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Sil the Sawsbuck and Hannibal the Houndoom [[Burned, Johto]]

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Silverishness
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Sil the Sawsbuck and Hannibal the Houndoom [[Burned, Johto]]

Post by Silverishness on Fri Oct 09, 2015 11:00 am













Silverish (Sil for short)
Hex Color A9C9A4
Item None
Gender Female
Age 24 (Adult in Human terms)
Species #586 Sawsbuck/The Season Pokémon
Height 6'0”
Weight 183.7 lbs
Pokédex Entry The plants growing on its horns change according to the season. The leaders of the herd possess magnificent horns.
Level 49
Ability Sap Sipper
Nature Adamant
Characteristic Loves to eat
Moves -Horn Leech [Learned]
-Faint Attack [Learned]
-Double Kick [Learned]
-Synthesis [Egg Move]
History Sil was born a few months before the epidemic hit in a homely ranch in the Unova region to a breeder of grass pokemon. The deerling's birth was actually not a sure thing; she was late in coming out and there were some complications in the birth itself. She was barely alive, and her parents, a leafeon and sawsbuck took as good care as they could. She survived and slowly began training with her parents, becoming stronger by the day.

However, because of the complactions in the birth, she had an odd birth defect; she was always stuck in her winter coat and her colors were odd and muted. The breeder, at the sight of the odd fur, simply grinned and remarked to Sil's parents, "She's sort of silver... ish." And the name stuck ever since.

Then, the inevitable. Infected came and swarmed the small ranch, devouring and killing any who came across them. Her parents, in a last ditch effort to save their only daughter, hid her in a pantry and barricaded the door. Everyone else was slaughtered mercilessly, and once Sil had perfected her Double Kick hours later, came out of the pantry to see the horrible massacre.

Alone, young and somewhat naive, she had no idea what awaited her outside and thus wandered out, unsure of what else to do. There was nothing left for her at the ranch, nothing but gruesome sights and nauseating realizations. And so began her fight for survival.

------

It had been a tough time, traveling alone, but the young deerling eventually came upon a suave zebstrika, along with a few other survivors like herself. Though she butted heads with many of them, they were soon graced by a terrifying houndoom by the name of Hannibal, who took it upon himself to throw the entire group's minds into paranoia and chaos.

They kept the hound's company only for the fact that letting him loose was even more dangerous; despite the hound's sturdy muzzle, he proved himself to be quite the trickster. They continued on for a few days, living in perpetual fear and paranoia, hoping against hope that the muzzle's integrity would remain true. They fought against the plaguing undead, even getting herself to evolve into a shimmering sawsbuck. Each passing day, though, they traveled closer and closer to her own past until finally, they came across her own farm.

Hannibal had taken root in her mind, poking and prodding her frail confidence and security until she reached a breaking point, causing her to destroy her own home in a blind rage. She injured Cassius, the zebstrika, in the process, however, almost blinding him-- rendering her volatile emotions to nothing but guilt. There was little time to recover for any of them, though-- death had found them.

The battle with the ice demon is now naught but a blur. A red, horrible blur. But in all the chaos, in all the flying gore and gristle, Sil does remember two things clearly: Cassius, staring at her, bleeding, mortally wounded and crying for help... and her, running the opposite way. For the past year, she has wandered alone, trying to bury her guilt and grief, unsure what she would do if she ever ran across survivors again.
Appearance Her odd fur is a silvery sheen in the light, hence her name. It's accented with the snow white fur of her winter coat and green and brown accents. She walks with confidence when she's not too busy tripping over her own hooves. She owes much of her height to her large horns. She has large, expressive green eyes.
Personality Quite tomboyish, Sil doesn't consider the fact that she's female to act any different. Headstrong, stubborn, and opinionated, it's odd that this strong pokemon is normally timid and softspoken. Strangers tend to quiet her, leaving her uncomfortable. When relaxed, she does have a wicked sense of humor. Her morals are there, though sometimes, she can't decipher through the grays of ethics. Leadership is a little intimidating, and therefore, she prefers to leave most big decisions to someone else. If there is no one to step up, she'll take responsibility.
User Notes Prefers to go by “Sil” rather than her full name
A little sensitive of her defects



Art by Silverishness.

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Art by Winter.







