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With the cooling season of Autumn, Ice-types are starting to re-emerge from their hibernation as Ghost-, Normal-, and Flying-types swarm in the largest numbers they will all year. In comparison, wild Fire- and Bug-type populations are falling in number. The migration of Flying-types to the south in search of warmer weather has also started, as Istin City starts to re-freeze and Autumn marks the beginning of Cypwater Point's rainy season. Handlers and Rogues alike should be wary: Ghost-type powers are boosted during this season, at the cost of being more prone to their triggers.

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 Branson Faust, Rosalie || Lord Archer
Ice Cold Glalie
 Posted: Jul 2 2013, 07:02 AM
| Quote |


Expert Handler
******
Background Admins/Head Mods
Total Posts: 827
Member No. 5
Joined on 22-May 11.


Characters:
Lyra Sparrow | Gregory Beauchamp

Awards: None


Character: Branson Faust
Branson's Image & Original Image for credit
user posted image

Full Name: Branson Lewis Faust
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual

Class: Guardian
Starting City: Harper's Pass
Patron or Trick Lord: Lord Patrick Archer
Merits/Credits/Notches: Lv.02 [ 2.8 / 5 ]
Condition: Fine

Overall Appearance:
    Branson's name, were you to ask about him in the small farming community offshoot of the Pass where he and his family have lived for generations, would bring comments like "The likely lad's usually out in the fields with his parents or off hunting. What can I do you for?" and "Aye, I know him. He's Old Man Faust's youngest. Strapping young boy, but no head for the farming life -- you can just see it in his eyes. He helps out as much as anyone and more than many, though. He's a good boy. Now... can I interest you in a pint, or what?" In short, he is an attractive, solidly built, and otherwise unremarkable farmer's son. In his community, he's something of a fixture, having grown up from an infant in the laps of many and chasing around the ankles of every shopkeep on their one main path and as he became old enough, shared drinks with them at the harvest in their home-grown tavern.

    Possessed of light brown hair that bleaches sandy in the summer sun and wide child-like eyes beneath a man's brow, he has been described as having a baby face, in spite of a strong jaw with some scruff and his muscular physique. Branson can almost always be described as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and quick with a smile and a friendly word or handshake like the rest of his family. He carries himself with the pride of a self-reliant man, and is always careful to keep his work clothes and his other clothes separate. If you have two sets, why ruin both? His farming attire is threadbare and patched to oblivion and back so that it's debatable whether any of the original cloth remains or not, particularly around the knees. Hailing from a family of vegetable-growers whose only pokemon were strays who came for a night or two or temporary farm pokemon while another farm had its barn rebuilt, all of the work in their modest field fell to Farmer Faust's three sons, Jeremiah, Celwin, and Branson, as he aged. Jeremiah is built like a barn where Celwin is lanky and quick, leaving Branson to balance the pair by being of average height and adequate strength. On the other hand, young Branson inherited much of his facial features from their mother, and it's always been a joke between the boys that when their younger brother was about, they'd better mind their business or their mother would know -- after all, he wore her doe eyes, right down to the chocolate brown irises.

