The Land of Legends OOC

[luke]

The Land of Legends

War.

Every country's worst nightmare.

Even in the days before weapons of mass destruction and chemical warfare, many died as a result of this most terrible word's effects on humanity. War not only destroys human lives, it also rips apart the land, destroys valuable resources, causes countries to fall or rise. In war, kings and pawns are won and lost. In ancient times, the land now known as Johto was ravaged by a brutal war. The combat began as a result of one man's avarice, was fueled by a woman's pride, and was urged on and profited from by one being more ancient then the land itself. This is the story of that war, of its beginning and ending, the hopes and dreams it began and ended, the people who took part and those who ran away. It's the story of outcasts and heroes, of humans and Pokemon, of true love and undying hatred, chivalry and abominations. But most of all, it is the story of one girl, one boy, and one town....

1000 B.P.L. (Before Pokemon League)

Trouble had been brewing for years. It was only a matter of time before the nation was swept into chaos. The brutal, warlike king of Lliore, a Kingdom based where modern-day Goldenrod stands, has been capturing land for years, adding to his kingdom's already-bloated holdings. A greedy, vicious man he will stop at nothing to capture every other major country that stands in his path and set himself up as a ruler. His one problem: the kingdom of Fandavale stands as a last bastion of hope, or a final impediment, depending on your views of the situation. Fandavale, which is situated where Olivine now stands, was led at the time by a stunning beauty: Queen Minerva, a woman whose love for her country is sadly surpassed by her pride. The two nations have been at peace for over a century, but with King Gora sharpening his blades and eyeing Fandavale's holdings, a war was only a matter of time.

These portents did almost nothing to disturb the inhabitants of the Sacred Ground, a small plot of land between Fandavale and Lliore, and a place that both countries consider their rightful property. The area has been fought over for years, due to its unique position: It is the home to a pair of towers said to house a pair of powerful spirits who take the form of Pokemon as they fly throughout the land, and come to roost there every year. In addition to this, three beasts whose elemental powers are so great that they themselves are unable to control them often sprint through the village, leaving energy in their wake so great that it often causes a shift in the weather patterns. Because of this, it is often called the 'Land of Legends'. The inhabitants of this rural and idyllic area are outcasts from the two kingdoms, courtiers and peasants, guardsmen and flower girls. While they do hold the monks who assist in the caretaking of the towers of the legendary Pokemon, these people are largely governed by themselves. Thanks to their unique position on Sacred Ground, they refused to believe that the war might affect them. How wrong they were...

Days before King Gora completed his preparations for the long march towards Fandavale, the two spirit-Pokemon landed atop their towers to rest from their long journey. This was expected by the people who lived near the holy ground- hadn't these Pokemon done this every year since the day the people were born? But what happened next was completely unexpected. When the Pokemon left, a girl and a boy were discovered atop the towers. Upon their examination of the youths, the tower monks announced that they, like the Pokemon, were an incarnation of the two spirit's energy. Rejoicing in their good fortune to have two such people taken into their humble home, the inhabitants of the sacred ground took them in, and soon the two were absorbed into the community's life. All might have been well but for one small thing.

A letter was sent to King Gora from a spy in the village, who explained this latest development. Gora was a brutal tactician, but he was no fool. It would have taken a war-spawned mind like his own to realize the value of having one of these two on his side. Quietly, he sent word to his spy, ordering the man to begin tempting one of the two avatars of the legendary spirits, convincing them to join his side. The spy obeyed, and while at first the boy who represented the power of the spirit who flew over the sea, or Lugia, resisted admirably, his will eventually gave way when offered riches beyond his dreams. He and the spy immediately fled to Gora's kingdom before their treachery could be discovered. It was there that the avatar of Lugia planted the seeds of a plan in Gora's ear. He advised his new master not to take the longer march that cut around the Sacred Ground, but instead to march right through it and set up a base there- after all, wasn't it now approved by at least one spirit. The greedy king agreed, and preparations for the capture of Fandavale might have been easily completed had someone within Gora's circle of counselors not leaked information to Queen Minerva, who was outraged- after all, hadn't the sacred ground been in her kingdom's holdings for generations? She immediately dispatched a message through the Sacred Land to Gora, saying that she intended to march through the land as well, and if he set one foot in there, blood would be spilled. The messenger, who was a good soul at heart, left word with the populace of the Sacred Land that Minerva was going to come, and Gora would probably be marching soon as well. The populace was stricken with fear. They had no formal military, and since they were outcasts from the two kingdoms for the most part, their available weaponry was fairly rag-tag. They were no match for two countries wielding weapons and massive armies of both Pokemon and humans. Fortunately, two men took a stand. These two convinced the people that under the leadership of the second spirit's avatar, they might stand a chance if they attempted to quell the war now. As a result of these actions, a group of hand-picked inhabitants of the Sacred Land organized themselves into a group of freedom fighters and bodyguards of sorts, ready to do whatever it took to protect themselves and their homeland under the guidance of Ho-oh's avatar.

Your Role

You are a member of the hand-picked group defending Ho-oh's avatar. Your job: use whatever you have at your disposal to prevent the invading armies from destroying your home in a battle, or die trying. Will you be a hero, or will cowardice or greed tempt you from your path? (Hope not, 'cause then it'll be hard for our characters to interact.) You decide.

Background information on the two Kingdoms:

Lliore: A feudal country with a culture and weaponry similar to that of feudal Japan, it is led by the warlike Gora, the most avaricious king in thousands of years. Gora is by no means a diplomat, and he's disliked greatly in his own country, but his soldiers and courtiers are honor-bound to serve him. (And some are too scared of dying to defect.) His army is feared by all, as is his temper.

Fandavale: A country whose culture is more similar to a European monarchy, reflected in both their weapons and architecture, they are led by the beautiful Queen Minerva, a haughty woman whose love of her country mostly stems from personal vanity. They are not particularly warlike, but they do keep a sizable army.

Sacred Land's Inhabitants: People who have deserted either nation, for their own reasons. There's actually a pretty sizable number of them. They know they have little chance of ending the impending war, but they're determined to try before their home is ripped apart. They don't have a set leader, so everything is pretty much decided by the rulings of the masses. They act more like inhabitants of a small town then anything else.

Added Notes

Pokeballs haven't been invented yet, so Pokemon are essentially partners in battle to soldiers. Both Pokemon and humans at this time wear armor, and both species are essentially considered to have an equal say in battle plans (at least, in the Sacred Land.) Remember to describe Pokemon accordingly. In addition, since this takes place in Johto please provide justification for the ownership of a Pokemon from outside the land.

Full Given Name:
Nicknames:
Age:
Gender:
Homeland:
Title (If any):
Appearance:
Personality:
History:
Other:
RP Sample (REQUIRED):

Pokemon:
Nickname (If Any):
Pokemon's Personality:
History:

1. No ripping off anime pictures or using sprites for appearance. Picture used must still be accompanied by a written description and must be your own original art. (Sprites and avatars included.)

2. No ripping off Anime names. That means now ASH KETCHUM!

3. No questioning my rulings. Those who do shall be eaten.

4. Those who Role Play their Pokemon as mindless drones shall be forced to spend the rest of their life locked in a room, strapped to a chair with their eyes open, watching episodes of the dubbed version of Yu-Gi-Oh, with a gag over their mouth so that they are unable to make fun of it.

5. If you are inactive for over a week without giving prior notice, your character will be written out of the RP, most likely by killing them (unless a valid excuse is given).

6. You know the rest. Follow the PC rules, no god moding, no power playing. One warning and then you're out. I have little tolerance for the breaking of rules (which I can now enforce as I'm a Super Moderator >:o)

7. THREE Pokemon per person. No more than one person per Pokemon. As Alter Ego brilliantly said in his Neo Genesis, with four generations of Pokemon, two people don't need to have Salamences or Charizards. If you use a Pokemon who isn't native to Johto, please explain why your character has it. No Fossils or Artificial Pokemon allowed. This excludes Magnemite, who technically isn't artificial as he wasn't created by humans.

