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| Uboa | |
|---|---|
| Text Color | bold |
| Item | A cartoonish white mask, and a cracked emolga mask. |
| 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 neck, ripping it out and then pushed him into the drink. I let my temper get the best of me and I committed a horrific atrocity, but at the very least it proved to be convenient. 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 rarer now 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. Still, for practicality's sake he's picked up a second mask which is made of a more durable material, even if it is somewhat creepy. 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. |
| Friendly (Known formerly as Magnus.) | |
|---|---|
| Item | N/A |
| Gender | Male |
| Age | Adult |
| Species | #160 Feraligatr, the Big Jaw Pokemon |
| Height | 8'04" |
| Weight | 212.3lbs. |
| Pokédex Entry | Feraligatr intimidates its foes by opening its huge mouth. In battle, it will kick the ground hard with its thick and powerful hind legs to charge at the foe at an incredible speed. |
| Level | 54 |
| Ability | Torrent |
| Nature | Gentle |
| Characteristic | Quick Tempered |
| Moves | - Aqua Jet [Bred] - Crunch [lvl] - Screech [lvl] - Slash [lvl] |
| History | He couldn't remember much, could never remember much, even while he still drew breath, But what he did care to remember was this. He lived together with his friends, his child, and his Darling. Beloved Darling. He loved them all, spending his days playing and caring for them, protecting them from any and all threats to their little village. His methods of doing so upset his Darling though, she tried to keep quiet about it but, he knew and was saddened by it, but persisted because he of course had to protect all of them. She, tried to leave one day though, they all did, taking his child with them as they tried to sneak away in the night. The world outside was dead and sick, dark and twisted and frightening. He stopped them from going but, they pleaded and pleaded for him to let them go, they missed the sun, the fresh air and the flowers. But that was gone, tainted by the impurities of the world. Even still, he hated to see them unhappy, so he left to make the world better for his loved ones, trying to rid it of one flaw at a time. When he came back though, they were gone. The reality had somewhat of a darker twist to it. He had no Darling, nor a child, not at that time. The three of them had lived together in a strained relationship, both being trainer pokemon that had run off and become feral due to being under ownership of a cruel person. He was paranoid and frightened of the infection so had them all sealed off in a cave, keeping his family trapped inside while he left occasionally to gather food and patrol their alcove. The mother, not willing to tolerate living under constant threat from her unstable mate tried to leave with their child in the night, and he found them. Overcome with rage, in his wrath he struck the wall, loosening a pile of rocks causing a cave-in, crushing the both of them. The mother was killed instantly, but the child that she shielded with her body had not. When he had lifted away the rocks, desperate to try and save his spawn he found that half of his child's body had been crushed by rocks, still alive, but he was bleeding out. Staring at the corpse of his beloved mate, and the soon dead child he was desperate to try and help them, to save them, outraged that he could not. Crying and screaming midst his child's pleas for help, he broke down going silent, clinging to his child while they writhed in agony. H-Help. It...Hurts. Please! Clutching their broken body to his chest, he wracked his grief stricken mind while trying to think of something, anything he could do to save his child, but he could think of nothing. Nothing to save their life, but he could relieve their suffering. Sobbing hysterically he hugged his child for a final time, tightly, so tight as to crush their fragile spine, letting out a scream as he heard the sickening crack as his child's gurgling cries go silent. Letting out a mournful wail, it drew the infected to their home, drawn by the scent of blood and the noise. Snarling, he tried to defend their bodies just as ferociously as he did when they were alive, but there simply were too many opponents to hold them off. He escaped just barely, a few cuts and scratches but fine on the whole, but only physically. Dragging his broken body into the water, he let himself bleed out slowly, agitating the wounds whenever they stopped bleeding, staring silent at the sky for death to take him, and eventually it did. When he awoke, he realized his situation, and simply broke him, it was the final nail in the coffin of his grasp on reality. It hurt, it all hurt too much, so, he forgot, The infection aiding in this considerably. His Darling is still alive, and so are his friends and child. The world is dangerous yes, but it has always been so, so he has to find them. He'd do anything to protect his precious friends, and he's sure that they're going to live out their days together and happy, just like before. He just has to find them. |
| Appearance | Most certainly undead, it would be difficult for anyone to judge this reptile as anything other than an infected, covered in blood and gore, his scales are in varying states of decay and mottled with purple blotches, bruises and symptoms of the infection. His gums most notably are degraded and rotting, black and violet with several yellowed teeth exposed and broken. Though they are still sharp enough to be useful in piercing flesh and bone alike. The crest on his head has also sustained some damage. His eyes are blackened from blood, though still function enough to be used to full effect in hunting down prey, and glow an ominous red. The cut on the left side of his back is still deep, and still bleeds as it did when he was alive. |
| Personality | Due to mental degradation from the infection 'Friendly's' mental capacities have been reduced to the point akin to that of a child's, rash and dead set in judgement of others. You are either good or bad, which in his mind relates to friends and family versus strangers, those he does not recognize as having ties with. Since he does not remember the specifics of who his friends and family are, he applies these statuses on individuals seemingly at random, forming close familial bonds extremely quickly. He is fiercely protective of those he cares for, never hesitating on killing another to protect and serve his family with everything he has to offer. Even with this large amount of bravery and or paternal instinct, he can be very easily frightened at the thought of losing someone he cares about, and of the unknown, losing sight of one of his friends instantly terrifying him. Very affectionate, when not in an agitated state he lays around on his back and attempts to play with those he's attached to, and insists on sleeping cuddled up with them. Even with his vast capacity for emotion, there are times that he goes numb and behaves much like a common infected, these during his numerous hunting trips and territorial patrols. Even when not suffering from these instances of mindlessness, The Feraligatr retains a peculiarly unsettling blood lust for those that offend him from when he was alive, this only being amplified with his loss of inhibitions since his death. If he loves you that's all well and good, but the instant that you become his enemy, then he casts away any disguises of decency and will hunger for your demise. That is unless he forgets about your existence entirely, which is an equally possible outcome. |
| User Notes | -Has been infected/undead for roughly one month -Father was an Empoleon, which he gained Aqua Jet from. |
Last edited by Moon Moon on Thu Jan 11, 2018 11:53 pm; edited 13 times in total