    He, of course, bears the scars of farm work -- a line here and there on his back from being caught a few years ago under a collapsing tower of sturdy baskets filled with broccoli, cabbage heads, and to an extent his mother's very favourite crop, calendula. What a sight he had been, the pretty edible flowers framing his face and adding insult to injury when he cried for help from his brothers. He's never shouldered anything more deadly than a hoe, and as yet has seen armor only on passing travelers, one or two of the other farmers in his community on the rare occasion that a pokemon with horns spooked and broke the fencing (typically ending up in their vegetable patch by some rotten luck), or when a Guardian passed through off on an errand. Whenever the latter happened, Branson had always rushed outside to watch them pass and wave. Sometimes they were on foot, wearing their shiny scales like a second skin; sometimes they rode on the back of a proud-looking pokemon; sometimes, he could tell, they were new and still learning the ropes -- those ones had a partner with them, and often shifted uncomfortably under the armor or squabbled with or admired their new pokemon partner. On those days, no matter how young he was, his eyes would light up like a child in a sweets shop. It has always been clear, though he's never voiced it, that what he really wanted was to become like them -- a Guardian, in full regalia, making a name for himself that didn't involve growing the best radishes out of their little community.
Distinguishing Features:
  • Youthful face
Overall Personality:
    Branson Faust is a farmer's lad through and through, even if he's not set for the farming life himself. From his appearance right down to his broad and plain manner of speaking with careful and honest respect rather than polished manners and a disposition suited to hard work with a will. He's a determined sort that gets the job -- any job he starts -- done both correctly and efficiently, and he will not give up until the situation is futile. Determined, but not foolish. Branson well knows that there is always a time for retreat and a time for pushing your luck, like the profitable gamble of planting a crop a week or two before the certainty of no late frosts versus the folly of pouring energy and time into trying to force an autumn field planted late to come to harvest. Were he a money minded sort, it would be best summarized by the old adage about not throwing good money after bad. Of course, there's a certain judgmentalness required by that sort of thinking that leads to both a thoughtful, decisive, and sometimes stubborn mind and a tendency towards a close-minded perspective once he's set up his interests in a particular direction. He's unlikely to go back on his word or his decisions, and is unshakably loyal to those he places his trust in by the same token.

    To any who meet him, however, this mulishness is typically not apparent and remains that way until he ends up in a situation that calls for a more serious tone -- haggling, working in a group, fixing a broken plow or some other equipment, defending his own. He presents as a likeable lad, charming in a careless way by virtue of his honesty, quick, down to earth, reliable ... and out of place. A farmer's lad he might be, but he's set his sights much, much higher than his home community offers: the ranks of the Guards. True to his nature, he made up his mind as a child to enter into the Lord's service, and what he's done since has amounted largely to biding his time. He has potential in any number of venues, from a salesman to a farmer (like his father) to a blacksmith, with his broad shouldered physique, but he's already settled on Guardianship, and for him that's a process that can't and won't be stopped, much like a pokemon evolution started by a stone.

    He is an unimaginative young man, and of only adequate intelligence with a basic mastery of the written word at the insistence of his mother and an understanding of maths beaten into him by his father. Because of this, he spares no thought for whether or not something is possible or achievable, only for deciding he'd like to do it. Where an imaginative boy might consider something too-wild-to-be-reasonable and then immediately come upon a multitude of ways in which it could fail and thus pass it up, Branson would consider the same thing with equal potential to a much more realistic course of action and charge headlong into it. In many ways this is a hindrance -- many a lesson was learned only the hard way, and many times he would finish last at a project simply because he would not work around an obstacle rather than plow through it -- but it is one of the fundamentals that give him such strength of character.

    In terms of aggression, Branson is neither violent nor a pacifist. He won't go looking for fights, except perhaps to train or for practice, but if challenged he has no fear in facing an opponent for he does not indulge in imaginings of what horrible injury he might acquire and acts solely in the moment. He's the first to admit that he generally isn't skilled with a weapon, but a few years of practicing in spare time against terribly powerful (imaginary) enemies like trees and hay bales has at least given him some degree of comfort with a weapon in hand. He has led a peaceful life so far, of course, and has little to no real experience with a fight beyond the occasional bar brawl or wrestling a panicked farm pokemon into a barn or to his father for medicines.
History:
    Branson Lewis Faust has lived a wholly unremarkable life in his own small village a half-day's ride south of the bustling city of the Pass, where the soil is less rocky and the snow perhaps not quite so deep. Mostly, there's more room, a requirement for farming. Like any number of other small villages throughout the region that are technically a part of but removed from the main city, the majority of their crops were moved by merchants, bought at the small town and sold in the city at inflated prices. Most people in their settlement had two fields; one for family, and one for profit. And so they lived a quiet life. Branson came into the world in their bath basin by the fire, squalling and red, in early spring (though it might have been late winter) with his father looking on with his two older brothers, then still very young and excitable. It was a hard pregnancy, and would be his mother's last before she grew barren at an unusually young age, but not once had he heard either parent complain. They had a small holding, and two or three sons was enough.

