Daxam

How high can we count before a mod gets involved?

130

The Misfit Crew(The Actual RP, 2)

I'm up for it. Vincent would like sticking it to the law lol

The Misfit Crew(The Actual RP, 2)

Vincent Ryder

"Show me who needs their ass kicked!"

Name: Vincent Ryder

Age: 27

Gender: Male

What Makes You A Misfit?: Vincent's been in his fair share of trouble with the law. Not only does he not see the sense in hiding his powers, but he also has no qualms about using them in the fights that he "gets sucked into."

What Do You Think About The Classified Crew?: Considering the fact that the Classified Crew had killed his entire family, destroying the only sense of stability he had ever had when he was still young, and forcing him to more or less be on the run ever since, saying that Vincent hated them is a bit of an understatement. If given the chance, he would gladly burn their headquarters to the ground, but even though he'd never outwardly admit it, he knows he isn't strong enough to take them on by himself.

Appearance:

WARNING: BIG IMAGE

Vincent stands at about 6'0" with shoulder-length black hair, usually in an unkempt state, steely gray eyes, and a scar that runs diagonally through his eyebrow, narrowly missing the corner of his eye. His has a well-built, toned physique with tattoos that cover his right arm, which glow when he uses his power. His outfit of choice is a black shirt of some kind, usually a t-shirt or sleeveless, jeans, boots, and his trusty overcoat. He also carries compressed lumps of steel in his pockets so he always has raw material on hand.

Personality: Vincent isn't a total idiot, but he isn't exactly the brightest crayon in the toolshed, either. He's also a bit of a hothead and enjoys a good fight a little more than he probably should, figuring most problems can usually be solved with a good punch and if not, then it's not a problem worth solving most of the time. That said, he's quick to trust, to his detriment and benefit, and if he considers someone a friend, he has their back for life.

Skills/Abilities: To see him and hear him talk, one may not initially think that he's not only rather decent in the kitchen, but that it's one of the few passions he has aside from fighting. He's also a halfway decent mechanic, his primary magic making it easy for him to create the parts and tools he needs.

Powers/Magic: Vincent's main ability is two fold, one part being a form of ferrokinesis, the manipulation of metal. Specifically, he can alter and shape iron, creating a wide assortment of items with the only limits being his imagination and supply of raw materials. The second half of his main power is the manipulation of raw carbon, capable of drawing it out of the carbon dioxide in the air or even manipulating the structure of the carbon within his own body, giving him ability of creating a kind of dermal armor for himself. While he has an instinctive knowledge of how his power works, explaining it is an entirely different story.

Being an avid brawler, he had figured that just having one tool, despite it being a multi-tool of sorts, in his arsenal wouldn't cut it, so he found a tutor in an underground fighting coach to teach him his secondary magic: strength enhancement. While he isn't able to throw cars like his mentor could, he can easily flip them for cover or, say, push a truck by himself should it ever break down.

Backstory: Vincent and his twin brother, Isaac, were born to the Ryders, a family that prided themselves on their blacksmithing ability in times of old, thanks to their unique brand of magic passed down through the generations. Even when the government began cracking down on magic users, the Ryders continued their business, though they had to keep the more magical aspects hidden from prying eyes. Despite the danger, Vincent and Isaac's parents kept the tradition going by teaching both of their sons their magic. This not only involved traditional book learning, but due to the fine control the magic required, the boys had their right arms tattooed in special ink just like the rest of their family. The tattoos act as a focus for their magic, giving them greater control over the molecules they would be working with.

Then one day, when the brothers were young teens, the Classified Crew raided the Ryder home after receiving an anonymous tip. The Ryders fought back with everything they had, but were no match for the numbers and firepower the CC had on their side. Vincent and Isaac had fled at their mother's behest, but they didn't get far before they were ambushed by CC agents. The twins tried to fight back, but they were no match for their attackers. Isaac, having been more skilled with their family's magic than Vincent, held off the agents while Vincent, at his brother's urging, ran into the woods. To this day, he doesn't know if Isaac died that night or if he was still locked up in Area 66.

Ever since then, he had been on his own, living off of whatever jobs he could get, whether it be working in a kitchen, an autobody shop, or fighting for prize money in an underground tournament. He never stayed in one spot for long and always kept on the move.

