Application
Player
Name: Phas
Livejournal Username: phasmas
E-mail: geoduelist87@yahoo.com
AIM: seraphomnis
Timezone: EST
Current Characters in Route: None
Character
Name: Harry Dresden
Series: The Dresden Files
Timeline: Shortly before the end of ‘Ghost Story’
Canon Resource Links:
The Official Site
The Wiki
That Other Wiki
Obligatory TVTropes Link
Personality:
In a word, Harry is a smartass - in any given situation, he’s likely to mouth off somehow to whoever he’s talking to, friend or enemy. He’s capable of subtlety and respect, particularly when dealing with beings capable of ripping his spleen out through his nose, but sometimes he just can’t help himself. A self-image that includes heavy elements of a hard-boiled PI and steeped-in-darkness antihero doesn’t help this tendency, though Harry has more of a heroic streak than he’d like to admit. Particularly as his tendency to help the helpless, especially women, has repeatedly gotten him into trouble, up to and including sparking an interspecies war. As good a heart as he might have, beneath the snark and darkness, making an enemy of Harry is generally not a good idea. Family is important to him, and a great deal of his life has been spent unconsciously forming a surrogate family of sorts around him. Threaten his friends, or the innocents around him, and he’s likely to pick up every weapon available to end the threat however he can. He’s ended up killing more enemies than he’s let live, something that costs him no small amount of sleep. He’s walked a line between light and dark since he was sixteen, suspected and feared by a fair number of the other wizards of the White Council, trying his best to adhere to the Laws of Magic as the world pushes him farther and farther.
Harry tends towards practicality - magic is all well and good, but sometimes a gun or mundane kick in the knee is just plain more effective than tossing a fireball. Capable of learning from past mistakes and encounters, he’s gotten quite clever in coming up with applications for his spells, and has managed to outmaneuver and outthink many people stronger than him. His default tendency in a fight is usually equivalent to brawling, magical or otherwise.
Though he has mostly come to terms with the prospect of being dead, and was willing to pass on to whatever came next, Harry is less than happy about leaving his friends behind to deal with a renewed war against humanity by supernatural forces; particularly as he was largely responsible for allowing it to happen.
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Pokémon Information
Affiliation: Breeder
Starter: Smoochum - “Lara”
Password: Taco Bell
Samples
First Person Sample:
No, no, no, no, no, NO!
[Hello Johto, your friendly neighborhood wizard has decided to drop back in. Or rather has come back entirely against his will, which probably goes a long way towards explaining exactly why he’s so mad right now. Angry enough that he seems entirely oblivious to the Smoochum clinging to the top of his head and licking his hair happily.]
Dammit, I said I was ready! I was- you send me HERE? You’ve got a sick sense of humor, Uriel! You hear me? SICK! That woman who said- …that is NOT FUNNY.
[He lets out a frustrated snort, lacking someone he can properly blame.]
…Dammit. So apparently I’m back. A few minutes ago I didn’t remember that there was even a HERE to get back to, but I’m back. Probably not from outer space, unless the cosmology of the afterlife is worryingly Lovecraftian. And hell’s bells, now that song’s stuck in my head. Lemme just say that the timing on all this? NOT helping the paranoia that this is some kind of hell.
Smoo-chu!
Oh, and Lara’s still here.
[Harry hooks a thumb at the Smoochum acting as an impromptu hat. She grins happily, waving at the camera.]
Guess if this is all a massive hallucination, at least my psychoses are consistent. Me and Dorothy Gale.
Third Person Sample:
Harry sighed, rolling over in the small bed. He felt wonderfully rested and comfortable. It felt like forever since he’d had the chance to just lie in bed and doze like this. Not since before- …oh. OH. Harry’s eyes snapped open and he lay perfectly still, looking around the unfamiliar room in a massive fit of what he felt was entirely justified paranoia.
“Oh hell’s bells,” he said, sitting up once it became clear that there weren’t any demons clinging to the ceiling and waiting to rip his face off.
“Okay,” he said. “Not dead. Probably.”