8. Your character will be fighting a war. But this is the medieval era of Johto, so modern weapons, e.g. guns, are not allowed. The following weapons are preferred: swords, lances, bows, axes, sling shots. Don't whine. I'm not bending this rule.

10. No rushed profiles. Take your time. Detail, detail, and more detail is what I am looking for.

Any questions. Feel free to PM me (Apostle). Don't clutter this area with anything other than sign-ups until the RP itself begins.

Good day.

 

[Loki]

What a bare skeleton. D: But I feel like such a n00b already. :DDD I'm so excited! /doesn't make any sense. Hopefully I won't fail fail fail at this RP so that I can actually get back into PRP'ing.

Full Given Name: Artedior Vlad Gilroy
Nicknames: Art or his last name Gilroy.
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Homeland: Fandavale
Title (If any): None, unless you want to stretch it and call him "Master Painter", which he has absolutely no problem with.
Appearance: With striking blonde hair atop his head, Art is obviously not the type to mess with his hair for long periods of time, giving only a moment's time to tie it back. The golden locks are cut off just past his shoulders, curling outwards naturally as is the effect of air drying, and his long bangs hastily brushed to the left, though they still manage to obscure parts of his pear green eyes no matter what Art does. He pulls the top portion behind his bangs out of the way of his ears by means of a black ribbon, which he keeps tightly knotted on the back of his head, the thin locks held back still arcing around in random directions, while he leaves the bottom layer of his hair down. However, if in highly respectable company, Art will pull his hair back into a complete ponytail and tie the ribbon into a bow, for a cleaner appearance. His average build shows that he is by no means a wallflower, but also shows that Art isn't really the type for strenuous activity. Perhaps not as tall as one might expect of someone his age, Art is not particularly bothered by his lack of majestic poise, and quite effectively fails to even realize that he's shorter than the average 23 year old man, looking only about 18, what with his baby face and wide eyes. His slightly tanned skin is also a tribute to his average amount of exercise, as well as the lean muscle on his torso and legs that may be hard to spot under his clothes. While normally dressed in a cream white shirt with full sleeves that gather at the shoulders and cuff, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, it's not often that Art wears the v-neck cut shirt alone. Normally, Art is either wearing a paint stained apron, or when not in his studio, he is wearing a dark olive, cutaway twill coat that fails to meet mid-leg length by one foot. On his legs are a pair of beige colored knee patch breeches, under tall black boots with riding heels a full two inches tall.

Personality: Talking is Art's specialty. Not talking smooth, or persuasive speech, he simply likes to talk about anything and everything. Once he gets started, it's hard to stop him. No matter what the subject, he can ramble on about with unfaltering enthusiasm, a bright cheerful smile on his face. He tends to try to hide the negative points in himself, such as his dislike for people who don't understand painting, or his hatred towards anything. He wants to appear as a perfect being, giving the benefit of the doubt to anyone, and being equally kind to everyone, no matter who they are or what they say. During his early years on his own, this was easily accomplished. He was easy to get along with, and made friends with great ease. But as the guilt for leaving without saying anything, as the pressures of war followed him, and as he began to sorely miss his first pokemon, Art began to second guess things that he was once stubbornly set upon. His inner turmoil is deceived on the surface though, as his recent affinity to think depressing thoughts shocks himself, to the point where he no longer trusts what he does and what he's been doing. As such, Art has faced new difficulties in placing trust in strangers, as he slowly loses trust in himself. Determined to make sure that nobody is able to see him slipping, however, Art is generally a very agreeable person, all smiles, optimistic- the beacon of light, one might say. His lack of decisive abilities make a once exemplary leader a hesitant follower, but is the only new trait that Art allows himself to portray to fully. He prefers to make his tendency to spend too much time dwelling over one thing appear more as a thoughtful and careful habit, rather than a downtrodden fearful habit of the consequences. Every now and then, Art forgets that he is supposed to fear himself rather frequently, as his morbid imagination seems to surface at certain, or perhaps, completely random periods of time. When he has forgotten, it's easy to see that Art was once a very stable person who was easily rooted in his own ideals, instead of the easily swayed, doubtful person he hides from the world within his shell.

History: Originally from a somewhat wealthy family in the Kingdom of Fandavale, Artedior's family excelled in the art of catching wild rapidash and training them to be ridden, a practice that earned them plenty of business from other wealthy men and the army cavalry. As such, Artedior spent a majority of his childhood as a breeder, trainer, and rider, feeling no inclination for any other occupation than the one he was supposed to carry on since birth. He was raised to know his place, never step out of line, to be respectful and friendly towards everyone so as to protect the connections that the Gilroy family had laboriously made. Taking over the family trade was all that Artedior knew, all that Artedior wanted. For his eighth birthday, Artedior received a growlithe, which was to be used to aid in the capture of wild ponyta and rapidash. The two were inseperable companions, but the dependence Artedior developed would distort his first experience of hardship. It would twist his heart into a tight knot four years later, when the growlithe was paralyzed in a stampede. A handicapped growlithe was pointless for wrangling the pokemon that Artedior's family relied upon. The boy's ambitions for his family fell apart, and he lost all and any interest in riding, refusing to go down to the stables, refusing to go out to the fields. His life moved very slowly, as he stumbled around life at the same speed as his limp pokemon. But fate twisted Artedior's purpose in life when a smeargle ran past him, painting an obnoxiously big black exclamation point all over his favorite shirt. Before Artedior could register the irreparable damage, the pokemon ran off from humans who were chasing it for painting faces all over their backs. That pokemon was his, damn it. He claimed responsibility for the smeargle, shoving money into the people's hands as an apology as he ran off after the smeargle, whom he caught doodling flies on the window of a butcher shop. A year passed in similar fashion, and after having almost his entire wardrobe painted over, his entire room splattered with the black ink from the pokemon's tail, and after Growlithe was essentially turned into a black furred pokemon, the smeargle taught his new human friend basic painting. Finding new interest in something he once thought of as trivial was both shocking and exciting for him, and as soon as he perfected a cross-hatch stroke, the smeargle was quick to paint 'Art' all over Artedior's face, while Artedior painted 'Flax' on Smeargle's face, an exchange of nicknames. It was Art's painting that won him his third pokemon, a totodile that was the rare prize for a large art contest. The addition of totodile to the team ended up being more trouble than anticipated, the mischevious little devil enjoying biting down on growlithe's tail, or causing general mayhem in Art's makeshift studio. Talent in painting was second nature to Art, who learned quickly, and the time he'd spent with his growlithe had taught him a patience he'd been unable to garner before the stampede. It was this patience that helped him somewhat control the unruly totodile, and also led him to his third pokemon, a slugma whom he visited on the mountains frequently and added to many of his works. Painting the forestry and a small slugma peering out from behind a tree, or staring up at the tall peaks was Art's source of entertainment for yet another year of his life. At age fifteen, he announced his desire to become a painter, which was received negatively by his parents. Five months of being separated from painting was too much for Art, and he decided that he'd seen all he could in his city, and left. The growlithe stubbornly stayed behind, knowing that it would be unable to walk the far distances that Art would be covering. Entrusted with the job to watch over Art's young brother, at the time six years old, Art left his home with a Magcargo, Totodile, and Smeargle as his entourage.

It would be three years later before Art settled down in the Sacred Land, after having wandered through both Fandavale and Lliore for a fair amount of time each, and it would be three years of a relatively normal life in which Art adamantly refused to let anything related to the war interfere with before he was suddenly overtaken by guilt and frustration that warped his thought process, and two years of battling this state of depression before he could no longer turn a blind eye to the war on the outside.

