Post by Endre Arthmael on Jan 12, 2014 2:17:59 GMT -6
ENDRE TERN ARTHMAEL
[That's pronounced "AHN-drr ARTH-mail".
"AHN-druh" and "AHN-dray" are also okay.]
"AHN-druh" and "AHN-dray" are also okay.]
43 | Male | Bellusromantic/ Demiromantic. Pansexual. Polyamorous. |
Survivor | Explorer | Nguyen |
appearance
Endre is an endomorphic brickhouse standing at a towering 6'9" (206cm). His skin is fairly dark, ranging from a light-ish olive after a winter indoors (not that he's prone to spending one thus) to dark bronze after a summer in the sun, with various scars across his body that sit somewhere between the two tones. (Bronze skin, silver eyes, and platinum hair! Yay metal themes!) His face is strong and somewhat square, although not especially angular. Some of his features could even be called fairly soft, if mostly by comparison to the rest of him. His long, wavy hair, which reaches to roughly his shoulder blades, looks quite soft as well from a distance, but is actually somewhat coarse. This is probably not coincidence with the fact that it is long not out of vanity but because he is too lazy to cut it.
..All right, so it's a little bit due to vanity; he realizes he 'could' cut it easily, but it looks fine and rarely bothers him (especially if pulled back, as it often is), and he's used to it. If he got it cut, he'd care juuust enough about his appearance to want to make sure it was nice and even as opposed to just hacked off, and that shifts it into the 'too much effort' pile. Also while he does shave his face-- sometimes, though stubble and even a borderline beard is not terribly uncommon to catch on him-- the idea of shaving his whole head makes him sa-- I mean. That would take away natural protection from harsh weather! Yes that entirely practical reason is why. Also it would also fall into the too much effort pile.
'Disclaimer': Most pictures (read: his FC) maaay be from about ten years ago and that six pack miiight be a fair bit less noticeable than in the past. He's definitely still as muscular; he's just got a little more padding over it than he used to. (Endomooorph<3)
Face Claim: Golbez, Final Fantasy 4 / Dissidia
..All right, so it's a little bit due to vanity; he realizes he 'could' cut it easily, but it looks fine and rarely bothers him (especially if pulled back, as it often is), and he's used to it. If he got it cut, he'd care juuust enough about his appearance to want to make sure it was nice and even as opposed to just hacked off, and that shifts it into the 'too much effort' pile. Also while he does shave his face-- sometimes, though stubble and even a borderline beard is not terribly uncommon to catch on him-- the idea of shaving his whole head makes him sa-- I mean. That would take away natural protection from harsh weather! Yes that entirely practical reason is why. Also it would also fall into the too much effort pile.
'Disclaimer': Most pictures (read: his FC) maaay be from about ten years ago and that six pack miiight be a fair bit less noticeable than in the past. He's definitely still as muscular; he's just got a little more padding over it than he used to. (Endomooorph<3)
Face Claim: Golbez, Final Fantasy 4 / Dissidia
clothing
everyday A very long, heavy-duty brown hooded cloak which provides good insulation and protection from weather and elements. In humid heat, he might remove it (though if there is a breeze, causing him to sweat more actually helps keep him cool), but in dry heat he'll take the protection over comfort. It also doubles as a blanket.Various shorts, a few baggy pants, and.. what do you call that article of clothing. It is certainly not a skirt because skirts are not manly, and he is 100% manly. Well whatever it is, he has quite a few of those, too. All of the above tend to come in dull, natural colors. Tops are rare, and usually have the sleeves promptly torn off if they don't come sleeveless to start. He is somewhat fond of trinkets (though not typically as ornate as pics show), having a fair few bracelets, armlets, and anklets at any given time. These are often cheap and made of local materials. He occasionally ties his hair with various natural materials, as well. This may sometimes include vines, which might incidentally have flowers sometimes. This is still definitely super manly. | formal Putting on a shirt. For extra special occasions, the shirt will even be undamaged. |
backpack
A pretty standard traveler's backpack, with many pockets and pouches; it always contains a pillow.
personality
What some would call "lazy" others would prefer to call "laid back". Endre doesn't actually have much of a preference and answers to both. His great ambition in life is to nap all over Mi-aro!! ..Which is actually to say he just lacks any sort of ambition worth speaking of. Not one to think much of the future, Endre is content to take life as it comes. His primary goals are just staying alive and staying free to do whatever he feels like in any given moment.
