Info post
STATS
» NAME: RED Pyro
» FANDOM: Team Fortress 2
» AGE: Definitively: unknown. Estimation: Twenties to thirties.
» GENDER: M/M
» ORIENTATION: Believed to be asexual.
» COLLAR: Nondescript black leather. Very plain.
KINKS
» YES: Hudda.
» MAYBE: Mur hurr hudda.
» NO: Hudda hudda hur.
» PAIRING PREFERENCES:
» APPEARANCE: The Pyro is an enigmatic character. Never seen without his mask and fire retardant suit, his race, and physical appearance are unknown. What can be observed about him is that he is very stoutly built- possibly on the chubby side. His terrible posture (hunched over from the weight of his gear) makes him appear shorter than he actually is.
» PERSONALITY: The Pyro is generally viewed as a faceless monstrosity content in burning the world to the ground. Indeed, the short range of the Pyro’s primary weapon (the flamethrower) enforces this view- he often has to ambush and pursue his enemies, relentlessly enveloping them in flames until they die in an excruciating and brutal manner. To his enemies, he is a terrifying, inhuman force to be reckoned with.
To those on his team, however, the Pyro is a benevolent creature. He often stays around the base, spy-checking all the viable corners to keep the Engineer’s machines from being sapped. He does the same for the Sniper- whose unshakeable concentration often makes him the target of enemy spies. As a final show of good will, the Pyro is capable of putting out team mates that are on fire with a blast of air from his flamethrower. This is in no way a necessity- he could continue to fight the enemy and let his team mates fend for themselves, but that is not the case. Needless to say, there aren’t a whole lot of guys on the team that have problems with him- even if they do consider him a semi-sentient sack of hive-minded potatoes.
It is crucial to the Pyro’s survival to be able to think ahead. Ambush tactics are most effective when he already has both entrance and exit strategies accounted for- that way he can fire and forget. As his flamethrower chews up ammo very quickly, he also has to know where all item niches are. He shows a lot of forethought.
The downside to this is that he is a creature of habit. Getting set into a routine makes him more efficient, but more predictable and therefore vulnerable.
» BACKGROUND: He came, he flamed, he conquered.
» OTHER: The Pyro’s refusal to take off his filter mask will make him very hard to understand. Everything he says will come out muffled and nearly incomprehensible. If he’s too excited, what he’s trying to say will be completely lost. If he slows down and enunciates, his audience should be able to understand him. The more time you spend with him, the easier it will get.
Sometimes he just makes noises to irritate people.
He plays a mad air-guitar solo.
CONTACT
» OOC JOURNAL:
» AIM: whatuhflamer
» EMAIL: up.in.flame@gmail.com
» "amatomneslogs" Entry:
Pyro’s eyelids fluttered. He felt sleepy, safe, and sated. Someone stroked the back of his neck gently, just barely reaching his hairline before ghosting back down. He smiled vaguely. The last person to touch the back of his neck was Medic and it had not been pleasant. He’d smashed Pyro’s mask into the operating table and held him down with one gloved hand while he pulled pieces of shrapnel from his shoulder with the other. The rubber had actually felt kind of good- cool against his overheated flesh, but even that was nothing compared to the gentle stroking he was currently experiencing. He let out a quiet moan.
Something was wrong. He couldn’t figure out what. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.
The hand ghosted down his back, between his shoulder blades. A feather-light sensation that made him shudder.
He gave another encouraging moan, and then stiffened. His voice. His voice was all wrong. There was no echo, no clicking, no wheezing. He wasn’t wearing his mask. Someone was touching him and he wasn’t wearing his mask.
Keeping his face smashed into the pillow, Pyro swiped behind himself blindly. His hand hit nothing but open air. BLU’s Spy- that’s probably who it was. How had he managed to get Pyro so vulnerable? Must have drugged him. Pyro’s face burned. He’d just been moaning. He kicked one leg out and still missed. The damn spy was probably laughing at him. Strange that he hadn’t said anything yet. Usually he was so vocal: snide, condescending, French.
Something ghosted across his spine again. He reacted instantly, catching a piece of cloth in his hand. He grinned triumphantly and violently yanked at the fabric, quite intent on pulling his captor off balance and pummeling the hell out of them. But all that followed his action was a loud clattering, quickly followed by a sheet of some kind draping over him. He had pulled down a… curtain?