Other:

RP Sample (REQUIRED):
It's in first person present, but since you said that I don't really need a sign-up anyway, I decided to use this one, because I love it. |D

Spoiler:

In a field of the greenest grass, there stands a girl with blondest hair under the bluest sky. A soft breeze dances through her soft curls, putting ripples in her plain cotton sundress, and pulls her white hat off her head, carrying it far away.

It's the same dream I have every night. It doesn't make sense to me, because before the dream, I had never seen anything like it. The sky here is gray- a sad, gloomy ashen gray. What's left of the grass is yellow, black, or brown. Dead, burnt, or dying. Just like everything else. I am neither dead, nor am I dying. I am burnt, but probably not in the way you're thinking. On the back of my hand is a brand mark in the shape of three circles, arranged like a triangle. It's the symbol of the Kingdom of Helios, who controls the world, from the center, where the Grand Palor and royal family resides, to the ends of our flat expanse of a planet, the Waterfalls. Things like boats don't exist anymore, because a man invented the airship to avoid the Waterfalls. Nobody wants to travel on the sea where there's a risk of being sucked into the powerful currents. Not when there's a risk of falling off the edge of the world and into Hell's Ground. I live in post-war Circe, a barren, desolate land of people who are struggling to survive. My father was once the mayor of Circe, but that was a long time ago. Now, the only thing useful about that position is being able to be the first in line for the relief efforts from Helion, the world capitol.

I eat and drink to survive, but I have no interest in it. Everyday is like a blur. I don't remember what I did yesterday; because I really didn't do much at all. Did I have bread and dried meat the day before yesterday, or the day before that? These are the only questions I can ask myself as I stare out of my ruined bedroom window. Circe is a large city. Once third largest city in the fallen Kingdom of Selene. As with all cities, the circular plot of land in the center is reserved only for the highest ranking family; and in Circe, that was my family. Now, nobody really cares. The small manor that I used to call home is now just an empty shell. Shattered windows, torn curtains, broken furniture. Dead bodies.

I must smell like blood. And rotting flesh. Because it's everywhere. Dead servants, chefs, butlers. Dead citizens who had run into our home, hoping that my father might be the last beacon of hope to drive out the Helios Army, killed when they stormed the house.

I guess there is one more question I can ask myself.

I like asking myself, "Why am I alive?" I can entertain myself with various answers for the entire day. I'm alive because I'm breathing of course, if I want to take the scientific and logical point of view. I'm alive because I have a greater purpose in life of course, if I want to take the fantastical and illogical point of view. I haven't actually asked myself anything out loud. I'm afraid to hear my voice. Everyone in Circe is. What if we speak? Will that attract the attention of Helios again? Will their ears hear our voice, even miles away? The fear that Helios instills in us is perfect; Flawless. A polished diamond. I stare down at the crushed, browning tulips in the garden.

How many years has it been. That's not a question. It is a prelude to the fact that I have kept in my head the minute Helios stepped into the city limits.

It has been three years, eleven months, twenty-nine days, since I was left the only person alive in Circe.

My eyes are not clouded by grief and misery. I gaze evenly at the ruined expanse before me, no sign of any problems with my mental health. People watch me walk by in town sometimes, wide eyes wondering how I am able to hold my head up. I just do. The secret is that I don't care anymore. Helios has taken everything, so why do I need to bow my head to them? If they kill me, then I don't have to worry about feeling sorry for myself. If they kill me, then I don't have to worry about anything anymore. I don't have to think. I don't have to ask myself questions. I don't have to try and remember if I ever liked doing anything. Maybe a sport. I don't really remember what the point of sports were, but I remember that it was better than sitting here on a white stool in the middle of an empty, blood stained room. I already dragged the dead body of my nanny into the garden, where she will decompose amongst the dead flowers in the most ugly way possible, if I want to take a scientific and logical point of view. Where she will rest in peace amongst tulips and daisies for the rest of eternity, if I want to take a fantastical and illogical point of view. My dead butler… Well. There wasn't much left of him when I woke up.

My father and mother are dead. I haven't actually seen their corpses, because I tend to avoid wandering around the house. But I know, because they haven't come looking for me. I know because I heard voices shrieking their names or titles when they were shot. I heard the gunshots, even though the small hidden cellar beneath the third floor- where my room resides. It's accessible only by the three removable wooden boards underneath the stool I'm sitting on. I've grown enough so that I don't fit in there anymore. But I heard everything. I watched blood seeping through the gaps. And I felt indescribable fear that gripped me in a vice-like hold that threatened to never release me.

It has been three years, eleven months, and twenty-nine days since I was left the only person alive in Circe.

And it's time to leave.

Pokemon: Magcargo
Nickname (If Any): MACARGO. >:|
Pokemon's Personality: Comparably calmer than his other two companions, Magcargo is content to sit back and watch the show with wide alert eyes and a blank expression. He strictly adheres to his principle 'do nothing unless ordered to', an extension of his irreplaceable loyalty to Art. His quiet speech is riddled with pauses, much to the irritation of his fast paced comrades. Magcargo is by far the most compliant of all Art's pokemon, quite possibly the most compliant out of all pokemon, as he often goes out of his way to find things that might please his trainer. Never letting petty things like morals or emotions get in the way of following through with any commands issued, Magcargo would fire a flamethrower at his beloved trainer if the man wished it to be so. Though not quite exactly 'lively' when with Art, Magcargo is comparable to a purposeless statue when without him. His happiness comes only in the form of Art's happiness, and should Magcargo be somehow separated from Art, he will proceed to ignore anything and everything, his only goal being to find Art and once more be at his side. Anger, sadness, embarrassment, irritation- any of the rare excessive emotions Magcargo is capable of expressing are only directed towards his trainer. What with the importance of Art in Magcargo's existence, the firey slug pokemon is incredibly possessive of his trainer, often pushing himself in the middle of conversations, or staring down a stranger with his unblinking yellow eyes as though daring them to do anything hostile or suspicious towards Art.

History: As a slugma, Magcargo was left to fend for himself, failing to find a group of other slugma's to travel with. He often stuck to a group that wanted nothing to do with him, trailing behind them as the outcast, doing nothing in retaliation when they tried to chase him off. Body slams from stronger slugma, rock throw from smaller ones, Magcargo was simply an undesired prescence for his interest in human society. The times he separated himself from the group of slugma was when he ventured down to peer at humans, pokemon following them or helping with whatever those humans were always so busy doing everyday. The patience of the other slugma, who hate human prescence, abandoned him entirely after striking him down, leaving the young slug pokemon to fend for itself. It was at this time that Art found Magcargo, beaten and battered from attacks that had kept him from stubbornly following his group. It was a totodile who found him slowly crawling across the ground in circles to keep his body from hardening, a mischevious young water pokemon that teased the slugma by opening and closing it's jaws, threatening to shoot a water gun at it, or perhaps, see how hot magma would taste if it took a bite. A karate chop from a human shut the taunting totodile up though, as a fourteen year old Art finally found his rebellious pokemon, and unknowingly found his most loyal pokemon at the same time. Seeing the injured slugma, the boy turned his face up to the sky and called out to something that the slugma was too exhausted to raise its head and see, but the young human boy was quick to tell the slugma to follow him, which, with nothing else left to do, the slugma begrudgingly obliged at the implied threats from the totodile securely captured in the humans arms. Patient with the slow movements of the slugma, Art spent half the day leading the slugma up the slopes of the mountain, before directing it to a small opening where lava oozed out of the side, staying at a far distance from the heat. He waited patiently as the slugma slithered over to the small lava flow, bathing in the lava to help heal its wounds, and cheerfully smiled when the pokemon stuck its head out of the small lava river, peering curiously at the human. After the slugma was completely healed, Art stood to leave, his apology for his totodile's misbehavior completed. But while he descended the mountain, the slugma continued to follow him. Knowing that his hometown at the base of the mountain was not nearly warm enough for a slugma, Art promised to return to the small patch of lava rivers if only the slugma wouldn't follow him all the way home. And so things progressed, Art returning to the mountain to visit the slugma every few days until the slugma evolved into a Macargo three years later, at which point, it refused to stay in the mountains on it's own, and followed Art back to the human city, stubbornly letting this be his one and only refusal towards Art's request.