Hannibal
Text Color 660000
Item A Leather, Fire-Proof Muzzle
Gender Male
Age Middle-Aged
Species #229, Fire/Dark type, Houndoom, the Dark Pokémon
Height 4’7"
Weight 50lbs
Pokédex Entry Upon hearing its eerie howls, other pokémon get the shivers and head straight back to their nests.
Level 70
Ability Early Bird
Nature Calm
Characteristic Good Endurance
Moves -Flamethrower (Level)
-Overheat (TM)
-Shadow Ball (TM)
-Super Fang (Tutor)
History Born on the outskirts of Fortree City, Hannibal spent the first decade of his life in a pack of Houndoom as the son of the Omega pair. Although he developed a powerful, virtually unbreakable bond with his mother, the youngster never learnt to trust nor love his father. The male was unpredictable, worn down over the years by his position in the pack and constantly strived for a change in his monotonous life. He aspired for greatness, yet found his blind ambition hindered by a notoriously bad temper. When the creature wasn’t arguing with his patient mate, he turned his fangs towards young Hannibal. Since the first attack, the Houndour passed judgement of his parent and sought to one day expel him from his life altogether. Instead, Hannibal focused his efforts on being a child. He struck up friendships with other youths of the pack, occasionally teased for his status and small stature, but was mainly content in the group. He was accepted.

At the equivalent of ten years old, Hannibal’s father jeopardized the family’s haven within the pack environment. The male, frustrated and finally giving way to his foul temper, challenged the alpha for dominance. Hannibal could only watch as his father was slain on the spot; he had stood no chance, blinded by false determination to leave the family humiliated. Their reputation was tarnished by his impulsive actions and Hannibal’s disgust for the hound had reached its peak. He was glad that the canine was dead, only disappointed he had destroyed his family’s circumstances in the process. Regrettably, the pack Alphas were forced to banish Hannibal and his mother from the pack – left to fend for themselves as punishment for the deceased’s failure.

The duo eventually settled on the outskirts of Mauville City, uncomfortably close to the human settlement but unable to find acceptance anywhere else. Hannibal was growing up quickly, faced with the responsibility of breadwinner upon the realization his mother was due another child. He grew especially protective, training himself in a bid to hunt and scavenge for sustenance to keep both his parent and her unborn child alive in the coming months. It was tough, the youth rarely stopping to rest, but his work ultimately paid off. Mischa hatched prematurely, frail and delicate in appearance, but was soon on the route to recovery. Hannibal was smitten by her.

In the weeks that followed, Mischa was laden with all the attention she could possibly ask for. Hannibal, still working hard to provide for the family, always spared time for his sister and cherished every passing moment. When he wasn’t playing games with the curious youngster, he was educating her in the art of battle, hunting and the danger of strangers – paternal in his nature. He was happy, the happiest he’d ever been despite the difficult circumstances that dictated his life. The youth was often exhausted, constantly pushing himself to his limits, whilst determination to succeed kept him from ever losing hope. He would not become his father; his family deserved so much better than that. He trained regularly, bringing home rodents and berries, quickly shaking off his identity as a child. His mother was worried, always expressing her concerns, yet found herself unable to change the youth’s new mindset. She was sickly, struggling to recover from the pregnancy and some days found herself unable to move at all. She was slowly being crippled by an illness that Hannibal persuaded himself would soon pass. But after three years living on the poverty line, Hannibal’s spell of happiness ran dry.

Following a hunting trip beyond the family’s usual jurisdiction, Hannibal returned to find his mother and sister being attacked by a group of humans keen to capture them. The youth reacted on pure instinct, barreling into the fray to provide a startling force to be reckoned with. He fought valiantly to protect his loved ones, raw passion fuelling his attacks that unknowingly made him the bigger prize in the equation. The humans set their sights on bringing down the aggressive Houndour first, soon felling the youth through a joint effort. The family were captured, later awaking in the cargo hold of a ship.

Confined to steel cages amidst a whole array of other imprisoned pokémon, Hannibal woke to find himself separated from his two loved ones. His mother looked worse than ever, the battle the final blow as she lay weak and fading in a cage across from her troubled son. Mischa was closer, trapped in a neighbouring cage. The creatures surrounding them were from all walks of life, all ages and species with a panicked air that spread through the entire room. Hannibal tried to keep calm, soothing his sister through the bars, yet found his mind consumed by his mother’s fast-declining health. She died on the second day of travel. Hannibal had been helpless, left looking upon her lifeless corpse whilst Mischa, confused and scared, sobbed aside him. The shipment, all creatures destined for the illegal battling industry in Unova, arrived the next day for their induction into an inescapable, dark future.