    The three boys grew up in the typical way -- fighting and tussling and working and defending with each other, developing the tight family bond that defied any small scandal that their village could produce. They plowed the farm and planted each spring, cared for the fields each summer, and devoted long hours each autumn to the harvest, saving and storing for the winter. Branson had never spared a moment's thought to what he'd like to be or do with his life (the village was all he knew) until his seventh year. He was hoeing the family field, preparing it to plant some squash and beans with his mother, when he first heard the hoofbeats. His mother had looked up, her greying blonde wisps of curls tugged free from her head scarf by the wind. He remembered it so perfectly. He had dragged his hoe with him to his mother's side and reached for the calloused hand that was not occupied with a basket of seed and young plants. He stumbled twice, pulling her curiously to their fence at the edge of the fields, too shy to go without her and too curious to not go at all. Out of the morning sun rode a shining, silver man on a pokemon with a firey mane.

    The beads of sweat that had already formed on his mother's brow despite the coolness of the morning shone in the flickering light of the rapidash. He felt the heat waves on his face and stared at the strange metal man on the regal mount in awe. He had never seen a rapidash before, only tauros and miltank kept by the villagers, and none so finely trained... nor so clever. This was no beast of burden. This was not livestock. Its dark red eyes, wild and strange, scared him but he did not pull away or hide. The steed slowed, and the silver-clad Guardian turned his head to them and nodded inscrutably. To Branson, it was as though in that moment, he had seen his destiny. He pulled on his mother's arm, moving forward as the hoe fell to the churned earth with a puff of dirt and a dull thunk, but she held him back. It was not their place to interfere with knights; this man was clearly of rank for he wore plate armor, and wore it well. Behind the first followed a second, on a black and white pokemon with a jagged mane and tail, its every movement tense with refined power and strength. This was the pokemon that enchanted him, the zebstrika who hummed with so much life that the very air crackled and his hair stood on end, who lowered his head and shocked little Branson to the dismay and fear of his mother and his surprise. It was not much more than a static charge, but Branson was stunned by the power, and the peculiar mixture of amusement and impatience in the zebstrika's eye. The electric type rode up beside the firehorse and nudged her, their riders, both men, grinning and sharing words that Branson could not hear.

    His mother pulled him back, away from the Guards, fearful. She knew the world better, that not all Guardians were kind, but there was nothing to fear. Both men circled back for a moment, and offered to his mother for a show for her boy, a quick race down the road as they passed through on their way to the Pass. Branson begged and pleaded so passionately that his mother's resistance wore away to reluctant acceptance, and Branson watched wide-eyed as each pokemon reared in turn, flashing thunder and flames, before bolting down their dirty cart road, summoning a storm of earth to the air. Their motion was pure poetry to the boy, the way man and pokemon cooperated, the cleverness in each of their eyes, and their confident ease.

    He would be a Guardian.

    From that day on, he began his "training," attacking trees and rocks and hay bales and anything else he could with whatever was closest to hand, usually a hoe or sickle. For weeks, he begged his mother or his father or his older brothers to tell him stories of valiant knights, about the Guardians, and how he could be one someday. For a time, they humored him, but eventually their patience wore thin. His mother gently tried to dissuade him, all too aware of their humble origins, while his father scolded him outright and told him to stop his drivel and put his back into the farm work. His brothers began to mock him. He learned to be quiet about it and pretend to let it go to get his peace. Years passed this way, and he grew up sneaking off in the evenings to practice with the smith (who was the only one in their village who knew anything of weapons, although he was primarily a farrier and tool-maker), or to the woods. He invented a fictional girl friend after hearing a bard's tale where someone had done the same, and told his brothers he was seeing when questioned. Being similarly minded to him, they didn't feel the need to ask nor to spy. He was the youngest after all, and they had more responsibilities to look after (and other girls to chase). Halfway through his seventeenth year, his father sat him down at their rough kitchen table and told him it was time he learned a trade at last, and made suggestions. Celwin would follow him into the farm, but he would split the inheritance if Branson wished the same. Jeremiah was already learning the smithing trade, for the smith had no son.

