Name: Tamara Elicott
Preferred Starter Pokemon: Mankey
Appearance: Life has not been kind to Tamara Elicott. Once, she was famous (or is that infamous?) as a woman of exceptional beauty and bravery, constantly putting herself on the line for the sake of adventure, exploration, and thrills. But that was a long time ago.
She was never a tall woman, only standing at a meager height of five feet, three inches, but the cane that she's forced to lean heavily on cuts her height to five foot one on her bad days. Burn scars have seared her face and parts of her scalp, leaving her pale eyes glittering in the reddened, pitted mass of her face. To try to hide the burns on her scalp, Tamara's grown her ash blonde hair long, letting it caress her shoulders and trail halfway down her back. More scars decorate the rest of her body, and her left possesses nerve damage that makes it difficult for her to move her fingers, usually leaving them twisted and useless.
To hide her deformities, knowing how much her appearance shocks and disgusts people, Tamara has a collection of masks that she wears whenever she's in public. Some are white and formless, while others are colorful and have decorations, but they all cover the entirety of her face. Similarly, she always wears something on her head, usually a hat or sometimes a tied handkerchief, to further hide the patches where her hair just won't grow. She usually wears turtlenecks and jeans, sometimes coupled with vests with pockets, and has a backpack for all of her stuff.
Her cane is a simple length of oak, capped with steel on the bottom, and curving at the top so that it's easy for her to grasp. A closer look at the cane will show carvings of various different Pokemon decorating its length.
Though Tamara hates being called old, she often refers to herself as old, despite her relatively young age.
Roleplay Sample:
Tap. Tap. Thump.
"If you will wait here, ma'am, Mr. Laughner will be with you shortly."
A pair of hands gripped the top of her cane as Tamara leaned heavily onto it, practically bending in half to set her chin on her hands. When she spoke, her harsh voice was muffled by the plaster of the beige mask lined with scarlet that she wore. The sounds grated across her throat, holding hints of a previously beautiful, smooth, sultry voice that had since been ruined. Really, it sounded like she'd been smoking a pack of cigarettes a day for thirty straight years. "Got a chair?"
The butler motioned with his hand to a spot just outside of her peripheral vision. "Right over there, ma'am."
She made a face behind the mask as she twisted to see the plush armchair. "Great. And don't call me ma'am," she grouched as she limped over to the seat, collapsing into it with a grateful sigh that wasn't loud enough for anybody to hear. Probably. Hopefully. "It makes me feel old."
The butler bowed to her and scuttled off in the manner that butlers have been scuttling off for centuries. When the grandiose double doors swung silently shut behind him – Okay, that should be impossible – Tamara leaned her cane up against the side of the chair, pushed her mask up to her forehead, and glared at her bad leg, which ached with the pain of being on her feet for too long. "Behave," she muttered, rubbing at the side of her knee with her thumb. "Or I'll chop you off and get a prosthetic. I swear I will."
The informal massage eased the pain in her knee slightly, but not enough to be of any real help. With a sigh, Tamara leaned back in the comfortable armchair as she looked around the huge waiting room. Wealth dripped from every corner of the place. Marble statues of famous trainers had homes in the corners of the room, rich tapestries hung from the oak paneled walls, and weird little things that she couldn't even identify sat on spindly tables on the side of the room. The wooden floor was covered with a rug detailing what looked like a map of the entire Kanto region, and the vaulted ceiling alone with its sprawling murals of legendary Pokemon battles had to have cost a fortune.
When the grand doors flung themselves open and the eccentric figure of Jude Laughner strode in, Tamara flipped her mask back on with the ease of years of practice, rose from the chair and let herself list to the right, her cane catching her weight. "Overcompensating for something?"
"Tammy!" Laughner spread his arms wide as he approached, smiling broadly. "So glad you could make it! I'm telling you, this is going to be the adventure of a lifetime."
"Sure it is." Beneath her mask, what was left of her right eyebrow raised. "I'm done with that, remember? No more adventuring for me. I'm going to live a nice quiet life selling macramé bracelets. Or something." She paused. "You know, if I could make macramé bracelets."
His arms fell to his sides. "You know, I'm disappointed in you," he told her sadly, shaking his head at her. "You're not even going to give your old friend a hug?"
"'Old' is right," Tamara retorted. "Come on, Gramps. Tell me all about this adventure so that I can reject the offer and get on with my life."
He shrugged. "If you insist." His eyes glinted with what Tamara recognized as excitement and anticipation as he lowered his voice in an attempt to sound dramatic. Sadly, it worked. "Tell me, Tammy, have you ever heard of… Pandora?"
"Sure." She echoed his shrug with a deliberately casual one of her own, trying to ignore the spark of interest that leapt up at the name. "Mythical region, treasure of all treasures, lot of bloody history."
"How would you like to go there?"
A short bark of a laugh escaped from her throat. "You've got to be kidding me. I'm retired, remember?" She thumped her cane against the carpet for emphasis. "Besides, even if I was interested, I doubt I'd be able to hold up against those young whippersnappers that are all gung-ho about the whole thing. You know. The ones that you already hired."
"Perceptive as always, Tammy-girl." Laughner grinned at her. "But 'whippersnappers'? I'll have you know that one of them is an old man."
"What, like you?"
"Funny." His tone shifted to a cajoling one. "Come on, Tammy! You and me, we're built for adventure! You're not going to let a silly little leg problem get in the way of the adventure of a lifetime, are you?"
Tamara narrowed her eyes at him, considering. The spark in the back of her mind was well on its way to becoming a full-fledged fire of interest; he'd certainly managed to capture her attention with Pandora. Everyone knew about the place and the wonders it was reputed to hold, and Tamara was no exception. Despite her resolution to lead a quiet life, the prospect of traveling to Pandora was… well, it was eroding her determination to stay home and live a boring little existence.
After a very long moment, she sighed. Injuries or no injuries, the lure of Pandora was too much for her to resist. She could already feel her leg aching in protest of her decision. I am so going to regret this. "All right. You win. Tell me more."
