Post by PMG3E on Sept 24, 2011 11:27:04 GMT -5
NAME:Pickle Manface
ALIAS: Pickle Manface the Grim the Third with and Eyepatch.
AGE: Pickle is 28 years old.
GENDER: Male
STANDING: Berk Warrior
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Straight.
LIKES:
DISLIKES:
STRENGTHS:
WEAKNESSES:
FEARS:
AMBITIONS:
SECRETS:
PERSONALITY: Pickle is a very grumpy and violent individual, always trying to pick a fight with the locals. He'll always find something to complain about. He is very narrow-minded and dislikes dragons a lot. He is very independant and does not like asking for help from anyone when he is in trouble. He does have a soft side that his hidden from public - he can actually be very caring and is very protective of his plants and flowers he grows in his plot of land.
OVERALL PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Pickle has a square jawed face shape, red hair with a large beard, sometimes plaited (think Gimli from Lord of the Rings for his hairstyle). He has a very beefy muscled build. He tends to wear simple clothes when not in action, leather armour at off-times, but when venturing out of the town he will wear iron armour in places. He's about under 6 feet in height.
HISTORY: Pickle's distrust of dragons began when he had his hand bitten by a Terrible Terror when he was very young. He was always a victim from these little dragons, stealing his food etc. Listening to how dragons used to fight humans in the past, and with his view on dragons, he wondered why they stopped fighting in the first place. He began to act very badly towards dragons, provoking fights with them. He took the path to become a Viking Warrior with this mindset.
Pickle's hate for dragons began to take a toll on the society - so he was imposed upon to look after a Gronckle, in effort to appreciate dragons more - it hasn't worked as far as the locals knew, but Pickle had actually become very fond of his dragon - but still remains distrustful to other dragons, kicking Terrors out his way, punching dragons if they get too close, etc.
PARENTS, FRIENDS, OTHER FAMILY:His attitude has left him with no friends.
WEAPON OF CHOICE:A large Iron BattleAxe
DRAGON NAME: Trolley (Short for Troll Bogeys)
DRAGON TYPE: Gronckle
DRAGON PERSONALITY: Almost exactly like Pickle, but more tolerant towards dragons. He enjoys wrestling and sparring with his master.
DRAGON TECHNIQUES: His explosive fire balls are a force to be reckoned with. This dragon isn't as lazy as his counterparts, but will tend to sleep in during the morning.
KEYWORD HIDDEN IN RULES: *********
OOC NAME TO CALL YOU BY: Redkitebait
YEARS OF RP EXPERIENCE: Don't know. Not really keeping count, but not that long.
RP EXAMPLE OF THE CHARACTER YOU'RE APPLYING FOR:
It was a fine day today, most of the residents were pretty happy. It was not often in this season a warm day would pass. Everyone, maybe except for one.
Pickle was his name. He was one of the warriors of the town, poised at ready to fight at a moment's notice. The morning light shone through the shutters of his hut, waking up up with a start.
"Curse this!" He shouted at nothing in his rude awakening, shaking his fist at the closed window. Pickle shifted himself out of bed, revealing his large wide body draped in lots of strong muscles and fat. A grumble could be heard from the room opposite. Pickle's face softened at the noise, a small smile twitching his moustache.
Pickle burst through the door with some force, opening his arms in welcome to his favourite dragon.
"Trolley!" He exclaimed in his thick Scottish accent. He embraced the dragon's large head, squeezing the beast in such a manner that if it were a human, several rib bones would have cracked. The dragon, still half asleep, began to snore in half grumble. "Tha's me boy! The viking patted his snout and left the dragon's head drop to the floor with a rather loud thud. He knew the dragon hadn't felt a thing.
Now he was fully awake, he knew he had duties to do, most importantly getting his prized Battle Axe back from the blacksmiths. Leaving his dragon behind, knowing that it most likely won't wake up until the afternoon, Pickle headed into town.
