| Uboa | |
|---|---|
| Text Color | bold |
| Item | A cartoonish white mask in disrepair. |
| Gender | Genetically Male; Does not identify as any gender |
| Age | Adult |
| Species | #089, Muk the Sludge Pokémon |
| Height | 3'11"/1.2 m |
| Weight | 66.1 lbs./30.0 kg |
| Pokédex Entry | "It is usually undetectable because it blends in with the ground. Touching it can cause terrible poisoning." (FireRed) |
| Level | 38 |
| Ability | ABILITY: Sticky Hold Protects the Pokémon from item theft. |
| Nature | Careful (+SPDef,-Sp.Atk) |
| Characteristic | Capable of taking hits (Def IVs) |
| Moves | -Mimic (Mutation) -Screech (Level) -Disable (Level) -Minimize (Level) |
| History | I find my existence to be ironic. I, am one who adores life, dreams of the rolling green fields of Johto, and become speechless at the sight of a red and orange painted sunset casting a warm glow over the delicate flowers of spring. My body is made entirely of the waste that pollutes such beautiful landscapes, and I spread that filth with whatever comes in contact with me. I could never bring myself to wish to live in anything other than pristine nature, but like all things in life, I made sacrifices. Dwelling in the port town of Celadon, I sated my want for beauty with the synthetic stars of human festivities, watching freight ships dance across the seas to the swirling light of an Ampharos' beacon. But like all things in life, this came to an end. I was captured by a human, one who rode on one of those machines that spewed out the filth that I birthed from. He pitted me against my ilk, though they were of a different hue than mine, and I remember he bragged about my coloration incessantly but I was less proud. I hated it, harming my fellow living beings for nothing more than sport, so I feigned weakness, always striking with the least amount of effort possible and convinced my captor of my ineptitude. Still, he saw some value in me and did not cast me aside so readily, and instead put emphasis on my other attributes, temporary status afflictions that caused no pain. I eventually submitted myself to this, thinking that I could bear it if I didn't have to watch the aftermath. Eventually fed up with me, my captor took my to a city by the name of something I can't recall, I was taken to a house, one of the rare times I was allowed to visit a human construction other than a Center. There was another human there, a young girl, possibly a relative of my captor. Thankfully, cruelty didn't seem to run in their bloodline and she was very kind in her interactions with me, and we played outside on their concrete patio. Mostly it was games where we pretended to be elsewhere, building narratives and traversed dark caves and burning mountains. These were based off of the books she liked to read, and sometimes when she felt ill she read me chapters from them. Eventually I even was able to mimick the prose I heard, though in broken and stuttering syllables, mostly it was the concepts that the script taught me were what was important. The emotion that she radiated as she described gallant princes on white rapidash that fought off endless hordes, of massive dragons that slumbered deep in the depths of the earth in their sty of golden treasures and jewels beyond measure. As much as she dreamed of these things, the girl knew that she'd never get to see them, kings and emperors were outdated and extinct, and even if they weren't, her legs were lame and she wouldn't have the strength to find them. As I grew to love that child, so did my pain at watching her hopes wither as the days went by. Her parents were gone, having vanished years ago with the excuse of evading creditors, I'd hope to never know someone so petty-Back to the story. We lived in the house of her grandfather, more of a shack but it had running water and electricity occasionally. I wasn't allowed inside, but those were the only barriers placed upon me, if anything the tired old man encouraged me to stick with her as her protector. My stench kept most pests away, and besides she wasn't one to wander far. A neighbor across the street kept flowers in their windowsill, the land was too polluted to grow such delicate blossoms so they were potted and pampered within their dwelling. Poniko loved those flowers, but the angry woman was a hermit and kept her doors barred, so one could only admire them from afar. I was young and awestruck by the kindness she consistently gave me that it was my dearest with to make her dreams come true, and resolved myself to it. I conspired to sneak into the woman's house and bring back the plant as a present, but this idea was quickly cast aside, my hands are too foul to handle such things without damage. So my next thought was to bring her a picture, like illustrations in her books. But I am no artist and had no concept of a camera, and so I spent hours planning schemes more complex than the last, when the answer came to me from my own reflection. I stared, and grew to notice just how fluid my body was, constantly shifting and flowing while maintaining the same general shape; but then, what if I stayed still? At first I just solidified whatever form that part of my mass had previously, and after mastering it I moved onto imitation. That, took many hours of practicing, but determination