Traumatized by their mothers death, the siblings were whisked away to an underground battling facility in which pokémon were forced to fight for their lives. Hannibal was strong for Mischa’s sake, roughly dispelling his sorrow to keep his mind clear for the obstacles soon to face him. But first, the new arrivals were met with vigorous training. Despite his fierce attempts to protect his sister from the process, Hannibal was separated from the child and soon trained within an inch of his life in two short weeks. Pumped with vitamins and regularly abused to bring out that inner aggression, Hannibal’s desperation to be with Mischa revealed his potential in the industry. He didn’t tire like the others, constantly looking for opportunity to attack and escape – he had a fire in his belly that was soon noted by the staff training him. Turning his fangs on the humans, rebellion going hand in hand with his growing aggression, Hannibal was marked as a rising star whilst Mischa only withered beneath the exertion.

When Hannibal saw Mischa again, three weeks had passed. The pup was in a cage opposite from his own, looking as deathly as his poor mother had. He was absolutely terrified, crushed that he had been unable to save her from such abuse and constantly called out to her. She remained silent, lacking the energy to answer her distraught sibling. But things were to become worse. With training out of the way, all that was left was to separate the strong from the weak in the ensuing battles. Each time, two of the new arrivals were pitted into the battle ring – crusted with blood as gamblers watched on, cheering as the creatures fought gruesomely to the death. Hannibal watched as countless youths were slaughtered – terrified and furious that there was no means to escape this ugly fate. Kill or be killed. Eventually, Mischa was slung into the ring.

Hannibal had screamed until his throat was raw, tearing at the bars of his cage in a desperate bid to save her from an untimely demise. Her opponent was an Arcanine almost three times her young age. She was dwarfed, absolutely pathetic to be matched with such a fearsome creature. Hannibal knew what was going to happen; knew that he couldn’t stop it and yet couldn’t take his eyes away. Mischa, calling for her brother with the little energy her tiny body had left, was ripped to shreds in a matter of seconds. Not content with the mutilation, the Arcanine proceeded to devour the remains whilst the human audience turned away, bored that the slaughter had not been more entertaining. It broke Hannibal. From that moment, he would never be the same again.

Destroyed, Hannibal could hardly fathom what he’d just witnessed. He was full of emotion, ready to burst when he himself was thrown into the ring. Mischa’s blood still painted the floor, tuffs of her fur grazing his trembling paws as he found himself in her situation. Her scent still lined the air. But unlike his sibling, Hannibal was ready to kill. He put all his hate, all his sorrow into the fight. He cared not for his opponent’s story, mercilessly tearing chunks from the creature’s form until his jaws had clamped tight around the enemy’s throat. He was brutal for one so young, marking the loss of whatever innocence he had clung onto as the murder triggered his evolution into a Houndoom. He turned on his cheering spectators then, snapping at the humans as he directed his vengeance to those truly responsible. His aggression only delighted the audience further, both staff and gamblers soon highlighting the fiery hound as the next big thing. Hannibal would go far.

Hannibal became a monster in the decade of imprisonment that followed. He trained regularly, intensely, between the bloody stand-offs, his strength constantly rising alongside his fearsome reputation. He had grown numb to violence, the shock of the occupation a thing of the past as Hannibal slaughtered countless opponents for the entertainment of such repugnant human beings. He embraced his new identity, shunning emotion in a vain bid to forget the losses that had changed him; and yet the lust for revenge never died down, burning brighter with each passing day. He’d found some satisfaction when he’d met the Arcanine in the ring, relishing the opportunity to torture and then consume the creature in one of his most famous displays. It earned him the nickname ‘Hellhound’ and the violent canine had been living up to the title since.

Hannibal had fathered two children he refused to acknowledge, so consumed by his anger that he lived only to kill. When he couldn’t reach a pokémon, he attacked the staff – leaving each with a personal memento of his hatred, ranging from scars to missing limbs and complete facial disfigurement. His aggression spiralling out of control, Hannibal was often spared euthanasia purely for his fame in the industry. He was priceless. Fitted with a fire-proof muzzle out of the ring, the Houndoom was often punished for his behaviour – left bloody and battered by the humans as a reminder of who was in charge. Yet such abuse never swayed the canine’s mindset. The pitiful rations gave him enough energy to continue fighting, his treatment providing the incentive to one day bring this corrupted world entirely to its knees.