Which, occasionally, can feel a little random. He does not tend to be very outgoing, but does occasionally fall victim to little fits of impulse, even at his age. Anyone who has known him long could tell you he was once much worse. He also has a sense of humor to fit a younger man. In particular, he is rather aware of his physique, and tends to call attention to it now and then, generally for the sake of humor if not in outright self-deprecating ways, depending on the audience. He tends to focus more on his own flaws than others's, though that is not to say he is unhappy with anything about himself in particular. There's nothing in particular he'd drastically change; he just realizes he's not perfect and doesn't at all mind hearing so, while he recognizes no one else is perfect either but finds no reason to call attention to it or even really bother noticing the finer details. Rather, he realizes many people are not nearly as okay with who or how they or their lives are as he is, so if he does take the time to analyze another person, he tends to focus on how to build them up. That said, an occasional little jab, especially to someone with whom he is comfortable, is not uncommon and meant entirely in fun.
He is not especially fond of people as a whole, nor does he like being around crowds for long, but that is not to say he isn't sociable. He very much enjoys human company in his own definition of moderation. He has no interest in "serious" romance, marriage, children, etcetera, but has been known to enjoy the company of various women, or men from time to time, on brief excursions. This is not a matter of 'getting a fix' and he is rarely if ever persistent in his approach, if he is even the instigator in the first place. Rather, he just tries to enjoy relationships (or "relationships" as some might call them) with any given persons for exactly what they are in that moment without any sort of expectation of what they may or may not become. Platonic relationships follow the same rules. He is not against keeping ties by any means, either; he just ultimately prefers his space. He doesn't like keeping anyone too close, and feels he is already pushing his limits in that regard by even keeping Pokemon.
After all, Endre's first love is the wild. He understands- and often enjoys- the danger-around-every-corner get-your-face-mauled-off-by-dinobears aspect of Mi-aro's wilderness, but he still finds a sense of peace to it. Everything is just working together in harmony; it could be likened to a well-oiled machine, but he finds that phrasing implies anything man-made could hold a candle to the world's natural wonder, so he would prefer to avoid it. When all is quiet, Endre can think of little he would rather do than stretch out on a hill or on a massive branch and nap a whole day away in the warm sun. When things are less quiet, that's okay too. The occasional rush of fighting for his life reminds him that his life is something to treasure, and as such he can border on just a little reckless. He's not about to throw himself in the face of death, at least not if he recognizes it as such, but wrestling with and fistfighting Feral Pokemon is a thing that he will generally very happily do, especially those that favor physical over special attacks. Fire hurts, and firebreathing is bad. But teeth and claws? Teeth and claws he's got down!
Although he can be called lazy and could happily sleep fifty* hours a day, Endre does not actively look to get out of work if he has been given reason to do it or offered to do so himself. When he does work, he has a pretty strong ethic, aside from the increasing temptation to take a little break here and there once a task starts nearing completion. Up to that point, though, he's a pretty solid worker, and is generally happy to help with a bit of heavy lifting around the colonies. That is much more literal than figurative. He would be offended if one called him 'irresponsible', as he does try to take care of himself and his Pokemon and so-forth; it's just longterm responsibility, particularly any given to him by someone else rather than taken up himself, that makes him shy away. Give him some big rocks or something, though, and you betcha he'll carry those across camp. It might take all day but what's one measly day? Just don't get under his feet while he's trying to work and it'll all be good.
(* = If you got the fifty hours a day reference and thus a partial inspiration for this character you are instantly SG's friend.)