RP Sample: helps me to see a glimpse of how your character acts): The sun had set long ago, yet Vincent walked down the street, whistling jovially to himself. He had just won another tournament and, after he got some food and paid for a motel room, he had a little money left over. He remembered a comic shop he had seen earlier that day, a rare one that claimed to be open 24/7, and figured he could get some reading material before he hit the road again. Wonder where I should go, next? he wondered to himself. Maybe south? I suppose I could head out west, though. I've always wanted to be a cowboy!

Just then, he heard a siren wail in the distance and instinctively ducked into a dark alley. He waited in the shadows for a few minutes as he listened. Normally, he wouldn't bother hiding, but he wanted to get those comics before he had to run again. When he heard the sirens fade, he let out a sigh of relief and started to step out of the alley, only to hear yelling behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see a pair of men, one pressed against the wall as the other aimed a gun at his head. He turned away and briefly thought about walking away before he let out a sigh and turned around. "Hey, buddy," he called as he casually strolled up to the men. "Not very neighborly to hold someone up at gunpoint, is it?"

The gunman whipped around toward Vincent, his eyes wide and his gun shaking in his hand. "D-don't come any closer!"

Vincent stopped and cocked his head, as if thinking, then resumed walking as he replied, "Well, I've gotta come closer. People are sleeping and I don't wanna yell."

The man steadied his gun with his other hand and yelled, "I'm not fucking joking, man, stop! I'll shoot, I swear!"

At this, Vincent couldn't help but grin. "In that case, wouldn't you want me to get closer? It'll give you an easier shot."

The gunman started to see red. This guy wasn't just trying to call his bluff, he was openly mocking him. Not only was he keeping him from an easy score, but he was making him feel like a fool! Before he knew what he was doing, the man pulled the trigger.

Vincent's head rocked back as the bullet slammed into his forehead. The gunman, who had truly never shot anyone before, looked on in horror as the energy from the bullet pushed him backward. This was it. He was going to go to jail, all because he was trying to make a quick buck. The man had turned around to run away, but heard the sound that made his blood run cold: a quiet chuckle. He slowly turned back to find Vincent still standing there, only he was slumped forward, this time, still chuckling. The horror of going to prison was replaced with an entirely new sense of fear as Vincent slowly raised his head, still grinning as the squashed bullet fell harmlessly from his forehead. A muted glow shown through the sleeve of his overcoat and there was just enough light in the alleyway for the gunman to see that the upper part of Vincent's face was covered in what looked like a black shell.

"Wanna try again?"

The gunman dropped his weapon and ran screaming, ironically for the police, his would-be victim running right next to him. Immediately, Vincent began to hear more sirens, growing louder this time. He sighed as his carbon armor vanished. "Well, shit," he muttered. "Guess I won't be getting those comics, after all." With that, he turned on his heel and ran.

The Misfit Crew(Interest Check 2! :D)

Vincent Ryder

"Show me who needs their ass kicked!"

Name: Vincent Ryder

Age: 27

Gender: Male

What Makes You A Misfit?: Vincent's been in his fair share of trouble with the law. Not only does he not see the sense in hiding his powers, but he also has no qualms about using them in the fights that he "gets sucked into."

What Do You Think About The Classified Crew?: Considering the fact that the Classified Crew had killed his entire family, destroying the only sense of stability he had ever had when he was still young, and forcing him to more or less be on the run ever since, saying that Vincent hated them is a bit of an understatement. If given the chance, he would gladly burn their headquarters to the ground, but even though he'd never outwardly admit it, he knows he isn't strong enough to take them on by himself.

Appearance:

WARNING: BIG IMAGE

Vincent stands at about 6'0" with shoulder-length black hair, usually in an unkempt state, steely gray eyes, and a scar that runs diagonally through his eyebrow, narrowly missing the corner of his eye. His has a well-built, toned physique with tattoos that cover his right arm, which glow when he uses his power. His outfit of choice is a black shirt of some kind, usually a t-shirt or sleeveless, jeans, boots, and his trusty overcoat. He also carries compressed lumps of steel in his pockets so he always has raw material on hand.

Personality: Vincent isn't a total idiot, but he isn't exactly the brightest crayon in the toolshed, either. He's also a bit of a hothead and enjoys a good fight a little more than he probably should, figuring most problems can usually be solved with a good punch and if not, then it's not a problem worth solving most of the time. That said, he's quick to trust, to his detriment and benefit, and if he considers someone a friend, he has their back for life.

