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Anton the Dragumbra and Logan the Diryena [Ecruteak, Johto]

Silverishness

Silverishness: Centurion; Age : 36
Posts : 3208

Post n°1

Anton the Dragumbra and Logan the Diryena [Ecruteak, Johto]

by Silverishness Sun Apr 07, 2013 5:50 am

Anton and Logan

Hex Color	Anton (#604E82) Logan (#9E0508)
Item	None None
Gender	Male Male
Age	Young Adult Adult
Species	#???/ Dragumbra/ Wyvern Pokemon #???/ Direyena, the Dire Wolf Pokemon
Height	15'4" 5'4"
Weight	450.3 lbs 170.4 lbs

Pokédex Entry	This dragon is nocturnal by nature. It attacks silently under the cover of nightfall, the only sign that it approaches is the glowing orbs on its body against the black sky. Its horns are used to show authority, and it emanates a scent that alerts its pack when in danger. these horns are highly prized, but rarely gotten by poachers.
Level	57 56
Ability	Shed Skin Intimidate
Nature	Timid Lonely
Characteristic	Often scatters things Often lost in thought
Moves	Anton -Dark Pulse [Learned -Ice Beam [Egg] -Agility [Learned] -Dragon Pulse [Egg] Logan -Crunch [Prior Evolution] -Fire Fang [Egg] -Poison Fang [Egg] -Double Team [TM]