His knees clicked as he swung his feet off the side of the bed, confirming that. Dead people didn’t get stiff knees. That he could speak from experience was something to worry about later. Memories were returning in a slow trickle, aided and abetted by the pervasive music in the air. The specific tune was unfamiliar, but the sound itself was in a way he wouldn’t have been able to describe a few minutes ago. It didn’t seem to have a particular source, and it wasn’t coming from inside his head. That just didn’t happen in the real world - sound always came from SOMEWHERE, not everywhere at once.
“Dammit Uriel, this isn’t what we agreed on!”
As much as Harry would’ve liked to blame him, Uriel probably wasn’t responsible for this. From what he remembered of this place, it didn’t seem to have a lot of rhyme or reason when it came to snatching people up from their home worlds. Hell, maybe this WAS the afterlife. He’d lost somewhere around six months between falling into Lake Michigan and finding himself in Chicago’s ectoplasmic, gothy twin. Maybe that was the time he’d spent here? The other people he’d talked to had thought that time didn’t really pass back ‘home’ during their stays here, but could they really tell?
“Okay, focus Harry,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “One brain-frying crisis at a time. And stop talking to yourself, it’s not healthy.”
Harry took another look around at the room. It didn’t look like the Rocket Base he’d woken up in last time, and definitely not like the Pokemon Centers that less-than-wealthy trainers sometimes used as rest stops. Definitely a house, though with the same creepy sort of emptiness that characterized so much of this world.
And sitting on the bedside table, a familiar red and white ball. A bit hesitantly, Harry reached for it. Something about opening the ball carried a sense of finality, of passing the point of no return. If he left it shut, he could curl back up in the bed and maybe wake up wherever he was supposed to be.
“…Yeah, that’s a pile of overemotional- what’s the word, emo? Quit whining and deal. And I told you to stop talking to yourself.”
Harry’s thumb pressed down on the ball’s release button with a quiet click, followed by a burst of white light.
“Smoo-chu!”
“Hello Lara.”
Name: Phas
Livejournal Username: phasmas
E-mail: geoduelist87@yahoo.com
AIM: seraphomnis
Timezone: EST
Current Characters in Route: None
Character
Name: Harry Dresden
Series: The Dresden Files
Timeline: Shortly before the end of ‘Ghost Story’
Canon Resource Links:
The Official Site
The Wiki
That Other Wiki
Obligatory TVTropes Link
Personality:
In a word, Harry is a smartass - in any given situation, he’s likely to mouth off somehow to whoever he’s talking to, friend or enemy. He’s capable of subtlety and respect, particularly when dealing with beings capable of ripping his spleen out through his nose, but sometimes he just can’t help himself. A self-image that includes heavy elements of a hard-boiled PI and steeped-in-darkness antihero doesn’t help this tendency, though Harry has more of a heroic streak than he’d like to admit. Particularly as his tendency to help the helpless, especially women, has repeatedly gotten him into trouble, up to and including sparking an interspecies war. As good a heart as he might have, beneath the snark and darkness, making an enemy of Harry is generally not a good idea. Family is important to him, and a great deal of his life has been spent unconsciously forming a surrogate family of sorts around him. Threaten his friends, or the innocents around him, and he’s likely to pick up every weapon available to end the threat however he can. He’s ended up killing more enemies than he’s let live, something that costs him no small amount of sleep. He’s walked a line between light and dark since he was sixteen, suspected and feared by a fair number of the other wizards of the White Council, trying his best to adhere to the Laws of Magic as the world pushes him farther and farther.
Harry tends towards practicality - magic is all well and good, but sometimes a gun or mundane kick in the knee is just plain more effective than tossing a fireball. Capable of learning from past mistakes and encounters, he’s gotten quite clever in coming up with applications for his spells, and has managed to outmaneuver and outthink many people stronger than him. His default tendency in a fight is usually equivalent to brawling, magical or otherwise.
Though he has mostly come to terms with the prospect of being dead, and was willing to pass on to whatever came next, Harry is less than happy about leaving his friends behind to deal with a renewed war against humanity by supernatural forces; particularly as he was largely responsible for allowing it to happen.
Strengths:
- Working without electricity (cooking over a fire, etc)
- Information gathering and research
- Speed reading
- Detective skills
- Brawling/improvised combat
- Running. Lots of running.