Which, occasionally, can feel a little random. He does not tend to be very outgoing, but does occasionally fall victim to little fits of impulse, even at his age. Anyone who has known him long could tell you he was once much worse. He also has a sense of humor to fit a younger man. In particular, he is rather aware of his physique, and tends to call attention to it now and then, generally for the sake of humor if not in outright self-deprecating ways, depending on the audience. He tends to focus more on his own flaws than others's, though that is not to say he is unhappy with anything about himself in particular. There's nothing in particular he'd drastically change; he just realizes he's not perfect and doesn't at all mind hearing so, while he recognizes no one else is perfect either but finds no reason to call attention to it or even really bother noticing the finer details. Rather, he realizes many people are not nearly as okay with who or how they or their lives are as he is, so if he does take the time to analyze another person, he tends to focus on how to build them up. That said, an occasional little jab, especially to someone with whom he is comfortable, is not uncommon and meant entirely in fun.
He is not especially fond of people as a whole, nor does he like being around crowds for long, but that is not to say he isn't sociable. He very much enjoys human company in his own definition of moderation. He has no interest in "serious" romance, marriage, children, etcetera, but has been known to enjoy the company of various women, or men from time to time, on brief excursions. This is not a matter of 'getting a fix' and he is rarely if ever persistent in his approach, if he is even the instigator in the first place. Rather, he just tries to enjoy relationships (or "relationships" as some might call them) with any given persons for exactly what they are in that moment without any sort of expectation of what they may or may not become. Platonic relationships follow the same rules. He is not against keeping ties by any means, either; he just ultimately prefers his space. He doesn't like keeping anyone too close, and feels he is already pushing his limits in that regard by even keeping Pokemon.
After all, Endre's first love is the wild. He understands- and often enjoys- the danger-around-every-corner get-your-face-mauled-off-by-dinobears aspect of Mi-aro's wilderness, but he still finds a sense of peace to it. Everything is just working together in harmony; it could be likened to a well-oiled machine, but he finds that phrasing implies anything man-made could hold a candle to the world's natural wonder, so he would prefer to avoid it. When all is quiet, Endre can think of little he would rather do than stretch out on a hill or on a massive branch and nap a whole day away in the warm sun. When things are less quiet, that's okay too. The occasional rush of fighting for his life reminds him that his life is something to treasure, and as such he can border on just a little reckless. He's not about to throw himself in the face of death, at least not if he recognizes it as such, but wrestling with and fistfighting Feral Pokemon is a thing that he will generally very happily do, especially those that favor physical over special attacks. Fire hurts, and firebreathing is bad. But teeth and claws? Teeth and claws he's got down!
Although he can be called lazy and could happily sleep fifty* hours a day, Endre does not actively look to get out of work if he has been given reason to do it or offered to do so himself. When he does work, he has a pretty strong ethic, aside from the increasing temptation to take a little break here and there once a task starts nearing completion. Up to that point, though, he's a pretty solid worker, and is generally happy to help with a bit of heavy lifting around the colonies. That is much more literal than figurative. He would be offended if one called him 'irresponsible', as he does try to take care of himself and his Pokemon and so-forth; it's just longterm responsibility, particularly any given to him by someone else rather than taken up himself, that makes him shy away. Give him some big rocks or something, though, and you betcha he'll carry those across camp. It might take all day but what's one measly day? Just don't get under his feet while he's trying to work and it'll all be good.
(* = If you got the fifty hours a day reference and thus a partial inspiration for this character you are instantly SG's friend.)
likes & dislikes
likes - Sleep - Freedom - Traveling - Napping - Seeing new things - Light, casual, finite social interaction - Resting - Being muscular and ~manly~ [*mauled*] | dislikes - Fire larger than it takes to keep warm or cook with. - Thunder/lighting. (..It is not a fear! It is a very dislike. You're a fear!) - Spiders. (Not fear. Hatred.) - Being ordered around. - Being tied down. - Long-term expectations. - A lot of strict laws in general. - Being in crowds for long periods, like more than an hour or two. |
the backstory
Once upon a time, a world was fading. Endre was born 17 years before the Legend Portal was opened, and as such was born into a PokeEarth at war. Resources had been diminishing for centuries, but the past few decades had become by far the most noticeable. Fuels were running out. So many forests had been razed to make room for alleged progress that the very air felt the backlash, not to even mention the growing demand versus supply of lumber. Small wooded areas may be privately owned, but wouldn't last long if farmed and so weren't worth being concerned over; larger sites became hosts to battles to control them. Large supplies of un-- well, LESS-polluted fresh water were similar. People were slaughtered in droves simply so the ones doing the slaughtering could continue to live comfortable lives.
