Post by Brynn on Oct 18, 2007 12:55:09 GMT 10
Name: Tornado
Gender: Male
Race: Pokemon - Tauros
Age: 5 years old
Sexuality Preference: Straight
Appearance: The dark fawn coloured fur covering his body is thick and unkempt. Whip scars pucker the skin under the fur on his hips and flank. The fur that grows over the scars are a lighter colour than the rest of his fur, betraying their presence to any who are brave enough to stay around long enough to look. The ruff around his neck is naturally a dark brown but now it is so filthy it's almost black. It's also terribly matted, the knots tug and pull at the skin beneath without rest. The tips of his horns have been artificially sharpened. The corners of his mouth are blistered from harsh use of a bit. This pokemon has all the marks of once being owned by a trainer, a cruel one at that.
The soft flesh of the flanks show signs of a bucking strap. His legs are well muscled, the knees of his forelegs are heavily scarred, telling a tale of a terrible fall and of poor, amateur healing. Hooves that were once black and gleaming are now dull with cracks of the hoof wall and chipped along the edges.
Personality: Tornado is as mean or meaner on the inside as he looks on the outside. In battle he has no mercy. Then, he'd only hated his trainer and his ‘training'. But then he was sold to the rodeo circuit where his hatred of his trainer broadened to include all humans. These days he wanders Remoor, randomly attacking trainers and challenging wild pokemon to become stronger because strength, rage and hate are all he knows. Almost. He has one half-remembered memory of kind words and a soft touch when he was young,it is for that reason, and that reason alone, he won't use lethal force on human females.
Tornado has serious control issues, he has to be the strongest, the boss. If he isn't, it drives him to the brink of the edge of sanity. He's killed wild pokemon to be the dominant one of where ever he happens to be at that time. When confronted with things he fears, whips, human men, fire, ect... his fear feeds his hatred, which in turn will feed his anger.
His wandering is, in actuality, a quest. A quest to find the only place where he felt safe, where he was loved.
History: Diamond hard eyes, glinting with power-lust pulled him away from the ranch by the halter still buckled to his head. They walked for miles until they reached a barb-wire fenced corral. There, his new owner let him go and closed the gate behind them with a ‘click'. He shifted his weight nervously as the human reached into a box hanging on a post and pulled out a coiled black rope. Beside the box, a lever was pulled and a thick, dented steel wall sprung from the ground, startling him. The tension in the air by now had him prancing like a skittish ponyta.
His owner pointed to the wall. "Tackle!" Came the command. He wheeled about on his hind legs and charged into the wall. The black rope in his owners' hands uncoiled, one end tapering to a thin point. He could smell old, dried blood on it.
*WHOOSH K-KRACK!* "Again! Harder!" Bellowing in fright and pain, he Tackled the wall again. And again. And again ...
He ran hard and as fast as he could, the saliva in his mouth being agitated into a thick froth by the hard yanking of the bit rubbing his tongue and blistering the corners of his mouth. The crop stung his hips as his rider shouted for more speed. Each desperate expulsion of old air to make room for new and fresh air echoed audibly in his dry, raw throat. His mouth open wide in his hard breathing made it impossible to respond to the pity filled looks the other racers, even some of the other riders, were giving him. He was in the lead, not by much though. Hopefully, he would hold his position long enough to pass the finish line just a hundred meters ahead. If he did, maybe he would be fed tonight ...
A fiery blaze, a rapidash, sprinted past him and across the finish line just ahead of him.
Bellowing in fury, he reared and kicked out with his forehooves at the rodeo handlers as they approached, rope and bucking strap in hand. He snapped his teeth and caught the rope before it could snare his head. A second rope emerged from his blind spot and caught him around the neck.
"Quick, tie his head!" One shouted.
"Get another rope on him!" Shouted another. He kicked out viciously with his hind legs, hoping to hit a head and send it rolling like that one yesterday.
The strap went around his flanks, loose for now, but when that gate opened ...
"Ladies and Gents! You've seen his pictures, you've heard all about his exploits in the news! I present to you, our prize bull, Tornado!"
The flashing lights seared his eyes, the loud bang of the gate slamming open made his ears ring and the bucking strap ...! The pain drove him mad and he jumped and spun and rolled and somersaulted onto his back. There! The human on his back was gone, was on the dirt floor of the stadium; ignoring the clowns his head thrust downward, sharpened horns first ...
Freedom! He'd run from the stadium in the confusion and panic of the humans' death. Used a tree to rid himself of the bucking strap and the ropes. Then he'd begun to gallop far and fast, away from the humans, away from the pain. For two days straight he ran, stopping only briefly to slake his thirst. Then ...
<My territory! Leave!> The raticate snarled threateningly. Who did this pokemon think he was to order him around?! He listened to no one! He was strong enough to get away from the humans, he wouldn't let a mangy rodent tell him what to do! Without warning he whipped his head around and felt soft flesh yielding to his horns, then bone crunching under his hooves ...
Roleplay Sample: See above.
