| NAME: | Chris James Dimnic
| NICKNAME(S): | Ved, or Hop
| ALIAS(ES): | Ved Bright
| ABILITIES: | Other than his claims of superhuman rapping capabilities, his truly extraordinary abilities are his manipulation of light. Using other lights within eyesight, he can create orbs of light in varying degrees of intensity (Dim to painfully bright). Later on in life he will discover he can create projectiles or beams of white-hot light that originate from his palms. The downside to Ved, is the fact that he has manic depression, anxiety, a terrifying phobia of darkness, and genuine difficultie in getting along well with others. His other capabilities are limited to a below average human, being skinny and tall, the strongest and fastest things on him are his lyrics. With his abilities limited, if an electrical shortage occurs, or he is caught in the dead of night without a flashlight or a phone on him, he is utterly defenseless. His biggest adversaries are people with a control over electricity, or water (using water on electronics will render them lightless, and useless to him), but when with a teammate he has great ease facing off against the common criminal, or perhaps in battle against a pyrokinetic. He is most effective when partnered with others, during the daytime or in well lit areas. His best tactical advantage is to be used as a distraction or to blind a small area.
| SAMPLE POST: |Ved
His head bobbed slowly as he pinched his upper lip, closing his eyes and feeling the rhythm of his buddy Ray's newest rhythm, he adjusted his headphones over his ears, positioning them comfortably.
"Yo man, I got this." He murmured as he ran his fingers down to his chin, rubbing slowly as he took in a shallow breath.
"Yeah I know I'm just another nigga tryna rap, but between you an me I got bitches in the back. So set that shit on repeat and kick it to this track, while I'm dropping niggas with my verse that's a fact!" His hands moved in circles, gesturing and using his hands to say just a much as his mouth. This kind of bullshit had been his life for the last six months, and no matter how creative he got with his lyrics, nobody would drop more than a five in his hat.
"And fuck yo weak raps man that shit act got me pulling hair out my hand on the back now c'mere SMACK, I sick an tired of theses niggas try be acting cool when really you just givin our name to fools because everyone around me now thinks I'm a tool because I used to fuck around with clowns like you! I really don't give a fuck about the next thing you do, as long as you keep it far from here dude. He took another heavy breath, a faint glowing in his hands concerning him.
"Turn this shit off, I can't spit in these conditions man."He complained, which wasn't surprising given the leaks in the roof. It hadn't rained in three days yet somehow there was still water droplets hitting the half-full pans. He pulled off the headphones,setting them down and taking a drink from the half-empty pint of Jack.
| NOTES: |Arnold Palmer, a mix of lemonade and sweet tea.