Thus, it was little surprise that at a young age, Endre was put under training, raised as a soldier. Like most boys-- and about half the girls-- in his particular corner of the world, he was pushed hard to train his body, study combat, learn tactician techniques, and endure grueling conditions with very little in the way of supplies. The latter was due in part to preparation for the worst, and part to the fact that they weren't far from it as it was. He learned not only to fight, with fists and various weapons alike, but to hunt and fish and and find/build shelters out of whatever happened to be around at the time.
He was no fine chef, but he knew how to ensure meat was well done, and that spices used properly could both improve flavor and help it keep longer. No herbalist or gardener, but he could tell you much of what definitely was or wasn't safe to eat and make decent guesses about many other plants. No tailor, but he could do a rough patch job. No trainer, but he could identify many common Pokemon species and attacks and tell you how best to avoid dying by them. And this was all before puberty.
Of course, all this training did not come without a price. It was dangerous, for one. Casualties as a result of training rather than real battle were a relative rarity, but did occur. Critical injuries were another issue. Even for those who managed to avoid those, though, it was simply exhausting. Socialization was primarily done in militant format, and limited even then, and entertainment was a word that scarcely existed-- a rare, valuable, highly sought after reward for deeds of great prestige. Mental stimulation was brought about in the form of studies- which were not especially lacking on their own, though their secondary nature to more physical training was apparent- and any form of mental relaxation was little but a dream.
In fact, dreams were literally often the best Endre got. Sometimes, especially in very early childhood, he and the other children would get to enjoy one of the few pleasures their society could afford: stories, often but not always provided by elder children for the younger ones. The particular details never concerned Endre much. It could be a tale of a brave knight slaying a fierce dragon, or of a young girl who discovers magic potential, or of two average Pokemon enjoying a picnic, or of a lonely farmer losing everything. In some cases, like the latter, the stories may not only be sad but true. What mattered to Endre, though, wasn't the fantasy or the happy endings, but rather that they told of SOMETHING. They assured him there was a world beyond his own. That other ways of life existed, and that there was hope for tomorrow to bring something new, something to break his daily regiment.
And this little spark gave him just enough imagination. He'd never be much the writerly type, and as he got older and tried to make up or even retell stories he'd heard for the children younger than him, he realized quickly (and was at times assured by others) he had no talent for it. His sequencing was bad and his presentation was worse. But although he could not share his thoughts with the world, he could enjoy them himself. Between the physical exhaustion and the desire to experience new lives through his dreams, even when he could not remember what he'd done, sleeping became his favorite hobby, occupying most of his very spare free time.
As he grew older, it became even more valuable, as training intensified, and often they were not given proper time to sleep even at night. In the summer of his 14th year, as was tradition, he was upgraded to the actual armed forces and thrown on the front lines with all the other kids his age. Battles were gruesome, and Endre very nearly deserted a number of times. But he was a soldier. As had been ingrained in him since birth, this was his duty. This was why he existed. It was not his place to question orders, and he was certainly not to disobey them. It almost broke him in two, but he would comply. Ever reluctantly comply.
It reached a point at last when the fighting could go on no longer, yet it would anyway. The resources they'd fought so hard to either keep or obtain had been all but depleted, and further fighting would only speed the process. Ceasefires were drawn in theory, but skirmishes still broke out as every side still wanted what little bits the other sides had left.
Then, on that glorious day, Arceus came.
