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    Fujimaru the Shiny Simipour and Giri the Albino Lairon [Inactive]


    Age : 23
    Posts : 3291

    Fujimaru the Shiny Simipour and Giri the Albino Lairon [Inactive] Empty Fujimaru the Shiny Simipour and Giri the Albino Lairon [Inactive]

    Post by Min Wed Jun 19, 2013 5:03 pm

    *Note to self: fix the coding on the profile.*
    Fujimaru the Shiny Simipour and Giri the Albino Lairon [Inactive] Kazesimipourlairon_zps5b2b11d2


    Text Color #0033CC
    Item A Mystic Water necklace, a light blue cloth sash and a Samuwott’s Seamitar
    Age Adult (Human thirties)
    Species #516, Simipour, the Geyser pokemon
    Height 1m
    Weight 30kgs
    Pokédex Entry The high-pressure water expelled from its tail is so powerful, it can destroy a concrete wall.-Pokemon White
    Level 60 (RP Level Up)
    Ability Gluttony-This pokemon eats held berries early.
    Nature Adamant
    Characteristic Highly Cunning
    Moves - Scald
    - Cut (HM)
    - Acrobatics(TM)
    - Protect (TM)
    History In the manner of all pokemon the Panpour came into the world. Beloved of his parents the young water type made the deepest areas of the Pinwheel forest his home and explored without fear. As he grew strong enough to support himself he went off into the wild to make his own way in the world. The different color of his coat was of no concern to him for the Panpour was young and understood nothing of the humans or the way they prized the genetic abnormality that made a pokemon’s fur, scales or feathers a different color from their kin. It was while he was playing in a patch of tall grass, making it shake as he leapt and ran around, that he first saw a human.
    He was a prize for the deep blue of his fur and the Panpour enjoyed being spoilt and fussed over. However his owner was not someone so lax to display a pokemon simply as a status symbol. He wanted all his pokemon to recognize their great potential inside and so he taught them how to battle with force and compassion, skill and strength in equal measure. The Panpour hated these fights. By nature he was a laidback thing, wanting nothing more than to laze around all day and watch the stars. His teacher, a great Samuwott, tracked him down each time the Panpour tried to skip out on training and harshly disciplined the lazy water type. Oh how the Panpour hated that Samuwott for making him work instead of play, hated him so much that one day he had decided to run away from it all and find an owner who would take better care of him.

    Run away the Panpour did, stealing his pokeball from his trainer’s belt while the man slept and fleeing into the night. He ran from where they were resting into a Route that was unfamiliar to him. There were no tall trees here and by the time the sun rose above the horizon the Panpour was very hungry. He could find no trees with delicious berries, not so much as a blade of grass to chew.
    Among the stones the Panpour spied a berry and reached greedily for it only to rouse a mighty Boldore. The Panpour's Water Gun barely scratched the rock types hide and, before he could flee, the Boldore crushed the Panpour's leg with a single movement as it reclaimed its berry. A harsh pain burst in the Water type's entire body as bone cracked and the Panpour cried as the bulky rock type shuffled off with its berry and left the Panpour abandoned on the floor of the cave.
    The Panpour spent the entire day like that, wounded, afraid and hungry as the sun had set and risen again. Then something had grabbed him from behind. The Panpour had cried again, thinking he was about to be eaten by some fierce thing until the Samuwott had dropped him onto a patch of grass outside the cave and struck him about the head with the blunt edge of his Seamitar. The Samuwott had followed him tirelessly, without eating or sleeping, until he had found the Panpour on the floor of the cave and dragged him to safety. The Panpour was struck again as the great water type barked his displeasure then, using his sharp white teeth, had tied a strip of dried grass around the Panpour’s wounded leg and slung the other water type over one great shoulder.

