Post by ßukowski on Feb 20, 2012 21:01:38 GMT
[/b]KEY INFORMATION__________
– NAME: Milo Bernard Banks
– AGE: 18 [DOB May 26th, 1993]
– GENDER: Male ♂
– SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Uncertain
– SPECIES: Omastar Pokémorph
– ORIGINS: Slateport City, Hoenn
– OCCUPATION: Pokémon Trainer
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APPEARANCE______________[/color]REF: linkdzgf[/b]
Milo is a relatively skinny lad, 175 lbs (77 kg) stretched over his 6'0" frame, built with lean muscle, limbs long and body moderately defined. Despite walking with a good, confident posture, the undulating, fluid way he moves, if caught in the right moment, is almost uncomfortably reminiscent of a real Omastar. In terms of Pokémorphs, there is definitely no mistaking Milo. His skin is cerulean blue with a certain ruddiness to it in places, flushing pink on his joints and face. Additionally, two three-inch long tentacle-like appendages sprout from both of his upper arms and a column of seven sharp medium-sized ivory spikes start at his forehead and run to the nape of his neck.
His eyes are large, round, and striking, with vertical oval-shaped pupils and pale yellow consuming all else. A thick pair of brows sit above them, matching his long well-kept navy blue hair that hangs down past his shoulders in lovely healthy waves, kept in a middle-part in consideration of his spikes. His nose is strong, Roman, yet flares some at the tip in a somewhat peculiar shape. Whilst his off-white teeth are all acutely sharp and carnivorous, his front 4 teeth are all slightly pointed inward in a subtle diamond arrangement (will provide pic). It's only by blessing, he figures, he was born with just funky teeth rather than an alien-esque mouth actual Omastars possesses. His facial shape itself includes fair cheekbones, a defined jaw and chin sans any discernible facial hair. Left alone, embarrassingly patchy scruff will sprout. If one isn't immediately put off by Milo's somewhat alien appearance, they might say he's actually a bit handsome.
In the way of clothing, Milo mostly wears simple loose tunics with gaping, gracious sleeves that droop past his elbows, a small "v" cut into the front of the necks most often the sole decor. A thin dark brown leather belt holds his favored knee-length khaki shorts up around his waist. The shorts' grand amount of spacious pockets are typically the home of an odd number of little trinkets Milo picks up while venturing, even if only interestingly shaped pebbles. Upon his feet are a pair of mocha hiking shoes in semi-rough and well-adventured shape, albeit not too unsightly for him to buy a new pair quite yet. Usually slouching on his head is his beanie of great sentimental value, having bought it Slateport's market and his only real "comfort item" from home. Dusty orange, like a sunset against the blue of his hair, it's made to look like a spiraling helix shell and with holes cut in the appropriate places for his spikes to poke out.
Lastly, perhaps the most essential component of a traveler, Milo has a medium-sized tan military-like backpack. The large central pocket is closed by a metal clasp, where from tiny charms of the Dewford gym's badge (bought on a family day trip) and a Spheal (a present from his old friend, Lenard) dangle. There are three smaller compartments on the front, which are secured by dull silver buckles.
– Has amazing lung capacity and can hold his breath underwater for 8+ minutes.
– Can shoot small streams of water from his mouth, like a diminutive version of Water Gun.
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PERSONALITY_______________[/color][/b] the sea, swimming, warmth, sunbathing, berries, keychains, his beanie, going barefoot, stars and the moon, fossil Pok?mon, dark chocolate, campfires, sea ports, wilderness, brushing his hair, being flattered, sketching, pranks, submarines, kites, laughing people.helpful - capricious - pondering - stubborn - confident
Overall, Milo seems to be a reasonably kind fellow. He's willing to help his fellow trainer who he encounters on the road, however, the delightful capriciousness about him ensures varying degrees of directness to this so-called assistance. Once he might provide straight directions, maybe even offer to share a meal. Just as easily, a convoluted wild goose chase could be involved, entirely depending on which of his fancies currently desires attention. Although, no matter what trickery he pulls, it's mostly benevolent and he means no actual harm by it. He has a pleasant demeanor about him and always seems to be respectfully interested when being spoken to, yet it's to be taken with a grain of salt. For while he seems attentive, the next moment he'll often look around with a cluelessly scrunched face, having secretly been wholly immersed in his own mind. "What?"