Within hours of the portal's opening, Endre had made a beeline for it, crying when he hit the new soil. The teen had seen trees. By his romanticized memories, they might have even been this green, when he was very young. Too young even to start training. But he never realized it was even possible for SO. MANY. to exist. Was it possible for water to be so clear? It was like discovering a new color. More resources were there here than all the humans left alive could ever hope to use. A part of him realized that said nothing for generations from now, but... that was then. He didn't want to think about then. He only wanted right now.
In right now, no one had to fight anymore. No more soldiers. No more orders. Just peace. Discovery. Communative efforts.
There didn't need to be any more bloodshed.
Something between a third and a half, if not more, of Endre's friends had already fallen in battle. He didn't know for sure, because after a certain point he began distancing himself from the others and stopped keeping track, praying if he just pretended everyone was fine that when the war was over they really would be, even though as far as he knew, the war could never have an 'over'.
But now it did, and on that day he swore to never be part of anything like that ever again. He would take orders from no one. He would kill to eat, or as a last resort to defend himself or others, but never because someone told him to, and never over basic things that no person should have been denied in the first place.
Over the next few years, Endre would help with the colonization efforts, especially in regards to construction, but became increasingly fascinated by the world at large. Eventually he would drift away from society and begin spending more and more time in the outskirts, particularly after Port City was more or less done being built. He'd been pretty diligent when and as needed at first, but there would always be little upgrades to be done and more civilian housing needed as more stragglers came through the gate and kids who'd come through or been born not long after their parents did (of which there were a good number; that whole baby boom effect and all) grew up and started having families of their own and so-forth. But that work was slower, spaced, and not necessary for mankind's survival as a whole. He could stop in, make an effort for a few days, and then go spend a week camping by the lake. When New Pallet was founded, he helped as well, though perhaps not as diligently as with Port City.
Years turned into decades- two and a half of them, to be precise. In all that time, Endre stuck mostly to the outskirts of cities. Places where people soon discovered most of the Pokemon they could expect to find, and where he knew few would pose much threat. (Though if he sees another Feral Heatmor ever...) Of course, he was partially involved in even scouting out these areas- not breaking first ground on the roads or anything by any means, but willing to go out and look around before many.
However, he rarely ventured much farther for one very crucial reason: he never had a Pokemon of his own. He befriended quite a number of them in his life. A grudging respect may have even been formed between him and a small handful of more intelligent ferals with whom he fought. But any level of acquaintanceship or friendship with Pokemon was treated like any of his other friendships: cautiously. He'd simply lost too many close to him during the wars. The fear of getting too close to anyone, of knowing roughly where they were at all times and immediately if anything happened versus just hearing about it as old unfortunate news persisted long into adulthood.
But now, here in his early 40's, he has found himself more and more considering change. He has never wanted to live his life in fear, but more importantly, his wanderlust has been vying to outweigh it for several years now. Trainers are becoming more common. The peaceful routes he loves are more populated, busier, less peaceful. And frankly, even without the noisy neighbors, he's gotten a little bored. The world is huge and beautiful, and he wants to see it. He's no cartographer, but he can sketch a rough idea of a map. He aims to satisfy his own desire for new beautiful sites while simultaneously helping the colonies expand. (You know. Just. A little more slowly than he's expanding, so he always has beloved outskirts to fringe upon.) But even he with all his might knows he is no match for something like a giant-mutated Feral Aerodactyl or Charizard. Thus, he must put aside his inhibition and call upon aid to help defend himself in this brave new world.
He's known all this for a while, and thought about it more and more often, resolving to do it 'soon' or 'perhaps in the morning'.
However, one novice's mistake, one of which he was never even personally aware, would tip the scales. When Endre woke up to a swarm of Anorith attacking what he has come to consider his 'hometown', he knew he could not sit idly by or walk away without trying to help. ...But those shells were very, very hard; he was pretty sure he'd even heard them or their evolution called "the Armor Pokemon" at some point. And they had elemental attacks, being aquatic creatures. And.. bugs. They weren't spiders, at least, but he was iffy on bugs in general. Every last factor surrounding the things said that he'd rather not face them alone. Thus, he decided he could not put it off any longer. ..Okay, so he needed to let people know he'd be coming and make sure he was supplied and all that jazz, so literally a day longer. But he began actually doing things to lead to it, and 'maybe tomorrow' became 'absolutely tomorrow'. At very long last, Endre was really getting a Pokemon.