One little mistake by one dim staff member gave Hannibal his chance. Years of patience and playing up to the facility’s twisted expectations came down to one winter night; the Houndoom breaking free from his constraints to set the entire building ablaze. It was beautiful. He watched callously as competitors and humans alike were trapped within the inferno, ensuring that no one escaped alive. This was his revenge, his brutal vengeance on the people and the place that had destroyed everything he had once held dear. Content with their agonizing deaths, Hannibal fled the building with burn wounds and gashes to emerge in the real world for the first time in years.

However, Hannibal’s freedom was notoriously short-lived. He emerged to an audience of the emergency services; fire-fighters working to tackle the blaze as ambulances waited expectantly on sight for any survivors. The police had been tipped off about the illicit business and were on hand to intervene. Hannibal stood before them all, essentially trapped as he half-reluctantly staggered towards the authorities. He wasn’t going to get himself killed in his finest hour, so choosing to swallow his pride, he submitted – feigning injury and domesticity as an officer moved forward to capture him.

The man who had claimed the Houndoom was a young officer known for his rehabilitation of rescue cases. His home already played host to a number of success stories, all lost souls finding their footing in the world through the human’s care and patience. It was endearing, but Hannibal was repulsed by the idea of accepting anything from a human now that he had no obligation to. But rationality prevailed. The Houndoom was weak, alienated by the world and reluctantly accepted the human’s care – well fed, sheltered and gradually reintroduced to social etiquette. It was tough, the canine initially struggling to adapt, but he had never given up before and was soon on the way to recovery. He treated his company civilly, yet found their cheer quite abhorrent and made an effort to avoid the other pokémon residents in general – all but one. Will was a curiosity, a disturbed Deerling that fascinated the hound with his cynicism. They found an uneasy friendship in one another that developed over the years, Hannibal providing the role of mentor as he got a glimpse of a mind as warped as his own.

Hannibal, whilst not particularly happy with the lifestyle of a mere house-pet, was mainly satisfied in the human’s possession. He was able to relax, granted opportunity to catch-up with the world and all its advances. He adapted quickly after the first year, developing a desire to learn that seemed to dispel his old aggression. It kept him occupied, his mind always curious as he transformed from battling monster to a charming intellect. The human, confident in the canine’s progress removed the muzzle whilst Hannibal was celebrated as his latest success story. But Hannibal’s violence was never truly gone – simply masked. Killing had become a part of the canine he simply couldn’t shake and with the muzzle’s removal he had the opportunity to indulge in the same ruthless sport – his targets, individuals in the community who had been unnecessarily rude to him in the years previous.

His double-personality going completely unnoticed by the creatures around him, Hannibal had risen to a position of respect within the household after a decade’s tenancy. He was charming, intelligent and notoriously patient. He took an interest in the histories of his companions, yet reserved his highest curiosity for Will. The youth had come a long way since their first meeting, Hannibal providing a counsellor, mentor and above all a friend. He had a genuine connection with Will and wanted to see his gift of empathy flourish. But as news of the epidemic broke out, Hannibal thought it time to be honest with his ‘family’ and revealed his true identity.  

Despite his kindness, Hannibal’s vendetta against the human species sealed his owner’s fate. The Houndoom slaughtered the man without warning, completely unprovoked as he ripped out the Samaritan’s jugular. The pokémon spectators were shocked, disgusted at the sight and went rushing in to wrestle the hound away from the corpse. Hannibal turned on them, attacking and killing anyone who dared disturb his meal – the past forgotten as he relished in the bloodbath. He spotted Will fleeing the massacre, keen to pursue the creature when he was suddenly apprehended by the humans’ Machoke who had hatched a plan with a young Abra. Taken off guard by the powerful pokémon, Hannibal didn’t escape in time to prevent the attachment of the muzzle to his face – the duo’s alliance rendering him weaker, yet by no means helpless. He turned on the Machoke, blinding the fighting-type with fire before looking to the cowering Abra. He offered her a deal – remove the muzzle and he’d spare her life. But she was foolish, she ran, trailed by flames. Setting the building alight, Hannibal destroyed memories of a life within and moved on.