    Branson drew himself and his courage, and told his father that he would not be a smith, nor a farmer, nor a tanner or tailor or hunter or wine-maker or anything so mundane. He would become a Guard, and he would pledge himself to the Lord. He wanted to be a hero, like the stories, although he didn't dare to voice something so foolish. His father was quiet for a long time, and then asked if he were certain. Branson affirmed it, and his father took a long draught of his fruit wine, made from their last summer's harvest. He said nothing, but nodded to his boy and warned him that the path he wanted was not one often for a farmer's boy, and that part of the farm could still be his if he changed his mind. The next morning, his mother exclaimed in dismay when her husband gave him a pouch of coins to save and an assortment of dusty supplies he had gathered from the town or saved over the years. He welcomed his son to take from their berry trees whatever he thought he might need, and gave his blessing. She fluttered around like an upset mothim, concerned and unhappy that her baby boy would be leaving in a year's time, much less on such a dangerous and uncertain path. Much less without a pokemon to call his own. His brothers didn't know how to react, never having dreamed outside of their village, and so sat in silence, before hesitantly nodding and gruffly threatening that he'd better make them proud in a brotherly sort of way.

    One year later, he said his goodbyes and joined the summer merchants' wagon caravan up and into the Pass to find Lord Archer unannounced.
________________________________________________________________________________________

The Player:
Name: Rosalie/Rosa/Rosy/Anne -- I'm not terribly picky. http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/emoticons/13.png Y'all know me by now.
Age: 20
Time Zone: -5 EST
How did you find us? Magic.

________________________________________________________________________________________

Items Bag:

Money: 10 Gold
Weapon(s): Halberd
Armour: Standard Armor, Shield
Items:
  • (1) Pokecard
    • Berry Finder function
    • Pokecard Upgrade: Friendliness Check
    • Map Upgrade: Marker
    • Pokeball Upgrade: Dimmer
  • (1) Dagger
  • (3) Potions
  • (2) Rare Candies
  • (1) White Flute
  • (2) Revives
  • (1) Super Rod
  • (1) Razor Fang
  • (5) Heal Balls
  • (1) Dragon-type Incense
  • (1) Black Flute
  • (1) Yellow Flute
  • (1) Blue Flute
  • (1) Red Flute
  • (2) Free Healing coupons
  • (1) Safety Goggles
  • (1) Power Bracer
  • (1) Zoom Lens
  • (1) waiver for one year's membership for Harper's Passion Guild
  • (1) Fightinium Z
  • (1) Icium Z
http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/berrybag.png Berries:
  • (1) Lum
  • (1) Sitrus
  • (1) Chilan
  • (1) Cheri
  • (1) Oran berry
  • (1) Kasib Berry
  • (2) Babiri Berry
  • (1) Yache Berry
  • (1) Zoom Lens
http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/tmcase.png TM & HMs:
  • Sunny Day
  • Strength
  • Hyper Beam
  • Thunder
Mission: (if applicable)

--------------------

Lyra Sparrow
<Profile> <Travels>

user posted image user posted image user posted image


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Ice Cold Glalie
 Posted: Jul 2 2013, 07:23 AM
| Quote |


Expert Handler
******
Background Admins/Head Mods
Total Posts: 827
Member No. 5
Joined on 22-May 11.


