Hey
I've written my signup, but it's all on paper. Will edit this post with it typed up as soon as I'm done!
Watch this space.
EDIT:
KK, here it is! I've rearranged the order of the fields a little, it makes more sense to me this way. Hope that's aright with you!
EDIT the IInd:
Necessary changes should be implemented; added the fields I forgot about, rearanged them, added more to appearance and changed a couple of odds and ends in personality (Didn't realize the language filter was on in RP, heheh. On the other hand, it's always been said that foul language indicates a lack of vocabulary).
ANOTHER EDIT:
Oh crap! Part of the description went missing. I think it's in here somewhere jumbled up. Hang on... Fixed. That's better.
Name: Clive Moscoud (Note: He no longer uses his last name.)
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Appearance:
Clive is undeniably one thing - blue! He is a fixed morph in the sense that he isn't transient between a human form and a pokémon one, but rather permanently in limbo between the two. Blue fur covers his humanoid form from head to toe, which is lit up by two burning yellow eyes. If you hadn't guessed it by now, Clive is part boy, part Luxray, and his appearance being that of the hide of a luxray stretched over a humanoid form. His pointy face is topped with that spiky, super-sayanesque hair, and his chest and legs are a lighter shade of blue than the rest of his body. Adorning his chest is a little tuft of dark blue mane. A rather dashing look, he thought so himself. He wore his new look casually, having torn off the arms of his prison-like uniform, revealing what he considered to be fairly big biceps, (Though that may just be fairly big vanity.) curtailing down into yellow striped wrists, ending in slightly akward bulbous and imprecise clawed hands. Hands that don't appear to have been designed with human matters such as writing, sewing or typing in mind. These were animalistic hands, designed more for the concerns of the hunter: Killing and shredding. As such, crochet isn't exactly Clive's forte, nor is anything else that requires fine motor skills.
Poking out between his regulation orange trousers is a tail which Clive just hasn't gotten used to yet. Swishing about and generally not performing any of the useful functions of a tail are the order of the day for this paticular apendage. As are being stepped on absent mindidly, getting caught on branches and hitting people in the face. Comical to some, maybe...
Clive does not stand paticularly tall, infact, he stands rather short. I'd peg him at around 5'4, but if you asked him he'd say 5'5. His short stature isn't something that bothers him terribly - but it has had its affects on his ego. Instead of acting in a compensatory way, he's instead lead him to become the rather more quiet complimative individual he is. A clumsy, undersized individual, more now as a morph than ever - Clive's physical disposition has lent him more to thought rather than to sporting or artistic prowess. His unshifting appearence as a Luxray morph has not been entirely kind to him either. Isolated to those like him, and those who'll understand, he's only got a slim crowd in which he'll fit in.
Personality:
The sort of person who you will often find lost in thought, "on hold" if you will. Only then to come up with a vaguely insightful, to the point remark on the situation he's in. Clive is someone who for the most part, takes things slow, and because of that, will often appear to be slow and dimwitted, but in actuality, only the slow part is true. Despite his generally placid nature, he has a tendency to behave aggressively under pressure, though breaking through his cool takes a while. And when this happens, it's something he'll always regret and be apologetic for. He is also one of those people that can be quite abrasive without really realizing it, in part due to his to-the-point manner of speaking, and in part due to his platonic conception of himself - He's a dreamer, and probably spends more time envisioning a fantastic future for himself than how he's treating the people around him. Anything which he has the slightest talent for, he'll dream of huge success in, whether it be Pokémon League champion-age, becoming a guitar hero or a buff ladies man - it's all in the future which he holds in his head. As a result, he can often be rather vague about the way in which he conducts his life, flitting from one thing to the next, and perhaps not paying the greatest amount of attention to his immediate surroundings or near future. When he is on the ball, however - he's sharp as a razor, in a slow and thoughtful way. He's the kind of guy who will see through any kind of lie or deception, and he'll figure any one's real motives out. A detective if you will. Though, that's only when he's actually on the case, but often, he's more zoned out than anything else. In summary, a well intentioned, if slighty shy and quiet guy with his head in the clouds whose true intellect and cunning only ever shines through for brief moments - he doesn't always get it right, but when he does, he does well.
Since becoming a morph, he's changed a little. A Luxray's instinct is to be aggressive and territorial, and this is something he has accuired to an extend. His tendandcy to be aggressive when under pressure has become more frequent, and requires less pressure. He's become one of these irritating people with a rather large personal space, thus doesn't like people getting too close to him. There may be other underlying causes for that, though...
