Post by Marshal Bishop on Nov 29, 2014 1:16:50 GMT -5
Basics
Name: Marshal Bishop(Major)
Nicknames: Marshal
Age: 17
Birthday: February 14th
Grade: 11th
Power:
Restricted Shape Shifting/Impersonation:
Marshal can shape shift to mimic the bodily structure of another human being. His height, hair, bone structure, eye color, and even voice can be changed to mimic another person. He cannot mimic a person he hasn't seen before, nor can he mimic a voice that he hasn't heard. He cannot create a new face or voice from scratch, nor can he build off or alter a face he has already seen. Marshal maintains his strength and physical limits regardless of who he shape shifts into regardless of their muscular structure.
The change is sudden, often taking only a few seconds. The transformation looks like the previous features are being stretched or shrunk or grown. Hair color, eye color, and skin tone all fade and adjust to match the desired mimicked individual.
Marshal cannot separate mimicked voice from coordinating appearance. Meaning to use another’s voice Marshal must appear to be the person to whom the voice belongs. The reverse is also true, when he appears as another individual he has to be using their voice. Because of this, he cannot change to look like someone he hasn't heard talk before and vice versa. Marshal's clothes are not altered in any way during transformation so he is commonly limited to whom he can transform into by his current wardrobe. He can sustain an impersonation for up to ten minutes and cannot use it again for a 24 hour period. He can however, spread out his use of his shape shifting ability throughout the day without breaking 10 minutes.
(Major)
Observed Motion Mimicry:
Marshal has the ability to memorize movements and mimic them. This makes him adept at blending into a crowd as well as replicating other's actions he’s seen, such as fighting or dancing. Any motions that are produced that rely heavily on another’s rare, gifted, or otherwise superhuman ability cannot be copied or reproduced through Observed Motion Mimicry. Therefore, Marshal is absolutely unable to mimic any actions produced on the basis of a one’s enhanced strength, speed, agility, etc. An attempt to mimic such actions can cause injury as it would for any untrained individual. He used this ability mostly in clashes with rival gangs and uses it in casually through physical impressions.
Marshal can adapt seen motions into different situations. He doesn’t need to have the exact same environment to replicate a motion. For example, if Marshal observes an individual who hops a wall that is 7ft tall, Marshal would still be able to use the same technique to hop a similar wall that was shorter.
(Minor)
Perspicacious Observation:
Marshal is great at noticing minute details and is adept at accurately perceiving a meaning of such details. This mainly applies to his relationships with people, as he often reads people’s body language well enough to determine a person’s basic momentary emotions. Though (of course) this is in no way one-hundred percent accurate. He often can predict actions after much observation, and produces a great understanding of why an action was made; weather the action was through speech, or physical motion. However, he has difficulty reading those who are unpredictable or otherwise emotionally stoic.
This ability also gives Marshal better observation when identifying people for impersonation or mimicry.
Member Group: Neutral
Canon or not: Nope
Appearance:
Marshal stands at 6’ weighing 152 Lbs; he’s slim and tall, almost lanky. He wears his long dirty blonde hair combed neatly back. Throughout the course of the day his hair falls down nearly over his brow. He’s got sympathetic brown eyes. His face is blemish-less and his skin is of a paler tone. His teeth are a perfect bleached white though he usually smiles closed mouth.
All of his clothes are mildly simple as he prefers white long sleeved button down shirts. These shirts are left untucked from his blue or brown pants and reveals a lack of an undershirt as two to three buttons are left undone. Marshal sometimes sports a dark militia style overcoat when its cold. Marshal’s dark pants are well fitted and are held up with a dark brown belt that matches his formal shoes. The shoes themselves are almost too fancy for the rest of his wardrobe. He wears two gold colored bracelets on his left wrist while a pendant hangs from the silver colored chain around his neck.
Personality
Overall Personality:
Observation: Marshal enjoys adding to his repertoire of faces and voices as well the general actions and stances commonly associated with people. He enjoys trying to find out people’s motives and general attitude towards the current situation; he especially enjoys discovering this with whatever information is given through “Social Studies”. It’s also like a puzzle, if he’s told about a person’s personality and hasn’t figure it out for himself, he’ll act like you just ate his leftovers and give you a look as if to say, “I wasn’t done with that!” His observations sometimes become... invasive, for the lack of a better word. Marshal finds himself in bad situations due to his curiosity. He finds himself wanting to know more about people that don’t want anything to do with him. If he knows that they don’t want anything to do with him, then he will want to observe the person more often. It’s like telling someone not to think of a pink elephant, you’ll just end up putting the thought into his head.
Family: Being part of Rex’s Chess and ‘Southside’ Orphanage he had existed in a family like environment and is well attached to his adopted family. Marshal is protective of who he has deemed family and takes any offense to said family personally. Any betrayal is often taken out of proportion in a near insatiable form of retribution.
Games and Competition: Marshal is a very competitive person and believes well in his own abilities. He’ll gladly create games out of shear boredom to appease his inner quest for entertainment. He knows that there is a time for games and will only try to force one onto people in extreme boredom.
Confrontation: Marshal tends to bug the wrong people due to his curiosity. He’s learned to take beatings due to his generally weak physique and doesn’t seem to get all too mad about it. He generally avoids directly starting conflict, though he may unknowingly, indirectly cause a problem. The only reasons he will stand up and fight back are if his adversary makes it personal or if somebody else is getting hurt. He himself will take a hit, but Marshal will often not stand for others getting hurt. If he knows either parties involved in the fight this is especially true.
Escape: Thinks often of leaving ashford and plots less than perfect escape plans in his head. He never rights them down due to his terrible hand writing and the fact that he doesn’t see the need.
