Vincent Westpoint
Jul 29, 2012 2:03:13 GMT -5
Post by Vincent Westpoint on Jul 29, 2012 2:03:13 GMT -5
Vincent Wyn Westpoint
[/font][/size][/color]You Fall On Your Knees;
You Beg, You Plead:
"Can I Be Somebody Else?
For All the Times I Hate Myself?"
Your Failures Devour
You Hate It Every Hour,
You're Drowning In,
Your Imperfections
-Skillet, Imperfections
.....................................................................
Full Name: Vincent Wyn Westpoint
Code Name: Conspiracy
Age: 84 Years old, but looks 27. He was that age when he was changed.
Date of Birth: February 29th
Sexual Orientation: Homo (Gay)
Species: Homo Canovanas (Chupacabra-Were)
Alliance: Anti-hero
Citizenship: DC
Canon or Original?: Original
"Victory is MINE Baldy!
And if you had any hair I'd take that too!"
And if you had any hair I'd take that too!"
Hair: Vincent likes to keep his hair long; he'll dye it wild colors at times. Though one would think it would keep him conspicuous, it's actually one of his greatest stealth tricks.
Eyes: Vincent is of Korean Origin so he has the standard narrow eyes and rich, chocolate brown iris.
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 160 lbs.
Distinguishing Marks: Of course, Vincent's hair, and the fact that both of his ears are pierced. But by far his most distinguishing feature is underneath his shirt.
Covering his whole back is a tattoo of a Thunderbird, beak open and ready for battle. The top of the bird's head sits just below the base of Vince's neck, and the tip of the tail just above his buttocks. The wing tips wrap around and touch on his chest.
Appearance: Vincent is the epitome of your standard tall, skinny asian. Olive skin and jet black hair, it is easy to see that his heritage is predominantly Korean. However, don't assume so fast that he is from the east Asian country, because he is not. Get up the guts to meet him, and you will quickly find that his accent is American. Though he may look Korean he was actually raised in Gotham City, in the gutters and alleyways, among gangs and prostitutes. Years of the Hard Life have made him strong despite his skinny body shape.
Vincent's typical outfit usually consists of a tank top, cargo shorts, converse, and a doorag, a style also left over from his gang days.
Face Claim: Rain
"I’m not interested in making new friends,
I don’t even like the ones I have”
I don’t even like the ones I have”
Likes:
Dislikes:
Personality: Vincent may think he has become more humble and easygoing since the strange events that made him a were-chupacabra, but really he has not. He has just as much an overinflated ego as before, maybe even more of one. Vincent thinks of himself as a god, a Korean God to be exact, and all men and women should view him with fear.
Yet in some ways he is softer. He will hesitate and think before going and doing evil. Sometimes he will shy completely away from it.
"With great power comes great responsibility"
Powers: Basically, Vincent is a Shifter/were, but not a wolf. It's a bit more strange than that. His were form is a vicious, bloodthirsty chupacabra. It looks very much like a large dog, a great dane maybe, nearly five foot at the shoulder and seven feet long, from a distance. However, as one comes closer, it becomes obvious that the eyes are too large, and the fangs- oh, the twelve-inch, razor sharp tusks of death that await an evildoer! Not to mention its long, curled claws, at least six inches in length. Its fur is a mottled brown-gray, in dog coat color terms 'chocolate'. However, across its back and on its chest is a curious blue patch where Vincent's Thunderbird tattoo is.
The beast has terrorized before, and it will for as long as Vincent is alive.
In his shifted form, Vincent is capable of running at speeds up to 45 mph. His acute ear can hear a sound made up to half a mile away, and he can see three times as far as a normal dog. His other form needs blood to survive, and so he preys on criminals to sustain this. He would prey on the innocent if it wasn't for the promise he made to Jong-hui fifty-seven years ago (see history). The Chupacabra is sturdy and well-built for combat; he can jump several stories straight up without having to scramble for a clawhold, and horozontally about a city block. Nearly indestuctable, it is harmed by bullets, but it takes a good fifteen rounds to the head to completely take it out. Flamethrowers have been said to part when fired at Vincent, and Sonic weapons are useless (which is odd considering the chupacabra's large ears and sensitive hearing). Bazookas hold the beast back but rarely harm it.
Vincent can talk in this form but it's a low, growly number that he has worked hard to make intelligible.
Weapons N/A, unless you consider the Chupacabra as a weapon. None steady, anyway.
Strengths/Abilities:
Weaknesses:
"All it takes is one bad day to reduce
the sanest man alive to lunacy,"
the sanest man alive to lunacy,"
History: Vincent was born on February 29, 1928- a leap year- to a prostitute in Harlem, New York. It was a time steeped in the birth pangs of the great depression. Harlem, however, was bad to start with. Through childhood, one of the few things Vincent remembers is being steeped in criminal activity. To help support his mother, Vincent took up begging and stealing at an early age, possibly as young as four. He was known around as an urchin and a thief back then, and that reputation didn't change until he turned sixteen.
