Post by ken on Jan 30, 2013 21:27:13 GMT -6
ryanfylan
Name» Ryan Fylan[/size]
Nicknames» Ry
Age» Eighteen
Birthday» October 29
Gender» Male
Orientation» Bisexual
Species» Born Warlock
Abilities» Ry has had his powers since he was born and has practiced it just after he had discovered his ability at the age of five. Because of this, and his innate ability to create complex magic, is very skilled in the art, despite the fact that his magical strength is average. His precision and control over his magic is something to be feared.
Occupation« Holycross member
Class Year« College Freshman
Political Views« Neutral
Class Year« College Freshman
Political Views« Neutral
Hair Color« Light Brown
Eye Color« Brown
Height« 5’10”
Trademarks« Varying degree of depth and length of scars up and down his back.
Playby« Xavier Samuel
Likes«
Dislikes«
Strengths«
Weaknesses«
[/blockquote]- Practicing magic
- Practicing marksmanship
- Practicing Martial Arts
- Reading
- Coffee
- The chase
- Winning
- Killing
- Lying
Dislikes«
- Killing
- Getting caught
- Sleep
- Idiots
- Losing
- Annoying people
Strengths«
- Cunning
- Intelligent
- Precise
- Unapologetic
Weaknesses«
- Bad temper
- Unapologetic
- Manipulative
- Rash
Mother» Linda Fylan
Father» George Fylan
Siblings» None that he knows of
Children» None that he knows of
Other» None
Home» An RV.
History»
“Name?”
“Ryan Fylan.”
“Age?”
“Didn’t I fill in a form with all this crap already?”
“It’s to register your heart rate when you tell the truth. Age?”
Ryan sighed. He felt like an idiot. “Seventeen.”
“Now, please tell me a lie.”
“You’re pretty.”
“A real lie please.” The woman said without so much as a reaction to the backhanded compliment. She was blonde with pale blue eyes and soft lips. For all intents and purposes, she was beautiful—mind numbingly so and she knew it. Maybe that was the trick. She served as a distraction of some sort, Ryan thought.
“I’m a Warlock.”
“Good. Now we can start. Where were you born?”
It was somewhat difficult to answers question such as this. He didn’t really like these sorts of questions, since he didn’t really know what to answer them.
Ryan was born in Las Vegas, Nevada (At least his parents thought he was. They didn’t really know. They were moving at that time.), to two parents, Linda and George, who were good enough parents. They traveled a lot though, using their RV, and Ryan went with them. They were professional gamblers (blackjack, texas hold ‘em, and what not) of some sort—if you could call it a profession. They weren’t dirt poor, nor were they rich. They were what they liked to call, lower middle class. They weren’t even that good at their ‘profession’—just good enough that they won a bit more than they lost. Still, life was interesting growing up with two parents who were really good at lying. You picked up how to do it incredibly fast. Plus the whole, you-can-cast-spells thing made all the more fun. Apparently, Ryan’s grandmother (father’s side) was a Warlock, though it skipped a generation.
“New Jersey. My parents were Anna and Rupert. Both dentists.”
“One liners please.”
“New Jersey.”
“Thank you.”
“…Sure.”
“And your parents? Still in New Jersey?”
“Dead.” Alive and kicking. Last he knew, they were somewhere in Indiana.
“I see. We’ll be checking this you know.”
“Yeah.” Everything on his identity was taken care of long before this.
“Okay then, moving on…what made you want to apply?”
Money, pure and simple. There wasn’t any big scenario that had made him decide. It was just the little things. He wanted to live in one place, have a house that didn’t overheat, and eat food that didn’t come in a Styrofoam box. He wanted a bit of normalcy, though taking this job was anything but. Well, you had to work with what you had.
“Money.”
“I see, you’re one of those. What makes you think you’d do a good job?”
“You approached me remember?” At least, that’s what they thought.
“Yes we did. Still, answer the question please.”
“I’m good at it.”
“Okay. And are you a sympathizer to the unclean ones?”
Unclean ones. They called everyone who had ‘supernatural abilities’ that. Ryan didn’t really know, nor care, why these people hated them so much. Sure, they killed people, but then, people kill people all the time. What makes these people so different from others that they had to be, innocent or not, hunted down to the last person? It wasn’t of any concern anyway. As long as he was paid, he could care less who he’d have to screw over.
“Would I be applying if I was?”
“Answer the question please.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Okay.” The blonde scribbled a note on her clipboard then and proceeded to stand up.