While sharp in thought, Milo sees fit to feign a degree of obliviousness in most situations and observes for a long while before acting, reckoning with himself. He's been well acquainted with physical labor and though he often makes shallow, passing complaints, like that it's too hot or the ferry is taking too long, goes about all of his eventual decisions with stark determination. At times, even stubbornness, for upon some significant flaw catching in his reasoning, he will press on, refusing to admit to himself he was, daringly said, wrong. This is all mostly due to pride, Milo possessing a fair amount. He thinks highly of himself, confident in both his mind and exotic appearance, and he'll quickly resolve to dislike someone if they continually attempt to knock him off his self-created pedestal.
That said, it's not very difficult to make the 'morph fond of you either. As long as they are reasonably calm and polite, Milo will befriend nearly anyone, and it's an alliance well-made on their part. Despite his impishly unclear tendencies, he's sincerely a genial friend who, when the time calls, makes his loyalties to them clear. In terms of environment, he much prefers routes void of but a scarce few people over the bustling cities, finding them chaotic and congested. Yet, he doesn't deny the occasional fun urban romp, liking boutiques with their little trinkets.
In accordance to being a Pokemorph, Milo has some animalistic qualities about him, some positive and others negative. The sea he considers his "natural" home, yearning and feeling for it constantly, sensitive to the tides and oncoming storms. Hence, he chose a chain of islands such as Solastella where it shall always remain near. In fact, he vehemently attempts to protect nature as a whole, despising those who disgrace it. Nature includes its inhabitants, Pok?mon, who Milo feels some sort of common connection with, especially rock- and water-types. Initially meeting, he can understand them moderately well, mostly through body language and a few sparse words here and there. After a short while, a day or more, he can comprehend full sentences.
Albeit Milo has learned over time to successfully stifle the streak of pure ferality he harbors deep within him, as do most 'morphs, there are the elusive moments it lashes forth dangerously unhinged. Typically, it's triggered by a basic instinct such as self-preservation -- extreme stress or being literally cornered in a threatening situation -- or protecting his Pokémon. For while they are usually more powerful than he, he considers himself their utmost guardian.
DISLIKES: felines, the color red, people who don't think he is amazing.
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HISTORY______________[/color][/size]
Down around the docks in Slateport City, Hoenn, there was built a quaint one-story home that housed two: 30 year old Gregory Banks, a contagiously happy ship unloader, and 27 year old Lou-la Banks, a steadfast woman who worked as a bartender in one of the touristy establishments nearby. Now, these two were obviously married, madly in young love, yet, there existed another factor that bonded them - they were both Omastar Pokemorphs. The mere chance that the two found eachother, such an elusive species, was of the surreal. Of course, when the mood was right and months passed, out came a little boy with skin of soft cerulean, who was strange to the hospital staff but to perfect in the matching, lurid yellow eyes of his parents. They named him Milo, after his mother's grandfather, and thus the household grew to three.
Throughout the boy's earliest years, he oftentimes accompanied his parents to work, where his dad would do what was classically fatherly and "show him the ropes of the shipyard." Meanwhile, he would mostly keep his mother company, swiveling on a stool at the bar with a soda and being doted on by silly tourists like some sort of exotic adorable bait. Quickly he was forced to come to terms with his bizarre appearance, for while Slateport was a fairly large city with a unique selection of 'morphs rivaling that of its seaport goods, hardly any were as quite as peculiar as an Omastar. There existed very little grief over it, however; both of his parents ensured Milo take great pride in his genes. As he grew, having taken a particular liking to the ships at the docks, the frequency with which he followed his father did too.
