Pokémon: The Age of Heroes [OOC]
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May 11th, 2013 (03:39 PM). Edited May 12th, 2013 by Dark Aura.
u wot m8
Join Date: Jul 2010
Location: The Emerald Isle
Hope you're still accepting SU's! I also included an Ability and TM moves- just let me know if this isn't allowed!
EDIT: Woot, a secret spot! :D Here's a fleshed out history- let me know if it's any better!
Faolan the Wicked
Faolan appears, for all intents and purposes, identical to a garden-variety Mienshao aside from three defining characteristics. His colouring is much more vivid than that of the average Mienshao- where a normal member of his species would have greyish-white fur, his is as brightly pristine as snow. Where one of his species would have yellowish-cream, he has a brighter, clearer orange. The lilac that makes up the coats of most Mienshao is a deep, royal blue. He once loathed this vibrant colouration, he has come to accept it and ignore any taunts. He also keeps a leather belt with built-in pouches for any small valuables he may find.
Faolan is calm, collected and precise. He is not given to wild displays of emotion or loss of judgement. Long years spent training and honing his immense skills have given rise to an even-tempered, thoughtful male. That's not to say he has no vices, however. He has a deep, powerful pride and loathes losing. He also has a weakness for games of chance and luck. Faolan has significant pride invested in his unflappable manner and his discipline and views anyone attempting to disrupt either in a very poor light.
Faolan doesn't take risks often and breaks rules even more rarely. When he does, however, he tends to go all-out. This behaviour is seen in other manners- he tends to bottle things up until they explode. He will tolerate irritations for a long time, but once he snaps, he will fly into an almost incoherent fury that will burn harsh and bright and fast, snuffing out just as quickly once Faolan regains control of himself.
He enjoys taking walks and testing his skills. Rigorous discipline coupled with an interest into the art of war has left Faolan with an intricate understanding of battle, something he seeks to use to his advantage very often. It's rare that he approaches a battle without trying to account for every possibility and planning out his victory. If he is ever forced into a problematic situation, one in which he cannot find a flawless answer to, expect Faolan to turn rather snappish. He's also a very practical man; if something has no value, sentimental or otherwise, it is useless and must be discarded. He's generally the first in the room to suggest the difficult decision that everyone else is unwilling to speak of.
Fao is primarily a rather solitary being, but does not necessarily dislike social interaction. It's simply rather difficult when your primary interests involve bouts of meditation interspersed with many hours spent beating up inanimate objects and, when the occasion permits, people. He deeply enjoys the fight; it is something he excels at and the one time when he doesn't have to worry about pulling his punches or maintaining his endless discipline. He is highly curious, but generally knows when to err on the side of caution.
Little is known of Faolan. Many consider him somewhat enigmatic, but this is not the case. Most are simply too intimidated by his manner that they fear to even ask.
He was brought to this land in a ship by his Mienshao mother and Lucario father and lived a nomadic lifestyle, accompanying his parents wherever they went. It was in this way, with no fixed home or chance to settle down, that both his mother and father tutored their son in the arts of battle and survival.
Due to this upbringing, Faolan's social skills aren't the best. He is blunt and direct, often speaking with little regard for other people's feelings. In his opinion, a brutal truth is more favourable than the kindest lie.
It was in this harsh manner that Faolan was raised. Mistakes were tolerated a first time, but never a second. Giving up was rarely an option, due to both the young man's pride and the demanding nature of his parents. His childhood was relatively uneventful- awaken, train, eat, train, forage, train, an hour to do with as he wished, any other duties, train, and sleep.
When he was deemed to have grown enough, Faolan left his parents. Well, to be accurate, he was unceremoniously thrown out, as was the way for his family. He had to prove that he was capable of survival on his own.
The first years on his own were difficult, but not impossible. Faolan retained his nomadic lifestyle, rarely settling down with any single group of Pokemon or in any single area for much longer than a month or two. He survived by foraging off the land, occasionally completing tasks and doing manual labour when he passed by a town.
Eventually, he grew tired of his lifestyle and at the urging of a roguish, freedom-loving Mightyena, Faolan decided to change. He always ignored the little voice telling him that his parents would not be proud. He had spent every waking moment doing as he was told, excelling only under their terms. Now, it was Faolan's turn to do as he wished.
He stayed in urban areas for a long time, ignoring the nostalgic pangs that urged him to return to the mountains, forests and grasslands. While in the urban environment, Faolan would say that his soul was choking.