    Again the Samuwott walked, without rest for food or sleep, through the day and the night to bring the injured Panpour back home. When the two finally emerged from the deep cave and the human tenderly lifted the Panpour from his Samuwott’s back and cleaned then bound the broken leg the Panpour thought that he very much wanted to be brave and strong like that Samuwott
    As the human shook his head disapprovingly and fixed up the shattered bone, disinfecting the wound with a spray of medicine from a plastic bottle and carefully straightening the leg before binding the broken limb with clean white bandages.
    The Panpour barely noticed the pain; his eyes were fixed on the Samuwott who, his long tirelessly trek finished with, had merely sat down and started to lick his fur clean.
    The Samuwott had not paused in saving him and had not cared for himself as the Panpour had.
    Deep within his blue-furred chest the Panpour felt...guilty.
    Shakily he managed to stand, the stiff splint holding his leg straight and the Samuwott looked up from his grooming and stood.
    Once, twice the Samuwott's navy flipper smacked him across the cheek.
    The Panpour did not move. Whereas once he would have sat down in the grass and cried at the unfairness of it all the Water Type stood firm, realizing that this was a punishment he deserved.
    The Samuwott curled a lip in a motion that could have been either a smile or a sneer.
    Slowly the Panpour bows its head in submission.
    The Panpour seemed to seamlessly become the Samuwott's student. There were worse things than early morning training, even with a slowly healing broken leg and the Panpour put aside his own selfish desires.
    He actually focused on learning the art of battle and was surprised to find he enjoyed the elegance dancing of a fight, that there was real skill behind the strength.
    The Samuwott was still a harsh teacher and unforgiving of any mistake but the Panpour soon learnt it was not because of some flaw in him but because the great Water Type did not want him to learn anything but perfection.
    The change in his personality was self-evident. At first his trainer was concerned for him but soon he realized the reason for the change in his playful Panpour's demeanor.
    He had found an idol to look up for in the Samuwott who had searched for him for days without rest. He had found something to aspire to as opposed to lazily around and pleasing only himself.
    Day after day the Panpour pushed himself harder and took on every abuse the Samuwott could lay upon him to make himself stronger, every day becoming more and more powerful and never, ever complaining about being woken up before the sun had risen and falling asleep long after it had fallen.
    His Samuwott master had matched him every mile and barked out orders and fragments of some ancient samurai code with an equal ferocity. In long cold nights of winter the two would rest under the bright lights of stars and the Samuwott would teach him the rigorous code he himself followed while the Panpour rested his aching legs and listened intently.
    In those moments he saw another side of his ancient fierce master, when he talked of the old rules of honor and obligation his dark eyes would light up with memories of a time since past.
    The Panpour and the Samuwott fought side by side at their trainer's command, combining their natural moves along with those taught by TMs for victory after decisive victory.
    The smile on the Panpour’s face was no longer just his default expression but a sign of his pride in the skill he had fought for and acquired on his own. One day, when his master’s fur started to grow as grey as his whiskers the Samuwott had given him a stone as blue as a mountain stream and with it a real name to call his own: Fujimaru. The Panpour became a Simipour.