After long enough of toting along behind his father, a friend of Gregory took notice of his son, who was by then 13. The man was a captain of a small fishing vessel that provided fresh catches daily for Slateport's grandiose open-air market, and despite Milo's age offered him a part-time job assisting with their massive nets once they were in the water. After some initial hesitation, his parents assuring themselves it wouldn't be too dangerous and a nice opportunity for their son, he was allowed to work. It was hard work indeed, but Milo was, by all means the most important thing, happy - not only did he earn some money, but got to work alongside a slightly older Spheal Pokemorph by the name of Lenard.
Rather than spend all of his earnings on the tempting trinkets in the sprawling market, as he so yearned to, Milo began to create a sort of fund for himself. This was a product of Lenard, who one day regarded his workmate with an offhanded tale of his older brother, who'd whisked off to the Johto region to "train Pokémon or something." While the Spheal 'morph wasn't the smartest, he caused Milo an astounding revelation, a revelation that people actually went to a foreign land for the sake of adventure and creating monumental bonds with Pokémon. People actually did that, and he could too. Thus, for the next several years, Milo labored and saved, labored and saved, with some daydreaming in-between, while greedily amassing a collection of various regions' fliers.
Then, suddenly, it was time, he was 18 and reluctantly pulling away from his mother, watching a tear fall from her kindly wrinkled eyes while muttering assurances he'd be back, that he would send them packages and call. He left her with the slightly crumpled flier about the Solastella region, the one the three of them had deemed superior, the one with always fair weather and beautiful coasts - it seemed ideal. The vessel behind Milo let out an ushering bellow and he, with one last loving look, stepped off of the port he'd known for so long.
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Role Play Sample:
Ah, yes, this is certainly as advertised, inwardly mused the Omastar Pokemorph as a low hum of delight, and partially relief to have finally arrived on the isle, then rumbled in his bare blue chest. He'd made haste in getting off the boat barely an hour prior, looking like a junkie who needed his fix, and swiftly escaped the congestion of the port into the emptier expanses of Romulus. Signs marked various paths to the laboratory, yet he'd made his own detour to an isolated beach obscured by a thicket of tall, spindly reeds.
He sat in the shallows of the crystalline water, stark nude - too excited to change into his trunks and unwilling to ruin his first pair of underwear so soon - simply enjoying himself, running his hands through it and occasionally splashing about like a child. The name Solastella, at that moment, seemed entirely fitting to Milo; he could definitely find solace here. Although, the matter of getting his first Pokémon he found somewhat pressing, so he moved to submerge his body up to his shoulders one last time, his velvety navy locks swirling gracefully up around his collarbones as he savored the moment. There would be more time for beaches (and shores) later, he supposed, and stood.
The sun bright in the sky above, the droplets reflected the light in a brief glimmering display against his azure skin, quickly made work of by a small towel the 'morph had laid out. On the other hand, standing nude in a foreign land where someone might accidentally stumble upon him was not something he wanted to savor, so he grudgingly clothed himself in his lilac tunic and khaki shorts, tied his shoes and gathered his sparse belongings into his backpack. With a huff, and one last borderline lustful look at the sea, as if to affirm his eventual return, the Pokemorph parted the brush and took to main path heading toward the Laboratory.
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The closer he got to the esteemed scientific facility, the place which would deal out his crucial companion in this strange new world, Milo became just a tad self-conscious of his appearance. Enough that he was simultaneously combing his long, still slightly damp hair out while walking, assuring its texture was glorious and luscious enough to really wow the staff - they surely wouldn't deny a man with good hair a just as good Pokémon. Both his comb and beanie found their respective places in his pocket and upon his head just as he neared the door, and placing a friendly toothless smile (as he found it best not to show certain people his teeth straight away) upon his lips, he firmly rasped the door with his knuckles. "'Allooo-ooo?"