“Anything else? No more of those fun tests like standing under the sun or waiting for the full moon?” Ryan asked as he removed the clip from his finger.
“No, that’s it for now. Please wait two to three days for your letter.” With that, the blonde left, leaving Ryan alone in the small gray room alone.
Huh. That was anti-climactic.******
Two days later, Ryan received a letter from Holy Cross. He was accepted. His first mission was to infiltrate St. Gabriel’s, some exclusive school in an island. Apparently, there have been rumors going on around there. He was to scout it out and do nothing else for the meantime. A cover had been set up for him already. Apparently, he was an incoming freshman in college. It wouldn’t be starting for a year though so he was to report back to headquarters everyday at five in the morning for training.
This’ll be fun. Ryan thought sarcastically.
RP Sample»
[/blockquote][/size]
Gotten from one of the sites I used to RP in.
They moved like a blur as Nate sped even faster, jumping from one building to the next like it was nothing. He needed to think of a way to divert the enemy’s attention from the girl. Unfortunately, the pursuers had some sort of lock on him. Any direction he took the pursuers followed suit. Dammit! Nate thought. He didn’t want this to come to a fight. He was clearly at a disadvantage seeing as he had to protect this girl. Ah shit, Nate thought. Clearly, being an honest man was proving to be more difficult in this god forsaken city. He really needed a vacation or something.
“I’m really sorry about thi—Hey now, none of that,” Nate said towards the girl as he ran. Her hiss at him was somewhat amusing though he didn’t show it. As expected, the girl didn’t smell amused; actually, she smelled really, really, pissed. Ah, now the young werewolf remembered her smell. She smelled like a demon. Half demon? Nate thought as he passed in between two buildings with clotheslines crisscrossing in between them. He leapt on one wall before propelling himself to the next as he climb higher. He needed higher ground if he wanted a view of his pursuers. “I’m trying to save your life here and—WHAT THE HELL!” Nate yelped as the girl’s hand clawed at his face. For a small girl, her nails dug onto his skin, scratching the man. Maybe it was the demon side of her that made her smack so powerful, Nate though idly as he tumbled down towards the roof’s pavement. His gracious leaps, as he dodged all the lines, was interrupted by the sudden attack, causing the young man not only to drop the blonde girl, but also trip on one of the lines, sending him propelling onto one of the lower roofs, causing him to kiss the cold pavement. The woman landed cleanly on all fours near the werewolf, her scent still pissed as Nate got up in a blur of movement. “Really now, there was no need for that,” Nate said as he calmly approached the woman, his hand on his gashed cheek. Her claw marks were already disappearing as he tumbled down and, by the time he had spoken, there was nothing left but some reddening on his cheek.
“I’m trying to help you here and—what are you doing? Hey, what’s tha—“ BANG! BANG! BANG! The crazy bitch was now shooting at Nate! The young man was so caught in surprise, and the range so close, that he had only dodged one bullet. The other grazed his right arm; the silver bullet burning his skin while another had hit home—his left upper shoulder. That bullet hurt like a motherfucker. He let out a guttural growl as his eyes glowed even more golden with rage. Before he could change though, the young man forced himself back to his senses. It didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed though. “WHAT THE FUCK!” Nate shouted as he picked out the silver bullet from his shoulder, letting out another growl as he dug it out and examined the bullet, it had a C engraved on it, before he threw it away. Shit fuck, this girl had a few screws loose. Nate thought as he reexamined the wound. Had he not explained he was trying to save her life? Really, was this what the people of Arc City were reduced to? Shooting at people for saving their lives? For a moment Nate missed the vampire queen—at least she showed gratitude and respect well enough. Damn, Nate thought. The wound wasn’t going to heal anytime soon, not with the traces of silver embedded on it. Nate was lucky he developed a sort of small tolerance with silver, having exposed himself to the stuff a little every day, otherwise it could’ve been much worse. Still, the thing hurt like hell. First wolfsbane, then some assassin mages, and now silver. Was this day ever going to get better?
Alias« Ken
Time Zone« GMT+ 8
Contact« PM
How long have you been rping?« On and off for three years, mostly off.
Anything Else« I like sweets.
Other Characters« None
The Secret Code«
Time Zone« GMT+ 8
Contact« PM
How long have you been rping?« On and off for three years, mostly off.
Anything Else« I like sweets.
Other Characters« None
The Secret Code«
