|Welcome to Harper Region
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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Little White Owl, Desoto | Handler
Peace and safety, friend.
Background Admins/Head Mods
Total Posts: 2105
Member No. 456
Joined on 22-July 12.
Carmen Caldwell, Lahi Sharandi, Gilen Bassett
| Character: Little White Owl
'Little White Owl’ (White Owl, or simply Owl also suffice, as well as Little White, or Little Owl, though these haven't been used so commonly before.)Age:
Specific age unknown, somewhere in late teensGender:
Handler Harper's Passion member as of 6/16/17Starting City:
MarchtonPatron or Trick Lord:
Little White Owl is the sort of person who is built to get lost in a crowd. Rather on the shorter side of the spectrum, standing at only 5’5, and possessing a narrow frame, he does not have much muscle on him, and carries even less fat. He is quick, light on his feet, and is built for flight over fight. Despite this, he is lean, wiry and is capable of holding his own, though he will never possess a warrior’s physique. When one can fight with the ferocity of a wildcat, it matters little how short or slim he is.Distinguishing Features:
Feature wise, he still looks young, but those who know him claim that this is more to do with his spirit than age, or anything else. His gray eyes are clear windows to his soul, and his face displays every emotion that he feels. Owl is a naturally expressive individual, and if he could talk, he’d make a terrible liar. His resting expression holds noticeable traces of sass and cheek – just because he is silent doesn’t mean he has no opinions, or sense of humour! He very much wears his heart on his sleeve, and it is very easy to read him. White Owl tends to stare for longer than may be polite, and he does this because he searches for answers in the eyes of those he meets, due to the fact he is unable to frame questions.
White Owl is not unpleasant to look at himself, with smooth, pale skin, dark eyebrows (which de la Roche claims have a mind of their own, given how 'unruly and independent' they can be), a well-defined jawline, a straight nose and rounded chin, not to mention a scruffy haircut that is almost endearing. Rarely one can catch a glimpse of a small scar on his left temple, the only physical reminder of the day he lost his voice. That he gets frustrated easily has been a source of amusement to some, though he is often quick to lighten up again. When feeling strong emotions, he tends to gesture wildly, but most of the time he is still and observant.
While he dresses simply, he takes pride in his appearance, and always makes sure his clothes are clean and in good repair. He prefers darker, earthy tones, and though he has no armour currently, he’ll look to secure for himself a set made from strong, but supple leather, and will wear this often, treating it with the same care as all of his possessions.
The only two indulgences he allows himself, appearance-wise, are a pendant and an earring. The pendant is invaluable to Owl, as it means so much, and serves as a way to convey his chosen identity. It fits nicely in his palm, and is carved of some kind of bone, forming the likeness of an owl. It is from this that he gets his name, and frequently shows it to others because of this. Regarding the second, with this he is greedy. Again, like his clothes, and to an extent the owl pendant, the feather that is important to him is a plain one, a solid blue-grey with no remarkable patterns. It hangs from a small gold hoop earring in his right earlobe that he’s had for as long as he can remember, secured with a thin leather cord. To reach out to touch this feather is a sure way to prompt White Owl to withdraw and go on the defensive. He doesn’t mind allowing others to admire his bone carved pendant, but the feather is a different story.
- Carved bone pendant - likeness of an owl
- Long, dark blue-grey feather earring in his right ear
- Grey eyes
With a face that is always so alive, Owl has a vibrant personality to match. Though he has no voice, he is quite capable of making himself be heard, or holding the attention of someone when he really wants to express something. It is not uncommon for him to quickly become frustrated when someone misunderstands, though half of this frustration is directed toward himself. White Owl is not hard-hearted though, and he is not one to hold onto things that bring him down, so rarely is he angry or resentful with anyone for long. He also isn’t hesitant to initiate physical contact. While respectful of the concept of personal space, he has found that sometimes it’s easiest to get attention with a tap on the shoulder. In general, he is very respectful of other people’s privacy, and there is no longer any violence in him, nor will he stoop so low again as to take what isn’t his.History:
There is a love for life, and many things in it, which fills him and fuels him, and it is not hard to see this when looking at him. Owl’s is an adventurous spirit, though the loss of his voice has prevented him from going out and seeing the world. Once, he sailed the seas, and though he does not remember that, he delights in the idea of wind in his hair, and sun on his skin. He will quickly find that he is a very outdoorsy person, who loves being close to nature.