- Lateral thinking
Weaknesses:
- Working with modern technology
- Fear of abandonment
- Tendency to destroy buildings
- Chronic Hero Syndrome
- Problems with authority
- Tends to speak without thinking
Pokémon Information
Affiliation: Breeder
Starter: Smoochum - “Lara”
Password: Taco Bell
Samples
First Person Sample:
No, no, no, no, no, NO!
[Hello Johto, your friendly neighborhood wizard has decided to drop back in. Or rather has come back entirely against his will, which probably goes a long way towards explaining exactly why he’s so mad right now. Angry enough that he seems entirely oblivious to the Smoochum clinging to the top of his head and licking his hair happily.]
Dammit, I said I was ready! I was- you send me HERE? You’ve got a sick sense of humor, Uriel! You hear me? SICK! That woman who said- …that is NOT FUNNY.
[He lets out a frustrated snort, lacking someone he can properly blame.]
…Dammit. So apparently I’m back. A few minutes ago I didn’t remember that there was even a HERE to get back to, but I’m back. Probably not from outer space, unless the cosmology of the afterlife is worryingly Lovecraftian. And hell’s bells, now that song’s stuck in my head. Lemme just say that the timing on all this? NOT helping the paranoia that this is some kind of hell.
Smoo-chu!
Oh, and Lara’s still here.
[Harry hooks a thumb at the Smoochum acting as an impromptu hat. She grins happily, waving at the camera.]
Guess if this is all a massive hallucination, at least my psychoses are consistent. Me and Dorothy Gale.
Third Person Sample:
Harry sighed, rolling over in the small bed. He felt wonderfully rested and comfortable. It felt like forever since he’d had the chance to just lie in bed and doze like this. Not since before- …oh. OH. Harry’s eyes snapped open and he lay perfectly still, looking around the unfamiliar room in a massive fit of what he felt was entirely justified paranoia.
“Oh hell’s bells,” he said, sitting up once it became clear that there weren’t any demons clinging to the ceiling and waiting to rip his face off.
“Okay,” he said. “Not dead. Probably.”
His knees clicked as he swung his feet off the side of the bed, confirming that. Dead people didn’t get stiff knees. That he could speak from experience was something to worry about later. Memories were returning in a slow trickle, aided and abetted by the pervasive music in the air. The specific tune was unfamiliar, but the sound itself was in a way he wouldn’t have been able to describe a few minutes ago. It didn’t seem to have a particular source, and it wasn’t coming from inside his head. That just didn’t happen in the real world - sound always came from SOMEWHERE, not everywhere at once.
“Dammit Uriel, this isn’t what we agreed on!”
As much as Harry would’ve liked to blame him, Uriel probably wasn’t responsible for this. From what he remembered of this place, it didn’t seem to have a lot of rhyme or reason when it came to snatching people up from their home worlds. Hell, maybe this WAS the afterlife. He’d lost somewhere around six months between falling into Lake Michigan and finding himself in Chicago’s ectoplasmic, gothy twin. Maybe that was the time he’d spent here? The other people he’d talked to had thought that time didn’t really pass back ‘home’ during their stays here, but could they really tell?
“Okay, focus Harry,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “One brain-frying crisis at a time. And stop talking to yourself, it’s not healthy.”
Harry took another look around at the room. It didn’t look like the Rocket Base he’d woken up in last time, and definitely not like the Pokemon Centers that less-than-wealthy trainers sometimes used as rest stops. Definitely a house, though with the same creepy sort of emptiness that characterized so much of this world.
And sitting on the bedside table, a familiar red and white ball. A bit hesitantly, Harry reached for it. Something about opening the ball carried a sense of finality, of passing the point of no return. If he left it shut, he could curl back up in the bed and maybe wake up wherever he was supposed to be.
“…Yeah, that’s a pile of overemotional- what’s the word, emo? Quit whining and deal. And I told you to stop talking to yourself.”
Harry’s thumb pressed down on the ball’s release button with a quiet click, followed by a burst of white light.
“Smoo-chu!”
“Hello Lara.”