------------------Pokemon Only Section-------------------------
Level: 23
Attacks: Tackle, Tail Whip, Rage, Horn Attack, Scary Face, Earthquake
Gender: Male
Race: Pokemon - Tauros
Age: 5 years old
Sexuality Preference: Straight
Appearance: The dark fawn coloured fur covering his body is thick and unkempt. Whip scars pucker the skin under the fur on his hips and flank. The fur that grows over the scars are a lighter colour than the rest of his fur, betraying their presence to any who are brave enough to stay around long enough to look. The ruff around his neck is naturally a dark brown but now it is so filthy it's almost black. It's also terribly matted, the knots tug and pull at the skin beneath without rest. The tips of his horns have been artificially sharpened. The corners of his mouth are blistered from harsh use of a bit. This pokemon has all the marks of once being owned by a trainer, a cruel one at that.
The soft flesh of the flanks show signs of a bucking strap. His legs are well muscled, the knees of his forelegs are heavily scarred, telling a tale of a terrible fall and of poor, amateur healing. Hooves that were once black and gleaming are now dull with cracks of the hoof wall and chipped along the edges.
Personality: Tornado is as mean or meaner on the inside as he looks on the outside. In battle he has no mercy. Then, he'd only hated his trainer and his ‘training'. But then he was sold to the rodeo circuit where his hatred of his trainer broadened to include all humans. These days he wanders Remoor, randomly attacking trainers and challenging wild pokemon to become stronger because strength, rage and hate are all he knows. Almost. He has one half-remembered memory of kind words and a soft touch when he was young,it is for that reason, and that reason alone, he won't use lethal force on human females.
Tornado has serious control issues, he has to be the strongest, the boss. If he isn't, it drives him to the brink of the edge of sanity. He's killed wild pokemon to be the dominant one of where ever he happens to be at that time. When confronted with things he fears, whips, human men, fire, ect... his fear feeds his hatred, which in turn will feed his anger.
His wandering is, in actuality, a quest. A quest to find the only place where he felt safe, where he was loved.
History: Diamond hard eyes, glinting with power-lust pulled him away from the ranch by the halter still buckled to his head. They walked for miles until they reached a barb-wire fenced corral. There, his new owner let him go and closed the gate behind them with a ‘click'. He shifted his weight nervously as the human reached into a box hanging on a post and pulled out a coiled black rope. Beside the box, a lever was pulled and a thick, dented steel wall sprung from the ground, startling him. The tension in the air by now had him prancing like a skittish ponyta.
His owner pointed to the wall. "Tackle!" Came the command. He wheeled about on his hind legs and charged into the wall. The black rope in his owners' hands uncoiled, one end tapering to a thin point. He could smell old, dried blood on it.
*WHOOSH K-KRACK!* "Again! Harder!" Bellowing in fright and pain, he Tackled the wall again. And again. And again ...
He ran hard and as fast as he could, the saliva in his mouth being agitated into a thick froth by the hard yanking of the bit rubbing his tongue and blistering the corners of his mouth. The crop stung his hips as his rider shouted for more speed. Each desperate expulsion of old air to make room for new and fresh air echoed audibly in his dry, raw throat. His mouth open wide in his hard breathing made it impossible to respond to the pity filled looks the other racers, even some of the other riders, were giving him. He was in the lead, not by much though. Hopefully, he would hold his position long enough to pass the finish line just a hundred meters ahead. If he did, maybe he would be fed tonight ...
A fiery blaze, a rapidash, sprinted past him and across the finish line just ahead of him.
Bellowing in fury, he reared and kicked out with his forehooves at the rodeo handlers as they approached, rope and bucking strap in hand. He snapped his teeth and caught the rope before it could snare his head. A second rope emerged from his blind spot and caught him around the neck.
"Quick, tie his head!" One shouted.
"Get another rope on him!" Shouted another. He kicked out viciously with his hind legs, hoping to hit a head and send it rolling like that one yesterday.
The strap went around his flanks, loose for now, but when that gate opened ...
"Ladies and Gents! You've seen his pictures, you've heard all about his exploits in the news! I present to you, our prize bull, Tornado!"
The flashing lights seared his eyes, the loud bang of the gate slamming open made his ears ring and the bucking strap ...! The pain drove him mad and he jumped and spun and rolled and somersaulted onto his back. There! The human on his back was gone, was on the dirt floor of the stadium; ignoring the clowns his head thrust downward, sharpened horns first ...
Freedom! He'd run from the stadium in the confusion and panic of the humans' death. Used a tree to rid himself of the bucking strap and the ropes. Then he'd begun to gallop far and fast, away from the humans, away from the pain. For two days straight he ran, stopping only briefly to slake his thirst. Then ...
<My territory! Leave!> The raticate snarled threateningly. Who did this pokemon think he was to order him around?! He listened to no one! He was strong enough to get away from the humans, he wouldn't let a mangy rodent tell him what to do! Without warning he whipped his head around and felt soft flesh yielding to his horns, then bone crunching under his hooves ...
Roleplay Sample: See above.
------------------Pokemon Only Section-------------------------
Level: 23
Attacks: Tackle, Tail Whip, Rage, Horn Attack, Scary Face, Earthquake