Characters:
Lyra Sparrow | Gregory Beauchamp

Awards: None


Party pokémon

http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/133eevee.png http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/e335251.gif
The Duke

Lv. 09 Exp: 0/4
Friendliness: {||||||||||}
Original Handler: Branson Faust ( Rosalie )
Held Item: ---
Health & Condition: Burned
Abilities:
Adaptability: Increases the Same Type Attack Bonus from *1.5 to *2.
Anticipation: Warns when the foe knows 1-hit KO or super-effective moves.
Moves: [ primary / secondary ]
Tail Whip, Tackle, Helping Hand, Baby-Doll Eyes, Endure [Egg], Fake Tears [Egg] Hidden Power (Electric, Strong), Protect, Frustration, Return, Double Team, Facade, Attract, Round, Echoed Voice, Retaliate, Work Up, Swagger, Substitute, Secret Power, Captivate, Sleep Talk, Natural Gift
Notes:
Starter Pokemon

http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/585.png http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/e335252.gif
Chevalier

Lv. 10 Exp: 0/4
Friendliness: {||||||||||}
Original Handler: Ereck Lightspear ( NPC )
Held Item: ---
Health & Condition: Fine
Abilities:
Chlorophyll: Speed doubles during strong sunlight.
Serene Grace: Raises the chances of a move having secondary effect.
Moves: [ primary / secondary ]
Tackle, Camouflage, Growl, Sand-Attack, Double Kick, Synthesis [Egg], Odor Sleuth [Egg], Solar Beam, Energy Ball, Grass Knot, Sunny Day [TM]
Notes:
Given to Branson to keep when its owner is found dead.
Bred to be mount by the Guard. Physically stronger and larger than the average deerling.

http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/eggsprite.png http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/e335252.gif / http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/e335251.gif
Egg

Lv. 01 Exp: 0/4
Friendliness: {||||||||||}
Original Handler: --- ( --- )
Held Item: ---
Health & Condition: ---
Abilities: ---
Moves: [ primary / secondary ]
---
Notes:
Hatched from an Egg



_________________________________________________________________________________________

Stored pokémon

http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/517.png http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/e335252.gif
Butler

Lv. 05 Exp: 0/4
Friendliness: {||||||||||}
Original Handler: Samantha Mudge ( Slondermins )
Held Item: ---
Health & Condition: Fine
Abilities:
Forewarn: Reveals the foe’s strongest move.
Telepathy: Prevents damage from team-mates during Double and Triple battles
Moves: [ primary / secondary ]
Psywave, Defense Curl, Lucky Chant, Barrier [Egg], Swift [Egg], Psyshock, Calm Mind, Light Screen, Telekinesis, Psychic, Reflect, Rest, Dream Eater, Trick Room
Notes:
Won in Grand Festival 2013. Note; not to be officially introduced until much later. Leave the level and all the same even if Branson level up. Has problems with anxiety.

http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/360wynaut.png http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/e335251.gif
Maybe

Lv. 03 Exp: 0/4
Friendliness: {||||||||||}
Original Handler: Vaughn Legault ( SeleneHime )
Held Item: ---
Health & Condition: Fine
Abilities:
Shadow Tag: The opponent cannot run nor switch while this Pokémon is in play. The opponent may still switch by using Baton Pass.
Telepathy: Prevents damage from team-mates during Double and Triple battles
Moves: [ primary / secondary ]
Splash, Charm, Encore
Notes:
Winter Holiday Promos. Received in a trade.
Traded again from Matthew Newgrange.

:spritehere: http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/e335252.gif / http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/e335251.gif
Species or Name

Lv. ## Exp: 0/4
Friendliness: {||||||||||}
Original Handler: --- ( --- )
Held Item: ---
Health & Condition: ---
Abilities: ---
Moves: [ primary / secondary ]
---
Notes:
---

--------------------

Lyra Sparrow
<Profile> <Travels>

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