Fair enough. Hope this is okay to post, then :3
Name: Irvine Falcata
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Profession: Trainer's School Teaching Staff
Appearance:
Irvine is of a fairly slim build - not hugely muscular, but neither particularly flabby, he inhabits some middle area between the two. It's not to say he isn't fit - he certainly is, it simply doesn't show all that much. He's also pretty tall - he's at least a head or so above an average person, and towers above his students, all of whom are minors.
He has black hair, though it's beginning to turn a little grey in places already - possibly from the stress, or possibly from sustaining blows to the head, or maybe just from the whole transformation shebang. In any case, it does have the effect of creating the illusion of age - if only a very slight one. It is enough for his students to call him 'old' behind his back, though. His eyes are a mild blue, which occasionally border on grey, though it depends wholly on the level of light in his immediate area.
Generally, he'll dress in a white shirt and black trousers, accompanied by some fancy black shoes, and a worn out, fur-collared winter coat. An odd mix perhaps, especially in the heat of summer, but one that's generally just been accepted by the people around him.
Personality:
It cannot be said that Irvine has a nasty demeanour - indeed, he's often friendly, generally agreeable, and even sometimes tries to extend the olive branch to people he dislikes. That being said, he does tend to give out 'strict teacher' vibes - not intentionally, but it permeates his being, from the way he walks, in a calculated, upright kind of way, to the way he makes eye contact with people, like he's staring them down.
Irvine is a good strategist - perhaps it's a natural talent, or something learned after years of travelling and struggling, but in any case, he certainly has the theory of things down, even if his use of them leaves something to be desired. He quite enjoys planning things out in his head, to a somewhat daft amount of detail, though his plans often go awry. He likes to lie to people, too - not out of malicious intent, most of the time, but just to see how they'll react, and how far he can take things before they put two and two together and stop believing him.
Even so, he does have something of a cruel streak - the same rush of adrenaline and excitement that drives him to slice people to ribbons with fishing hooks is the same thing that makes him threaten lazy students with 'a taste of his Quick Claw'. He has, of course, been reprimanded by his employer for this kind of thing, but the majority of his students vouch for him, for one reason or another.
History:
As a child, a teen, and even as an adult, the one thing that Irvine really wanted to do was to become a Gym Leader. He even waited until he finished most of his education to go on his journey, instead of leaving at eleven like a good amount of other people who want to dedicate their lives to pokémon. When it finally was time to leave, his parents entrusted him with an Absol, figuring that it would be strong enough to get their son through whatever it was he had to overcome, until he had a team of pokémon to support him.
Sadly, what they failed to realise, as did Irvine, was that he had no talent for training pokémon - he took a long time to develop any kind of rapport with even just one pokémon, and by the time he returned home, he'd caught just a Zangoose and a Sneasel, neither of which were particularly friendly towards him. And, as his parents noticed, the Absol with which he'd begun his journey was suspiciously missing - he never told anybody about it, especially the people who'd given it to him, but it had perished when a cave they were exploring collapsed - Absol pushed him out of the way of a falling boulder, and had gotten crushed by it instead.
So, feeling that he was not worthy to actually train anything any longer, Irvine got himself a job at a Trainer's school, working up from the bottom, until he became a teacher - he didn't have the physical abilities of a trainer, perhaps, but he knew how pokémon worked, and his strategy, unlike his practical application, was actually very good. And besides, the school was rather desperate for people to teach their surplus of students. Not that he really liked his job - his students, who were mostly just average, ordinary children - they did their work fairly well, were generally motivated during lessons, and were horrendously dull to teach. Even his continued training of his pokémon, who were pretty much there in terms of friendliness, finally, and one of whom even evolved, wasn't quite enough to lift his spirits.
When he discovered his nature as a gijinka, however, he finally found he had something to be excited about. He didn't do a lot, not at first - he just crept around at night, scaring late night commuters and wild pokémon, before moving on, eventually, to battling wild pokémon along with his own, and even once, before the Naissance recruited him, slicing some foolhardy trainer into ribbons, after they attacked him with a Gliscor.