Thus, it was little surprise that at a young age, Endre was put under training, raised as a soldier. Like most boys-- and about half the girls-- in his particular corner of the world, he was pushed hard to train his body, study combat, learn tactician techniques, and endure grueling conditions with very little in the way of supplies. The latter was due in part to preparation for the worst, and part to the fact that they weren't far from it as it was. He learned not only to fight, with fists and various weapons alike, but to hunt and fish and and find/build shelters out of whatever happened to be around at the time.
He was no fine chef, but he knew how to ensure meat was well done, and that spices used properly could both improve flavor and help it keep longer. No herbalist or gardener, but he could tell you much of what definitely was or wasn't safe to eat and make decent guesses about many other plants. No tailor, but he could do a rough patch job. No trainer, but he could identify many common Pokemon species and attacks and tell you how best to avoid dying by them. And this was all before puberty.
Of course, all this training did not come without a price. It was dangerous, for one. Casualties as a result of training rather than real battle were a relative rarity, but did occur. Critical injuries were another issue. Even for those who managed to avoid those, though, it was simply exhausting. Socialization was primarily done in militant format, and limited even then, and entertainment was a word that scarcely existed-- a rare, valuable, highly sought after reward for deeds of great prestige. Mental stimulation was brought about in the form of studies- which were not especially lacking on their own, though their secondary nature to more physical training was apparent- and any form of mental relaxation was little but a dream.
In fact, dreams were literally often the best Endre got. Sometimes, especially in very early childhood, he and the other children would get to enjoy one of the few pleasures their society could afford: stories, often but not always provided by elder children for the younger ones. The particular details never concerned Endre much. It could be a tale of a brave knight slaying a fierce dragon, or of a young girl who discovers magic potential, or of two average Pokemon enjoying a picnic, or of a lonely farmer losing everything. In some cases, like the latter, the stories may not only be sad but true. What mattered to Endre, though, wasn't the fantasy or the happy endings, but rather that they told of SOMETHING. They assured him there was a world beyond his own. That other ways of life existed, and that there was hope for tomorrow to bring something new, something to break his daily regiment.
And this little spark gave him just enough imagination. He'd never be much the writerly type, and as he got older and tried to make up or even retell stories he'd heard for the children younger than him, he realized quickly (and was at times assured by others) he had no talent for it. His sequencing was bad and his presentation was worse. But although he could not share his thoughts with the world, he could enjoy them himself. Between the physical exhaustion and the desire to experience new lives through his dreams, even when he could not remember what he'd done, sleeping became his favorite hobby, occupying most of his very spare free time.
As he grew older, it became even more valuable, as training intensified, and often they were not given proper time to sleep even at night. In the summer of his 14th year, as was tradition, he was upgraded to the actual armed forces and thrown on the front lines with all the other kids his age. Battles were gruesome, and Endre very nearly deserted a number of times. But he was a soldier. As had been ingrained in him since birth, this was his duty. This was why he existed. It was not his place to question orders, and he was certainly not to disobey them. It almost broke him in two, but he would comply. Ever reluctantly comply.
It reached a point at last when the fighting could go on no longer, yet it would anyway. The resources they'd fought so hard to either keep or obtain had been all but depleted, and further fighting would only speed the process. Ceasefires were drawn in theory, but skirmishes still broke out as every side still wanted what little bits the other sides had left.
Then, on that glorious day, Arceus came.
Within hours of the portal's opening, Endre had made a beeline for it, crying when he hit the new soil. The teen had seen trees. By his romanticized memories, they might have even been this green, when he was very young. Too young even to start training. But he never realized it was even possible for SO. MANY. to exist. Was it possible for water to be so clear? It was like discovering a new color. More resources were there here than all the humans left alive could ever hope to use. A part of him realized that said nothing for generations from now, but... that was then. He didn't want to think about then. He only wanted right now.
