Post by SierraLou on Jul 17, 2008 15:20:42 GMT -5
Name: Heruga
Species: Houndoom
Gender: Male
Level: 30, when last checked
Quote: ‘I’m so hip I couldn’t fit sideways through a garage door.’
Appearance: A large male houndoom with all the athletic prowess of an Olympic stadium packed into one handy hound-sized package. Or that’s what he’d have you believe, at any rate.
Heruga sports the regular, distinctive markings of his species: night-black fur with a flame-orange muzzle and stomach, plus silvery-white bands around his ankles and across his back. His gleaming horns sweep back elegantly from his skull, turning up at the ends, and his eyes are a characteristic blood-red. He keeps his fur in good condition through obsessive grooming.
Personality: It has often been commented that this hound has issues.
He holds himself with dignity and poise for the most part, being a proud beast with a ‘reputation to uphold’ – he considers himself a prime example of one of the greatest and most noble Pokémon races. However, this hound isn’t stupid. He has a talent for smelling danger and disappearing with unrivaled swiftness. He wouldn’t put himself in any kind of peril for anyone, least of all his late trainer, for whom he had approximately zero affection. Only those that have earned his respect can count on him to put his (meticulously groomed) hide in danger for them, and of these there is a grand total of one – an espeon he served with under his departed trainer. He has perfected the art of slinking away from all manner of sticky spots while bending the rules to keep his nobility intact.
He’s cynical, sly, pessimistic, vain, proud, often inclined to melodrama, unreliable, unlikely to buy you a drink even if he had the hands to do so and has a cultivated dislike for all things human. He has grown weary of servitude and adventure, which have left him suspicious of everything and feeling terribly picked on by Life in general. All he ever wanted was for everyone to give him a break.
Deep down, however, he’s something of a big, scary, demonic, fire-breathing softy. The reluctant adventurer has been known to befriend and protect infants, develop confusing feelings for a female and even go out of his way to save the world. He would, of course, deny it all, because that’s the kind of modest puppy he is.
Luckily (or perhaps unluckily), his sense of humour is still perfectly intact.
History: Heruga was born in the wilder reaches of Johto, out of sight and sound of humans. Unfortunately, he was caught by a particularly adventurous young trainer who distracted the young houndour with a jam sandwich. When the trainer (predictably) became tempted into the world of corruption and crime, and was (regrettably) killed in an accident at a Cipher lab in Orre, Heruga took the opportunity to regain his freedom. The only other survivor from his team was the dry-humoured Efu, the now-evolved espeon, but they parted ways upon entering Hoenn. Heruga turned his back upon life in captivity, his trainer’s remains and the whole forsaken Orre region with a snarky remark and a rude gesture.
Through an unfortunate and complex string of events, Heruga was involved in the accidental death of a boy, became reluctant guardian of four baby Pok?mon, was added to the ‘Wild and Dangerous’ list by the police in two regions, inadvertently doomed the world to destruction by a sleep-deprived Legendary and (reluctantly) saved it again, was caught and mistaken for a world-famous houndoom beauty contestant, escaped and was caught (again) by the same criminal group he’d escaped from in the first place (the cads snuck up behind him and hit him round the head with a tennis racquet), woke up human-formed in an oversized jam jar, was busted out by a human-formed Efu, traveled three regions to find someone capable of changing him back, discovered the many invaluable functions of a large ball of rubber bands and, finally, – houndoom-formed once again – settled down for the quiet life in the Hydrex region.
Roleplay Sample:
Head held high, Heruga surveyed the terrain before him, eyes narrowed to search out the slightest suspicious details. From his vantage point on the hill, he could make out nothing unexpected in the forest below him.
He’d become highly suspicious of forests. Dark cobbled streets, too, still gave him the shivers, among other things. Dark cobbled streets and prim little window-boxes. Oh, how he hated window-boxes...such human things. Heruga allowed himself a small sigh for his poor, tortured soul.
The trees waved innocently at him in the breeze. There was not a single incriminating cobble stone in sight. A delicate sniff told him that this forest boasted copious berry trees, some weaker wild creatures that would pose no threat at all, and, vitally, no humans in the immediate vicinity. Impending doom was conspicuous only by its absence.
It seemed like a perfectly decent place to take a midday stroll. Heruga lamented the loss of his ability to relax, or indeed, to stroll. To stroll was to walk leisurely, to amble, to give off an air of contentedness as one walked. Heruga was hardly ever in the mood for strolling these days. He chose, instead, to slink.
Heruga cast one last distrustful look into the sea of boughs, as if daring them to surprise him. The boughs swayed gently in a nonchalant fashion. Taking this for a response, he started down the slope, disppearing at the forest's edge into the dappled shadows.