Allegiance: Naissance
Position: Jack
Codename: Wind Weasel
Gijinka Species: Absol
Transformation Phrase: "Let the storm winds tear off the chains of drudgery!" Irvine reaches a hand up to the sky as he says this, and a strong blast of wind seems to blow from below, whipping his hair and clothing around violently until he's completely transformed.
Ability: Super Luck
Moveset: Razor Wind/Magic Coat
Weapon of Choice: Fishing Hooks (tied to long lengths of thin wire, and concealed in a heavy coat)
Transformed Appearance:
Irvine becomes a good deal skinnier - it's quite easy to see his ribs and such through the flesh - a testament to his speed, but also his relative fragility. His hair and skin are white, though a patch of black hair slightly left of centre does remain, and his irises become ruby red. From the right side of his head, there is curving black blade, as there is on the pokémon from which he derives his appearance, though it's not quite as useful as a weapon, given it's attached to a human head - he could give a nasty headbutt, though. He doesn't grow claws, exactly, though his nails certainly become black and pointed, but several spikes do appear on the outside edges of his wrists, which generally serve the same purpose. He grows fangs, too, though they aren't all that obvious, unless you're looking for them.
The coat that he wears over all of this is a thick, winter one, made from some kind of black material - it's slightly fuzzy, and bits and pieces tend to get stuck to it. Around the edges of the coat is fluffy white fur - especially around the collar, and the lining is a silky white, though it's full of rips and tears. He doesn't wear a shirt with this, it being zipped up most of the time, but he does wear a pair of terribly ripped-up jeans, which were once definitely white, but are now a grungy grey kind of colour, and soft shoes with flexible grips, to help with the whole 'speed' thing he has going on.
Likes: Tea, Curious minds, Adrenaline
Pet Peeve: Lazy or rude people.
Pokémon:
Zangoose
Weavile
RP Sample:
"Alright class, today we're going to be looking at the effects of burns," He paused, and unzipped the large bag he'd been carrying for the whole journey from the school to the field they generally used for practical lessons. The thing was half-filled with thick gloves, like the ones they used for protecting your hands from sparks whilst welding and such, and half with a metal box. Once unlocked, this turned out to be filled with orange spheres, each about as large as a tennis ball, and glowing with heat - Flame Orbs, "Everybody needs a pair of gloves, and an orb. I hope you all brought burn heals, like I told you yesterday!"
He scanned the mass of students, as they crowded around the bag. Predictably, there was at least two students who had looked rather panicked at his mention of a burn heal, and the smell of cooking flesh as a few of them tried to pick up an orb without having worn a glove.
"Remember, they are hot, so you need gloves to handle them!"
How these things got sold on the open market, Irvine had no idea - it was rather cruel to burn your own pokémon, just to activate an ability, or to throw it at an opponent.
Eventually, every student had an orb, and the bag lay empty, save for a slight burnt aroma.
"Now, I want you to give these orbs to one of your pokemon, and observe the result-- no, no, don't also make them wear the gloves!"
It was amazing, really, how cruel children could be when told to do something by an adult. Even watching the discomfort their various pokémon were in, they were content to watch them suffer whilst afflicted by painful burns. A few of them didn't even have the means to help them afterwards. Of course, there was something just a little amusing about seeing them suffer so. It came along with guilt, of course, but amusement was amusement, nevertheless.
Still, cruelty without a point was hardly worth doing at all.
"Okay, that's enough - take the flame orbs away, and heal the burns," Donning his own gloves, Irvine began collecting up the orbs, which were, even as they sat on the ground, singing the grass, "Oh, and all those who forgot their healing items, see me after class for detention!"
There were a few moans and groans, mostly from the children, accompanied by the distinctive sound of pokémon being recalled to their balls.