In right now, no one had to fight anymore. No more soldiers. No more orders. Just peace. Discovery. Communative efforts.
There didn't need to be any more bloodshed.
Something between a third and a half, if not more, of Endre's friends had already fallen in battle. He didn't know for sure, because after a certain point he began distancing himself from the others and stopped keeping track, praying if he just pretended everyone was fine that when the war was over they really would be, even though as far as he knew, the war could never have an 'over'.
But now it did, and on that day he swore to never be part of anything like that ever again. He would take orders from no one. He would kill to eat, or as a last resort to defend himself or others, but never because someone told him to, and never over basic things that no person should have been denied in the first place.
Over the next few years, Endre would help with the colonization efforts, especially in regards to construction, but became increasingly fascinated by the world at large. Eventually he would drift away from society and begin spending more and more time in the outskirts, particularly after Port City was more or less done being built. He'd been pretty diligent when and as needed at first, but there would always be little upgrades to be done and more civilian housing needed as more stragglers came through the gate and kids who'd come through or been born not long after their parents did (of which there were a good number; that whole baby boom effect and all) grew up and started having families of their own and so-forth. But that work was slower, spaced, and not necessary for mankind's survival as a whole. He could stop in, make an effort for a few days, and then go spend a week camping by the lake. When New Pallet was founded, he helped as well, though perhaps not as diligently as with Port City.
Years turned into decades- two and a half of them, to be precise. In all that time, Endre stuck mostly to the outskirts of cities. Places where people soon discovered most of the Pokemon they could expect to find, and where he knew few would pose much threat. (Though if he sees another Feral Heatmor ever...) Of course, he was partially involved in even scouting out these areas- not breaking first ground on the roads or anything by any means, but willing to go out and look around before many.
However, he rarely ventured much farther for one very crucial reason: he never had a Pokemon of his own. He befriended quite a number of them in his life. A grudging respect may have even been formed between him and a small handful of more intelligent ferals with whom he fought. But any level of acquaintanceship or friendship with Pokemon was treated like any of his other friendships: cautiously. He'd simply lost too many close to him during the wars. The fear of getting too close to anyone, of knowing roughly where they were at all times and immediately if anything happened versus just hearing about it as old unfortunate news persisted long into adulthood.
But now, here in his early 40's, he has found himself more and more considering change. He has never wanted to live his life in fear, but more importantly, his wanderlust has been vying to outweigh it for several years now. Trainers are becoming more common. The peaceful routes he loves are more populated, busier, less peaceful. And frankly, even without the noisy neighbors, he's gotten a little bored. The world is huge and beautiful, and he wants to see it. He's no cartographer, but he can sketch a rough idea of a map. He aims to satisfy his own desire for new beautiful sites while simultaneously helping the colonies expand. (You know. Just. A little more slowly than he's expanding, so he always has beloved outskirts to fringe upon.) But even he with all his might knows he is no match for something like a giant-mutated Feral Aerodactyl or Charizard. Thus, he must put aside his inhibition and call upon aid to help defend himself in this brave new world.
He's known all this for a while, and thought about it more and more often, resolving to do it 'soon' or 'perhaps in the morning'.
However, one novice's mistake, one of which he was never even personally aware, would tip the scales. When Endre woke up to a swarm of Anorith attacking what he has come to consider his 'hometown', he knew he could not sit idly by or walk away without trying to help. ...But those shells were very, very hard; he was pretty sure he'd even heard them or their evolution called "the Armor Pokemon" at some point. And they had elemental attacks, being aquatic creatures. And.. bugs. They weren't spiders, at least, but he was iffy on bugs in general. Every last factor surrounding the things said that he'd rather not face them alone. Thus, he decided he could not put it off any longer. ..Okay, so he needed to let people know he'd be coming and make sure he was supplied and all that jazz, so literally a day longer. But he began actually doing things to lead to it, and 'maybe tomorrow' became 'absolutely tomorrow'. At very long last, Endre was really getting a Pokemon.
played by EssGee!
recruited by Olive!
recruited by Olive!
[googlefont="Oswald"]
