|Theme(s)||The Next God|
To Battle a Deity
Symphony of the Omniscient
Realm of the Mad God
|Item||Well-Kempt Team Galactic Jacket, Black Pants, black long-sleeved shirt, heavy duty Galactic Shoes|
|Gender Identity||Any/All. “God needs no gender.”|
|Region of origin||Origins: Sinnoh.|
Current Location: Unknown.
|Occupation||Creator of the New World, Ex-Galactic Boss|
|Party||The Horsemen of the New World: Death, War, Pestilence, Famine, and Conquest.|
Ability- Flash Fire
-Dark Pulse (TM)
-Thunder Fang (Move Tutor)
Held Item: Choice Scarf
-Drill Peck (Bred)
-Night Slash (Level)
-Heat Wave (Move Tutor)
Held Item: Life Orb
Name/Gender- Pestilence, Male
Ability- Inner Focus
-Cross Poison (Level)
-Brave Bird (Bred)
-Confuse Ray (Level)
Held Item: Black Sludge
-Ice Fang (Level)
-Giga Impact (TM)
Held Item: Choice Band
Name/Gender- Famine, Male
-Night Slash (Level)
-Ice Punch (Bred)
-Low Kick (Move Tutor)
-Fake Out (Bred)
Held Item: Focus Sash
|Quote|| "So this is what has happened.|
Very well... This infection was sent by Arceus to assist me...
I shall use it. A means to an end...
I shall destroy this world.
So I can create it anew."
|History||Cyrus was a child prodigy genius. He was asocial in his childhood, towards both Pokemon and Humans. He did not spend much time around either, instead playing video games, and watching animated television, preferring controlled machines to unpredictable living beings. He excelled in classes, getting the equivalent of A’s most often, with B’s scattered here and there. This absolutely shattered his parent’s high expectations, and they in turn began to punish and degrade him as he got further into his schooling, where it became more important for his future. As they did so, he simply regressed from Asocialism to being antisocial, spiting the company of others in this world that was so cruelly rejecting him.|
Cyrus still performed in the top percentile of his classes, typically only ever getting one B per semester. But every B he earned got him another beating. Another restriction to be placed on his life. Cyrus still researched, studied, and did well. But as he grew older, his spite lead him to start researching things about this very world, slowly entertaining the idea of “What is the cause of evil?” in various terminologies and phrases. No matter what he did, it always seemed as though Cyrus himself was the root of his problems…
Cyrus was no longer bitter about schooling as he went to college. In fact, he instantly majored in human psychology. He wanted to know how people, how this world worked. Cyrus never made an honest dollar as he went to college. He lied, conned and manipulated his way into a mediocre wealth, but certainly a good cut for his age. It was all legal, both in the eyes of the law, and in the eyes of the school. He had enough to leave his cage of a house behind now. And so he did. He left his machines, his experiments, everything except research notes. Experiments can be repeated, theories reevaluated. Machines can be rebuilt. But notes take time to recall and recreate…
He lived in solitude, renting a small home from his grandfather. His grandfather was one of the only humans he did not distinctly dislike. Not to assume that he enjoyed his grandfather overall, but the old man was kind to him. He expressed regret many times for not intervening in his life, removing him from the abusive household. He was gracious with the small home that accompanied the ranch he owned, a small distance from the main property. Cyrus enjoyed hearing the old man’s ramblings about his past. While his grandfather saw it as imparting knowledge to a young, promising boy, Cyrus peeled it apart for views into the thoughts of an old man that had seen countless humans in life.
Cyrus would help with ranch chores, diligently do his schoolwork, and still experiment. Sleep was not something Cyrus had much of, as his bumbling mind constantly bringing him new ideas, new theories. One of them stood out. I am not the one that is wrong… humans are wrong. Our species is an ill existence. This idea brewed, fermented like a fine wine in his head… developing. This world is plagued by the human race. This world is doomed. Humans are a terminal illness, as they are now…
His beliefs slowly became the ideal that the cause of strife within this mortal world was emotion- unpredictable, incalculable. These ideas would morph and shift as his plans for Team Galactic developed in time. Cyrus completed his college education to the four year standard, starting to spread the idea of a world made anew. He never let his full ideals be known; simply that he believed humanity needed to change. This line of thought was followed by many, and through time, effort, and more manipulation, Team Galactic was born. With strenuous research and studies, Cyrus found his primary targets to be the Creation Trio. Acquiring any one of these three assets would be a nearly guaranteed victory.
Before putting his plans into action, Cyrus ensured that his organization was constantly growing. Cyrus hand-picked the administrators of his following, as well as a small group scientists to work directly under his secretive hand. These scientists, along with himself, would conduct extensive research into the very base of DNA, both human and Pokemon in nature. Eventually, methods of altering the basis of all DNA was found, stemming from an old theory that altering the proteins surrounding DNA strands could begin a chain reaction. Releasing a controlled specimen of proteins, it is very much possible to use this chain reaction to alter the growth of Humans. Thanks to the nature of Evolution, the process was far more noticeable in Pokemon, as well as much quicker to take affect.