History:
As is common throughout the Pokémon world, he set off at the age of 16 with the intention of doing a gym tour, then returning to his studies. He left behind a fairly average family, and his parents were adamant that he was allowed to go off on the journey himself. He set off with high hopes - and of course - an ambitious dream of stomping all over the gyms, be invited to the league, earn a gold license, etc. Everything was on course for the first year. He earned his first 4 badges and bronze license, and was on course to achieve his goals. But it didn't take long for things to start going off the rails. Finding bohemian life living in pokémon centres and going it alone all the time tough, he started turning to alcohol - first as a social thing - then as a problem thing- and then finally, he turned to stardust (use your imagination).
His drug addiction made no delays ruining him. He fell out with his few friends. He spent all his time either locked up in his pokécenter room, or in dodgy bars, alone. He soon ran out of money, and then began to sell his pokémon on the black market to pay for it - reasoning with himself that he needed the money for supplies. Something which he still can't forgive himself for. Things only got worse from there on in. A month later, he was barred from ever staying at a pokécenter again, after repeatedly turning up past midnight, drunk and disorderly and then finaly, punching a nurse who refused his drunken requests for money.
Sitting on the step of the pokécenter, left with only his meagre remaining possessions, a broken dream and one remaining pokéball, he realized just what he had made of himself - a big fat nothing. Disgusted with himself, he tossed his remaining pokéball aside, and walked off into the night, never to be seen again... at least not in his current form. He was taken that night. He didn't struggle, not least because he was being held at gunpoint. Perhaps a more apt way to describe him at this point was that he felt nothing. He deserved such a fate. He had hit rock bottom.
Soon enough, he was locked in another cell besides that of his own self pity - a cell in the labs of Team Fusion. Over the next few days, he suffered terrible withdrawal symptoms, double vision, splitting headaches, the lot. He remained quiet, and quite lifeless. Men in white coats peered into his cell from time to time - and mumbled in cryptic terminology, and occasionally wrote things on clipboards. One thing that was not at all cryptic however, was the suggestion that he should be put down, and that he wasn't going to be strong enough for the procedure. "Sure. Why not?" thought Clive. He wasn't any good to anyone, and no procedure would help that.
By the 4th day, he was starting to think straight again, and the headaches had cleared. He started to realize what was going on beyond his cell. He got up and looked out the window. Etc. He saw what people in the other cells looked like - and they sure weren't all human. For the first time since arriving, he started to care about what happened to him, and where he was. He'd heard about the disappearances, and the appearances of strange people on the mountainside. He started to piece it together. He was going to become one of these people - and these people were pokémorphs. Now outside of the influence of drugs and depression, he decided he was going to see this as an opportunity for a new identity, a new Clive. He'd seen the television pictures of them out on the mountains, and decided that was going to be him - he was going to be a model lab rat, and was going to be released with new power and most importantly, a new identify. Sure enough, it happened. He was injected with stuff. He was sedated from time to time. Some of it was excruciatingly painful. It didn't matter. His appearance started to radically change and the power started to grow in him. And soon enough... he was on the van out into the countryside, leaving his regrets and depression by the wayside. For better or worse, this was the new him.
Of course, like all that went before him, he was released for a reason - something he's been too stuck in his dreams to see.
Type of Morph:
As should be fairly plain by now, Luxray. His abilities in using electricity unknown as of now, though he has been able to control and direct small amounts of electricity, performing moves roughly equivelant to the lowly ThunderShock. I'd say it's more a case of untapped potential than lack of potential. His eyesight has improved signifigantly, granting him perfect night vision - but unfortunately not Luxray's much touted ability to see through everything, much to his chagrin.
Extra:
Owns a Farfetch'd called Marmalade. This was the pokémon in the ball which he tossed away, which he retrieved from the pokécenter with the help of one of his more humanoid pokémorph friends (If anyone wants to fill this role, be my guest! Not bothered either way though.). Upon reuniting with him, he was amazed to find that he could somewhat understand his cries! Obviously, Marmalade felt alienated and upset to start with, but much like Ash and Pikachu, they've grown close over time, and they're now great friends, and want to the tackle the league together... should Clive ever be accepted back in to regular society.
....
Done! If that was a bit long and self-indulgent, I apologize!
