Post by vincent cypher on Jan 22, 2011 13:03:36 GMT -5
[/font]VINCENTKYLECYPHER!?
[/center]Hey! I go by vinnie. I am twenty two and I'm loving it. I have been roleplaying for six years and I don't plan on stopping any time soon. I have no others on this site and I think they're pretty amazing! If you want to contact me you can by PM.
Name: Vincent Kyle Cypher
Nickname: vince, vinnie, cypher
Age: Seventeen
Gender: male
Sexuality: straight
Member Group: DemiGod, Senior.
Appearance:
Well lets see, Vince has blond hair which is semi long. Dark brown eyes, he stands at six foot three and weighs one hundred and eighty six pounds. He has several tattoo's mostly on his chest back and upper arms. To many to list. His body is well toned which is odd due to his drinking habbits.
Vince dresses normally in jeans and a muscle shirt or a hooded jacket. Mostly depending on weather, though he seems to always have wok boots on. Which some find a little odd since it dont seem the boy has worked a day in his life, being ever so spoiled.
Personality:vince here is a bit of a jerk, he is cocky and rude and simply dont give to shits about anything other then parties and having fun. Some say he is lazy others say he is amazing. It all depends on the person. Although he does seem to be rather intelligent, as he has shown multiple times before during arranging parties.
At times he is sweet as well he has traits of being a gentlemen only with woman. He will open doors and kiss hands but now if its guys he would rather turn his back and flip them off.
Likes: Music, Parties, Alcohol, Dancing, Football
Dislikes: fish, rice, coffee, math, school
Mother:Who knows
Father: Dionysus
Siblings: who knows
Pets: A ball python, six feet thirty four pounds, named Rex
History:
Just a small town boy born and raised in south detroit.
naa just kidding. Lets see here let me pull up these old records, ahh their we go here they are..
Vincent Cypher age seventeen going on his senior year.
Vincent was born alone in the world mother perished at birth father was unknown, simply their are no records of his younger days the real record for him was not formed until he was about thirteen.
At the age thirteen he inherited a large sum of money from an unknown source, making him a young millionaire. Although it made no difference for him he was far to interested in his own little gifts. He was strong quick and rather smart but he cared little about any of that. He found his passion in drinking and parties. Even at this young age he turned out to be an alcoholic. Which was not bad for him due to his fathers blood running through him.
As years passed and he matured he learned to make wine from mere touch and even was able to manipulate the emotions of others around himself.
It was not until he was fifteen that he was sent to a boarding school by the state that would hopefully change his outlook on things. And that was where he has been ever since.
Code Word: -removed by admin-
Roleplay Post
It seemed as though the entire beach had erupted in crimson flame. Although the nearly cloudless sky above was a stunning shade of baby blue, it was completely hidden by a massive layer of thick, black smoke. The remnants of the airplane were scarred haphazardly around the shoreline, most of which were burning in the inferno. The fuselage had broken into two segments; the larger of the two, which contained the cockpit, rested on the beach, ablaze. The latter had broken off during the plane’s descent, crashing into the blue ocean, about a mile offshore. One of the twin jet engines had exploded upon impact, while the other, which had not been completely destroyed, continued to spin, churning the blanket of smog.
The scene was tremendously loud, which could be attributed to not only the roar of the surviving jet engine, or the crackling of the burning wreckage, but the screaming and the crying of the individuals who had not been killed in the crash. Nearly thirty of the original sixty travelers, all teenagers bound for a summer oceanography camp off the coast of Australia, populated the smoldering beach. The majority of which had sustained injuries and, at present, it seemed as though nobody had any background in first aid.
Dorian St. Pierre lay unconscious at the epicenter of the inferno, which had once been the plane’s fuselage. Dorian had sustained a deep gash above his right eyebrow when he had been thrown out of his seat upon impact. But besides this laceration, Dorian had, miraculously, no other visible injuries. Feeling a strange heat on his cheek, Dorian woke and instantly began chocking, due to the unbearable amount of smoke inside the fuselage. The twenty-three year old's head pounded, as if he had been hit over the head by some unknown object. Still coughing and gagging, Dorian peered through the smoke, looking for an exit. His salvation came by way of a broken window, which had obviously been broken by another survivor for a similar purpose. Getting to his feet, Dorian felt his way towards the exit, his eye useless and watering due to the smoke.
Coughing profusely, Dorian finally found the makeshift exit and made his way outside, which was just as saturated with smoke as the interior of the fuselage.
The entire beach was ablaze. People were scattering away from the wreck, some finding their way out of the inferno and some coming up out of the waters offshore. Most were injured, some with minor scrapes and some with life threatening injuries. The skyline was obscure with smoke and nearly everyone was screaming or coughing profusely. It was terrible. The entire scene was heart wrenching.
Coughing roughly, Dorian made his way up the beach, away from the burning wreck. He grabbed his head. He had a splitting headache, probably because a suitcase had bashed into his head on impact. Dorian turned to look at the inferno, taking it all in. Gasping, for the first time Dorian truly appreciated the magnitude of the disaster. The very fact that some of them had survived was a miracle. Students continued trickling out of the plane and all of them appeared to be badly burnt. “Some people could still be trapped inside…” Dorian thought to himself.