Pokemon: Smeargle
Nickname (If Any): Flax
Pokemon's Personality: Flax is a speechless pokemon who prefers to paint what he wants to say rather than actually voice it. He is constantly painting his thoughts and opinions on paper, canvas, walls, wood, dirt, cloth- you name it, and he's painted on it. Though silent, Flax is easily the most cheerful pokemon by Art's side, always ready to try and lift the spirits of those around him without causing disaster and mayhem, like Croconaw. He is extremely perceptive but prefers to watch from the sidelines. He tends to be compliant when he is in the mood, but has recently been more devoted to Art than usual. His own ability to see the true nature of humans makes Art's attempts to hide the recent changes in himself void, and while Flax never voices, paints, or acts on what he sees in humans, he finds this one exception in wanting to make Art's life a little easier. As a result, Flax has taken on a parental role to both Magcargo and Croconaw, watching over them like hawks and making sure that they behave, though most of his attention is applied to the latter. He tends not to think about the results of what he does however, which sometimes gives Flax more than what he was originally seeking. Biting off more than he can chew is his specialty, but Flax has the indestructible optimism that allows him to keep walking with his head tall.
History: A city pokemon, Flax has never known a life without humans.

Pokemon: Croconaw
Nickname (If Any): None
Pokemon's Personality: A trouble-maker at heart, Croconaw is over-confident of his own skills in both battling and pranking. He is childish in the sense that he would rather brood over any kind of loss, rather then try again or improve himself. Adamant in the thought that he is perfect and flawless, he is proud and never bows his head for any reason. It's not rare for Croconaw to turn his tail up to his trainer, and it's actually quite frequent that Croconaw executes attacks on Art, rather than the opponent. Extremely snobbish, Croconaw is the type of drag queen that is a cheerful volunteer to help Art demolish the morbid paintings that he puts on canvas paper to help suck out his negativity. Being the paper shredder and paint grinder, Croconaw is, oddly enough, the only pokemon of Art's to know the full extent of his slip in mental health. Even with his extreme lack of perception, that comically contrasts Flax's incredible skills at perceiving the secret heart of humans, Croconaw's concern reaches out to Art- but only a little. The extent of his obedience for pity of the man who won him in a contest extends only to his agreement not to chew on things that he hasn't been permitted to eat beforehand. His loyalty to Art is clearly the least; not as deep as a valley, but at the same time, his stubbornness isn't as tall as a mountain, and neither is he somewhere in the midlands. Croconaw's loyalty actually spikes and dips, depending on the situation, but one thing that is constant throughout all his mischief and immature mood swings is that Croconaw is extremely sensitive and prideful. As a result, his tendency to associate any insults towards Art as an extended insult towards himself will often end in temper tantrums that can be as harmless as the water pokemon throwing himself onto the floor and rolling around, or as dangerous as an angry crocodile with his jaws firmly affixed around someone's head.
History:

 

[Alter Ego]

You posted eeeet! I'M GOING TO HUG YOU AND LUFF YOU FOREVER!!!

Or at least for a while. =P

Full Given Name: Ririsu Fuuma
Nicknames: Riri
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Homeland: Lliore
Title (If any): Wind Witch/Priestess

Appearance: Standing at a respectable but not particularly spectacular 1,7 meters' height, Riri's unusual heritage is not as apparent as one might expect from one of her upbringing. Her hair is of a color quite similar to wheat, tied up into a pair of slim ponytails at the back, one at each side of her head, by means of white ribbons, the likes of which one could obtain from just about any traveling trinket salesman. Her skin, while slight less rough-hewn than that of a true working class person, has seen its own share of weather and sun and has the healthy beginning of a tan to show for it, and no matter how close you look, there is no sign of any divine or supernatural power to be found in her - admittedly fairly pretty - light brown eyes.

In clothes, Riri is equally average, having discarded her stuffy, restrictive and painfully eye-catching ceremonial robes in favor of a simple, white cotton blouse and an equally plain, thistle-colored skirt that reaches down a bit beyond her knees, a pair of sturdy, dark brown leather boots occupying her feet while a long, lilac-colored cape hangs over her shoulders, secured to its place by a simple silver clasp.

Personality: Riri is, in many ways, what one would expect of a future Fuuma elder. Having been born to a rather unusual social position wherein people many times her own age have looked up to her for guidance and protection, only to be thrust into one where the continued existence of her very family rests on her shoulders, she was forced to grow up far quicker than most. Opinionated and authoritative far beyond her years, Riri has been accustomed to playing the roles of leader and knower to the point where they come to her as naturally as breathing. Where there is a group she strives to be the leader, where there is a problem she strives to solve it, and where there is debate, she will inevitably want to have the last word. Despite her young age and secluded upbringing, Riri is surprisingly knowledgeable and cunning, thanks largely to the rigorous six-year tutelage given to her by the circle of elders - the oldest and most experienced seers of her clan. She knows her ABCs and basic military strategy, her social etiquette, her politics and every intricacy of the wind demon worship save for its most precious secret, and she is more than willing to give guidance to any who ask. This is what she was trained for, after all. There is, however, one gaping crack in her armor of world knowledge: human relations. Riri was never treated like an average person, not even by her mentors, and while she is well-versed in the elegant twists and turns of phrase that go with polite discourse, she fails to grasp any of the spirit behind it. Interaction among equals is a truly foreign thing for her, friendship even moreso (loyalty and allegiance she understands, but not friendship), and love is a complete mystery, though she vaguely associates it with roses, poets and other flimsy and unreliable things. As such, Riri tends to come off as somewhat arrogant and aloof, often speaking and acting with needless formality. She is not really a snob, though, always blaming the negative reactions she encounters on her own failure to properly follow the rigid etiquette.

Because the elders told her that this was how she should behave, and they were the wisest people in the world, weren't they? It is precisely in this naive trust that the childish side of Riri's nature comes to light. Despite her outward maturity and composure, Riri is really an emotional and impulsive person at heart, but as this kind of behavior is unacceptable for an elder - a role which her entire life thus far has centered around - she keeps these emotions carefully bottled up, only sharing them with her pokémon, the only ones for whom - she feels - she is not future clan elder Ririsu Fuuma, but simply Riri, and the only ones who still use this childhood nickname of hers. Even they are not friends, merely trusted servants, but with everyone else she ever cared for either vanished or brutally slaughtered, they are the best she's got.

History: When looking to fully understand Riri's past, it is very difficult to do so without tracing at least a fair bit of her family's as well. Originally strangers who arrived from far overseas, the members of the Fuuma family - with their indecipherable language, bizarre attire, and foreign pokémon - were an oddity among the Lliorean peasants who first encountered them. Rather than pleading and assimilating in the hopes of being accepted by the populace, they capitalized upon the awe and fear they inspired, declaring themselves a blessed people, messengers from the very Gods of the pokémon world themselves. As proof of their words, the clan elder haughtily challenged a local village chief to a duel to the death, with his village as a stake. The unfortunate man never stood a chance; as soon as the battle ensued, the Fuuma elder simply raised her hands to the sky, a bolt of lighting immediately striking down from the clear sky, killing the chief in one fell swoop. "The storm is our ally." the elder then declared with considerable dramatic flourish, "And all who oppose us shall feel its wrath.". Needless to say, the peasants were awestruck, and quickly rallied around the clan in the hopes that their power would protect them from king Gora's demands of tithe and conscription. The Fuuma did not require anyone to relinquish their sons for war, after all, only tithes of food, goods and prayer to the 'three wind demons', the gods which - the elder claimed - were the source of their power and so they quickly grew to be community leaders in the rural areas.

