Name: Derek

Age: 25-ish? Derek won't say.

Gender(or lack thereof): Male

What Makes You A Misfit?:
You know that film Ratatouille? Where there's a rat underneath a guy's hat steering him to make him a great chef? Okay, so keep that in mind, except (1) Derek is not a rat, he's a big ol' spider, (2) he's using some kind of strange magical power to possess and animate the bodies of the recently deceased rather than a hapless living Frenchman and, (3) Derek is less interested in helping whatever body he's possessed learn to cook and more to use them to do "fun human stuff". I'm not sure whether it's the "large magical spider", the "possessing the dead" or trying to answer the question of "can you find a Hawaiian shirt that makes a corpse look good?" that makes him a misfit, probably a little of all of it.

What Do You Think About The Classified Crew?:
Pretty sure being terrified of getting stuffed in a box and left to rot in some off-the-books basement in Area 66 - or worse, getting drafted into doing government work - is a perfectly natural thing to feel. While Derek is absolutely blase about the whole Classified Crew thing, mocking them openly and just daring them to catch up with the Misfit crew, it's bluster to hide the fact they scare the pants off him. If he wore pants. Which he doesn't. Therefore, clearly, they cannot scare the pants off him as he has no pants to scare off. Rumours that he did have pants and they have been scared off are obvious lies.

Appearance(face claims are allowed, as well as just descriptions):
Looks suspiciously like a peacock spider, just quite a bit larger, at nearly six inches of pure arachnophobic terror / cute spider action (delete as appropriate). Like regular males of the species, he sports brightly coloured hairs, plentiful eyes and the correct number of limbs, thank you very much. The poor recently departed he rides on the head of changes, because while he's capable of possessing a corpse, he can't keep them looking fresh forever. As of the beginning of the game, he's borrowing the body of a promising young surfer dude, sadly missing and last seen at a beach notable for dangerous currents, who looks really rather dashing in a suspiciously large bucket hat.

Personality:
Derek has either lost the ability to plan ahead, or never had it in the first place, leading him to make (likely poor) decisions quickly. While he harbours some fairly significant fears about what would happen if he was caught, they're hidden under so many layers of happy-go-lucky let's-go can-do attitude that even he, sometimes, believes the facade he's put up. As something decidedly inhuman, that also uses humans as playthings, Derek has little qualms about doing stuff that polite society would frown upon, though he's thrown his lot in with his fellow Misfits and so has rather more time for their concerns and social rules. He's awfully keen on the idea of helping out his fellow Misfits, partly because he hopes that others would then do some kind of daring rescue if he got caught, but mostly because heroism is one of the more fun human things that he can get behind.

Skills/Abilities:
As a spider-y thing, he's rather talented at climbing, spinning webs from silk and scaring the bejeezus out of anyone who really doesn't like spiders. Derek maintains that he is also a very talented dancer, though clearly this doesn't translate into human dance styles but, trust him, as far as spiders go, these are some great moves. Has a rather sketchy knowledge of what could be considered "traditional" occult practices, of the sort that would've entertained well-to-do Victorians in their fancy parlours, so if you want to know exactly what kind of thing you'd need to summon something listed in the Ars Goetia, Derek will be happy to help. He could be wrong, but he's happy to help at least.

Powers/Magic:
He's able to possess humans, alive or dead, though Derek prefers using the dead as they put up considerably less of a fight about it. Living things can fight against this possession, those with more willpower find it easier to shake him off compared to the weak-willed, but fortunately corpses lack that spark of independence, so it's more of a guaranteed thing with them. Physical contact is required and must be maintained for it to work so, as much as he would love to be able to remotely control somebody, he has to put himself at risk by being present at whatever stupid hijinks they've planned.

Backstory(Optional):
Derek seems to present an entirely different backstory depending on his mood, all of which share the common trait of being far more elaborate, interesting and exciting than the actual truth - he was merely a curious familiar to a much more experienced magic user, living a comfortable life of being doted upon, fed crickets and guarding a bookshelf full of interesting tomes until she simply disappeared one day. His pretend backstories are far more interesting; he escaped from a zoo, he was once the mayor of some small midwestern town, he used to fight crime as "the real spider-man", he's a best-selling author but the publishers force him to use a nom de plume, etc. etc.

