Group: Members
Posts: 4
Member No.: 70
Joined: 25-October 07
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Name: Kristoph Armstead
Alias: Bloody Vicious
Original or Cannon Original
Age: 27
Height: 5'9
Weight: 140 lbs
Eye Color: Aqua
Hair Color: Blonde
Sex: Male
Alignment: Villain
Personality: Sadistic, wild and ruthless despite having an effemete veneer. He speaks eloquently, though to the point. He does not beat around the bush, and demands instead of requests. He is not one to show fear, having such arrogance that he feels that nothing can touch him due to the connections he has to The Boss.
Description: Tall, limber and fit. He keeps in shape, but is no olypmic athelete. His shoulder length hair is almost never tied back, allowing it to fram his sharp, handsome features. Even if he comes off as attractive, there's always a sadistic, almost wild look in his eyes. He often dresses in practical, but exquisite finery, and almost always wears a trench coat in order to hide the blade he has grown quite attached to with him.
Powers: None whatsoever. He is in excellent physical condition however and is a superb swordsman with amazing reflexes and hand eye coordination.
As of note, the katana he has is constructed by a master smith, countlessly folded and constructed from a "heaven's mineral", an ore passed down for generations that supposedly fell from the sky. The actual mineral itself was of mystic origin, while the smith had while forging it imbued it with his very own chi, giving the blade the phenominal piercing and cutting abilities, while at the same time making it extremely durable. The blade itself is 70 cm and razor sharp, able to slice through some of the hardest objects that lack magical resistance.
Weakness: He is completely human, that is his only real weakness. Also, his Katana. While he is a formidable opponent WITH it, disarming him would make the ordeal much easier.
Brief History Leading a life of privilege, Kristoph's Father was a self made man in the gangs around Britain. His place was sealed when his Father, Arnold Bennedtti married the mob bosses's daughter. While this could have been a death sentence, the boss had deemed him worth the time. He was hard working, paying his dues in the syndicate and finally earning the right to the highest honor. In honor of the boss, they kept his name when their child was born. With this stipulation agreed to, their first child came quite soon afterwards, Kristoph Armstead. There was not a whim of his that was unindulged as he grew upp, the vast amounts of wealth that the Boss himself could provide were used to please Kristoph, by the bOsses's and Arnold's wishes. Seeing his son being treated as he always wished to, he thought nothing of it. Soon, however, his beloved son was quickly spoiled. Growing bored with the small dalliances that he could do with the Boss's power, he sought other thrills. Even as he did, he maintained a facade of kindness. He attended boarding schools and even had a personal trainer, keping his mind and body sharp. He may have been spoiled, but he was not stupid. While he wasn't the smarted in his school, he did have quite the instinct, and was ruthlessly cunning. He graduated the top of his class through his own hard work... just not all of it. During a kendo lesson, he found that he quite favored the form that was being taught to him. Since graduating, he had gone on quite a sew sabbaticals, this one took him to the land of Japan. He saught one of their treasures, the famed Taga Kuriki, a master weaponsmith, renowned in small, secret circles as a genius of his art. Kristoph wanted a blade for himself, custom designed. Taga refused, and soon regretted it...
Coming from Japan, The boss was furious, as well as his Father. They had no idea that this was the true face of Kristoph, also known as Bloody Vicious unknown until recently to the two for reasons that soon became obvious. With only the slightest digging they saw what kind of ruthless, despicable person 'their' son had grown up to be. While the boss was secretly pleased, the Father was aghast, the Mother even more so. They did not have much of a place to object though, as they both died shortly after of 'mysterious' circumstances. This falling out eventually landed him where he is. Though he has plenty to let him coast by, he's not content to merely exist in luxury anymore. Now, he wants to himself be a made man.
Sample RP: Metal sounded out harshly agaisnt the stones of the ancient cobblestone path, sending idle sparks to illuminate the evening. The coterie of thugs that flocked around the tall blonde looked about, snickering and joking amongst themselves. He strode purposefully towards the ramshackle hut near the end of the run down tourist trap of a village. Those in their way were either shoved aside by Pitbull, or one of the other thugs that felt they needed to add more of a swagger to their step. Though they did not know who they were, or even udnerstand their language, they somehow knew what they had come for. They murmured amongst themselves, staring after the disrespectful man as he made his way to 'The Master's' hut. It had been a well kept secret, but not kept well enough as they saw. All it took were a few loose lips and the right amount of pressure and soon he found himself at the door of the old man's hut. The old master himself, Taga Kuriki answered the door, though it had taken awhile, his grayed limbs moving slowly with age. Politely he nodded, even though it was apparent what they had come for. Vicious shook his head, having expected someone older, hands in his pockets he did not even bow his head respectfully to his obvious elder. "Let's talk." he spoke fluently in Japanese, the thugs around him merely snickered at the alien sound if the language coming from their boss, though a glance silenced them immediately. "Wait outside." Were his only utterences, and they were obeyed to the letter. Blood stepped inside without hesitation, the thugs milling around the door to make sure no one decided to go inside uninvited.
"So, old man. Curious, but how long did you think you could hide such immaculate pieces of art?" the blonde haired man questioned, not even waiting for permission before lightly taking a blade off of the wall. His fingers trailed over the steel slowly, long fingernails lightly raking across as he examined the craftmenship. "Oh, I'm no conossiuer, but even an amatuer like me can tell that this is a very fine blade. How much do you even sell these things for?" his thumb lightly slipped on the blade, immediately slicing it deeply open. As the red gobule dripped to the floor, he merely chuckled and set the blade back upon the wall, a hand quickly darting inside of his dresscoat and withdrawing a hankerchief, curling it around the bleeding appendage.