Needless to say, king Gora was far from pleased when word of this new power eventually leaked to his ears, immediately declaring war upon the Fuuma and promising a slow and painful death to all who supported their 'heresy'. The clan's response was immediate and demoralizing, however, downpours of unprecedented harshness mingling with hailstorms and bitter droughts, all of which were firmly centered on Gora's holdings, destroying crops, washing away entire villages and spreading fear and panic amongst the populace. After a long and bitter conflict, the warlike king was forced into negotiation, fearing an invasion from Fandvale that would split his troops between two fronts. A truce was struck up, and the situation eventually calmed, the Fuuma becoming lords over the rural areas they had occupied, provided that they still paid their dues to the king.

On Gora's side, the matter was far from settled, however. Seething with rage over his humiliation, the monarch immediately began plotting the downfall of what he saw clear rivals to his throne, and with Lugia's avatar finally on his side, he saw his chance. Where he had gained this information is unclear, but when consulted, the avatar quite gleefully revealed the Fuuma's most jealously guarded secret: they were no divine messengers and the legendary beasts who they haughtily called their guardians cared nothing for them. The Fuuma's supposed 'divine power' was nothing but a hoax, the carefully controlled power of a rare pokémon species from the lands far beyond the sea, stolen by the clan in their vain quest for glory.

Needless to say, the king was intrigued to learn of such pokémon, especially considering the importance they could hold for his future conquests. With a genuine divine avatar on his side, the king declared war on the Fuuma once more, his troops rampaging through the clan holdings with newfound fervor - and the avatar's own powers on their side - and soon overpowering them. Members of the clan and their 'priesthood' were slaughtered, their shrines destroyed, and the peasantry and lands quickly reinstated under Gora's rule.

In the end, the Fuuma had the last laugh, however. The few of the strange weather controlling pokémon who weren't killed in the struggle fell to the blades of their own handlers instead, mercilessly killed to keep the power from being passed on, and when the war finally came to an end, not a single one of them remained alive.

Not in Lliore, that is.

Anticipating the king's actions, the current elder of the Fuuma had taken precautions as soon as she heard of the avatar's arrival and so - in all secrecy - Ririsu Fuuma, the oldest daughter of the main Fuuma family and future heir to the elder's title was entrusted with one of the pokémon that held the clan's power and discreetly transported towards the country's border under the guise of being tutored for the important duty she was about to inherit.

In truth, she was taught far more than that, however, for the central point of her teaching was always the same: what to do when the inevitable conflict would blossom, and the moment the clan massacre was set into action, she proceeded to act on just that. Sneaking her way across the border in the midst a group of disgruntled serfs from the warlike country, the young woman immediately set out on her mission: to find the second avatar, set up an allegiance with her and - ultimately - use this influence to vanquish the Lliorean monarchy and restore the tattered clan to its former glory.

Other: N/A

RP Sample (REQUIRED): Totally irrelevant to this character, but hey...can't all be gems. XD

Spoiler:

The waves were alive.

She just couldn't help the thought. No matter how many times she watched the crest of white charge towards the unyielding pier, the image of a frothing, blue beast lunging assault after assault onto the frail construct remained firmly stuck in her mind. The steady crashing of waves meeting rock was like a thunderous roar to her ears, savage and threatening as the beast menacingly snapped its blue jaws towards the humans loitering on the pier, its white fangs growing back each time they shattered against the stone.

The girl's right hand tightened its grip around the safety rail. She couldn't help envying them just a little, those carefree people in their light, brightly-colored summer clothes, wandering about so effortlessly, so...so blissfully unaware. They could stand in the brilliant sunshine all day long without as much as a shirt on without giving a single thought to how the UV radiation was eroding their skin, they could dangle their feet over the looming jaws of the sea without fear of losing them to a Sharpedo attack (five incidents' average each year), or thinking that two thousand one hundred and fifty-three people just like them would meet their end by drowning in there this year, or the good seventeen-hundred who would miscalculate a dive and hit their head on an underwater rock. And that was not even counting Tentacool poisonings. A bead of sweat ran down from her ruffled, sandy brown hair, snaking its way down the back of her neck and seeping into the bright yellow tank top alongside its cousins. Her frayed jeans were already soaking wet, and the vermillion-colored gloves made her hands feel like they were in an oven.

"Ahem, miss?"

The polite but unmistakably irritated voice broke through the girl's inner scene of marine terror, a pair of warm, brown eyes snapping away from the waves and the body to which they were attached swiveling around to face an older man whose white sailor uniform, complete with the cute little hat, identified him as part of the cruiser's crew. There was something decidedly weasel-like about the man's face, with its thin, graying moustache and those blue eyes that were so clearly saying 'I hate my job'.

"Y-yes?"

She couldn't help it, people catching her off guard always made her voice sound jumpy. If anything, she was lucky not to have physically jumped up at this. Oh, her sisters had had themselves a number of good laughs over that habit, and her classmates even moreso.

"Could you please move? You are blocking the gangplank."

"R-right..." the girl mumbled, her face flushing with embarrassment as the gigantic hiker-issue pack on her back sprung back into her mind. She had been aware of the heat it placed on her back for the whole journey, of course, as well as the way it weighed down her frail shoulders and the odd looks her fellow passengers had given her for it, but faced with the doomsday scenario of descending down the gangplank with the raging sea so far beneath her had completely blocked out one quality of the backpack from her mind - the fact that it was indeed very, very wide and currently preventing anyone not willing to edge their way along the outside of the rail from passing her on the gangplank off the ferry. Now that she paid attention to it, she could hear several disgruntled mumblings about the hold-up from the passengers behind her.

Alright, that settled it. Frightening prospect or no, she would have to get past this. Ignoring the new wave of mumbling that this caused, the girl briefly shut her eyes again, willing her right hand to let go of the railing and instead grasp one of the two necklaces hanging around her neck, specifically, the golden one with sun symbol at the end.

'Shape up, Kat.' she told herself sternly 'You're not a coward, just mindful of the risks. You're going to become a pokémon trainer. You can do this. It's not really scary. It's just a gangplank. You won't fall in if you're careful. And even if you fall in it won't be bad. It's so close to the shore and there are lots of people here. Someone will help you if you fall in. But you won't, because you're going to do this right. You're going to make it through this. It's just a gangplank; it's not better than you.'

"Okay..." she mumbled to herself, opening her eyes again and taking a tentative step forward with one foot. The gangplank sank ever so slightly under the added weight, and for a moment her senses were on full alert for the first sign of the object giving in, but when no such things appeared, she finally gathered her courage and took another step, and another, and another. The progress was made in slow jerks, but it was progress all the same, and she wasn't messing up.

Slowly a smile began spreading on the girl's face. The steps got more frequent, her grip around the rail slowly left the 'utter panic' force. She was doing this, she was really doing this and nothing was going wrong!

A sunny smile graced the Kat's lips as her sneaker-clad feet finally made contact with solid stone. Her heart was beating like mad and the adrenaline sang in her ears but at the same time, a wave of utter relief and contentment the likes of which she had rarely felt washed over the girl as she turned her gaze towards the town to which destiny had directed her, slowly detaching the three velcro straps and one safety-belt style strap that had kept the backpack secured to her back, allowing the heavy object to slide down to the pavement before turning to search its contents for the town map. Oh, just wait until her folks back at Saffron would hear about this. She had not only faced water and heights; she had done so at the same time. By the time she came back, there would be no more talk about 'scaredy-Kat', no...her smile widened at the thought, completely undampened by the annoyed stares and mutterings of the passengers flooding down the now vacated gangplank, she would come back as Katherine Vainwright, pokémon trainer and adventurer extraordinaire.