brought forth fruit. I could not form anything of consequence without a reference, so I slithered up as close as I could to the widow when the hag was gone, I stared so long I burned the image into my mind. Six blue overlapping petals, sprinkled with purple freckles. Needless to say my own version wasn't a perfect duplicate, but after enough revision the only difference was the color. With that, I turned and bolted for the house, not knowing how long I could maintain it and skittered inside, holding up my accomplishment for all to see. Poniko was not the only one who saw, and as fate would have it, there was my abuser, and took me back into his possession for more 'training.' I wasn't taken out much after that, my disobedience being firm enough that I was only ever taken out for meals, exercise, and showing off. This routine was broken of course. He threw me out before a Raticate, and my opponent being faster than me leapt forwards and bit into my mass ineffectually and I was withdrawn. After using what abilities I allowed myself to, eventually his other slaves were defeated by the tenacious rodent and I was sent back out to face it. To my confusion, the human's cursing ceased soon after, and his lip curled into a smirk and ordered me to use my newly learned skill. With some hesitation I obeyed, and my jaw split open with teeth erupting from my maw, and the human with that damned smile, ordered me to turn those gnarled implements on my opponent. Instead, I dug my fangs into his leg, and pushed him into the drink. Violence in this case was necessary, and while the others were distracted I took my leave and fled into the ocean. There were few that welcomed my presence, but in time I came to meet a scant few who I can call friend, but never have I seen Poniko again. And I probably never will. The infection struck quickly, destroying a growing number of lives while the humans fled, in vain as their freighters once filled with fruits were destroyed, if not by the wrath of the ocean itself but by rampaging Gyrados, their blood lust knowing no end. It consumed all in the waters around me, but I did not fall to the infection. My own corruption must have been too potent for the disease to overcome. Company now is more rare than it ever has been, and in the silence whispers have grown. So now I seek those who still breathe, lest I go mad in my loneliness. |
| Appearance | "Muk is a large, sticky, amorphous Pokémon, made of living purple sludge. It has two small eyes with beady black pupils. It also has an enormous mouth with a grey tongue and strands of ooze connecting its top and bottom jaws. While it has no visible legs, it does have two arms with three fingers on each hand. However, it typically keeps one hand tucked in while it extends the other hand." This pile of slime is midnight blue in color, with purplish undertones and a semi reflective surface, akin to that of oil. For the most part it does not form limbs unless it is mimicking another pokemon's move, then forming the appropriate structures in order to use the attack, such as claws, vines, exc. Such structures easily fall apart after enough use, and then the Muk must recover before mimicking again. The mask he wears is made of a cheap plastic, and has started to degrade over years of use. Made to resemble an Emolga, Uboa refuses to ever take it off, considering the cracked mask to be far more appealing than his own face. If one were to somehow see beneath the mask, two wide, white eyes would stare back. |
| Personality | Quiet and purposeful, that is what would best describe the Muk. Unusually aware of the intricacies of life he holds it to be beautiful, wanting to protect it at all cost. He is aware of how ugly he is, and aware of how quickly the beauty of life is leaving the world he lives in. This creature holds a massive amount of self contempt, for failing to meet his own aspirations on multiple occasions, but still has hope. Very much an idealist, he believes that so long that someone is still alive, then they have not failed. Life in and of itself is a miracle. As to be expected he is very compassionate for his fellow living beings, but has difficulties expressing his emotions and this frustrates him to no end. His temper, while hard to incite is very intense, as a habit bottling his anger until it erupts. Beneath his composure, he is almost always agitated, the consistent abuse in his youth fostering fear of others, but is inexorably drawn to company out of his fear of isolation. |
| User Notes | -Remaking profile with permission from Suicune. -Originally a Ditto, but now reworking him to suit this creatures' biology and whatnot. -Uboa is definitely a mutant due to his body composition, having been formed in the heart of an oil spill. These differences made him predisposed to be able to develop traits that are unusual, and learning mimic is one of those expressed traits. -By and large Uboa is more skilled at mimicking physical attacks rather than psychic ones, and due to his difficulty focusing he can only perform them sloppily, if even at all. The exception are moves like Dark Pulse, which he can simply funnel his raw emotion into in order to attack. -Based off of Uboa from Yume Nikki. |
Last edited by Moon Moon on Wed Jun 08, 2016 12:18 am; edited 1 time in total