Species: Houndoom
Gender: Male
Level: 30, when last checked
Quote: ‘I’m so hip I couldn’t fit sideways through a garage door.’
Appearance: A large male houndoom with all the athletic prowess of an Olympic stadium packed into one handy hound-sized package. Or that’s what he’d have you believe, at any rate.
Heruga sports the regular, distinctive markings of his species: night-black fur with a flame-orange muzzle and stomach, plus silvery-white bands around his ankles and across his back. His gleaming horns sweep back elegantly from his skull, turning up at the ends, and his eyes are a characteristic blood-red. He keeps his fur in good condition through obsessive grooming.
Personality: It has often been commented that this hound has issues.
He holds himself with dignity and poise for the most part, being a proud beast with a ‘reputation to uphold’ – he considers himself a prime example of one of the greatest and most noble Pokémon races. However, this hound isn’t stupid. He has a talent for smelling danger and disappearing with unrivaled swiftness. He wouldn’t put himself in any kind of peril for anyone, least of all his late trainer, for whom he had approximately zero affection. Only those that have earned his respect can count on him to put his (meticulously groomed) hide in danger for them, and of these there is a grand total of one – an espeon he served with under his departed trainer. He has perfected the art of slinking away from all manner of sticky spots while bending the rules to keep his nobility intact.
He’s cynical, sly, pessimistic, vain, proud, often inclined to melodrama, unreliable, unlikely to buy you a drink even if he had the hands to do so and has a cultivated dislike for all things human. He has grown weary of servitude and adventure, which have left him suspicious of everything and feeling terribly picked on by Life in general. All he ever wanted was for everyone to give him a break.
Deep down, however, he’s something of a big, scary, demonic, fire-breathing softy. The reluctant adventurer has been known to befriend and protect infants, develop confusing feelings for a female and even go out of his way to save the world. He would, of course, deny it all, because that’s the kind of modest puppy he is.
Luckily (or perhaps unluckily), his sense of humour is still perfectly intact.
History: Heruga was born in the wilder reaches of Johto, out of sight and sound of humans. Unfortunately, he was caught by a particularly adventurous young trainer who distracted the young houndour with a jam sandwich. When the trainer (predictably) became tempted into the world of corruption and crime, and was (regrettably) killed in an accident at a Cipher lab in Orre, Heruga took the opportunity to regain his freedom. The only other survivor from his team was the dry-humoured Efu, the now-evolved espeon, but they parted ways upon entering Hoenn. Heruga turned his back upon life in captivity, his trainer’s remains and the whole forsaken Orre region with a snarky remark and a rude gesture.
Through an unfortunate and complex string of events, Heruga was involved in the accidental death of a boy, became reluctant guardian of four baby Pok?mon, was added to the ‘Wild and Dangerous’ list by the police in two regions, inadvertently doomed the world to destruction by a sleep-deprived Legendary and (reluctantly) saved it again, was caught and mistaken for a world-famous houndoom beauty contestant, escaped and was caught (again) by the same criminal group he’d escaped from in the first place (the cads snuck up behind him and hit him round the head with a tennis racquet), woke up human-formed in an oversized jam jar, was busted out by a human-formed Efu, traveled three regions to find someone capable of changing him back, discovered the many invaluable functions of a large ball of rubber bands and, finally, – houndoom-formed once again – settled down for the quiet life in the Hydrex region.
Roleplay Sample:
Head held high, Heruga surveyed the terrain before him, eyes narrowed to search out the slightest suspicious details. From his vantage point on the hill, he could make out nothing unexpected in the forest below him.
He’d become highly suspicious of forests. Dark cobbled streets, too, still gave him the shivers, among other things. Dark cobbled streets and prim little window-boxes. Oh, how he hated window-boxes...such human things. Heruga allowed himself a small sigh for his poor, tortured soul.
The trees waved innocently at him in the breeze. There was not a single incriminating cobble stone in sight. A delicate sniff told him that this forest boasted copious berry trees, some weaker wild creatures that would pose no threat at all, and, vitally, no humans in the immediate vicinity. Impending doom was conspicuous only by its absence.
It seemed like a perfectly decent place to take a midday stroll. Heruga lamented the loss of his ability to relax, or indeed, to stroll. To stroll was to walk leisurely, to amble, to give off an air of contentedness as one walked. Heruga was hardly ever in the mood for strolling these days. He chose, instead, to slink.
Heruga cast one last distrustful look into the sea of boughs, as if daring them to surprise him. The boughs swayed gently in a nonchalant fashion. Taking this for a response, he started down the slope, disppearing at the forest's edge into the dappled shadows.