Pyro blinked in confusion and lifted his face from the pillow for the first time. Cautiously he rolled over and sat up. He was careful to keep his face obscured with the cover he was provided as he took a look around the room. It was bright and sunny- a strange contrast to the dreary rain he had grown so accustomed to at the fort. There were more curtains hanging up and unlike the one he had yanked down, these continued to gently waft in the breeze. It set him on edge. Anyone could be hiding behind those and the constant motion attracted his eye. It could prove to be a deadly distraction. He forced himself to examine the rest of the room which appeared to be mercifully empty.
On the floor was his half-folded uniform. It must have been on the bed before he’d kicked at his supposed captor. Strange that they’d give him his clothes back after taking all the effort of undressing him. Despite his paranoia about lingering spies and traps, he dove for his clothes. Underneath the heavy material was his mask. He slammed it onto his face with anxious force, fingers fumbling with the buckles. He inhaled a calming, rubber-scented breath and dimly noticed that his vision was clearer than usual. Someone must have cleaned the soot off the eye pieces. He hadn’t realized how obstructed his vision had been before…
Pyro finished his thought as he started zipping his suit. The action was familiar and practiced. He paused whilst adjusting his outfit- making sure his mask and suit left no skin exposed. There was something around his neck. A thin strip of leather. A tracking device? Something the enemy engineer had cooked up? He had to get out of here.
Although it felt like it had taken an hour to get dressed with his body pumping adrenaline and his eyes constantly watching for the tell-tale smoke on an enemy spy, it couldn’t have taken more than a minute. As he shouldered his oxygen tank, he noticed his weapons were under the bed in a neat little row. That made him stop dead. He could see them giving him his clothes back, but his weapons? That was suicide.
Pyro pulled them out one by one. He subjected each to a careful examination. They were still loaded as well as freshly cleaned. And they were most definitely his; his axe handle had a sloppy row of notched tallies in it. A mark made for each cloaked spy he’d killed by chance with the melee weapon.
Feeling very confused and extremely suspicious, Pyro crept out of the room in search of his team mates.
» NAME: RED Pyro
» FANDOM: Team Fortress 2
» AGE: Definitively: unknown. Estimation: Twenties to thirties.
» GENDER: M/M
» ORIENTATION: Believed to be asexual.
» COLLAR: Nondescript black leather. Very plain.
KINKS
» YES: Hudda.
» MAYBE: Mur hurr hudda.
» NO: Hudda hudda hur.
» PAIRING PREFERENCES:
» APPEARANCE: The Pyro is an enigmatic character. Never seen without his mask and fire retardant suit, his race, and physical appearance are unknown. What can be observed about him is that he is very stoutly built- possibly on the chubby side. His terrible posture (hunched over from the weight of his gear) makes him appear shorter than he actually is.
» PERSONALITY: The Pyro is generally viewed as a faceless monstrosity content in burning the world to the ground. Indeed, the short range of the Pyro’s primary weapon (the flamethrower) enforces this view- he often has to ambush and pursue his enemies, relentlessly enveloping them in flames until they die in an excruciating and brutal manner. To his enemies, he is a terrifying, inhuman force to be reckoned with.
To those on his team, however, the Pyro is a benevolent creature. He often stays around the base, spy-checking all the viable corners to keep the Engineer’s machines from being sapped. He does the same for the Sniper- whose unshakeable concentration often makes him the target of enemy spies. As a final show of good will, the Pyro is capable of putting out team mates that are on fire with a blast of air from his flamethrower. This is in no way a necessity- he could continue to fight the enemy and let his team mates fend for themselves, but that is not the case. Needless to say, there aren’t a whole lot of guys on the team that have problems with him- even if they do consider him a semi-sentient sack of hive-minded potatoes.
It is crucial to the Pyro’s survival to be able to think ahead. Ambush tactics are most effective when he already has both entrance and exit strategies accounted for- that way he can fire and forget. As his flamethrower chews up ammo very quickly, he also has to know where all item niches are. He shows a lot of forethought.
The downside to this is that he is a creature of habit. Getting set into a routine makes him more efficient, but more predictable and therefore vulnerable.
» BACKGROUND: He came, he flamed, he conquered.