Suddenly, instinct kicked in. He ran to the ocean, took off his shirt, and soaked it in the warm salt water. Dorian tore the shirt into pieces, making sure each section was thoroughly drenched. He took two of the pieces and wrapped them around his hands, and tied the third around his face, in a pathetic attempt to protect him from the smoke and fire. “I’ve got be out of my mind!” Dorian said aloud, as he ran towards the wreck. By now most of the students who could walk had emerged from the plane, and there wasn’t anyone trying to get out as Dorian made his way through the makeshift exit. Coughing terribly, Dorian entered the blaze.
The entire fuselage smelled like death. There were burning bodies everywhere; it seemed like no one still inside the fuselage was left alive. “Is anybody in here!?” Dorian screamed, barely audible over the roar of the fire. Then Dorian heard it. Someone moaned out from the front of the plane, towards the cockpit. Pushing a cart out of his way, Dorian fought his way towards the cockpit. “Hey!” Dorian called out. “Can anybody hear me!?”.
“In here…” Someone moaned. Pushing in the door, Dorian found himself in the cockpit. The entire room smelled like gasoline and Dorian spotted the pilot pinned down, with a piece of shrapnel sticking out of his side. “Please….. Help Me!” The man called out, barely conscious.
“Hold on!” Dorian yelled. Dorian pulled the piece of metal away, nearing burning his hands, freeing the man’s leg. “Can you walk?” Dorian yelled out. The man shook his head. “Ok. Hold on!” Dorian struggled to pick the pilot up over his shoulder and struggled to carry the man out of the cockpit, wondering the whole time if the fuselage would explode. Coughing profusely, Dorian made his way back out to the beach, and collapsed, near a blond girl. Everyone that could be saved was out of the plane…
The scene was tremendously loud, which could be attributed to not only the roar of the surviving jet engine, or the crackling of the burning wreckage, but the screaming and the crying of the individuals who had not been killed in the crash. Nearly thirty of the original sixty travelers, all teenagers bound for a summer oceanography camp off the coast of Australia, populated the smoldering beach. The majority of which had sustained injuries and, at present, it seemed as though nobody had any background in first aid.
Dorian St. Pierre lay unconscious at the epicenter of the inferno, which had once been the plane’s fuselage. Dorian had sustained a deep gash above his right eyebrow when he had been thrown out of his seat upon impact. But besides this laceration, Dorian had, miraculously, no other visible injuries. Feeling a strange heat on his cheek, Dorian woke and instantly began chocking, due to the unbearable amount of smoke inside the fuselage. The twenty-three year old's head pounded, as if he had been hit over the head by some unknown object. Still coughing and gagging, Dorian peered through the smoke, looking for an exit. His salvation came by way of a broken window, which had obviously been broken by another survivor for a similar purpose. Getting to his feet, Dorian felt his way towards the exit, his eye useless and watering due to the smoke.
Coughing profusely, Dorian finally found the makeshift exit and made his way outside, which was just as saturated with smoke as the interior of the fuselage.
The entire beach was ablaze. People were scattering away from the wreck, some finding their way out of the inferno and some coming up out of the waters offshore. Most were injured, some with minor scrapes and some with life threatening injuries. The skyline was obscure with smoke and nearly everyone was screaming or coughing profusely. It was terrible. The entire scene was heart wrenching.
Coughing roughly, Dorian made his way up the beach, away from the burning wreck. He grabbed his head. He had a splitting headache, probably because a suitcase had bashed into his head on impact. Dorian turned to look at the inferno, taking it all in. Gasping, for the first time Dorian truly appreciated the magnitude of the disaster. The very fact that some of them had survived was a miracle. Students continued trickling out of the plane and all of them appeared to be badly burnt. “Some people could still be trapped inside…” Dorian thought to himself.
Suddenly, instinct kicked in. He ran to the ocean, took off his shirt, and soaked it in the warm salt water. Dorian tore the shirt into pieces, making sure each section was thoroughly drenched. He took two of the pieces and wrapped them around his hands, and tied the third around his face, in a pathetic attempt to protect him from the smoke and fire. “I’ve got be out of my mind!” Dorian said aloud, as he ran towards the wreck. By now most of the students who could walk had emerged from the plane, and there wasn’t anyone trying to get out as Dorian made his way through the makeshift exit. Coughing terribly, Dorian entered the blaze.
The entire fuselage smelled like death. There were burning bodies everywhere; it seemed like no one still inside the fuselage was left alive. “Is anybody in here!?” Dorian screamed, barely audible over the roar of the fire. Then Dorian heard it. Someone moaned out from the front of the plane, towards the cockpit. Pushing a cart out of his way, Dorian fought his way towards the cockpit. “Hey!” Dorian called out. “Can anybody hear me!?”.
“In here…” Someone moaned. Pushing in the door, Dorian found himself in the cockpit. The entire room smelled like gasoline and Dorian spotted the pilot pinned down, with a piece of shrapnel sticking out of his side. “Please….. Help Me!” The man called out, barely conscious.
“Hold on!” Dorian yelled. Dorian pulled the piece of metal away, nearing burning his hands, freeing the man’s leg. “Can you walk?” Dorian yelled out. The man shook his head. “Ok. Hold on!” Dorian struggled to pick the pilot up over his shoulder and struggled to carry the man out of the cockpit, wondering the whole time if the fuselage would explode. Coughing profusely, Dorian made his way back out to the beach, and collapsed, near a blond girl. Everyone that could be saved was out of the plane…
Read more: letthegodsdecide.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=register&action=display&thread=9#ixzz1BmtcyC00