    He tied back the tuft on his head with a length of white tread and was steadfast in his devotion to duty. His master confided in the Simipour as an equal and together it seemed they were unstoppable. Fujimaru learnt to keep his laziness in check and to meditate to balance his mind. His trainer caught and trained any more water type pokemon, often raising them from tiny eggs before eventually releasing them back into the wild. Fujimaru served as a mentor to all of them, teaching them the true meanings of the Samuwott’s strict ways and ensuring they always grew to realize their true potential. So it went, student becoming master, until the time came when, with tears in his eyes, their trainer now an old man had released his two oldest companions’ back into the forests of Unova they had come from. The Jellicent gracefully sunk beneath the waves to terrify leaving ships with its waving tendrils; the Carracosta merely inclined a rocky armored head before returning to a ancestral hunting ground. Only the Samuwott and his ever faithful student stayed together, the shining furred Simipour accompanying the graying furred water type through the woods that seemed more eerily deserted than ever to the vast lake where the young Oshawott had first been hatched. All night the Samuwott drilled his student in the forms of the heavy Seamitar sword made from the steel tough shell until the sun began to rise over the Unovan hills.
    The indigo water shining with the golden lights of the rising sun and the Samuwott had cast one last lingering look at the shimmering water and detached from his armor the powerful shell sword that could fell an opponent in a single swing.
    "I have never had a son." The Samuwott said, looking the blade over. "I would have much like to but I have done the next best thing. I have passed down the ancient ways to the next generation."
    Turning the blade over in a blue furred flipper the Samuwott pressed the shell sword into Fujimaru's golden furred fingers.
    "This is yours now and with it my legacy." And with those words the Samuwott’s eyes slowly slid closed and he died on the shores of the lake where he had been born. Fujimaru held the Seamitar close and obeyed his master’s final wishes. He did not cry for a life well-lived.
    Appearance Fujimaru is a slim shiny Simipour that stands proudly and with a military efficiency. The tuft on his head is kept pulled back with a black tie so it does not get in his eyes. He wears a Seamitar on his left leg, held by his light blue sash for an easy draw. The ‘skirt’ he has gained upon evolving is longer than usual for his species and aids in concealing his legs movements. His default expression is always a cheerful smile, he can see even with his eyes apparently closed. He constantly looks relaxed, even when ready for battle. He holds Giri whenever the Aron is tired.
    Personality Fujimaru has a rather old fashioned view of the world. He can appear rather sexist as he believes that women should have no place on the battlefield but this is a caring concern for the safety of others more than bigotry. He has great respect for the elderly and wholeheartedly believes it is the duty of the lower classes to listen to and obey the higher classes as it is the duty of the higher classes to lead and inspire the lower. He defends the living without fear or favor with the blade of his master and has been preparing to face the moment of his death with honor for most of his life He enjoys various hobbies such as some forms of dance but also believes that no-one who doesn’t give %100 to their actions is living a worthless life and will never be a true samurai. He believes in the importance of having a balance of work and play in life but is very intolerant of laziness and will give shirkers a cuff around the head with his Seamitar to straighten them out. Because of his training he believes that everyone has a place they belong and a destiny that is theirs if they only reach out and take it.
    User Notes
    -Themesong Dancing Samurai
    -Tends to constantly be rejected by girls.
    -His master’s Seamitar is used when he uses cutting moves. He refers to his use of Cut as Iaijutsu, the technique of the correct drawing a blade and quickly moving to attack.
    -Samurai follows the code of the Hagakure and will occasionally quote its wisdom.
    -Samurai mainly fights with his left hand, he uses a different style when using his right.
    -Looking after Giri was a task entrusted to him by Kaze and Hayato a long time ago. He looks forward to reuniting them if it is at all possible.
    -Taking care of Giri and raising him to be an honorable warrior is a task he relishes, in time he hopes to hand down his Seamitar to the tiny steel type as his master did for him.
    -As any battle he is involved with Giri is involved with too he takes care to protect Giri's safety above his own.
    -Will often use his Protect to take a powerful attack for another.

    Text Color #999999 color
    Item Lucky Egg
    Gender Male
    Age Child
    Species #305, Lairon, Iron Armor pokemon
    Height 2'11"
    Weight 264.6 lbs.
    Pokédex Entry "Lairon tempers its steel body by drinking highly nutritious mineral springwater until it is bloated. This Pokémon makes its nest close to springs of delicious water.”-Pokemon Ruby
    Level 32 (RP Level Up)
    Ability Sturdy-Negates 1 hit KO attacks
    Nature Bold
    Characteristic Highly curious
    Moves -Take Down
    -Iron Head
    -Mud Slap
    -Head Smash (breeding)
    History Hayato, look, this egg is still a bit warm!

    Around the slowly dying infant Aron the slow chill of the empty nest became the warmth of two hands picking him up. The tiny heart beat a little faster.


    The voices sound so far away and muted by the thick egg membrane. Still the Aron's newly formed ears could pick up the vibrations of sounds running through the egg's cream and green spotted shell.

    So we should take it with us and hatch it and-

    Inside the egg the tiny Aron kicks its stubby little legs. Its dark rimmed eyes twitched and tried to open. The egg rocked faintly as the steel type within manages to rock itself against the shell.

    Hayato it’s still alive. We can't just leave it behind.
    Of course we can.
    We're the only living here Hayato. Its parents are dead. I can't just leave it here to die, I just can't!

