Your name is MUDSDALE.
You love being STRONG.
You are so strong, you would surely be the class of the elite legion of TANKS. And while such a calling would be quite honorable, you would prefer to join the ranks of the SWEEPERS, perhaps the most noble echelon the imperial forces have to offer. Unfortunately, you ARE SLOW AS SHIT. You have not successfully ran A SINGLE MILE. Every time you try, you TAKE SEVERAL WEEKS. You are simply too slow. I mean too strong. You can carry ten times your weight, but your speed when doing so has developed into a habit BORDERING ON FETISHISTIC. I don’t know what that means but you have to stop. But addiction is a powerful thing.
You have a great appreciation for THE FINE ARTS. You use your aristocratic connections to acquire PRICELESS MASTERPIECES, painted in the oldest and most respected Pokemon tradition of ACTUALLY JUST SOME MUD. These striking depictions of the EXQUISITE MUD native to Pokemon remind you of the PUREST MUDDY IDEAL that must be sought by anyone who professes a LOVE OF STRENGTH. When those of lesser bloodlines turn up their uncultured noses at such stunning material, it MAKES YOU CALM.
Practically everything MAKES YOU CALM. You have so much calm, it can only be expressed through TAKING SEVERAL WEEKS TO WALK A MILE. You build strong and sturdy trucks, set them to truck mode, and KICK THE SHIT OUT OF THEM in clustered brawls. Sometimes you DO NOT LOSE ANYTHING BECAUSE YOU ARE TOO STRONG. Your legs do not usually grow back because they do not need to.
Your Poketag is draftHorse and with your mud-caked feet ever at the ready, you insert hilarious and not at all annoying typing quirk here.
What will you do?
-Odemon #750 Mudsdale
Duth Olec's Cuckoo Cosmos 