Skills/Abilities: To see him and hear him talk, one may not initially think that he's not only rather decent in the kitchen, but that it's one of the few passions he has aside from fighting. He's also a halfway decent mechanic, his primary magic making it easy for him to create the parts and tools he needs.

Powers/Magic: Vincent's main ability is two fold, one part being a form of ferrokinesis, the manipulation of metal. Specifically, he can alter and shape iron, creating a wide assortment of items with the only limits being his imagination and supply of raw materials. The second half of his main power is the manipulation of raw carbon, capable of drawing it out of the carbon dioxide in the air or even manipulating the structure of the carbon within his own body, giving him ability of creating a kind of dermal armor for himself. While he has an instinctive knowledge of how his power works, explaining it is an entirely different story.

Being an avid brawler, he had figured that just having one tool, despite it being a multi-tool of sorts, in his arsenal wouldn't cut it, so he found a tutor in an underground fighting coach to teach him his secondary magic: strength enhancement. While he isn't able to throw cars like his mentor could, he can easily flip them for cover or, say, push a truck by himself should it ever break down.

Backstory: Vincent and his twin brother, Isaac, were born to the Ryders, a family that prided themselves on their blacksmithing ability in times of old, thanks to their unique brand of magic passed down through the generations. Even when the government began cracking down on magic users, the Ryders continued their business, though they had to keep the more magical aspects hidden from prying eyes. Despite the danger, Vincent and Isaac's parents kept the tradition going by teaching both of their sons their magic. This not only involved traditional book learning, but due to the fine control the magic required, the boys had their right arms tattooed in special ink just like the rest of their family. The tattoos act as a focus for their magic, giving them greater control over the molecules they would be working with.

Then one day, when the brothers were young teens, the Classified Crew raided the Ryder home after receiving an anonymous tip. The Ryders fought back with everything they had, but were no match for the numbers and firepower the CC had on their side. Vincent and Isaac had fled at their mother's behest, but they didn't get far before they were ambushed by CC agents. The twins tried to fight back, but they were no match for their attackers. Isaac, having been more skilled with their family's magic than Vincent, held off the agents while Vincent, at his brother's urging, ran into the woods. To this day, he doesn't know if Isaac died that night or if he was still locked up in Area 66.

Ever since then, he had been on his own, living off of whatever jobs he could get, whether it be working in a kitchen, an autobody shop, or fighting for prize money in an underground tournament. He never stayed in one spot for long and always kept on the move.

RP Sample: helps me to see a glimpse of how your character acts): The sun had set long ago, yet Vincent walked down the street, whistling jovially to himself. He had just won another tournament and, after he got some food and paid for a motel room, he had a little money left over. He remembered a comic shop he had seen earlier that day, a rare one that claimed to be open 24/7, and figured he could get some reading material before he hit the road again. Wonder where I should go, next? he wondered to himself. Maybe south? I suppose I could head out west, though. I've always wanted to be a cowboy!

Just then, he heard a siren wail in the distance and instinctively ducked into a dark alley. He waited in the shadows for a few minutes as he listened. Normally, he wouldn't bother hiding, but he wanted to get those comics before he had to run again. When he heard the sirens fade, he let out a sigh of relief and started to step out of the alley, only to hear yelling behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see a pair of men, one pressed against the wall as the other aimed a gun at his head. He turned away and briefly thought about walking away before he let out a sigh and turned around. "Hey, buddy," he called as he casually strolled up to the men. "Not very neighborly to hold someone up at gunpoint, is it?"

The gunman whipped around toward Vincent, his eyes wide and his gun shaking in his hand. "D-don't come any closer!"

Vincent stopped and cocked his head, as if thinking, then resumed walking as he replied, "Well, I've gotta come closer. People are sleeping and I don't wanna yell."

The man steadied his gun with his other hand and yelled, "I'm not fucking joking, man, stop! I'll shoot, I swear!"

At this, Vincent couldn't help but grin. "In that case, wouldn't you want me to get closer? It'll give you an easier shot."

The gunman started to see red. This guy wasn't just trying to call his bluff, he was openly mocking him. Not only was he keeping him from an easy score, but he was making him feel like a fool! Before he knew what he was doing, the man pulled the trigger.