RP Sample(Optional; helps me to see a glimpse of how your character acts):

"I've got a, uh what do you call it, bucket list a mile long," which wasn't quite the thing the recently deceased Michael "Micky" Davis thought he'd ever say post-mortem but, then again, people rarely thought about what they'd say after their own death. Not that they were his words. Derek, who was less-than-comfortably squashed between Micky's bald spot and the inside of a baseball cap that'd seen better days, put the words in his mouth. Micky stood, pressing his hands against the beer-sticky tabletop to help, and took his leave through the back door of the bar. Out back, where there was cool air, stale smells, pitted concrete and a guy who Derek was reasonably certain that Micky could take in a fight. Somewhere on that bucket list of his was 'see what a back-alley brawl is like' and this was the chance to cross it off.

A few moments passed in a swirl of wild punches, screamed obscenities, all culminating in a sickeningly wet thud as Michael Davis hit the ground. It was a good strike, a lucky sort of punch that knocked the hat - and Derek, hiding within - flying and, now without the benefit of being possessed, left Micky on his back, staring blankly up into an uncaring night sky for the second time in as many weeks. In the ensuing pandamonium, Derek, camouflaged in some sense by the hat he was hiding underneath, scuttled back into the bar. Poor lighting and the general unwillingness of people to look down at their own feet afforded him a safe enough journey back to the group.

From underneath the hat, a single large spider leg tapped the ground a few times, until eventually it landed upon a foot in an open-toed sandal. A tap followed, then a more urgent couple of taps, until finally Derek spoke with his own voice, high-pitched, barely audible over the sounds of the conversation happening over the table above him. There was also the other noises to contend with, such as the lady who'd burst inside, wild-eyed, shouting that somebody needs to call an ambulance, the cops, someone. There was a fight, apparently. Somebody got hurt.

"Can you please hurry this up, hurry up, hurry up," Derek urgently tapped, tapped, tapped again, trying to balance the need to be heard and understood with the equally important need of remaining out of sight, "we need to be somewhere, um, really anywhere else."

Some people want to watch everything burn. Makes it harder for those of us who are stamping out the flames.

Name: Michael Bennett.

Age:: 33

Gender (Or Lack Thereof): Male.

What Makes You a Misfit?: He's a disgraced former service member who's trying his best to make the world a better place. He's an outcast in the veterans community, he's wanted by the feds for effectively using magic in a public setting and not wanting to join them, and his preferred type of magic is what some would describe as gross.

What Do You Think About the Classified Crew?: Michael is of the opinion that the others are probably just a group of young adults looking for a place to be, or looking to avoid getting black-bagged by the feds, or both. Either way, he's in it for the long haul, and is trying to at least keep things from going too far off the rails. Or at the least derail it in a way that helps people. He tries his best to convince people to avoid outright murdering people, but when the chips are down, he'll back them up. Even if it's to save someone from the consequences of their own actions.

Appearance: A 6' tall, 185 lbs. Caucasian male. Face and body bears a few minor scars. Green eyes. His hair is a dark brown, and kept in a crew cut. His facial features are rather sharp, and his body appears to mostly be muscular, save a relatively small beer gut. He has a well-kept beard that extends a couple inches past his chin, and bears a couple small whisps of silver. Typically wears blue jeans and tee shirts, and owns a leather jacket that he'll put on if the weather's right for it.

Personality: He tries to be very calm and rational, and always attempts to find a peaceful solution to a problem. He'd prefer not to have things come to blows, and when they do, he personally resorts to violence only when the situation is dire. He tries to stay positive upbeat, but he gets grumpy when he has to fix other people's messes when they should know better, or if his arthritis is acting up. He tries his best to show everyone the respect they deserve as people, and though he tries to by a patient man, his patience is finite. If he does lose his patience with someone, he is not afraid to give them a full dressing-down in his best drill sergeant voice.