History	Born to a family of Dragon Breeders, Anton was always the odd one out. He only had one sibling, a clutchmate by the name of Rystu. This brother was the only one he needed, though, as Anton soon found that Rystu was the perfect child. Anton's scales were shades of ebony, of the dark, and Rystu's scales were almost a platinum gold; a shimmering, shining ray of hope and success. No matter what, his brother always was better. Always. Training, speed, endurance, learning, growing, evolving-- in every path, in every way, Rystu bested Anton, and what angered the dratini most about it all was that there was nothing he could do about it. No matter how much Anton could train, or fight or try, it never mattered. His brother would always be better, and their friends, their trainers and most importantly, their parents knew it. Without a second thought or a glance backward, all their efforts were put into Rystu's well-being. He ate the best food, lived in the best home, was trained under the best trainers. Anton was left in the shadows, forgotten, as he watched his golden brother from afar. Even though Rystu's intentions were good and never thought once of the emotional scarring his adoring parents caused to his brother, Anton decided it was enough to live in the shadows of his own skin, and would not be dominated by his brother's. He trained himself mercilessly, finally evolving into a dragonair a month after Rystu had accomplished it. However, as his brother took the path to become a godly dragonite, Anton heard whispers of another path, another evolution that could be obtained by his line. A dark cousin, a myth. Seeing the pictures from an old breeding book, he deduced and sought after this shadowy evolution. After all, if he were to become a dragonite, he would still just be following Rystu's footsteps. But to become something else... even something unheard of, he would finally have something to hold on to; his own identity. No longer would he just be Rystu's forgotten brother. He would be Anton. He escaped from home, searching months for the elusive evolution. After finally obtaining the rare item, and training more, he embraced the evolution that came to him. He returned to his family, wanting to proudly display the rare evolution he'd accomplished, the feat he'd managed that his brother could never have. He was met with repulsion, disgust, and horror. After verbally disowning and exhiling him, his parents attacked, and, unfortunately for them, lost to Anton's newfound power. Stunned at his actions, Anton was only able to stare at the corpses of his parents as Rystu came onto the scene. The two were motionless, silent in the shock of what had occurred. Rystu had had no knowledge of mistreatment, and Anton was unable to find the words to tell his brother. Before anything could be said, the Infected swarmed, the scent of blood drawing them near. The brothers were separated, and now, Anton continues on his journey as he not only attempts to come to grasp with what he did and what he's become, but to find his brother's wherabouts and whether or not he actually wants to find him. Logan was born to a quaint home in Agate, Orre to two breeding pokemon. They did not care for him, for they were often bred, and never kept any of the pups. He was soon sold to an older woman reaching her late 60's who needed a pokemon to keep her busy. He certainly did that, as any child is much work. However, she underestimated the energy she had to use in order to keep Logan sustained, and she soon found herself ill. One day, Logan hopped onto her chest, wanting to play. He didn't realize the muted crunching underneath his paws meant he crushed her rib cage, and she died. He was soon discovered by authorities some days later, and was thrown to the wild. He learned to fare for himself, hunting and killing what sparse prey roamed the sands. He ventured far, to the Port City, in his search for food when he was caught by a Cipher grunt. Immediately, she wanted to make him a Shadow pokemon, and took him to the labs. There, they trained him ruthlessly. He understood little human speech, able to decipher from what he understood that once he evolved, they would make him a Shadow pokemon. They pit him against foe after foe after foe, calling him to kill whatever was put in front of him. Reluctantly, he obeyed, but refused to evolve, worried that once he did, he would seal his own fate. They kept him still, training him and abusing him until finally, he evolved. That dreadful day, he was shown to an executive of Cipher, seeing whether or not he was ready to become a Shadow Pokemon. Unimpressed by Logan's training, she demanded more, strapping a Razor Claw to him so he could kill quicker. She trained him herself, whipping and torturing him until he grew more and more powerful. Weeks, this endured, until one day, he turned on her instead. It only took one swift clamp of his powerful jaws to rid her of her offensive throat and tongue, tearing them out easily. Instantly, he evolved again, a powerful canine standing before the other scientists. Unfortunately, even with his new evolution, he was still no match for a well-placed tranquilizer, and succumbed to sleep. It was a blur of images, a hazy purgatory of dream and awake. Months, this rolled on, the scientists and Cipher administrators taking him out, attempting to control him, pulling blood or skin or other things from him for testing, then knocking him out and placing him back into his cage. He had no name in their minds until his evolution, which the scientists stuck with calling him "Cerberus", for he bit and struck with the speed of three heads. His hell-houndish appearence furthered the nickname. For a time, the scientists were reluctant to turn him into a Shadow Pokemon, but eventually, their greed won out. He was given to an executive Cipher member, one of the higher beings just under the family that ran the business. While they wanted someone of power to have Logan, this Hellhound, they wanted to have someone more expendable work with him first, to see if he was safe enough to give to their leaders. He was efficent at his tasks, killing mercilessly, never sparing any opponent put before him. In his fury, he'd attack his own trainers, effectively minimalizing the last administrator slot within the system. It was then decided that he was to be a guard to Citadark Isle, a guardian to the gates of their impregnable fortress. He was truly living up to his name, a demon hound guarding the gates of Hell. It wasn't until a young boy and his own pokemon spirited the hound away after a gruesome battle that cast the simple life for the Shadow pokemon asunder. The boy fought valiantly to re-socialize the demonic hound, slowly opening the path to his soul that had been long sealed shut. Before the final rite could be executed though, Logan escaped, unsure of what exactly was