a short, sharp rap. A squawk, that of an angry bird, answered followed by the sound of feet. Jane took a step back as the door opened and Eddie greeted Jane, a disgruntled parrot seated on his arm.


Eddie had been up for a few hours. His current roomate, a emerald green parrot named Murray, was a demanding fellow and required frequent assurances that everything was alright. Eddie, used to such sleepless nights, was more concerned that Murray's persistent squawks would wake the two humans that Eddie shared the house with. Eddie frequently brought sick animals home from the vets, ones that needed overnight observation. Most of them weren't quite as loud as Murray. Because of that Eddie was up and dressed before the sun rose, making breakfast for his human house mates as a way of saying sorry in case the parrot had pestered them overnight.

Bacon fried in the pan, eggs were being scrambled and Eddie had just finished buttering the toast. If the smell didn't rouse his flatmates he was sure that the sun beginning to stream through the house would. Nevertheless he had a plan B in case they couldn't pull themselves out of bed before the food went cold. Eddie placed the food on a plate and tucked it into the oven. Hopefully it would stay warm in there until they saw it, and if it was still there when Eddie came back from his run then he would just have to eat it himself. Eddie glanced at the kitchen clock, realised he had little time left and quickly scribbled a note for Sam explaining that he had left her breakfast. He even drew her a sad excuse for a dog beneath the note, knowing that she loved the animals.

A moment later, Murray hanging off one arm, Eddie answered the door to find his long time friend and running buddy waiting.
"Two secs." Eddie said before quickly dodging back into his room and gently placing Murray back in his cage. He arrived back at the front door to find Jane still in the same place,
"Something smells good." She commented as Eddie closed the front door behind him.
"Bacon and eggs." Eddie explained as the two began a gentle jog down the street, "With any luck they'll be some for us when we're done." He added.
"Definitely better than porridge." Jane giggled. Jane had always found it strange that Eddie's favourite food was porridge and she enjoyed teasing him about it. Eddie decided against replying, instead he simply pocked his tongue out and directed the pair down their usual track that would eventually lead them into and through the forest.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alice Kingsley Character Portrait: Jack Helyer Character Portrait: Jane Banks Character Portrait: Maleficent Dejana "Mal" DeBrock Character Portrait: Gretel Character Portrait: Hansel Houwen Character Portrait: Ali Marchwood Character Portrait: Anton Taylor Character Portrait: Peter Pan Character Portrait: Leona Hopewell Character Portrait: Michael Richard Banks Character Portrait: Christopher Robin Character Portrait: Eddie Bern Character Portrait: Gabriel Leroy Character Portrait: Samantha Arthur Character Portrait: Daniel Wolfe
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Organizing a bookstore was like life--a delicate balance between beauty and functionality. On the one hand, scattered books and slightly askew shelves gave the place a sort of welcoming, lived-in look. On the other hand, an organized, spotless store was the most effective for finding exactly what a customer was looking for and appealed to those used to a bigger city way of life. Wendy preferred something in between the two, and the store owner had never objected. She organized everything, making sure to front and display especially the newer and more popular materials, but left little notes of discord everywhere. For example, the corner with a couch and several chairs, with small end tables ornamented by lamps with illustrations from children's tales, looked bare if too neat. A small but selective pile of books on each end table, made it look more welcoming, along with the pillows she plumped up for the couch.

The floor was scrupulously clean, the windows sparkling (thank goodness they had a service for that, Wendy thought, as it would drive her spare to keep the glass perfect on her own), the register perfectly balanced and ready for the day. The only thing left was to put up a few more signs for the event and arrange the table and chairs for the author's signing, which she did quickly and efficiently. This particular author had no special requests that she'd been notified of, but that could mean that either the publicist was taking care of that or that she would be surprised last minute. With an unwrinkled brow, Wendy glanced over a small black notebook that she kept behind the counter. In it was listed every service in town with a specific eye to the often eccentric needs of authors, and especially those services that delivered very quickly. It was always best to be prepared.

Wendy looked over the shop with pride. Everything in the store was exactly the way she wanted it. The only fly in the ointment was that there were going to be customers in and out all morning, disturbing her good work before the signing, but thankfully the event was in the afternoon rather than the evening. Taking a deep breath in and out, Wendy turned on the automatic tea kettle she kept hidden behind the counter and made herself a nice cup of tea. She took a delicate sip out of a delicate teacup, enjoying the flavor and the silence, as well as the organized space in front of her, before she went to turn the bookstore sign to "Open." And since it might very well be a quiet morning, she pulled out her notebook from a cupboard and continued a story she had been working on.