During the time he has spent in the Tunnels, he has developed a knowledge and keen interest in plants and the medicinal benefits they can offer. After spending hours listening to Tam, Owl has learnt much, and knows how to clean and dress a variety of wounds and injuries, and draws satisfaction from helping others in this way. He has met a few in his time that think he is dumb because he cannot talk, but you only have to look at him to see that this is not true. On the contrary, he is very bright, and both circumstances and, to a lesser degree, personality have shaped him into a very good listener. He watches and waits, and figures out how to solve problems in his own time.
Despite his silence, he is a quite a social individual, and enjoys being with others. He loves listening to stories, and shares in kind by playing music for others on his pan flute, or the Vielle that he'll not be parted from. Happy as he is with being around people, the time he has spent with his Three Watchers has also instilled within him a contentment that comes from being away from other humans, with just a pokemon (or two, or three) for companionship. He is ever positive, and is happy to give of his time to help others. Despite the company he’s been rubbing shoulders with the last seven years, he remains uncorrupted and unbroken by the dark side of life he has seen, and it has been said by many that he brings a light and warmth with him wherever he goes – a fire that burns within.
Eager as he is to roam across the region, Little White Owl is daunted by the fact that he will be alone, and without any people or pokemon that he knows, or who know him. He worries about how well he will manage when he is confronted with strangers, and to begin with will feel at a loss, not having an interpreter to help aid in communication. Though he is aware of the abilities of full psychic type pokemon, and that the company of one would allow him to more clearly express himself, he cannot forget or forgive what was done to Michel, and is actually afraid of the power they possess. Due to this, he refuses to engage with any full psychics.
While White Owl knows that psychic hybrids can be very powerful themselves, the two he has spent all the years he can remember with have taught him not to judge the whole because of one. Still, he has grown to enjoy their way of communicating, and while verbal telepathic abilities might be more beneficial, he thinks he would grow to resent hearing his own words coming out of another’s mouth, so to speak. Despite the tolerance he has for hybrids, he will still be wary of any pokemon with strong psychic abilities, and it would take him a while to trust such a creature.
Little White Owl is an embodiment of the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’. It may not seem like it, but Owl is always doing something, whether it be listening carefully and finding meaning in tone or phrasing that others may miss, or watching people, and garnering something of their intentions and state-of-being just from their expressions and movements. This is not to say that he always remains in a stasis – he finds pleasure in physical activity, especially practicing with his staff and learning new ways in which to defend himself with it. He will often express himself through his music, and is always thinking – about where he wants to go, and how he might better be able to communicate with others and especially the pokemon companions he’s eager to gain.
In the first few months of his journey, he will tire himself out and fill each day with tasks and activities. Owl is a sensitive soul, and despite his eagerness, after having struck out on his own he will actually really struggle for a time with strong home-sickness as well as be plagued by low self-esteem. He is also worried that by journeying, he may stumble across someone who once knew him, and perhaps even rediscover his family, or the place he came from. While in truth this would be a good thing, the thought of it frightens him, because he knows where his home is, who he is, and where he belongs, and he doesn’t want any of that to change.
Taciturn Adventures in the Tunnels, the Tower and the Temple
de la Roche the Merchant Prince
Tam Ferris the World-weary Healer
Michel the Blind Minstrel
Fosfienes, Rodia & Recherché
GMT +9.30-ishHow did you find us?
I’m nearly part of the furniture, been here so longAnything Else:
How ‘bout I take Tommy and give you this guy instead? Sound good? <3 Um, at some point I might like to transfer Dragostea over to Owl, as per the new rules concerning trading between new and retiring characters, but at the moment, I don’t think Owl would be quite ready for that. Is this okay, if I leave it ‘til later? I also want to transfer one of his items over, but not 100% sure which just yet, so.. <3______________________________________________________________________________Items Bag:Money:
Plain wooden staffArmour:
- (1) Pokecard [+ Berry Tree Locator Function]
- (5) Pokeballs
- (3) Potions
- (1) Rare Candy
- (1) Uxie Charm
- (1) Friend Ball
- (1) early evolution spell scroll
- (1) Electrium
- (2) Fireium
- (2) Sage's Scrolls - Aptitudes TBD
TM & HMs:
- (1) Sitrus berry
- (1) Rawst berry
- (1) Occa berry
- (1) Jaboca Berry
- (1) Colbur Berry
- (1) Kelpsy Berry
- (1) Rowap Berry
- (1) Aguav Berry
- (1) Nanab Berry
- (1) Charti Berry
- (1) Wacan Berry
- (1) Rindo Berry
- (1) TM116 - Silverwind
- (1) TM66 - Payback
Peace and safety, friend.