"One hundred thousand, U.S currency that is. If you get started right now, I'll through in another 20 grand." with those words he turned and began to make his way to the door.
"No"
That is all it took, one simple word, one simple syllable. A mere utterance to turn a man into a beast. The old man thought he was dealing with a thug, but soon found that he was dealing with something far worse. Something more akin to a monster. it was not hard to slam his hard leathered boot into the old man's knee, sending him crashing to the ground. With another solid kick to the side, the old man was forced onto his belly.
"I believe I misheard you. I thought you just said no, and that would be the wrong answer. Now, what did you say?" As the man struggled for his breath, he felt the metal heel of the boot upon the back of his hand, pressure slowly being applied. "You should probably answer soon, or you'll be making my blade with only one hand... The clock is ticking."
Trivia: Due to his mob connections, he isn't likely to stay in jail for very long.
Name: Earl Jones
Alias: Pitbull
Original or Cannon Original
Age: 29
Height: 7'2
Weight: 400 lbs
Eye Color: brown
Hair Color: brown
Sex: Male
Alignment: Villain
Personality: Much like his alias, he has a very 'dog like' mentality. Though usually easy going, h's very territorial, as well as loyal. While he's not the brightest, he's somewhat clever and can take orders quite well.
Description: A monster of a man, his shoulders are almost as wide as men are tall. His body is loaded with thick muscle, barely an ounce of fat on him. He dresses in a casual manner, shopping in the 'BIGGEST AND TALLEST' places, usually a pair of jeans and a 'wifebeater' is all he wears, along with large leather boots. His hair is short, and usually topped with a bowler hat. He usually has a listless look upon his face, unless his leader calls to him for his attention. He likes to tell jokes, and also has an extremely deep voice.
Powers: he is incredibly strong, though not on par with a 'meta human'. He can, at optimum circumstances, press 800lbs and is quite resilient to injury. He is by no means bulletproof, but it is quite a bit harder to take him down than it is any old thug. He also possesses amazing stamina, taking much longer to tire, and needing much less sleep.
Weakness: Despite not being nearly as dumb as he looks, he lacks direction and ambition. He's not leader material, and without a leader to guide him, he either causes the wrong kind of mayhem, the kind that could land him in serious trouble, or just sits around doing nothing. Also, despite being a strong fighter, he's undisciplined, lacking any sort of martial arts training.
Brief History Earl Jones has always been big, bigger than the rest of the kids by a long shot. Normally this would get him ostrized, but he could also whup all of their butts as well, so this pretty much made him king of the schoolyard growing up. Of course, when his Father got the chance to send his 'genius son', the same one that has been getting the more educated, intelligent kids to do his homework. This posed a problem of course. He found that it was much harder to knockabout the kids at the boarding school, simply because they knew that they could weather a beating or so, if not just to see the big bully fail. What they didn't count on was the sheer intimidating presence of a six foot sixteen year old. It was not long before he was noticed in the school by another intimidating presence. Kristoph earned Earl's friendship with only a few kind, flattering words and promises of connections Earl could have only dreamed of. Despite his mean disposition, he wanted to help his Father with the home and his three brothers and four sisters. All of them were too young to work, and his mother spent her time raising them, while his Father worked two times to provide poorly for them. Knowing that with Kristoph's connections could allow him to do just that, and make money on the side, he eagerly became his right hand man. Whether or not the two would consider each other friends is debateable, but they both have a healthy respect for the other, and see that working together is for their mutual benefit.
Sample RP: The sound of flesh against flesh was commonplace for Pitbull, the enforcer for his boss Vicious. The man was thrown to the wall with one blow, though it was a pulled punch. After all, Earl's fist was almost as big as the guy's stomach, and the point wasn't to kill him. He would have rather not killed him either, that sort of stuff always hung on his concious. "So ya see, if Vicious don't get the money, he gets angry... and when he gets angry, I gotta get up and deal with it, and that makes ME angry, ya get me?" he growled menacingly at the man curled up on the floor, though he was really just wondering if he'd really hit him hard enough to merit the groans that the guy was emitting.
"We at an agreement?" he asked, his large arms folding as he glared to the man, now straightening himself and standing. "I mean, I don't like bein' bothered, but I got plenty'a time to wreck your ass if you try to skim off the top, hear?" When the man nodded he could only assume that he was agreeing. "Good. See ya later. 10:00, poke night, huh?" he asked, fixing the hat upon his head first, then bringing a large zippo to his lips to light the cigar that he clenched tightly between his teeth.
"Look, Vins. Ain't nothin' really personal. You knew what the hell you were gettin' into when you went along with Bloody. I can't keep coverin' yer ass or I'm gonna hafta deal with Bloody himself, an' he ain't gonna be forgivin' like I am. I've seen what he does to people, an' I ain't gonna let that happen to me, yeah?" he reasoned, even as he helped his friend up with a large hand. "Now just keep yer damn nose clean and play the game right. I don't wanna hafta kill ya."
Trivia: Due to his connections with Vicious, it's not likely that he'll be in jail long.
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Bloody Vicious and Pitbull