» OTHER: The Pyro’s refusal to take off his filter mask will make him very hard to understand. Everything he says will come out muffled and nearly incomprehensible. If he’s too excited, what he’s trying to say will be completely lost. If he slows down and enunciates, his audience should be able to understand him. The more time you spend with him, the easier it will get.
Sometimes he just makes noises to irritate people.
He plays a mad air-guitar solo.
CONTACT
» OOC JOURNAL:
» AIM: whatuhflamer
» EMAIL: up.in.flame@gmail.com
» "amatomneslogs" Entry:
Pyro’s eyelids fluttered. He felt sleepy, safe, and sated. Someone stroked the back of his neck gently, just barely reaching his hairline before ghosting back down. He smiled vaguely. The last person to touch the back of his neck was Medic and it had not been pleasant. He’d smashed Pyro’s mask into the operating table and held him down with one gloved hand while he pulled pieces of shrapnel from his shoulder with the other. The rubber had actually felt kind of good- cool against his overheated flesh, but even that was nothing compared to the gentle stroking he was currently experiencing. He let out a quiet moan.
Something was wrong. He couldn’t figure out what. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.
The hand ghosted down his back, between his shoulder blades. A feather-light sensation that made him shudder.
He gave another encouraging moan, and then stiffened. His voice. His voice was all wrong. There was no echo, no clicking, no wheezing. He wasn’t wearing his mask. Someone was touching him and he wasn’t wearing his mask.
Keeping his face smashed into the pillow, Pyro swiped behind himself blindly. His hand hit nothing but open air. BLU’s Spy- that’s probably who it was. How had he managed to get Pyro so vulnerable? Must have drugged him. Pyro’s face burned. He’d just been moaning. He kicked one leg out and still missed. The damn spy was probably laughing at him. Strange that he hadn’t said anything yet. Usually he was so vocal: snide, condescending, French.
Something ghosted across his spine again. He reacted instantly, catching a piece of cloth in his hand. He grinned triumphantly and violently yanked at the fabric, quite intent on pulling his captor off balance and pummeling the hell out of them. But all that followed his action was a loud clattering, quickly followed by a sheet of some kind draping over him. He had pulled down a… curtain?
Pyro blinked in confusion and lifted his face from the pillow for the first time. Cautiously he rolled over and sat up. He was careful to keep his face obscured with the cover he was provided as he took a look around the room. It was bright and sunny- a strange contrast to the dreary rain he had grown so accustomed to at the fort. There were more curtains hanging up and unlike the one he had yanked down, these continued to gently waft in the breeze. It set him on edge. Anyone could be hiding behind those and the constant motion attracted his eye. It could prove to be a deadly distraction. He forced himself to examine the rest of the room which appeared to be mercifully empty.
On the floor was his half-folded uniform. It must have been on the bed before he’d kicked at his supposed captor. Strange that they’d give him his clothes back after taking all the effort of undressing him. Despite his paranoia about lingering spies and traps, he dove for his clothes. Underneath the heavy material was his mask. He slammed it onto his face with anxious force, fingers fumbling with the buckles. He inhaled a calming, rubber-scented breath and dimly noticed that his vision was clearer than usual. Someone must have cleaned the soot off the eye pieces. He hadn’t realized how obstructed his vision had been before…
Pyro finished his thought as he started zipping his suit. The action was familiar and practiced. He paused whilst adjusting his outfit- making sure his mask and suit left no skin exposed. There was something around his neck. A thin strip of leather. A tracking device? Something the enemy engineer had cooked up? He had to get out of here.
Although it felt like it had taken an hour to get dressed with his body pumping adrenaline and his eyes constantly watching for the tell-tale smoke on an enemy spy, it couldn’t have taken more than a minute. As he shouldered his oxygen tank, he noticed his weapons were under the bed in a neat little row. That made him stop dead. He could see them giving him his clothes back, but his weapons? That was suicide.
Pyro pulled them out one by one. He subjected each to a careful examination. They were still loaded as well as freshly cleaned. And they were most definitely his; his axe handle had a sloppy row of notched tallies in it. A mark made for each cloaked spy he’d killed by chance with the melee weapon.
Feeling very confused and extremely suspicious, Pyro crept out of the room in search of his team mates.