Background Admins/Head Mods
Total Posts: 2105
Member No. 456
Joined on 22-July 12.
Carmen Caldwell, Lahi Sharandi, Gilen Bassett
| Party pokémon
Lv. 09 Exp: 0/4
Original Handler: Little White Owl ( Desoto )
Held Item: ---
Health & Condition: Fine
Big Pecks: Its defense cannot be lowered.
Gale Wings: All Flying-type moves have their Speed Priority increased by 1
Moves: [ primary / secondary ]
Tackle, Growl, Quick Attack, Quick Guard [Egg], Tail Wind [Egg], Hidden Power, Protect, Frustration, Return, Double Team, Facade, Attract, Round, Swords Dance, Swagger, Sleep Talk, Substitute, Secret Power, Confide
Formed a bond, trusting of Owl.
Lv. 22 Exp: 5/8
Original Handler: Tomás Desoto ( Desoto )
Held Item: Miracle Seeds
Health & Condition: Fit as a Fiddle!
Natural Cure: The Pokémon’s status (BURN, PARALYZE, SLEEP, POISON, FREEZE) is healed when withdrawn from battle.
Poison Point: The opponent has a 30% chance of being induced with POISON when using an attack, that requires physical contact, against this Pokémon.
Moves: [ primary / secondary ]
Growth, Absorb, Poison Sting, Mega Drain, Leech Seed, Grass Whistle, Toxic [special], Captivate [special], Aromatherapy [special], Attract [special], Double-team [special], Sleep Powder [special], Leaf Storm [special], Hidden Power [special - Steel, medium-strong (8-10 orbs)], Mind Reader [Egg], Natural Gift [Egg], Solar Beam, Energy Ball, Grass Knot, Bullet Seed, Giga Drain, Venoshock, Sludge Bomb
Starter Pokemon. Becomes enraged and pursues revenge with single-minded intensity and a distinct lack of theatrics when attacked with fire -- especially if his flowers are scorched or damaged by it.
Transferred from Tomas Desoto at level 22
Species or Name
Lv. ## Exp: 0/4
Original Handler: --- ( --- )
Held Item: ---
Health & Condition: ---
Moves: [ primary / secondary ]
Total Posts: 12
Member No. 1924
Joined on 25-February 15.
Joss, Mary & Owl
Owl and Michel had been sitting in one of the larger caverns, not too far from de la Roche’s grotto. It was a favourite of theirs, because not too many people came here. There were cracks in the cavern’s roof, far above them, that seemed to drip with light, so that the darkness was pushed back. It was cooler in here, and Owl had supposed that this had as much to do with the height and the vast space as much as it had to do with the lack of torches and lanterns.
He loved it for the brightness and the fresh air that trickled in unnoticed. Michel loved it for the way it sounded. Owl had been puzzled by this at first – it sounded empty and cold to him, and this had been its one downfall. He missed the blanket of sound that wrapped him as he walked through the Market Tunnels, or lingered in a dim corner of de la Roche’s little grotto – voices murmuring, haggling, whispering, the sounds of people and pokemon alike moving and breathing and living.
But then Michel had stood in the center of the cavern, and had raised his Vielle and played.
White Owl had cried, then, because he had never heard something so beautiful, nor moving, as the music Michel created in the empty cavern. And the sight of the blind minstrel standing alone in a pool of light, eyes closed, had stayed with him. Every time they came to this cavern, Owl could see Michel as he had been, and he was moved with love, and with sorrow, for the man. Now they stood together, and they played their instruments in harmony.
“You have come far,” the words were said softly and with a smile. “Soon you will be a better player than I.” Owl made a face and raised a hand to Michel’s near shoulder, applying light pressure, before pushing away. The minstrel laughed and shook his head, and relented. After a moment or two, White Owl led his companion to their usual spot – an area not too far from the entrance of the cavern that was illuminated by natural light. On hot days in the summer, they could feel the heat of the sun on their skin, and Michel loved that.