Vincent's head rocked back as the bullet slammed into his forehead. The gunman, who had truly never shot anyone before, looked on in horror as the energy from the bullet pushed him backward. This was it. He was going to go to jail, all because he was trying to make a quick buck. The man had turned around to run away, but heard the sound that made his blood run cold: a quiet chuckle. He slowly turned back to find Vincent still standing there, only he was slumped forward, this time, still chuckling. The horror of going to prison was replaced with an entirely new sense of fear as Vincent slowly raised his head, still grinning as the squashed bullet fell harmlessly from his forehead. A muted glow shown through the sleeve of his overcoat and there was just enough light in the alleyway for the gunman to see that the upper part of Vincent's face was covered in what looked like a black shell.

"Wanna try again?"

The gunman dropped his weapon and ran screaming, ironically for the police, his would-be victim running right next to him. Immediately, Vincent began to hear more sirens, growing louder this time. He sighed as his carbon armor vanished. "Well, shit," he muttered. "Guess I won't be getting those comics, after all." With that, he turned on his heel and ran.

The Misfit Crew(Interest Check 2! :D)

I'm down for a Discord. And I don't know about anyone else, but I'll be ready for the RP after I'm off work. Gonna bring Vincent back, but I gotta touch up his CS a bit lol

The Misfit Crew(Interest Check 2! :D)

Hey! Don't know if you remember me, but I was there for the first shot at this! I'd love to give it another go, if you're still looking!

How high can we count before a mod gets involved?

108

Young Justice

Location: Kobra Base, Everglades, Florida

---

Vincent was mid-stride when he felt the bolas begin to wrap around his ankles, tripping him as they shocked him, preventing him from catching himself. Are you serious, this again?! he thought, unable to do much else. He knew he was in trouble, this time. The last time he had been tangled up, the bolas had been attached to a steel plate he detached from his back. This time, they were wrapped directly around his ankles and he couldn’t remove those. Not painlessly, at least, nor would it be a simple matter of reattaching them.

Despite the pain of being shocked, he kept an eye on his opponents. Counting only the armed guards, there were roughly ten of them, four of which bore red armbands. Two of those had bola launchers, one was equipped with shockwave gauntlets, and the last had one of those foam guns he remembered from the bank heist. The guards were arranged in a loose semi-circle around him, their weapons trained in case Vincent managed to free himself. Normally, he wouldn’t be worried, but he found it difficult for him to focus enough to cover himself in his carbon armor. If they decided to open fire then and there, he was a goner.

Suddenly, his mind flashed back to the harbor. He could still feel the increasing weight on his chest, the helplessness of being pinned underneath his rampaging teammate, unable to do anything. And then…

It was dark in the closet. There was shouting, the sound of something breaking. Someone was looking for something, demanding the couple to give it to them. The voice sounded young. The couple said something. There was a stifled sob. Then a furious yell, joined by terrified screams cut short, the splatter of something wet, the sound of a pair of heavy objects hitting the ground…

Vincent slammed his fist on the ground and slowly pushed himself up, using the pain of his split knuckles to focus. The guards all took half a step back, nervous, while the blonde meta seemed to grin wider. ”Never…again…” the young hero growled as a small, black knife of carbon appeared in his hand. Reaching down, he sliced through the wire connecting the metal spheres of the bola and immediately felt the current fade as he let out a sigh of relief. Now able to focus on them, Vincent realized he could sense something familiar about the bolas…

“Fire!” came the order just as gunfire erupted all around Vincent. In the split second it took for the order to be given and the first shots to find their mark, the young hero’s body was covered in his signature carbon armor, protecting him. Then came a pair of bolas, but Vincent was prepared, this time. ”That’s not gonna work, anymore,” he said with a grin.

The moment they were within range, he reached out with his power, calling to the steel he sensed within the electrified spheres, and forced them to change course. The glove-wielder and the guard with the foam gun, taken by surprise, couldn’t react fast enough before they found themselves ensnared, crying out as they received the same treatment Vincent freed himself from. Now able to counter both the bullets and the bolas, he was free to turn his focus toward the bigger threats: the metas.

He glanced at the bald man floating in midair, then the blonde on the ground, who only seemed to grow more excited at the prospect of a fight. He had no idea about either man’s abilities, but every instinct seemed to tell him that the bald man was probably the bigger problem. Which meant he had to go down first.

Drawing from the air, Vincent layered more carbon on top of his arms and legs before he jumped toward the bald one. He called on his power to pull him through the air, giving him more height and speed, before he lashed out with a heavy right hook.

Rerun: Blackguards!

Damn, found this too late. I'll keep an eye on it in case a spot opens up down the line!

How high can we count before a mod gets involved?

31