Skills/Abilities: He was a marine, and has all the training that comes with it. However, the small bouquet of medical issues that he suffers from prevents him from running and climbing like he could before he joined the service, but that hasn't affected his marksmanship or CQC technique at all. He's also a trained combat medic, and knows how to treat anything from gunshot wounds to chemical burns, and everything in between.

Powers/Magic: Michael has a natural proficiency in the art of controlling blood (hemomancy), and is able to pull or push blood into or out of an open wound from up to ten yards away, and freely manipulates blood that isn't currently in someone, including causing radical increasing or decreasing in it's temperature. Though he can do more to someone the closer he is to them, and needs to touch someone to do something especially nasty like stop someone's blood flow altogether. Usually, he uses it from on-the-spot blood transfusions, to freeze blood to close open wounds, and to prevent others' blood from flowing into certain areas (effectively creating a magical tourniquet). He is not capable of turning someone into a meat puppet individuals by manipulating their blood.

Backstory: Michael grew up near Athens, Georgia where he dreamed on one day protecting people and serving his country by enlisting. When he did, he got sent to the middle east straight out of boot camp, serving as a combat medic in the 3rd Marine Division. He served with distinction, and ended up serving for multiple tours of duty. He ended up happening upon a natural talent for magic when a squadmate got shot in a firefight, while he was running low on supplies. He discovered his talent as a hemomancer when he subconsciously sealed up the blood vessel that had been hit, saving his friend's life. He was also wounded in that firefight, and was sent back stateside, where he met a couple of men who claimed to be feds. They made all sorts of lofty promises, but when told them he'd think about their offer, he later learned they weren't taking no for an answer. One failed attempt to sneak up on him, a brief firefight, and several hours later, Michael had gone AWOL, and fled into the night. Officially, he's been dishonorably discharged, but isn't quite considered a fugitive from the law due to the questions it would raise. It's been four years since that fateful night, and he's been doing his best to stay one step ahead of the feds, and to use the gifts he's slowly been improving to help people. He's also since decided to avoid fighting where he can, mostly because he's realized he far prefers saving lives to taking them, and that saving people without killing other people is very possible with the right words to the right person.

RP Sample:
He calmly sat at the bar, taking in the atmosphere with a smile. A man in black sat down next to him, probably no more that twenty three, and trying his best not to look at the man who appeared at least a decade older than he actually was. "You here for me, son?" Michael asked, as he calmly sipped the small glass of whiskey in his hand, enjoying the burn as it passed down his throat. "Well, you've come all this way. Least you can do is let me buy you a drink. I'm too physically broken to run from ya anyways, so it's not like ya have to worry about me making a break for it." He turned and looked at the G-Man with a smile, before waving down the bartender, and setting down a couple of bills, enough to buy the man a whiskey.

As the G-Man sipped the drink, Michal did his best to hide his free hand under the table. As the fed drank, he quickly felt himself getting lightheaded, as Michael's spell slowed his heartrate. Not enough to cause any damage, but enough that he was going to fall unconscious in a couple minutes. Michael just had to keep him busy. So, he did the best thing he could think to in order to buy time.

He started talking.

"You know, I wonder what a young man like yourself is doing, working for... who ya work for. Personally, I'd think someone like yourself would be better suited as a police officer than a fed. Keep the peace... protect folks... get a nice retirement... maybe find a nice girl... and they really do appreciate folks like that. Outside the bigger cities, of course." As he talked, the young man nodded along, humoring the old man, appearing to be actually listening. And completely unaware of what he was doing. That is, until he collapsed onto the counter and started faintly snoring.

"Lightweight." Michael chuckled as he finished his drink and stood up. Fortunately he knew the bartender, so when he asked to leave out the back the bartender obliged him without asking any awkward questions. He figured the evening air would be good for helping the buzz wear off, anyways. After all, he had people to meet up with.