“I have a gift for you,” Michel said, once they’d both settled. Owl studied the man, looked deep into those dark brown eyes that would never truly meet his own. The younger man noticed that the older was frowning, and didn’t quite understand why. Something seemed to be troubling him. Did he fear that maybe Owl wouldn’t like it? “You will never know how frustrating it is. That I will never see you with my own eyes, or hear your voice from your lips. Tell me please, if you can, what you are thinking.” It was White Owl’s turn to frown, and after a moment of thought, he shifted where he sat, and leaned forwards. Taking Michel’s hands, he guided one to the strings of his Vielle, and raised the other. Michel’s fingertips brushed Owl’s cheek as he tilted his head so that the feather Michel had given to him two years ago once again found itself in the minstrel’s hand.
A smile had appeared briefly, danced across Michel’s small lips, but it vanished at the light touch of the feather. Annoyed that Michel seemed determined to remain in a foul mood, Owl pulled back and raised his eyes, searching for Recherché. And there was that red gaze, always watching over him. Thanks. Gratitude. Pleasure. Special belongings. These were the things that the lunatone relayed to the blind man, using emotion, imagery and memory in order to get Owl’s feelings across.
“You’re frustrated.” Michel’s words were soft, and there was a quirk of his lips accompanying them that led Little White Owl to believe he was amused. He was not, though. He exhaled heavily, and leaned back against the cave wall with a sigh. Michel laughed, though it was short-lived, and something in the sound of it made Owl think of sorrow. “It’s this place, my friend. That is what frustrates you. How can you not see that? This world of shadow is for people with dark hearts and broken spirits, and as much as I, as we all, love you, you shouldn’t be here. You don’t belong here.”
Owl was quick to stand. His face felt hot, and he didn’t want to show how upset he was. It was with little regret that he turned away with the intention of returning to de la Roche’s grotto. He’d try his luck and see if he couldn’t slip into the back room. Michel never went in there, and neither did Tam. De la Roche had been the only one who’d never said the words out loud, but lately, White Owl wondered if the poison master also wanted him gone.
The mute boy was only half-surprised when neither Michel nor Recherché made any attempt to stop him, and that they hadn’t done so only made him more upset. None of them understood. They could only see the dark side of things, and Little White Owl wondered for a moment if that was because they’d grown so used to the dimness of the tunnels, or in Michel’s case, forgotten that there was still such a thing as light. What kind of person must he have been before? A misguided youth who tagged along with a group of seafaring marauders, who stole from others, not out of necessity, but out of want. A boy who was filled with so much violence that he wouldn’t stop fighting until he was beaten down again and again, until his breathing was shallow and his hair was matted with blood.
He did not regret, so why did they?
Losing his voice was not ideal, but in Owl’s eyes, it was a price he was willing to pay, in return for all he had – his life, a home, and a family. And surely it counted for something that he was a better person now, didn’t it? That despite all the corruption around him, he had remained untouched by it, unspoiled? Tam, of course, had done his best to teach him – they all had. But time and time again, every one of them, the three men and the Three Watchers, had reminded him of the fire they saw burning in him, implying that he gave light, and was warm and good and pure. He helped them, didn’t he? Even the strangers and acquaintances were aware of his presence, moved by his demeanour, touched by his sharp, bright smiles.
Even now, as he headed back, he was greeted by many. These were debase, crooked men, and some of them wouldn’t think twice about sliding a knife between a man’s ribs for a handful of gold. But enough of them knew Owl for him to feel safe. None of them would hurt him. He was not one of them, but he belonged, he did, and they would defend him, White Owl was sure of this. It was this firm belief that touched something inside, and sent out ripples of apprehension. There were men like these in every town, but out there, alone, he’d be at the mercy of merciless men.
It wasn’t just love that kept him in the dark. It was fear, too.
He tried to explain this to Fosfienes, as he leaned against the statue-like creature. Understanding, that was what Owl got back. But there was more. Without words, the boy and the pokemon had a conversation that stopped and started and took them on long winding roads before they stood with one another in silent contemplation of all the things they had felt and pictured to each other. White Owl could see more clearly then, the fears his family had for him. He was free of burdens that weighed them down. Sadness was a common one between the three older men, but there were other matters too – guilt and regrets and dark things that Little White Owl would not learn about from his Three Watchers. They would be loyal to their masters all their lives.