For several years, he was the top fighter in an underground fighting ring, finding no other reason to fight but for personal gain and satisfaction. It was there that his reputation turned from "nebulous" to "fearsome." In the six years he spent there, Faolan lost seven battles out of close to eighteen hundred. Out of these seven opponents, he defeated five later. The other two, he never saw again.
Friends were non-existent, only those who clung to him for protection and luxuries. After almost unintentionally beginning a protection racket, Faolan looked at his own reflection and demolished the fighting ring with his bare hands. The few who tried to stop him bear the marks of his whips to this day, as do the buildings that surrounded the now-defunct ring. The Mightyena who had first urged him to let go of his responsibilities was nowhere to be found- Faolan's body and soul had been so disconnected that he had never even noticed his single friend leave.
After leaving the ring, Faolan drifted restlessly. Now purposeless again, he had no idea what to do. He found his redemption in the training of young fighters and aiding those in need, never requesting payment beyond perhaps a meal or a place to sleep comfortably.
Now, after hearing that his services are required by someone in the relatively unknown Area 52, Faolan's curiosity drives him to at least pay a visit. Still wary of its residents, Faolan believes himself prepared for whatever comes next.
Drain Punch, Detect, Swords Dance, Aura Sphere, Acrobatics, U-Turn.
Possesses the Ability of Regeneration and through his father, some proficiency with Aura. This has given him the ability to use Aura Sphere, limited telepathic communication with individuals who possess strong psychic powers and the ability to sense nearby auras. While not as strong as his father or most other trained Lucario, his abilities are still respectable.
Execution was a good word in Faolan’s opinion. Strong connotations, a sense of drama to it as well. An appropriate sense of finality in each syllable. A word that carried weight. As only proper, after all. It w as, for all intents and purposes, putting on a show as a criminal’s life was ended. Similar to the word “assassination.” An important murder- no more, no less.
A word was one thing. The action itself, however, was quite another.
Injustice was not something Faolan generally cared to entangle himself within. He had learned long ago that when one did not have all the facts at their disposal, that person tended to be in the wrong. Yet was letting such an act, if it was evil, go unpunished not simply aiding the evildoer? Choices, choices and not a spare minute to meditate. Why couldn't a Psychic simply teleport in there and perform the rescue?
It didn't matter in the end, regardless. Faolan peered through the gap in the wooden wall, making mental notes of the scene as he listened to the speaking Machoke.
"And this! This boy, this idiot! Trying to steal from our private supplies! Why would he need to do so, when we keep every Pokemon on this pathetic patch of dirt fed? Greed? Laziness, I suppose? We need to set an example! Next it will be you who he steals from! If we don't-"
That was enough of a confirmation.
Golem at the door. Zubat speaking to him, distracting him. Audience- mostly disinterested, unwilling. Will most likely panic. Magnemite at the ceiling, probably a guard. Scyther- executioner. Zigzagoon- the criminal. Machoke- the ringleader.
Yes, he had it. Faolan closed his eyes and took a moment to clear his mind, shifting and straining his limbs and preparing his body in a Swords Dance. Then he struck.
An Aura Sphere sliced through the air and smashed through the wooden wall, striking the Magnemite and putting it out of commission.
Cue the shouts...
Startled as they were, the frail Zubat and stronger Golem were both struck simultaneously by the force of a second Aura Sphere. The Golem was whipped fiercely across the face and struck with a savage Drain Punch.
He could see what was about to happen. A last act of violence.
Faolan inhaled. In a sudden, fluid motion he leaped backwards, a powerful Acrobatics jump sending him feet-first against the Scyther's stomach. Faolan whipped him once, twice, three times and sent him hurtling into the fleeing, panicking, disorganised crowd.
Faolan exhaled. A crushing grip fixed around his arm. Faolan found himself face-to-face with the Machoke, the larger Pokemon's expression enraged. He shouted something, something Faolan couldn't hear over the crowd. With barely a flicker, Faolan lashed out with one whip, opening a cut along the larger Pokemon's nose. He was released.
Faolan inhaled. The Mienshao fell back to the ground and redoubled his assault, lashing the Machoke again and again, targeting the most painful spots he could, his attacks relentlessly vicious and quick. With a final strike across the Machoke's abdomen, a superpowered Aura Sphere sent the Machoke hurtling back through a wall.
The Fighting Master let out a final breath and surveyed the destruction. He wasn't quite sure if the expression on the Zigzagoon's face was terror or awe. After a moment's consideration, Faolan decided it didn't matter quite so much if the youngster was safe.
Arcanine, Gallade, Sharpedo, Metagross, Mienshao, Braviary. The dream team I'll never get
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