I'm up for it if it's still gonna happen, I'd really like to use this guy in a casual roleplay. :>

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Character Name: Mortimer Toynbee
Nickname: Toad, Mort
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Canon: Marvel Earth-8069 (WatXM & A:EMH)

Appearance: Amphibian-like in appearance and ability, Toynbee would stand at about 5'9" if it weren't for the curve of his spine; as is, he stands at about 5'6" and weighs 130lb. His frame is wirey and thin, and it's slightly difficult to gain weight due to a mutated metabolism. His skin is a dull green dappled with darker green spots on his upper arms, legs, and back, his teeth are shark-like and jagged, and he possesses eight webbed, clawed fingers and six webbed, clawed toes in total. The real kicker's the 10 foot long tongue.
Being bipedal can be slightly difficult with his anatomy, so Mort's more likely to crouch and hop than stand or walk. Similarly, his clawed, flipper-like feet make it very difficult to find shoes in the right size (or shape) so he usually forgoes them in favor of wraps. 
His typical outfit consists of hoodies, v-necks, and skinny jeans in varying combinations of navy blue and grey. His dreads, which he's had for at least five years now, are decorated with metal beads and usually either tied back in a ponytail or with a bandanna. His speaking voice is high-pitched, and he's been told, a little bit like what Shaggy would sound like if he was a stoner from the early 2000's rather than the 60's.

Personality: Infamously cowardly, Mort's flight instinct is much, much, [i]much[/i] more developed than his fight instinct. He's usually branded as pathetic, inadequate, and more trouble than he's worth. One minute, he's coming off as overconfident and as slimy as his abilities, the next he's hiding behind the nearest person-sized object.
That description isn't actually fair, however. Even if he's terrified, even if he'll most likely die, Toynbee won't abandon those he's loyal to. And he's not a bad fighter; he can hold his own in a fight with any old mac off the streets. It's just when there's three or four macs, or one combat-trained, super-soldier-esque X-Man, it makes more sense to use his powers to get away. That doesn't mean he's brave, by any stretch of the imagination, but he's not without principles. (You don't abandon fellow mutants, regardless of danger. If you don't stick with each other, nobody will).
Mort has very little confidence, thinking himself hideous and weak, and it shows--he tends to bend over backwards for anyone he thinks care about him, doesn't argue unless [i]actually[/i] enraged (or scared, but that's more appeasing than arguing), and his body language is nearly always submissive when he's in neutral or allied company. With a tongue like that, boot-licking is [i]easy[/i].


Biography: He doesn't say much about his past, but being born into a world where those born with an advanced gene and persecuted, oppressed, and abused, one can assume it wasn't very happy.
What he will openly admit is that he's been a terrorist for the past two to three years, and that he doesn't regret any of it. In his opinion, nobody got hurt except those who made themselves involved, and even then it was no where near the death toll that the MRD put on mutants. He's not going to apologize for fighting back.
Fighting isn't a completely accurate way of phrasing that, however. The cost in damages put on MRD facilities by the Brotherhood over the course of the 27 times they had to break his sorry ass out put more of a dent in their system than his roll in Brotherhood missions ever did. The 28th time, they never came for him. So much for sticking with your own kind. That was three months ago--during a breakout, he escaped with about 20 other mutant prisoners or so. Since then he's been laying low, sleeping in an abandoned warehouse in the Bronx.
And do you know where he is now? ...No, actually, [i]do you?[/i] Because he sure as hell doesn't. What the fuck?

Possessions: He has a pack of cigarettes, a flick blade, and a cellphone with no service in his pockets, and in an old satchel he has a bag of doritos, a lighter, a stolen wallet with $40:35, a lock-pick set, and a pack of cat stickers. Just...just shut up, they make him happy.

Abilities: His mutations aren't on the prettier side, and none of them are actually heavy hitters. He has a lot of them, though: superhuman agility, balance, and strength, a 10' long prehensile tongue, corrosive or adhesive saliva, and wallcrawling (if he licks his hands). He jump upwards about twenty-five feet and thirty across, and his kick is strong enough to dent steel. Asides from mutations, Mortimer has an untapped talent for machines.

Occupation: former terrorist
Other: 
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[*]Chronically depressed and has social anxiety
[*]Speaks in Light Green
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