Lack of Education: Growing up in a rundown orphanage doesn’t give much opportunity for education. Due to this Marshal has a tough time studying or paying attention in his classes. In fact he doesn’t have much discipline in any sense of the word.
Likes:
Dislikes:
Fears:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Goals:
History
Family Members/guardians:
Expansive Adopted Family
No Known Biological Family
History:
On the morning of February 14 a silent infant was found in Charleston public park. For a year the nameless babe was bumped around from foster home to foster home, not getting a permanent residency until a full year later at the Orphanage on the South side of town. The caretaker was a warm woman who smelled like cinnamon. Though she had worn herself down from dedicated servitude, she could never turn down a child. She was the only mother he had ever known. She named him Marshal.
For years the old woman was his only friend, he didn’t find this sad, in fact, Marshal enjoyed the one-on-one he’d been getting. This didn’t make him at all popular among the rest of the children. It wasn’t until years later when older kids came to the Orphanage on the South side that somebody had stood up for him. This boy was Rex, remarkably strong for his age he had beaten the snot out of these older boys. From then on Marshal looked up to Rex.
The city had grown weak under economic turmoil, the South side orphanage and the streets crumbled, it was a glooming sight for the orphanage. Food and funds were minuscule but the worst of all the losses was the death of the beloved caretaker. After her, nobody would care for the children.
Marshal was only 13 when Rex started the gang. Everybody looked up to Rex. And though his leadership wasn’t perfect, he found means to exist. They stole, and robbed, beat, and threatened to sustain themselves in tough times. It was four years of fighting and scavenging as other gangs arose around South Side. But in the end Rex’s Chess was a force to be reckoned with.
Soon after the police force had invaded Southside taking Rex as a willing prisoner to save the rest. The police left quietly, Rex’s sacrifice and leadership had made the Southside orphans a family. However, many left the orphanage in search of their hero.
The constant fightings and beatings had built Rex’s gang, and the determination to continue the fight was enough to regain control of their block. It was a short lived victory.
The police obviously felt Southside would fall without Rex. Realizing that it hadn’t worked, they came again; only this time it was in the middle of the night. Marshal and the others woke from the sound of a door coming off its hinges. Police rushed the building. Lights flashed through every window. It was life or death. They all ran out through the back entrance which led to a maze of alleyways.The police couldn’t cover all the exits nor could they stop a stampede.
Among the confusion Southside Orphanage had mysteriously caught fire. Police tried to follow through the back door but Marshal had closed it, he stood between the them and the alleyway holding a gun in his hand threatening to shoot. The room stood still. It was an uncompromising standoff in a burning room, both parties ill-prepared for hellfire. "Drop your gun!" said the cop.
"Drop your gun!" Marshal repeated back, little did he know that at that moment he changed, body, face, voice and all. He was an entirely different person.
The structure started falling to pieces and the police retreated back through the house, leaving Marshal choking on black smoke.
He couldn't leave, after six minutes in the flames, the fire department pulled him from his burning home. Soon after being arrested he was monitored, tested, and admitted into ashford. Saving a young man from many years in one prison for a few in another.
Behind the Character
Name: Monty
Chatango Name: MontyGumarich
RP Experience: Three years on and off.
How did you find us?: Kayla
RP Sample: at least 2 paragraphs, can be from another site. Required for first app
I pulled the door open, finding myself in the drafty stairwell. Pulling out the black gym bag stuffed snuggly beneath the stairs I made my way up to the sixth floor, at apartment E1. I pulled key from my pocket and opened the door abruptly, listening to the roaring crowd through the open window. I unzipped the duffle finding a short distance radio and a high powered rifle.
I questioned myself. The grey heavens glared over me that day. The thrilled masses cheered as the man waved and trotted his way up to the podium. His face plastered the signs held by the mob of supporters. Tethered balloons constructed an arching rainbow over the flag covered stage. The sea hushed, “My fellow Citezens,” he addressed , “it is my sincere pleasure to speak with you today.” He’d always spoken low and slow, making sure he didn’t skip anything.
The radio buzzed with static as I turned it on, “In position.”
“Good,” a pause then my employer spoke once again, “the funds will be dealt as requested.”
I exhaled asking the radio, “How am I supposed to do this?”
“By pulling the trigger.” It was a cynical truth, “and all your troubles fly away.’”
“I’m not sure I can do this.” I stated in an unsure tone.
There was a pause then the radio crackled, “You’re the best shot we’ve got, Byron. You need the money. Stacy needs the money.”
Looking through the scope, I focused on the speaker. That man’s got family, a couple of kids, and a loving wife. He’s no animal.
My employer interrupted my thought, “Look, this is nothing. One million for one bullet in one man. One million to get Stacy out of that hospital bed, out of that house, and out of that town.”
“This isn’t right.”
“Byron,” my employer assured me, “listen to me, take that shot and you just bought Stacy a new life. Don’t and...” he paused.
“And what?” I asked.
The voice responded calmly, “You know too much Byron. You know that.”
What did this man do to deserve this, how did he earn this execution? The applause interrupted my thought, he was playing them. Like any politician. I pressed the stock against my shoulder. Holding my breath, I aimed.“Sorry.” With the crack of the gun the man was dead. The masses erupted, I took the gun and stuffed it in the duffle from which it came, I hooked the radio around my belt, walked out, continued down the stairwell and the door outside.
I was spotted easily, “Stop that man!”, Someone in uniform shouted. I tried to walk into the crowd through the same hysteria as everybody else. I realized one fact then and there, if I get caught, my employer might be too, and Stacy truly will have lost everything. My mind rushed for a solution, I unhooked the radio from my waist, and gave one final demand, “Make sure she gets it all.” I then pulled out the batteries from the back and stuffed the two-way into a passing woman’s purse. I just stood there. This would be my sacrifice. One bullet, one man, one deal. My freedom for hers.