happening to him. He stumbled back to the village of his birth, the few, sturdy trees that inhabited Orre making their roost around him. He followed the path that led him to the Relic Stone, and suddenly, he remembered himself. Warmth wrapped around him, his mind cleared of the pain and hate that had been all he'd known for months. He was finally himself once again, and then knew what kind of demon he'd become. He was soon discovered by a trainer, a girl coming through to the Relic Stone and properly hassled and abused to leave. While the girl, Emily, was hitting him with her backpack, he honestly didn't have the heart to retaliate after realizing what he'd been doing for so long, so he simply left, but shadowed her. He dogged her steps everyday, dismissing the hits and violent outbursts until she finally succumbed and caught him. Too angry to put him in a PC to rot, she then decided to use him for battle... in which his prowess blew her away. Old habits died hard. While good natured and pleasant off the battlegrounds, on them was a different story. His brutal style of fighting overwhelmed any opponent before him, and soon, he won her battle after battle after battle. Though, after a point, Emily decided against returning to the Colisseums and retired, living happily off their earnings in the peace and quiet of Phenac City. Unfortunately, their small window of peace and happiness didn't last long, for the strange, dead pokemon erupted through the land, destroying all in their path. While Logan was lucky enough to escape the slaughter, he was not fast enough to save his trainer. She was lost to the horde, leaving him alone in a world once again. Alone, crushed, and vengeful to the corpses that took his happiness, he ventured out, finding the world plunged into chaos and sought for his place in it.
Appearance	A shadow slinks by, the only light hitting his form that of the ethereal gray lavender that emanates from the orbs decorating his body. What should be white accents are a darker shade of slate, intensifying his comouflage with the dark. The only splash of color are the lavender eyes that watch with caution. A little roughed up, some scarring underneath the fur. His face is usually set in a sort of amused nature, taking in the world with a calm mind. He walks with confidence, tail usually high, ears perked. He is alert enough, but usually calm. Blood red fur adornes him, cloaking him in the color he is so used to viewing. His horns are large and intimidating, adding to his impressive image.
Personality	Anton is not one for direct confrontation. As he's lived most of his life in the shadow of another, any hostility was always met with a swift repercussion. Therefore, he's had to resort -and now prefers- more passive aggressive methods for exacting revenge. This also means he is more likely to back down in a verbal confrontation, though is probably not going to let anything roll off his back. He is vengeful, holding onto grudges and any mark against him for an impossibly long time. There is little one can do to redeem themselves in his eyes, as he believes he's seen the true colors of that person with their faults. Even after exacting what may seem the "eye for an eye" route, the grudge may still linger. With his brother always above him, he's not used to people caring for him, nor paying him any attention. He does not truly value his life; only the instinct of self-preservation keeps him going. This also produces a sort of inferiority complex; he feels the need to prove his worth, to prove himself better than the others around him. While this doesn't necessarily cause him to make rash decisions -as his cowardice keeps him in place- but any failures fester in his mind like a poison, slowly driving him mad. Above all, however, the most crucial point of his personality that all others feed off of is the terrible jealousy he feels toward his brother and any others that consider themselves happy and successful. It drives him, it hinders him, it haunts him, it goads him on. It will always be a part of him, and even though the better parts of him fight that darkness, every day, he is more and more willing to accept it. One thing, though, that keeps him from the abyss of becoming the demon expected of his species, is the fragile yet undying hope and longing of being accepted. He has never had friends, never had a loving family, nor caring trainers. He has only known negligence and indifference, and yearns more than anything to taste acceptance. Calm, open-minded and level-headed, Logan takes in the world as he sees it. There is a solution to every problem, you may just not like it. He believes in no higher power, that all sentient beings make their own life, their own path, their own destiny. He grabbed his and went through a terrible journey, and believes that he is all the better for it. While not exactly grateful to his torturers, he is glad that he is where he is, since he is now prepared for real fights. Because of what he's been through, slackers and laggers are not viewed in a good light. People who complain are simply looking for handouts, and he is not one for pity. If you can't stand the heat, then roll over and die. Not a fan of drama. He has fought for just about everything in his life, and so is a bit reluctant to give it away. While not whole-heartedly hostile, he is on the stingy side, reserving anything for himself and himself alone. Should there be someone he cares for, however, he's likely to share with them. Anyone else can put forth the effort to go and get whatever it is that they want themselves. When angry, he's been known to get snappy and a little violent. Unfortunately, his life of battle and war has left him with little patience outside of waiting for prey to make a mistake, and so, the poor recipient of his anger will likely not fare well. While he means to not maim or permanently injure anyone -since he's away from that life now- a show of dominance is acceptable, sometimes even needed to get his point across. Highly intelligent. While not able to read or speak human, he can understand it. He is also a great strategist from his years of fighting and battling. He can sneak, but finds it much more difficult in his giant form than when he was a pup, and now prefers to ride into battle with gun drawn and cocked. Because of his prowess in the battlefield, he has become somewhat vain, prideful and cocky. He knows he can accomplish just about anything his body is capable of, and that would entail a lot in his mind. There's not a lot that can take him down, and therefore, because of this mentality, he is prone to taking some unecessary risks, underestimating foes or overlooking details. Thankfully, he's intelligent enough to know when too much is too much, but his pride might get him into trouble some day.
User Notes	-Original Profile is here -Original Profile is here.