    The egg is held closer in warm comforting arms and with the warmth infusing its veins the Aron kicks out again. The egg rocks but there is warmth all around him, holding the egg close.
    It starts to crack, tiny thin lines spider webbing across the egg shell as the Aron forces his way into the dull cave lights. Pale green fingers wipe the viscous hatching goop from the dark rimmed eyes and for the first time the Aron opens its pale pink eyes.
    "Hello there little guy." The pokemon holding him coos, helping pull the shell fragments aside as the Aron experimentally kicks its short legs.
    "More trouble." The other pokemon grumbles, tucking a bright yellow beak under a black feathered wing.
    Mother. Something in the newly hatched Aron's mind says. Father.
    The Aron's steel plated mouth stretches his jaw wide, a few strings of fluid linking his jaws as a thin reedy whine breaks through from his throat as the Aron fills his lungs with air for the first time and lets loose a loud screeching cry.
    "Too noisy, kill it!" The Honchkrow squawks, leaping back and shedding a few feathers.
    The Gardevoir merely clutches the Aron closer, lightly bouncing it up and down and muttering soothing nonsense to the tiny steel type until the Aron calms down in the warm embrace and the loud cry turns into a contented rumbling. Kaze runs a finger over the pale shell. It is still soft to the touch and a lighter color than he had ever seen on an Aron.
    Ignoring the way the happy rumbling cuts off the Gardevoir turns the Aron over to find the soft grey underbelly is a lighter silver color.
    "Well multiply my level by an imaginary number. He's an albino, aren't you little guy?"
    The Aron's happy rumbling resumes as the Gardevoir strokes his back. It sounds like a miniature rock tumbler.
    With a sigh Hayato fluffs out his feathers and runs his crimson eyes along the baby rock/steel type. Its pale pink eyes look straight back without a hint of fear, something the charcoal feathered Honchkrow was not accustomed to.
    The Big Boss pokemon plucks a stray feather from his ruffled wing to hide this true thoughts. The baby pokemon was quite cute and not only that but of a powerful lineage if the rotting carcasses of the Aggron and Rampardos that had also inhabited the nest was any judge of strength.
    "We still can't keep him Kaze." The Honchkrow says with a softer edge to his voice. "He would be in danger everywhere we went and it is hard to train such a young pokemon."
    "I've always wanted a child..." The Gardevoir says barely audibly, emerald eyes down as he works on cleaning the last of the egg fluid from the Aron's shell.
    Nervously the Honchkrow coughs and hides his face behind his wing to avoid his embarrassment being shown.
    "I found the egg and I hatched it so it is my responsibility." Kaze says as if that is justification.
    "Fine. It stays." The Honchkrow gives in grouchily. "But only until we find a caregiver to take care of it."
    Kaze smiles briefly before it is wiped from his face by the baby Aron reaching up to bite at the metal charm of the dangling necklace. With a yelp the Gardevoir yanks it free and turns it around to avoid further temptation.
    "Awww you must be hungry." Kaze says as, robbed of the tasty metal, the albino bites the protruding ruby red horn instead.

    For the next few weeks the Gardevoir spent his sleepless nights hunting out the tiny bits of metal the Aron needed to build his shell; the Honchkrow finding unripe berries and tiny bits of pokemon meat for the Aron to eat. Sheltered from battle and the ravenous undead the Aron grew quickly. Soon he learnt how to stand on his short legs then how to run a few swift steps, tottering after his Gardevoir "Mother" and mischievously chewing the bright red tail feathers of his Honchkrow "Father." He burbled not only if he was hungry but to feel he was joining in his parent's conversations. He slept curled up in Kaze's arms or in the softer white feathers of Hayato's breast and screeched loudly at the approach of strangers as much as in hunger.
    For a long time the Gardevoir and Honchkrow alternated hunting for food and looking after their child. The psychic type treated the Aron with pride and care, everyday dedicatedly instructing the tiny steel type on how to find food and talking to him calmly as the Aron burbled along in his baby scribble and chewed everything new to see how it tasted.
    The dark/flying type taught the Aron more practical skills; how to use the powerful moves handed down to him by his parents and to screech loudly whenever he saw a strange pokemon.