His contacts sufficiently cut, Hannibal set off into the fast-changing region without a care in the world. He was happy, content with his life now that he’d severed off everything that had once sought to restrain him. But the muzzle soon caused problems. He couldn’t remove it, unable to tear apart the thick leather and instead finding his true nature confined once more. With the undead masses growing in both quantity and strength, the Houndoom found his attacks limited to dangerous levels, forcing him to flee where he lusted for the opportunity to fight. He was unable to hunt and feast on his typical diet, instead living off scraps that would fit through the muzzle’s bars. He lost a great amount of weight over the months, left almost emaciated at the complete shift in lifestyle. But of course, Hannibal adapted. He was a survivor and was adamant that the epidemic would not get the better of him when he was already so close to the taste of pure, untainted freedom.
Appearance "Houndoom is a quadruped, canine Pokémon that is mainly black with a long orange snout and an orange underbelly. It has small, red eyes and a black nose. Around its neck is a white band with a small skull-shaped pendant on its throat. There are two white bands on each of its ankles, as well as three rib-like ridges on its back. Houndoom has a long, skinny tail with a triangular tip and three clawed toes on each paw. On top of its head is a pair of long, curved gray horns. These horns are smaller on the female than the male."

Slightly smaller than the average Houndoom, Hannibal is most recognizable for his deathly thin frame. Borderline emaciated after several months of being fitted with the muzzle, Hannibal’s ribs are visible beneath loose skin; his shoulder and hip bones jutting out when he moves to heighten the illusion of a starving individual. His fur is of normal colouration, lightened in places by faint but heavy scarring – namely around his legs, face, chest and neck. Hannibal’s eyes are a dark shade of crimson-red.

Hannibal has been fitted with a fire-proof muzzle and has yet failed in his attempts to remove the item. There is an old cut beneath his eye marking a previous attempt to slice through a facial strap, the strap itself being significantly more tattered as a result. The muzzle is made of thick leather, slightly worn with age and darkened by fire damage, but is otherwise fully functional. The metal bars just before the canine’s mouth are crusted with a combination of blood, saliva and berry juice.

Since his escapades on Lostlorn Team, Hannibal has acquired a noticeable limp. Following the dislocation of his right foreleg, the Houndoom has followed the advice of a friend and spent the remainder of his travels walking mainly on three legs – using all four only when necessary. The paw of this leg is also particularly damaged, the bone structure crushed and kept numb only by regular treatment and consumption of berries. Hannibal’s stature is naturally hunched from his imprisonment to the battling facility, despite his valiant attempts to remedy his posture to something nobler.
Personality Charming | Intelligent | Polite | Sophisticated | Patient | Opportunistic | Vengeful | Calm | Hard to Provoke | Analytical | Probing | Controlling | Highly Manipulative | Physically Powerful | Dangerous | Malicious | Power-Hungry | Self Interested | Proud | Unpredictable

Hannibal presents to the world two very distinct personalities, highly deceptive in his nature to pass as a completely normal, functional individual of society. The more common of the two is also the more preferable. Falling into the charade of a charming intellect, the decade’s rehabilitation has left Hannibal as a polished, respectable individual with a thriving hunger for knowledge. Cultured and notoriously polite, the Houndoom values good manners above all else and remains adamant that if he can learn such social etiquette, the rest of the world is capable of the feat too. He has no time for vulgarity, rudeness highlighting itself as the canine’s biggest pet peeve. Given the circumstances that brought him to the officer’s care, Hannibal gives a remarkable illusion of domesticity. His behaviour is highly misleading, the battling fiend of the past apparently non-existent beneath the mask of newfound sophistication.

An incredibly patient individual, Hannibal does not rush anything. With his freedom achieved, the canine enjoys savouring life and its experiences at his own leisurely pace. Some may consider him lazy and perhaps a little too forgiving on initial meeting, but his capacity to hold a grudge is a force to be reckoned with. Hannibal has an extremely acute memory despite his desire to forget and suppress more distressing thoughts, and will never let a personal wrong-doing slip from the forefront of his mind. Hannibal, an opportunist, simply waits for the moment to retaliate. It could be days, it could be years, but Hannibal always gets his revenge.

His tolerance is also particularly note-worthy, the canine remaining calm and collected through even the most chaotic circumstances. It takes a surprising amount of grief to provoke Hannibal, the canine unflinching in the face of hostility until he grows fatigued by the abuse. He doesn’t lose his temper, rather, he loses interest. Private with his emotions, the Houndoom often denies having any feelings at all and works to expertly conceal those occasional flickers of humanity. Regardless of his own emotional detachment, he’s quite skilled in reading others. He understands emotions, but does not acknowledge them as his own – they fascinate him. Instead, he unintentionally proves himself a figure of support in a troubled life, providing counsel with his ability to listen and analyse those who seek the truth. Yet his understanding is quickly corrupted by a twisted curiosity to see a ‘patient’ reach their limits; Hannibal’s insight into another’s mind becoming probing and eager to unhinge their version of normality.

