KactusPunch

Misfits: Rise of the Delinquents (Closed)

Ah, thanks for that info. I did not catch the show when it was on.

Misfits: Rise of the Delinquents (Closed)

I bet the city is a bit hectic after such an event, and if living in a disaster-prone zone has taught me anything, the bar will be packedd.

Misfits: Rise of the Delinquents (Closed)

JJ

@Aurkanthis @Adeline

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Once JJ heard his new buddy's voice confirm his somewhat solidity it brought some ease to his fizzling psyche. He shifted into a more somber quiet method of social absorption, that and his head was ringing as he suddenly became away of the severity of their sudden escapade. JJ gave the sky the finger as he sauntered around the outskirts of group's less fortunate survivors. The bench's lay shattered and broken, and probably still wet of paint. He even found a bowling ball hailstone and futtered around with it rolling it with his feet as their counselor gave his news. Deep in thought, JJ knew he'd definitely value a day or two to recuperate. Eyesight grew more distinct, and he zapped back into a manic method as the mumbles of suffering peeked out of conversation. He may be a thief, but surprisingly he still held the notion of selfless service to his name from better folks in his past. One such plea was Aksel and the lass worst for wear of the storm, possibly a direct blow from the heavens.

“But if someone could hold the door, and help me find a couch or something… I think we might want to call an ambulance or something.”
He kicked the ball of permafrost into the bay and jumped to help. But perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, for he swore he saw it flash with embers as it skirted across the asphalt.

"Yeah! I gotchu! I gotchu... yeah maybe we need to gather ourselves cuz my eyes arn't so great right now."
His boundless energy seemed to come back to him in a flush of heat and beads of sweat formed on his brow as he began to kneel down towards the pair.

His eyes saw what was actually a heat mirage, as he reached out to help the girl up. He balked, snatching his hand back from the perceived hallucination and snorted in humored cathartis. "I'm trippin? I'm straight... Fuck, lemme just get the door for you Ax." He jumped up with gusto from his kneeling position, the keen eared hearing a slight extra woosh as he did so. With an athletic crow hop around more hailstones, knocking a few out of the way as he did so(did they seem to hiss with vengeance as they rolled away?), he made a path and entry for his new friends toward the community service door. His energized state picked up the questioning from his tall bud as he made his way to the door. Tony seemed to have left in a hurry since it was unlocked. He also heard something of a bar! He grinned at that then grimaced from the cut on his brow. Not the approved medical advice for the situation but hey when in Rome. He stood holding the door open a slight distance from the group, and could swear he smelt something burning...

Underworld: Forgotten

Added Vitek's motivations, seemed to overlooked that.

Underworld: Forgotten

VITEK

Name: Vitek Birgersson
Species: Lycan(Bitten in battle)
Sex: Male
Age: born 1916, 26 when turned in 1942, accepted into the pack recently; so 86 now
Affiliation: Parisian Pack

Role: Combatant
Pack Status: Newblood
Transformation Origin: Bitten in battle

Appearance:

Face Claim (former ufc heavyweight Alex Gustafurson)

Height: 6' 5"
Weight: 205 lbs.
Reach: 79"
Vitek usually dresses in drab working class clothes to blend in somewhat. He comes off as a burly laborer usually. Nothing glamourous or vain marks his wardrobe. Bears a cap of some sort to avert his gaze also. Furtive motions and a smoldering fuse of mutters in forgotten phrases are often his operati. Some would call him almost unhinged even, and his core beastial flame makes him hard to reel in pack matters save for bloodshed.

History:

Over My Dead Body

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Vitek was a partisan of Parisian resistance to Nazi occupation. A Swedish immigrant to The metropolis right before the war broke out, the blitz molded him into a savage of the streets. As his fellows fell to fascists boots he could do nothing but bite and claw at whatever strange scams and foreign assistance he could. This devolved his phyche into that of a thug, nothing but a tool to be used for gain. He deep down resented this however, finding himself searching desperately for anything to stop this maddening war on his people, his life, his way of being. He sought peace with a hand grenade, and respite with a rifle. Nothing went right. Until zieg heiling blood junkies appeared during a bombing, and most importantly, a feral response of lycans. The carnage he saw made him almost balk as his human kin were torn to shreds in the ensuing fight. He only knew one way to go however, and that was on his own violent terms. Seeking no honor or savior, just revenge he ventured into the streets maiming anything he could with the weapons at hand, even his fists. Some say he even dared fight the mythics. The last thing Vitek remembers is a savage blow and an errie yoodle telling him to return when he was ready.

So, he became a Bête du Gévaudan, a terror of the night in canine form. Years, decades past and he did nothing but drink his problems away and bleed his soul to any one who would listen to his madness. Nothing seemed right, until one full moon under the stupor of the moon and wine he began to hear a Budapestian song that chilled him to the core. It was Gregor, he would later find out, mourning another fallen pack member. He spent three nights following its source and scent, rumors and hersay of songs in the night, before he arrived at the Parsian den. He was welcomed, warily, as a newblood even though he and the powers of the pack knew of the blonde mauler of the night that had been ravaging the land with no guidance. A rough probationary period was agreed upon, should the wolfman decide to go straight for the sake of the pack.

Herein though our miscreant dwells. Hated by many as a savage, yet awed by many for his ways. He himself wants to be accepted, to stop the needless pain of violence his life has been, but current affairs seemed to say otherwise.

Motivation(s):
Vitek was first thrust into the mythic world as a statistic in battle but survived. His former allies all are dead now, his visage is scarred both with blood and memories of the second world war. His grizzled outlook is obvious, war is war, and he is breed for it in this new lease on were-life whatever it may be. He does not lead, he acts. he does not decree, he plots. Perhaps his trauma of fascists still lingers.

Motivation(s):
– Be accepted into the Parisian Pack beyond a Newblood
– Stave off his berserking habits
– Become more healthy in his ways with people and substances
– Protect the Pack
– Learn his way in the world of myth

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Underworld: Forgotten

@AurkanthisJust a joke on my lack of French knowledge beyond the American turn of phrases such as pardon my french and pièce de résistance

Underworld: Forgotten

My wolfman is close to being done FYI. Just needs the French word of your choice to finish him lol Let's get this party started!

What Are You Listening To?

Misfits: Rise of the Delinquents (Closed)

Just hammered out my own work week, might get something up tonight

Misfits: Rise of the Delinquents (Closed)

My jobs about to start peak season cuz mail during the holidays is killer. I'll still be around regularly just not off the jumper like I usually am.