As soon as he had left his home, surrounding vikings had already began to give him dirty looks, and some of the smaller dragons in the village had already fled. The morning sun shone in his eyes, annoying the viking once more.
"Fine day! Greeted a passing local, carrying a dead boar on his back. Pickle humphed, his grumpy attitude returning.
"Pfft. Yeah, right." Pickle responded accordingly. He began to make way to his destination. There was a basking terror in the sunlight, it was livid purple and green in colour, contrasting against the paler, blander green of the grass beneath it. And Pickle saw it. Gritting his teeth, he diverted his path to this little dragon, and booted it off the pathway and into a puddle of mud.
"Take that!" He cried in annoyance. He hated Terrors. He heard some sniggers behind him - a Zippleback was laughing at the poor Terror's misfortune. Pickle just scowled. "And what do you think YOU'RE looking at?" He asked, raising his voice ever so slightly. The dragon seemed to not know to mess with this viking. The both the heads hissed arrogantly - a smug look on their face. Before they even knew it Pickle had punched the lower head - provoking the dragon.
"Oh? You want to fight? Huh?" Pickle put up his fist to the dragon, which was towering above him now. Upon hearing the commotion - the dragons master ran out the hut shouting in some weird gibberish at the dragon, calming it and pushing round the back of the house in alarm, giving nasty looks at Pickle. He ignored the viking, still shouting at the Zippleback. "Yeah? You run away!"
With that sorted, he finally made it to the blacksmiths.
ALIAS: Pickle Manface the Grim the Third with and Eyepatch.
AGE: Pickle is 28 years old.
GENDER: Male
STANDING: Berk Warrior
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Straight.
LIKES:
- Beer
- Food
- Women
- Weaponry
- Punching dragons in the face.
- A good brawl.
- Likes to wear an eyepatch to appear more 'menacing' towards the opponent (even though he still has both his eyes)
DISLIKES:
- Dragons. A lot.
- Wet weather
- Boats
- Wooden houses
- Asking for help
STRENGTHS:
- He knows no fear, like a true Viking warrior.
- He is very very strong and can lift heavy objects.
- Skilled with a battleaxe.
- Has good stamina.
WEAKNESSES:
- Intolerant and narrow minded.
- Can't swim.
- Tends to leap before he thinks.
- Doesn't trust many people.
FEARS:
- Convinced that one day, all these so called 'tame dragons' will rise up against the village and cause a great massacre.
- Being banished from the village due to his narrow-minded old fashioned thinking.
- Losing another eye, or his good fighting arm.
- Night Fury
- Actually losing an eye for real. (Or a limb)
AMBITIONS:
- To prove to the village that Dragons have always been fickle and nasty since the beginning.
- To purge the island of dragons.
SECRETS:
- He secretly only likes one species of dragon: Gronckles.
- He actually likes non-masculine things like flowers, making sure his hair is pretty, etc.
PERSONALITY: Pickle is a very grumpy and violent individual, always trying to pick a fight with the locals. He'll always find something to complain about. He is very narrow-minded and dislikes dragons a lot. He is very independant and does not like asking for help from anyone when he is in trouble. He does have a soft side that his hidden from public - he can actually be very caring and is very protective of his plants and flowers he grows in his plot of land.
OVERALL PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Pickle has a square jawed face shape, red hair with a large beard, sometimes plaited (think Gimli from Lord of the Rings for his hairstyle). He has a very beefy muscled build. He tends to wear simple clothes when not in action, leather armour at off-times, but when venturing out of the town he will wear iron armour in places. He's about under 6 feet in height.
HISTORY: Pickle's distrust of dragons began when he had his hand bitten by a Terrible Terror when he was very young. He was always a victim from these little dragons, stealing his food etc. Listening to how dragons used to fight humans in the past, and with his view on dragons, he wondered why they stopped fighting in the first place. He began to act very badly towards dragons, provoking fights with them. He took the path to become a Viking Warrior with this mindset.