Pokemon: Castform
Nickname (If Any): Waru
Pokemon's Personality: A fickle creature to say the least, Waru's personality is as ever-changing as the weather.Literally. Highly attuned to his surroundings as he is, the Castform's persona appears to be directly linked to the weather surrounding him. In sunlight, he is fairly amiable and laid back, usually engaging in pleasant - if lax and ultimately pointless - conversation, often bringing up some obscure point of philosophy and musing over it. His sunlit side really doesn't seem to have a care in the world and really doesn't seem to have any enemies or even serious issues with anything. When darker clouds start gathering on the horizon, however, things get a bit more prickly, for in rain Waru tends to get highly negative and sarcastic, barbing everyone unfortunate enough to be in his vicinity with acidic remarks and generally informing them of precisely what their problem is, whether they invited this kind of feedback or not. While Waru is in his rain form, he and Riri truly seem to be on anything but good terms, always bickering and arguing despite the fact that both of them really know better. As hard as the Castform is to handle in this form, however, it is nothing compared to how he becomes in hail and snow. Where his rain incarnation is just obnoxious and disobedient, his ice form is nothing short of cruel and sadistic. In cold, Waru is a true monster of a battler, mercilessly blasting down any and all foes - and sometimes even inconveniently placed allies - without any semblance of control or discipline. While in this state, his also very short-tempered and arrogant, and will not hesitate to act on the first impulse to turn an unfortunate living being into an ice sculpture. Even Riri's sway over the Castform is next to null on these occasions, and while she is - perhaps - the least likely victim, getting attacked and even killed is certainly a very real possibility. Consequently, Riri rarely relies on this form, always making a point of keeping Waru surrounded by sunlight unless circumstances specifically require otherwise.

In addition to these three shapes, the sunlit Waru has also made allusions to a fourth form which he calls his 'spiritual equilibrium', a supposed true self that will only come into full light when he is completely outside the influence of weather. Given the pokémon's uncanny ability to pick up on weather nuances even indoors, however, the existence of such a form and the conditions required to achieve it still remain up in the air.

History: A pokémon who's truly been with his trainer for the entirety of his life. When the time drew near for Waru's egg to hatch, Riri was immediately called in to see it through its last hatching phase, all other living beings barred from entering the chamber. As such, when the Castform finally came to life, the first thing he was faced with as he opened his curious eyes to the world was an equally uncertain girl in ceremonial robes. During the half-year that followed, both human and pokémon remained sealed within the chamber and isolated from the world, food and water passed in through a small hatch, and while the bonding process was strained on both sides at first, the two eventually attuned and grew close. Closer, in fact, than most had anticipated. When the two emerged, they seemed to have not only found understanding, but a common language as well, a collection of sounds and tones that was neither human nor pokémon, but some peculiar mixture of the two. Ever since that day, both have retained this language of theirs as a means of communication completely inaccessible to all but themselves, much to the chagrin of the curious.

Pokemon: Chimecho
Nickname (If Any): Chirin
Pokemon's Personality: Timid and servile by nature, Chirin is devoted to her trainer to the point where most people wonder if she has any opinions of her own whatsoever. Whatever Riri says or does, she can always count on the Chimecho's full and unconditional support, and whenever Chirin needs to make a decision, no matter how small or trivial, she always seeks her trainer's counsel, never straying far from her. While she is anything but a brave battler, the Chimecho is an efficient and highly alert sentry, a precious thing for one in Riri's position, she is also a very curious and upbeat pokémon, making her both pleasant - if somewhat tiresome - traveling company and great for eavesdropping.

The pokémon's clinginess can, as one might imagine, get very tiresome, but at the same time, Chirin's complete dependence on her wisdom is a considerable ego boost for Riri - one which she sorely needs - and to be completely honest, she just doesn't have it in her to be overly mean to the pitiable thing, obliging her as best she can.

When separated from her trainer, a rare occasion indeed, Chirin tends to get skittish and indecisive, often meandering around in hopes of tracking her down again, though given her inherently poor sense of direction, the Chimecho is far more likely to simply get even more lost.

History: Originally one of many lowly pokémon serving as sentries in the Fuuma home, Chirin was often scolded for her cowardice, forgetfulness and inability to resist straying off her designated patrol routes should something that piqued her interest come by, and were it not for the crucial knowledge of the clan home she possessed, she would most likely have been driven out. Instead, the Chimecho was delegated to doing small, unimportant housework, out of sight, out of mind. It was a lonely existence, especially for one of Chirin's social disposition, but at the same time, the prospect of near-freely roaming the house and watching life go on all around her was great fun for the psychic type. Inconspicuously carrying empty trays, sweeping floors and dusting off furniture, Chirin got to witness a great deal of significant events and conversations, both sad and joyful, always watching from the sidelines.

As she indulged this habit more and more actively, one person in particular piqued her interest: namely, the Fuuma heir. There was something special in the way she interacted with her sole pokémon, not as master and servant like the custom declared. No, these two talked with each other, laughed with each other, cried with each other, argued with each other. They were almost like...equals. For a pokémon as downtrodden as Chirin, this seemed like a dream come true, and while too timid to ever believe that she herself (weak, cowardly, unimportant) would reach such a position, she took all the joy she could out of enjoying it second-hand while slowly mustering up the courage to reveal herself and meet this peculiar little girl herself.

All of this courage, it soon turned out, would be put to the test, for soon - far sooner than the Chimecho had expected - the day came when Riri was standing by the gate, clad in her most formal robes with Waru by her side and her most precious family members there to say their goodbyes. It was at this point when Chirin gave her first and - to date - only display of courage, floating off after the girl and her entourage and doggedly pursuing them through the Lliorean wilderness. When they eventually met up, the elders' initial reaction was to send the confused being on its way, but - seeing its heart-wrenching protests - Riri couldn't help feeling sympathy for the Chimecho, politely requesting that it be given to her as an additional servant, and while her elders were far from pleased by the notion of letting a strange pokémon that close to the heiress just like that, the girl was incessant about the matter and eventually got her way.

Since that day, Chirin has been a devoted follower of Riri's, and while the Chimecho's motives still confuse the young woman to no end, she has grown to appreciate the psychic type as a valuable servant, if nothing more.

Pokemon: Dragonair
Nickname (If Any): Nairu
Pokemon's Personality: A veteran of many conflicts with both the skills and the scars to show for it, Nairu creates quite the contrast with Riri's other pokémon. As the Fuuma heiress' designated protector and prime battler, he is usually the first to enter the fray and the last one standing when the dust settles. Despite the ferocity with which he fights for her, however, the Dragonair doesn't actually hold any particular feelings for his ward, not even truly regarding her as his trainer. In fact, were it not for the wishes of his deceased true trainer and comrade-in-arms, the dragon pokémon would truly not pay Riri any mind. But alas, he has given his oath to protect the young woman with his life until her mission is fulfilled, and for a creature as serious and honor-bound as Nairu, such an oath is not something that is easily broken. A strong individualist by nature, he largely acts as he pleases, sleeps alone, eats alone, and even hunts alone when opportunity allows it, keeping his distance from the rest of the entourage save for when battle is imminent, but always makes sure not to let anyone stray too far.

Despite the Dragonair's unfaltering loyalty and obedience of Riri's commands, the relationship between them is strained at best. For both know all too well that Nairu's real loyalty lies with his deceased trainer, and that - should prioritizing Riri's safety so require - the dragon pokémon would not hesitate to go against his trainer's wishes or even directly oppose her. Also, while no accusations are ever raised, it is obvious for any who watch closely that Nairu still holds a grudge against the priestess, partially blaming her for the tragedy that claimed his real trainer's life.