Name: Anita Walsman

Age: 21

Gender(or lack thereof): Female

What Makes You A Misfit?: She is one of many witches on the run wanted from the government. While witch is sort of an umbrella term, she actually belonged to a coven. The coven wasn't evil, more along the lines of neutral good, but the government's knowledge of witches is archaic to say the least. Her coven was discovered and raided, yet she along with a few others escaped. Luckily she wasn't processed and remains anonymous.
What Do You Think About The Classified Crew?:

Appearance(face claims are allowed, as well as just descriptions):


Rebecca has long brown hair which she keeps in a messy ponytail and she has green eyes and slim facial features. She stands at around 5'7 and weighs 135 lbs with a slim build. Her most notable feature is the full sleeve tattoo she has on her left arm which she uses to be identified by the other members of her coven (They use full sleeve tattoos to identify each other). Her choice of clothing consists of black skinny jeans with the typical rips in them for fashion, a white shirt that hangs down at the front and back with cuts at the sides and off the shoulder sleeves. She wears a blue croptop vest and red and white hightop sneakers along with a few accessories which include a choker, a necklace, and two bracelets.

Personality: Having no family of her own save the coven she belonged to, Rebecca can be classified as the big sister of the group. If she considers someone a part of her inner circle she takes care of them, that being said, she not overbearing. She will check in on you if one of her friends is feeling down and needs an ear to vent, she's there. Having a big sister also means that no one is allowed to mess with what she considers her family except her, which means expect a little bit of teasing every now and then. What's that? You're older? Tough, she's the big sister.

Skills/Abilities: Having knowledge of herbalism has given her a little medical knowledge. She won't be able to perform brain surgery, or any surgery for that matter, but she can pop a bone back into place and keep injuries from getting infected. She has some form of street smarts, at least enough to know how to not make herself a target or bring any suspicion to her

Powers/Magic: Being a witch, Rebecca has access to many magical abilities including but not limited to spellcasting, herbalism, and magical channeling,

Spellcasting: She is able to cast spells by using the mystic forces of the supernatural world allowing her to invoke specific magical effects and phenomenons. These effects are guided and governed by meticulously structured formulae that produces a diverse array of expressions that can mystically effect her reality by channeling mystical energies in a myriad of ways that she bring these formulae to life. Once cast, she can use these spells in a myriad of ways such as offensive spells, defensive spells, supportive spells, and other ways.

Herbalism - potion creation: She is able to create potions with various magical effects. Physical and mental enhancements, bewitchment, curatives, shapeshifting, and other effects. She can create these potions in the form of liquids, candy, powders, and even pills, however, she cannot just create these potions at will. Making such concoctions require certain ingredients as well as time. As far as time is concerned, the bigger the effect, the more time it takes to create. On the ingredient side, she requires certain items that may or may not be available at that time, and certain items that would not be available through normal means.

Magic channeling: She is able to channel and harness external and internal magical energy and use it for a variety of purposes. such as teleportation and other means. She uses herself as a conduit for said magical energy to pass through although it takes time and complete concentration for her to use.

Backstory(Optional):
RP Sample(Optional; helps me to see a glimpse of how your character acts): Being on the run from the government was harder than she expected. She narrowly escaped the last few encounters she had with their agents, and if it wasn't for learning how to blend in from Anya, she would have been caught a long time ago. It didn't last long in her first few months on the run. Whenever it seemed like she was a step ahead, they easily caught up to her, and to make matters worse, she lost contact with Ally, Jess, and Zara. Things were not in her favor, and the only thing she had going for her was that she hadn't encountered her pursuers in months.

She walked the streets, tired and wandering aimlessly as she reached the motel she had been staying at. Opening the door, she flopped down face first on the bed. Everything was a mess, she lost the only family she had ever known, she was on the run for the crime of existing, and now, she was had no way of getting out of this city save risking hitchhiking. All these thoughts swirled in her head as she tried to sleep, but to no avail. It would take half the night before she drifted off to sleep.

The sun beamed into the room and hit her eyes which she met with a wince as she opened her eyes and saw what time it was. "11:00, great, half the day, gone" she thought to herself. She forced herself up from the bed and smelled herself and was not pleased with what passed her nostrils. After half an hour of washing and another half hour scrounging up whatever meal she could find, she would find herself back on the street.