    One day the Aron's screeching hailed another living instead of the countless red-eyed undead that normally startled him. Hayato cawed and fluffed up his wings and Kaze carefully soothed the Aron by stroking its white shell and extended a leaf colored hand in greeting.
    The native Unovan pokemon rested for a while in their company, sharing the fresh water stored in his tufted tail and sharing knowledge of the region of his home. Kaze listened to each story with a wide eyed alertness as the Aron wandered around his parent’s new friend and tried to gnaw at the shell-like blade he carried by his side.
    The Simipour was a living wanderer; one who defended all with the blade of his master and, unlike the other living who had swiftly grown tired of their Aron's antics; he had looked on the tiny steel type with a bemused grin.
    With a heavy heart Kaze asked of him the question; Whether or not he could be a better parent for the Aron than a pair of tireless danger-seekers.
    For a long time the Simipour seemed to meditate on the issue with his Seamitar across his knees and his long tufted tail slowly twitching before the curious Aron walked up and put his large head in the Water Type’s lap, dropping the well slimed ball of stone he had been chewing into it.
    The Simipour had merely smiled.
    With some sadness an agreement was made.
    Kaze carefully stroked his fingers across the Aron’s shell one last time and lightly kissed the pale white forehead while the Aron cooed his approval and wriggled his stubby legs in the Simipour’s grip.
    Hayato as always looked faintly disapproving but with some embarrassment disgorged a round egg shaped stone from his crop and pressed it into the Aron’s arms before running his wing feathers across the top of the tiny albino’s head.
    Rumbling happily in the Simipour’s arms the Aron turned its pale pink eyes on his new companion, unaware that the Gardevoir and Honchkrow aren’t leaving simply for a short foraging trip but until he is old enough to take care of himself.
    The Simipour smiles as the pair walk off.
    The Aron briefly coo's after them before returning to trying to gnaw through the egg of stone.
    "Your 'parents' never told me your name." The Simipour says. "So for as long as you are my student your name will be...Giri."
    The Aron merely blinks his pale pink eyes.
    Appearance An tiny newly hatched Aron. Peculiarities in his hatching have prevented his body from producing any type of pigment; his still soft shell is a pure white and his undersides are a light grey. His albino eyes are a pure pink and sensitive to light. He leans back and sits on his hind legs a lot when he wants to look around and only drops to all fours when trying to catch up with someone. Shortly after being hatched Hayato found him a Lucky Egg that he chews at and he will carry it in his mouth when moving or hold it in his forelegs and gnaw on it when sitting. He will always look around whenever someone talks and is smart enough to recognize when his name is said. Usually he is carried by Fujimaru, either held by his right arm while the Simipour fights with his left or slung over his shoulder in a sash made of Fujimaru's belt. He will often play fight with Fujimaru, taking playful swipes at the water-type's tail.
    Personality Being newly hatched Giri hasn't developed much of a personality yet. He can run short distances but likes to stay close to his 'parent'. Giri enjoys lying in the sun to warm his armored plates and will contentedly chew on his Lucky Egg as well as other nearby rocks. He curiously looks around for new toys to play with and may inadvertently step on the toes/tails ect of pokemon around him while looking around. He enjoys being the centre of attention and coos when he feels appreciated. Still being young he sleeps a lot more than other pokemon and cries loudly when hungry, hurt or upset. He believes everything is a new toy and will chew feathers/tails/claws ect if not stopped. Loud noises upset him and will cause him to start to cry. Takes an interest in nearly everything and will occasionally but into a conversation with a scribble like babbling as he pretends he is talking.
    User Notes
    -He has recently evolved.
    -While he considers Hayato his father his egg was taken by Kaze from the corpses of his natural Aggron mother and Rampardos father who had been killed by Undead. His albino coloring is in part due to issues with his egg being incubated too after hatching, resulting in the harmful mutation.
    -He is sort of edged into battles by Fujimaru introducing him to an opponent then others jumping in to faint the opponent for him while Giri hides (similar to how many people train lower level pokemon in real life)
    -Giri enjoys biting different types of stones for the mineral content to improve the strength of his armor; he will often chew at rock types or any other pokemon with a form of armor.
    -Has become separated from his "parents" not too long after imprinting them as his parents but still vaguely recalls the silhouettes of a Gardevoir and a Honchkrow. He will coo around both these species, thinking they might be his parents.
    -While Giri was separated from his "parents" by the epidemic they still had a few weeks together, during which Hayato found him a Lucky Egg.
    -Kaze desperately misses him; if they should meet again hugs will result.

      Current date/time is Sun Feb 05, 2023 8:14 pm