History: Originally the long-time companion and faithful friend of an elder from the circle of elders that took Riri into their care, both Nairu and his trainer - though he did not acknowledge him as such at the time - got to experience far more than their fair share of the world's harshness as they were both swept into the long, bitter conflict between the Fuuma clan and the land's legitimate rulers. Together, they fought in countless battles, saw allies fall and villages get torn asunder, experienced starvation, pain, and fear, and together - despite the odds stacked against them - they survived. As it so happens, it was precisely this talent of theirs that attracted the attention of the Fuuma clan's elders, prompting them to invite Nairu and his trainer into their circle, though - unknown to them - this was done purely with one goal in mind: to pass these talents on to the true heir. And for a good six years, this is precisely what they did. Soon after the still-adolescent Riri arrived in the midst of the elders, she and Waru were put under a rigorous training program in battling and tactics, with Nairu and his trainer as their primary sparring partners. As the sessions dragged on and on, Riri and her pokémon were handed one humiliating defeat after the other, and given her mentor's blunt and often harsh manner, they had what one might very generously describe as a rocky start.

As the years passed, however, student and mentor eventually began to find common ground and appreciate each other. Friends they were not, but a bond of sorts was beginning to form, and it was precisely this bond that - years later - finally led Nairu to give an oath that would later turn out to be his greatest burden. Mere days after word of Gora's sneak attack on the Fuuma settlements reached them, the king's strike force had reached them as well, and in the chaos that ensued, many elders perished, including the Dragonair's beloved trainer. Griefstruck, the creature swore to not only take vengeance on the one responsible for the murders, but also to carry on what his master had begun and keep the young woman he had given his life to protect from harm.


Awesomest sign-up ever, right? AM I RITE?!

But seriously, since you wanted a skeleton and I don't want anyone hogging my pokémon of choice, here you go. Will be finished later, obviously, with explanations for the title, the presence of the Castform, and the cheesy 'deep connotations' name. :3

 

[luke]

Full Given Name: Ambrose
Nicknames: Amby, Mistress Avatar
Age: None (Appears to be around twenty years old)
Gender: None (Appears to be female)
Homeland: None
Title (If any): Divine Being
Appearance: I suck with appearances so... this section will take a while
Personality: Coming tomorrow...
History: Long ago, on the third day of the Earth's existence, the greater God Arceus created the sun and the moon. Birthed from these two entities came two birds. Lugia, guardian of not only the Moon, but the sea and master of all elements except for fire. And Ho-Oh, guardian of the Sun, the sky, and all elements besides water. These majestic birds chose a majestic valley as their nesting grounds. And it was at this time that the two birds began to escape their godly confines and gain a greater understanding of the human race. Ho-Oh in particular took interest and began to make contact with several select humans that lived in the valley where the birds roosted.
Other:
RP Sample (REQUIRED): Not for me~

Pokemon: Slowking
Nickname (If Any): Pompey
Pokemon's Personality:
History:

Pokemon: Murkrow
Nickname (If Any): Fortuna
Pokemon's Personality:
History:

Pokemon: Primeape
Nickname (If Any): Brutus
Pokemon's Personality:
History:

 

[Chibi-chan]

If I don't finish, school killed me.


Full Given Name: Princess Ashema Taisie Isolde Salamasina XII
Nickname Ashe, Atis
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Homeland: Sinnoh, Salamasina (Now known as Hearthome)
Title (If any): Foreign Princess

Appearance: Ashema is very fond of the color blue, seeing that it always matches her own appearance. Her hair is a long trailing light blue that curls down by her ankles with two side bangs that curl by her chest accompanied with bangs that reach her eyes around her brow. Adorning the side left side of her hair is a crescent moon shaped clip of pure silver that represents her royalty. Her eyes are a striking turquoise in color that seem to beam with happiness or quiver in sadness. Though she's royalty, she doesn't give off a dominating appearance whatsoever. Her complexion is a bit pale while her figure looks as frail as a doll's; though she is a bit busty. Her lack of height doesn't help either, making her look like a she just turned fifteen. Stripped of her traditional royal garments, she wears a mandarin-collared navy silk vest with gold inlay with a pair of silk navy pants with simple non-heeled black laceless shoes.

Personality: Ashema is one who takes things as they come. She's not timid or naive, she's just one to doubt her out intuition. Ashe is the only heir of the Salamasina throne and because of this, her own freedom physically and mentally have been restrained. Her schedule, speeches, public appearances, and meals are decided by her parents and advisers which give her few opportunities to speak her own mind or develop her own opinions. On her own, she has become very indecisive. That is, unless it has to do with the happiness of the multitude or general human interaction. A proclaimed 'Princess of the People", Ashe is a social person who can hardly be annoyed or irritated by any living creature. Ashe is one who is truly selfless when it comes to protecting the happiness and lives of others, which brought her in the first place to the region of Johto. She'll go out of her way to scrub toilets if it made just one person happier. When it comes to emotions rather than decisions though, Ashe is an easy read no matter how hard she hides it. If she's adamant, she'll motivate a legion, if she's depressed, she'll cry in a corner. She's not naturally a tough person, so her tend to Pokemon cover for her.

History:

Twelfth and only living descendant of the families of Isolde and Salamasina, Ashema was brought up in a very isolated environment. This is due to the infamous Spear Massacre that occurred when she had just turned four. Every five years, it was ritual to go atop Mt. Coronet and give tribute to the gods of time and space. The meaning of the the word 'tribute' varied between two Sinnohan factions, those who resided in the West of Mt. Coronet and those who resided on the East. On the East, the idea of tribute was interpreted as a month of fasting and penance, leading up to a ceremony of thanksgiving and prayer on the pillars created on Mt. Coronet. The towns and villages on the West though, believed in a more tangible gift; a blood sacrifice. This was the only tension that presided among the regions, but seeing that Sinnoh's capital was located on the Eastern Salamasina (currently Hearthome), the idea of spiritual tribute presided among Sinnoh. This tension was brought to it's limit when an immense nine year drought befell the entire region, affecting the West the most. Over time, the West began to relate this drought as anger from the gods because of the lack of a true sacrifice. Many major cities soon began to gather secretly to plan on what they needed to do on the next year of tribute. It was on the tenth year of the drought that the year of tribute occurred. As tradition, the royal house of Salamasina as well as the governors of the major towns arrived atop Mt.Coronet along with worshipers who came from all areas of Sinnoh. Among the royal house was Ashema's older brother Seizh of twenty while Ashema was just barely at the age of three. It was then, at the strike of midnight during the act of prayer, that the West revolted. With spears, swords, and Pokemon, the Spear Massacre occurred upon the top of Mt.Coronet. The blood of pilgrims, nobles, and Pokemon alike were spilled in large amounts in compensation for the many years when blood offerings were forbidden. In an effort to save his younger sister, Seizh instructed his Gabite to lead her to safety off the the mountain as he and the royal guards fended off the rebellion. It was the last time she'd see her brother.


This disaster triggered Sinnoh's Twelve Year War between the towns and villages West of Mt. Coronet, lead by the trading town of Mionsen (Currently Canalave), and the villages and town East of Mt. Coronet, lead by the kingdom of Salamasina. Through the tumult, Ashe was ignorant of the reality of the war and used moreso as a motivational puppet for her people. On many occasion, she was given scripted speeches of encouragement and strength to her troops with the emotion and fervor that only a princess can convey. She visited Eastern cities and villages, boosting morale and and inspiring hope to those who had lost a loved one or inspiration for men to fight for their country. Due to her naivety, war was just a game. She had never seen or come upon death. Her only role was to become Hope reincarnate to her people, which she found herself excelling at. After a long twelve years, the Eastern forces had out-maneuvered the West, forcing them into surrender, and finally, peace.

A year after obtaining this new peace, news of the possibility of war in the region of Johto was relayed to Sinnoh. Convinced by the people as well as the royalty, Ashema was chosen to be an emissary of peace to the land of Johto. On this journey, Ashema was to set sail with a handful of guards, three of the best royal Pokemon, and the duke who was her informant as well as ghost-writer. Confidant in her influence, Ashema was determined to go to Johto and visit the empire of Fandavale.