From years of highly brutalised and gory battling, Hannibal is undeniably a physically powerful individual. His small, slender stature often misleading, the canine is a strategic opponent with an unshakeable addiction to violence. Fast on his feet with reactions to match, the Houndoom survived in the battling facility for the sole reason he has no qualms about murder; he’s been numbed to violence, accepting such activity as a part of day-to-day life. Yet this sadistic mindset remains a mystery until Hannibal chooses to reveal it – determinedly cloaked to prevent damaging flourishing relationships. Relatively social in his behaviour, Hannibal does enjoy fleeting company but finds himself quickly tired by dull individuals. Part of him wants a friend yet struggles to find someone truly worth of his time – often curious to an individual, but ultimately disappointed as time reveals their flaws.

The light and dark of Hannibal’s psyche often subtly combine in daily life, however the true extent of the canine’s villainy is only apparent when he desires it so. Hannibal is truly merciless, heartless, with an unshakeable penchant for murder. He’s unnecessarily sadistic in his disposal of those he thinks unworthy of life, prone to torture and completely unsympathetic to the individual’s identity – women, children, handicapped; these things simply fail to register in the Houndoom’s mind. However, contrary to popular belief, he won’t kill just anyone. Hannibal is not entirely malicious. His targets primarily consist of those who have wronged him in the past, humans out of a subconscious hatred, those who complain of their existence and more regrettably, those who get in the way of his plans. Elevating himself into the role of a god, Hannibal’s actions stem from a desire for power and the need to indulge in what he considers nought but a highly addictive sport.

Hannibal is completely self-interested, rational to ensure that his own existence sustains and highly adaptive to the situations that face him. He cares for only himself, quietly narcissistic, cutting his losses when he feels an attachment growing too strong.

Highly manipulative of those he encounters, Hannibal has an extremely warped sense of humour. He is entertained by his ability to exert control over others, relishing in instilling a sense of power into his life as he finds himself capable of destroying a creature both physically and mentally. He’s quietly thrill-seeking, violence giving him an addictive rush of adrenaline – heightened when he’s almost caught out – and yet he constantly strives to disguise his true nature even in isolation. Hannibal doesn’t want the two sides of his mind to mix, determined to rebuild himself as the intellect and yet unable to abandon his identity as a murderer. They dwell alongside one another, the canine subconsciously slipping between the two identities to address each particular situation. This of course, makes him highly unpredictable.
User Notes - Hannibal learnt the majority of his moves during the training weeks upon his arrival at the battling facility. However, Super Fang was tutored to him as a reward for good behaviour during his time with the police officer.
- From past experiences Hannibal has an unshakeable dislike of Arcanines and humans. Whilst he strives to reserve judgement on initial meeting, the canine is absolutely disgusted by the two species and will rarely allow them to walk out of his life alive, regardless of whatever kindness they may previously have shown him.
- It is extremely rare for Hannibal to speak of his past. Whilst he cannot dispel traumatic memories, he fiercely buries them and is both impressed and frustrated when another being is able to force such thoughts to resurface. He works to keep his calm façade despite crumbling inside at vivid, internally crippling memories of his family.
- Hannibal has a particularly soft spot for vulnerable young women, paternal rather than anything remotely sexual in his interests. Such individuals subconsciously remind him of Mischa and part of him feels obliged to help them; the hound appearing genuinely sympathetic towards endangered females. The younger the character, the more intense his suppressed desire to help. Given his true nature, he is also surprisingly gentle around children.

- Hannibal is based off the fictitious character of ‘Dr. Hannibal Lecter’ from Thomas Harris’ Hannibal Series [Books]. I have also taken elements from the version portrayed in the films of ‘Silence of the Lambs’, ‘Red Dragon’ and ‘Hannibal’, as well as the recent television series ‘Hannibal’.
-Adopted from renegade. Original profile.


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Re: Sil the Sawsbuck and Hannibal the Houndoom [[Burned, Johto]]

Post by Victini on Sat Oct 10, 2015 12:52 pm



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