Pickle's hate for dragons began to take a toll on the society - so he was imposed upon to look after a Gronckle, in effort to appreciate dragons more - it hasn't worked as far as the locals knew, but Pickle had actually become very fond of his dragon - but still remains distrustful to other dragons, kicking Terrors out his way, punching dragons if they get too close, etc.
PARENTS, FRIENDS, OTHER FAMILY:His attitude has left him with no friends.
WEAPON OF CHOICE:A large Iron BattleAxe
DRAGON NAME: Trolley (Short for Troll Bogeys)
DRAGON TYPE: Gronckle
DRAGON PERSONALITY: Almost exactly like Pickle, but more tolerant towards dragons. He enjoys wrestling and sparring with his master.
DRAGON TECHNIQUES: His explosive fire balls are a force to be reckoned with. This dragon isn't as lazy as his counterparts, but will tend to sleep in during the morning.
KEYWORD HIDDEN IN RULES: *********
OOC NAME TO CALL YOU BY: Redkitebait
YEARS OF RP EXPERIENCE: Don't know. Not really keeping count, but not that long.
RP EXAMPLE OF THE CHARACTER YOU'RE APPLYING FOR:
It was a fine day today, most of the residents were pretty happy. It was not often in this season a warm day would pass. Everyone, maybe except for one.
Pickle was his name. He was one of the warriors of the town, poised at ready to fight at a moment's notice. The morning light shone through the shutters of his hut, waking up up with a start.
"Curse this!" He shouted at nothing in his rude awakening, shaking his fist at the closed window. Pickle shifted himself out of bed, revealing his large wide body draped in lots of strong muscles and fat. A grumble could be heard from the room opposite. Pickle's face softened at the noise, a small smile twitching his moustache.
Pickle burst through the door with some force, opening his arms in welcome to his favourite dragon.
"Trolley!" He exclaimed in his thick Scottish accent. He embraced the dragon's large head, squeezing the beast in such a manner that if it were a human, several rib bones would have cracked. The dragon, still half asleep, began to snore in half grumble. "Tha's me boy! The viking patted his snout and left the dragon's head drop to the floor with a rather loud thud. He knew the dragon hadn't felt a thing.
Now he was fully awake, he knew he had duties to do, most importantly getting his prized Battle Axe back from the blacksmiths. Leaving his dragon behind, knowing that it most likely won't wake up until the afternoon, Pickle headed into town.
As soon as he had left his home, surrounding vikings had already began to give him dirty looks, and some of the smaller dragons in the village had already fled. The morning sun shone in his eyes, annoying the viking once more.
"Fine day! Greeted a passing local, carrying a dead boar on his back. Pickle humphed, his grumpy attitude returning.
"Pfft. Yeah, right." Pickle responded accordingly. He began to make way to his destination. There was a basking terror in the sunlight, it was livid purple and green in colour, contrasting against the paler, blander green of the grass beneath it. And Pickle saw it. Gritting his teeth, he diverted his path to this little dragon, and booted it off the pathway and into a puddle of mud.
"Take that!" He cried in annoyance. He hated Terrors. He heard some sniggers behind him - a Zippleback was laughing at the poor Terror's misfortune. Pickle just scowled. "And what do you think YOU'RE looking at?" He asked, raising his voice ever so slightly. The dragon seemed to not know to mess with this viking. The both the heads hissed arrogantly - a smug look on their face. Before they even knew it Pickle had punched the lower head - provoking the dragon.
"Oh? You want to fight? Huh?" Pickle put up his fist to the dragon, which was towering above him now. Upon hearing the commotion - the dragons master ran out the hut shouting in some weird gibberish at the dragon, calming it and pushing round the back of the house in alarm, giving nasty looks at Pickle. He ignored the viking, still shouting at the Zippleback. "Yeah? You run away!"
With that sorted, he finally made it to the blacksmiths.