After his final defeat by Lucas and Pearl in the Distortion World, Cyrus began to pit his pokemon against one another to train. He also furthered his resolve to create a new world with Giratina’s power, convincing himself that Giratina would bow to him eventually. As such, he gave names to his Pokemon, whom had been useful enough to him that they had a place in his new world now. Weavile became the General of Famine, spreading ice and ruin. Crobat became the General of Pestilence, spreading poison and rot on the unworthy world. Gyaradose became the General of Conquest, a brutal warrior sure to be at the front charge Cyrus’ godly army in wars to come. Honchkrow became the General of War, certain to win battles as a tactitian. Houndoom became the General of Death, sent to reap the worthless lives that remained in Cyrus’ cleansing world. The pokemon became true comrades in arms, and trusted Cyrus to not leave them, knowing he held them not in love but in use. And they knew they had enough power to be of use.
Cyrus challenged Giratina time and again, hardly leaving light dings and scratches every time. The irritated dimensional Legend often just warped them elsewhere in the distortion world- requiring the least time and effort. However, after enough prodding, Giratina had enough. In a bout of anger, Giratina warped Cyrus back to Sinnoh, in a forested area- years into the Epidemic. Cyrus was unphased by this turn of events at first, simply moving along as he resolved to take his post as Team Galactic once more, unaware of the dire world he was now in.
Less than twenty minutes after being warped back to his home region, Cyrus encountered a pokemon… a very strange looking Starly. Its flesh and feathers were blotched purple, its eyes crimson. While it was an encounter by definition, it was one-sided for a long while. Cyrus swiftly took mental notes; the Starly moved abnormally, of course seemed abnormal, and even carried itself in an abnormal fashion. Normal avian-like Pokemon tweak their heads quickly to broaden and aid their depth perception. This Starly sat there, staring in a seemingly inconspicuous direction. It also seemed… uncaring. Starly is a notably weak Pokemon, for obvious reasons. Normally they would be very cautious, and likely fly away when Cyrus was so close (about 43 meters). Cyrus approached with caution, craving knowledge on this strange, shiny pokemon. He stopped 30 meters away, taking a pokeball and releasing Famine. The high pitch tone of the Pokemon being released from its ball caught the Flying type’s attention, turning it around.
The sight was a gruesome thing to behold, and fascinated Cyrus. The Starly’s left eye dangles from its socket, flopping around freely in a mesmerizing fashion. The right wing was missing entirely, but there were not any clear bloodstains that would complement such a wound. No bloodstains meant that blood was not flowing when the wing was removed, nor did blood flow now. This Pokemon’s heart was not beating. The Starly let out something that no longer resembled a chirp, as air simply forced out of its lungs in an ominous, unsettling rasp of a groan. It leapt forward, flapping one wing wildly as it tumbled to the floor, and landed on its head. It writhed on the ground as Cyrus casually grabbed a fallen branch. He approached the creature, lining up the narrow end of the branch with its head and driving it forward with a slight level of delicacy into the skull and brain. The Starly abruptly and immediately stopped moving completely. This was a specimen to be studied… Cyrus released Pestilence, Death and War, ordering them to form a small perimeter, to not engage the enemy and to be as silent as he did a quick field autopsy. He found the internal organs of the creature to be akin to a poorly kempt antiquity, no longer functioning, decomposing or already nearly decomposed. The creature was for all intents and purposes, deceased. With his current equipment, he could not take nor bury this specimen, so he took out his notepad and wrote the facts, his hypotheses and ideas.
All five of his Pokemon were on edge from the get-go. The stench of death was in the air, and the more they thought about it, the more troubling it was. The scent came not only from Cyrus and the Starly, but from all directions. The air, the forest, even the soil carried a tainted smell… as though the natural state was now to be rotten. Even as Cyrus recalled them, leaving Famine out to deal with the potential Grass and Flying types, they were far beyond unsettled. Famine was confident, yet his every instinct screamed that he should not be here.
As they travelled, they encountered and saw more Pokemon that were like this. In fact, not a single one was ‘normal.’ Many seemed to be non-final evolutions. Cyrus deduced that the weak were weeded out and became these functioning yet deceased entities. The strong live on elsewhere, perhaps safe, perhaps still fighting tooth and claw until the weakest link loses, until the process repeats.
|Appearance||Despite the hellish state of the world, Cyrus maintains a remarkably professional appearance. Not quite clean, as his rather crude equipment for grooming can only do so much. His clothes however, are kept clean within reason. He is constantly stubbly, or has a five o’clock shadow. He keeps his hands very clean as much as he can so that he can all but guarantee untarnished experiments. He still wears the Galactic Leader uniforms he designed, for various reasons. Cyrus’ hair, while trained to stay up, is not capable of making its tall spikes naturally. If Cyrus’ does not stay properly gelled, it will form a semi-cohesive natural flat top, with shaggy licks in the back. Cyrus’ natural, and almost constant expression is a resting ‘bitch face.’|
|Personality||Cyrus is all but unfeeling, setting his desires for scientific exploration and growth, as well as his goals for a new world, ahead of all else. To him, emotion is only a hindrance, and he has even gone so far as to throw his gender identity and sexuality aside, deeming them unnecessary for the new god.|
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EpidemicJohto © 2011
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Cyrus, Traitor of the Living [WIP]
- Black Guard
- Posts : 3
- Post n°1