Though, there was one incident in which she began to question herself. While packing for her ten day trip, Ashema retired to her bedroom alone and summoned a handmaid to help her unpack her things. As the handmaid entered, she closed and locked the door behind her. The report of the incident reported Ashema's Lucario appearing at the scene, the handmaid dead with knife in hand, and the princess' arm cut.The handmaid's identity was later revealed as a widowed Westerner who had lost both son and husband during the war. What exactly happened between the two Ashema never disclosed, though it took her days to recompose herself. The idea of travel was questioned, but the princess refused to cancel the trip. Two days later, she set sail for Johto.


Other:
RP Sample (REQUIRED):

Pokemon: Lucario
Nickname (If Any): Lani
Pokemon's Personality: Lani has taken it upon himself to be Ashema's most vigilant and loyal guard. If anyone comes between the princess and her happiness, they're most likely to get a scar they'll never forget. Everything in the world is to be taken seriously and properly thought out. Everything must also have a purpose in life; it's survival of the fittest according to this Lucario. Knowing that Ashe is currently one that might be considered weak, he feels he must make up for that weakness within her by protecting her. Leni also shares a telepathic bond with his master, though he isn't one to talk telepathically or make much noise verbally. Leni takes battle orders from no one but his master and would rather go hungry than ask for anything. He doesn't like other Pokemon or humans and prefers to keep distant from them, usually keeping in meditation to channel his own chakra and focus.

History: Lani was a Lucario bred for one purpose; fighting. His initial master was gambler who gained money from the illegal act of Pokemon combat, otherwise known as life-and-death Pokemon battles. (more soon)


Pokemon:Garchomp
Nickname (If Any): Gantz
Pokemon's Personality:
History:
Pokemon: Bronzong
Nickname (If Any):
Pokemon's Personality:
History:

 

[Alter Ego]

Everything but the RP sample typed out and ready to go. I'd have had this done yesterday evening already, but then my computer spazzed and I lost a good bit of progress. xP

Anyhow, everything in order thus far, I hope? :3

 

[luke]

If PC will live for more than a minute, I hope I can get this post up.

Yes, I hope to start this by the weekend. Any potential participants, don't be intimidated by the massive amount of staff in this RP. It's not exclusive or anything.

 

[Alter Ego]

Yeah, we're just here because we're all fanpersoning over Apostle. =D *Shot*

Anyway, I now have an RP sample too. Can I be in the cool club now? :3

 

[luke]

Alright Alter Ego, you're accepted. I mean, it was a tough choice and I almost denied you, but I'll let you in. But you're on thin ice mister. >:<

C'mon people, sign up!

 

[Loki]

Apostle, I demand that you start this RP before it dies for good. >:| [/breaking RP rules] [/would infract myself, if it were possible. :B]

 

[Alter Ego]

I could infract you if you really want, Loks. XD

Ooor I could just give you a telling off since it's your first offense. *Wags finger* Naughty, naughty; no pestering the RP master. ;D

 

[Scarlet Weather]

Well, back am I! New character to table I now bring will do!

Name: Lord Alphonse Chrono (Nicknames include "Al'')

Age: 30

Appearance: Alphonse isn't a short individual by any stretch of the word. Standing at a towering six feet, three inches, he's probably the least vertically-challenged member of the Sacred Land's inhabitants. Unfortunately, this means that clothing is fairly hard to come by for him, seeing as most of his original court finery was left back in Fandavale. His only remaining trinkets, in fact, are a pocketwatch- a relatively recent invention commissioned by his grandfather to mark the passage of time- and his weapon of choice, a rapier concealed within his ebony cane. Both of these objects are never far from Alphonse's reach, and touching one without his permission will result in some serious wrist-slappin'. In terms of attire, Alphonse has traded his once-impressive wardrobe for a simple loose-fitting white cotton shirt and a pair of dirt-stained black trousers that at one point must have looked quite impressive. His black riding boots were originally meant to be worn while riding a mount, but serve for everyday purposes just as well. In terms of build, Alphonse is fairly trim, though still muscular- a fencer's build. He's rather fair, and as such he is often burned quite easily. His long, blond hair is usual kept out of his face by means of a ribbon salvaged from his original wardrobe before his exit from Fandavale, which is used to tie his hair back into rather stiff ponytail. His eyes, a rather fetching shade of green, are usually darting around, trying to size up the situation.

Personality: Though he was a rather stiff, formal person when he lived in Fandavale, Alphonse has completely shed any pretense of a desire to follow any sort of protocol since coming to the Sacred Land. As the only resident of the Sacred Land to own a handheld timepiece, he shows a natural inclination towards being (what else) a clockwatcher, impatient to get anything done. Unfortunately, Alphonse is running out of things to do that could help towards his overall goal of saving the Sacred Land. As a result, he's a tad irritable, immediately flattening any idea he sees a flaw in without a moment's hesitation or any pretense of fair treatment. Being a rather impatient individual by nature, Alphonse has trouble keeping his temper in check, often lashing out and screaming at all the wrong moments. Of course, this is tempered by his generally laid-back attitude when nothing is pressing on him, and his softer side is often seen in his work as the village bartender. While Alphonse generally scorns court procedure and over-bearing manners, he does hold to a strict code of honor, and as such he wouldn't dream of telling anyone a secret whispered to him. As a result, he's become the town confidant, and would probably be elected historian if everyone else knew how much he knew about everyone else.

History:


Pokemon: Altaria

Nickname: Fleur

Personality:

History:


Pokemon: Mightyena

Nickname: Hrunting

Personality:

History:


Pokemon: Absol

Nickname: Horo

Personality:

History:

I owe you a finished sign up. XD

 

[luke]

The database prevented me from seeing your sign up ACC (you'll always be that to me). I hope I can finish my sign up soon. I have the next two days off from work, so I have plenty of time. Possibly starting by this weekend.

 

[Clow]

Oh my goodness, I'm hoping there still a little room? Let's see the facts are, as I see them. This Rp is just starting. It has a very original plot. It's well written and will be somewhat advanced. It allows me to show how my RPing has improve since I last stepped foot in this site. It has Alter in it, which will thus allow me to show my net Brother, and Role Play role model how I've improved since our last encounter. And it allows me to once again Role Play with pokemon….. this.... Could be very good.. I'm going to get to work….

 

[luke]

I'm usually pretty flexible within the first page or two of the RP. So sign up if you'd like.

Plus, you're a Ron Delite fan, so you earn cool points with me already.

 

[Clow]

Thank you very much, I'm sure this will be rather fun ^^. I'll be sure to work hard and do my best, after all me doing poorly looks bad upon Alter and I would want to do that.

And thank you very much, I'm actually changing my Avatar to that of Lelouch, but don't worry Ron is moving to my soon to be cleaned Sig, I on that subject I must make a charecter with Viola as the inspiration she so wonderfully frightening, so sweet at heart, characters like her and Ron make me happy to be writer of sorts ^^

 

[Alter Ego]

Oy, RP Master-sama, sir.

Don't mean to nag or anything, but is this show moving along or what? We've already dropped down to second page, and that's never a good sign. D:

 

[luke]

Alright people. This is a call to all literate RPers. We're looking for RPers to help keep this alive. Several of us are rather busy with school, so we could use a bit more support to get this RP going. Apply now!

 

[Alter Ego]

We have cookies. Really! =D

Sorry, couldn't resist. But seriously guys, give it a shot. :<

 

[Percy Thrillington]

Wow, the cast for this roleplay looks amazing. I've always wanted to roleplay alongside Alter Ego and Chibi-Chan so I can't exactly ignore a chance given to me, can I? Anyways, just posting to tell you that this will be edited with my sign-up within the next hour or day depending on how lazy I am. It'll probably be within an hour or so because I'm trying to get out of the habit of procrastinating.