Another thing that stands out prominently in his mind is finding a dirty, worn book on the street, filled with pictures of legendary animals. His mom had taught him only a little how to read, but it was enough. Slepnir, Chimera, Hydra, Cerebrus, Unicorn- Vincent devoured all the creatures. But the ones he found most intriguing were the Thunderbird, and the Phoenix. He had always loved birds, and these beings, though they didn't really exist, made Vincent shake with excitement and dream of lightning and fire at night. This was the start of an obsession, one that would last seventy-five plus years.
For years, one of the most prominent gangs in the area had been 'scouting' Vincent. They liked his style, his air, that he had developed, one of superiority and cockiness. He was inducted into the gang on the eve of his sixteenth birthday (Another leap year), and immediately fit in. He learned how to handle a knife, and what they had for a gun back then- still six-shooters.
Vincent, or Little Conspiracy, as the gang called him, quickly rose to prominence in the region and was very close to the top. To make things more in his favor, he was the key player in helping the gang survive through the Great Depression, when everyone was hit hardest. Because of this, Vincent was held in very high respect in the gang.
One day, on a rare pickpocketing spree, Vincent managed to nab the wallet of a very rich man. For reasons we will probably never know, this wallet contained in excess of 20,000$, a lot at that time. Vincent kept all the moola for himself, and went to the tattoo parlor to get a custom done. This was the 1950s, good parlors were just coming into existence.
Vincent got a huge thunderbird across his back. Even then, his love of mythical birds hadn't waned.
He had dreams of ruling the Harlem slums, but those were never to be realized because of a very strange occurrence.
One fateful night the gang beset upon a young asian man, a chinese immigrant, hanging around in the alleys. His name was Jong-hui Chang. The gang, most especially Vincent, picked and pestered on the straight backed Jong-hui for a while. Then finally, inevitably, the oldest boy and leader gave the command to surround and kill. Direct orders to his gang were to "Let Little Conspiracy get the goody two-shoes."
Before Jong-hui could even take another breath, Vincent had a knife through the chinese boy's chest. With a final sputter he died.
The rest of the gang cheered and slapped Vincent on the back.
Then came the ritual. All the other boys had killed blacks before, and had been forced to do it long ago. But Vincent had never had to do it, simply becuase they had never had to kill an asian man before.
This ritual? You had to drink a palm full of the blood of your victim. Under the false belief the Jong-hui was Korean, they cheered Vincent on as he did it.
Little did he- or they- know that he was drinking the blood of a were-chupacabra.
Nothing of concenquence happened until the next night, a full moon. Vincent was in his usual bed of newspaper, watching the moon rise over the rooftops when suddenly his eyes glazed over, and he started in convulsions. He could do nothing but watch in horror as his hands grew long, sharp claws and his canines lengthened to the size and sharpness of butchers' knives. Then his arms and legs started growing fur, and he got down onto all fours. His skeleton changed, everything.
He had brutally murdered his gang buddies in cold blood and sucked them dry before they had a clue what was going on.
A night of agonizing pain followed. Vincent doesn't remember how many he killed that night, but police reports say twenty, plus. Anyone that got in his way, got taken down.
Finally the night was over and Vincent transformed back. Crawling over to the gutter, spattered with blood, he cirled up and wished to die. He had killed his friends, and a lot of other people, mindlessly. It was a curse he didn't wish to bear.
Suddenly a huge chill ran through his spine. Vincent opened his eyes and glanced up. Scrambling back in horror, he felt true fear once again.
Standing in front of him was the ghost of Jong-hui Chang.
"Vincent Westpoint." It said and reached out a hand. "You wish to get rid of your curse. I can make it happen. It won't take the gift of the Chupacabra away, but it will give you control over the monster."
Vincent summoned up all his courage, abd shot back hotly, "I... What do I have to do, apologise?"
The ghost's face was stark white but Vincent swore he could see it darken. "No. You must swear allegiance to me. And make a deal."
"What deal is that?"
"You must never commit another crime against an innocent. Instead you must go eradicate evil. It is only then that you will be given the Adam Ability- control over the beast within."
Vincent felt as if he had no choice. He made the deal with the ghost, and ever since then he has been an anti-hero, eyeing women and lusting for their blood, and attractive men as well.
Sixty years have passed, and still Vincent roams the streets, a man who is more lost than anytjing else.
"Next time guys, we should just
rebuild this place outta Lego."
rebuild this place outta Lego."
See Clint's Form
"I'm through talking, get out of my cave,"
Your name/alias: Bry
Timezone: Mountain, as usual
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