Fosfienes would not let him enter the back room, no matter how White Owl pleaded. He refused with a weariness, and the mute boy could feel his sympathy. The claydol wouldn’t even let him touch the petals that drifted out from behind. Brilliant red, and the clearest sky blue that Owl had seen for a long time. Frustrated and angry, Owl had turned on the claydol and left, several pairs of red eyes watching over him still even as he stormed off.
They were there, waiting for him at the mouth of the small cramped passageway that he used to get to the surface. For one moment, White Owl was filled with bitterness. Had everything this day been planned? Had he been driven to this place so that they could prevent him from getting some peace and quiet, or push him even further away with their words. He stood, all stiff and silent, eyes scanning the ceiling of rock and earth above them.
“Recherché has noticed that you always look up, Little White Owl, and never down.” Even as his lips twitched and he straightened, ready to deny Michel’s words in every way he could, Owl found himself growing still when he realised the truth of them. His Watchers never lied. “Can you tell him, honestly, that there is no desire within you to leave, Little White? That you never wonder about what’s out there? If you can, then I will leave you be, beloved friend. We all will.”
Owl studied Michel carefully, well aware of the two pairs of red eyes that watched him from the shadows. To either side of the blind foreigner was the healer who was broken in spirit, and the merchant known throughout the land as a poison master. Not for the first time, Owl noted that they made a such a strange trio, and in the half-light, he saw them, with all their flaws laid bare. And in that moment, he loved them with a fierceness that moved him to close all the spaces that lingered between them. There, in the warm embrace of those who were family to him, he finally relented, and knew that they were right. I will always come back. To this place, my home. To all of you.
Between the two of them, de la Roche and Tam had gathered together a number of items that would come in handy for Owl’s travels, and made sure he had all the basic essentials. ‘Stick to towns and cities until you have built up your confidence,’ Tam had told him. (‘And your coin-purse,’ de la Roche had whispered in Little White Owl’s ear.) They’d sat Owl down, and gone through everything with him. Rodia rested his grizzled muzzle on the boy’s thigh while de la Roche had explained about the city they’d organised transport to. Marchton was not too far away, and had a lot to offer. De la Roche had called in a favour from a friend – Kezey. ‘Man has a way with dragons,’ is all the merchant prince would say. White Owl nodded, and wished he could stay here, even though he knew he couldn’t. He knew little of the outside world, and he needed to broaden his horizons. But, as he ran his fingers over Rodia’s sleek form, he fought to keep his emotions in check. He would miss them all, more than words could convey.
It would be a long time before he slept once more with the warm weight of Rodia’s head on his chest, or his slender body in his arms.
Last of all, Michel pressed a pokeball into White Owl’s hands. Resh, Foss and Rodia were never confined to theirs. White Owl couldn’t ever recall seeing them, but he knew they would be somewhere, locked away or hidden by de la Roche, Tam and Michel, serving as safeguards for the companions they loved. It would be the same with Owl, as long as he could afford it. He knew that circumstances were different out there, and that there may be times in which he’d have to confine his pokemon in such a way. But only out of necessity. Tam and de la Roche said their goodbyes, and it was just Owl and Michel. The lunatone hovered between them. “Wait. Wait to meet this little one in Marchton. I… asked Tam to search for the right companion for you. Recherché helped him find this one. I hope the two of you have many adventures together… Now go, amant de mon âme, and we will both be free.”
Michel was leaving, almost before the words all left his mouth. Recherché went with him, and so Little White Owl was at a loss, with no-one to tell him what the strange words had meant. One day, maybe Michel would tell him, but for now, White Owl knew that though he may not belong with them, he would always belong to them, and that he’d always be able to return to this place, because it was his home. They were his home. He made his way up the narrow path and stepped out into the light. Soon he would be in Marchton, with so many possibilities and places and people just waiting for him. He felt heavy with sadness, but focussed instead on the path that lay ahead. He would feel the wind in his hair, and the sun on his skin, and as he clutched the pokeball – the last gift, and perhaps the greatest that Michel had given him, he knew that his sorrows would soon become less, his joys more. Already, adventure was calling him, stirring something within.
After all, fire needed air in order to burn.
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