Epidemic Johto

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Welcome to New Johto;
This is what remains of the region after the virus hit.
Undead pokemon lurk behind every corner, infest every city, haunt every cave.
Dark Days are Ahead...
Will you survive?


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Veilstone lad #2


Age : 21
Posts : 1491

Veilstone lad #2 Empty Veilstone lad #2

Post by Abysswalker Mon Aug 14, 2017 8:20 pm


Text Color d67a99
Theme(s) Go!
Item His backpack he used to take to school, with a simple solid blue color and no patterns. His mother's favorite Swiss Army knife, along with a pocketknife from her room. Thermos. Several cans of nonperishables. A folded-up blanket taken from his room. Three sewing needles, a case for them, and thread. A photograph of his Furret, Sunshine, taken from his father's room.
Weapons Brandon never had much in the way of weapons, but he did take the knife off of the guy who attacked him with it. Before that, he used whatever he could to defend himself-rocks, bricks, etc. as his survival patterns did not involve being caught in fights.
Biological Sex Male
Gender Identity He|Him
Birthdate August 31st
Age 24
Species Human
Weight 117 lbs
Height 5'7"
Region of origin Orre. Moved to Sinnoh as a teenager.
Occupation He had finished his senior year of high school and was working full-time at a convenience store when the epidemic began.
Party None. Both of them were killed at the beginning of the outbreak.
These Pokemon were: Spines {Nidoran M.}, and Sunshine {Furret} (who technically was his father's Pokemon).
Pkm 1 ALL
Pkm 2 MY
Pkm 4 ARE
Pkm 5 DEAD
Pkm 6 !!
Quote "It's...you know, um...it's, well, it's just that I'm not really...all that brave..."

"Haha! Ha...that was a joke, right?"
"Oh my god, we are all going to die."
"Yeah, if you could not kill me, that would, that would be great."
History Poor, poor Brandon-the circumstances of his life never seemed to align in his favor.

He was quite the accident, born to parents whose marriage was rapidly falling apart. Their kid managed to keep them somewhat together, like a sort of temporary glue, but in all the worst ways. The two argued-a lot, and none of it was ever quiet or civil. By the time Brandon was old enough to comprehend some of the actual words in the arguments, rather than just the fact voices were being raised, he had already developed several negative habits in correlation to his parents' anger and impatience. An example was his intolerance of loud noises; even something as innocent as kids yelling when they played made the child shut down almost completely. This would mark the beginning of his underdeveloped social skills.

Throughout childhood, Brandon lived somewhat of a divided life. His parents were indifferent to him at best, and quick to lash out at worst, but his school life was a little better. He avoided other children like the plague whenever possible, but some of the adults he knew treated him well. Unfortunately, they could tell something was off about the boy, and their attempts to help often went awry. Many of his teachers contacted his parents, suggesting they work on helping their son's social capabilities or recommending children's psychologists, things along that line. Whether out of pride or perhaps a sense of guilt, Brandon's parents didn't take kindly to the idea that there was something wrong with their boy. This usually lead to Brandon himself being punished, as it was believed he was the one talking about such nonsense at school; said punishments never helped, it only made him beg his teachers to never tell his parents about anything, even if he was in trouble.

Besides the few adults that cared about him, Brandon's only other companion was his dad's Furret, Sunshine, a lazy old Pokemon that liked to curl up and sleep in the patches of sunlight that peeked through the house's curtains (she really lived up to her name). Other kids were never his friends, as they usually fell into two categories: the kid that called him "freak", "retard", and other insults, or the kid that could've befriended him if it wasn't for Brandon's tendency to hide or not speak at all. Thus, he had only the Furret to keep him company. She was a sweet Pokemon, though, and one of Brandon's few sources of comfort in his conflict-ridden home; Sunshine would often stay with him whenever he was too afraid to leave his room at night for fear of being punished, or sneak him food taken from the cabinets. Even as he grew older, she always stayed by his side.

The only good thing about Brandon's adolescence was that his parents simmered down a little bit, maybe finally resigning to the idea that arguing wasn't going to magically fix their terrible relationship. They even started taking a little more notice of their son, and not in a frightening, punishment-centered way. There was one downside, though: his parents thoroughly believed that teenagers needed hardship to "build character", and told Brandon he would not be permitted to live in their house once his eighteenth birthday rolled around. Throughout the entirety of his teenage years, this warning hung over his head, creating a burden that caused the already fragile, anxiety-ridden Brandon further stress. He worked hard to be able to go to a great university without needing a rich family, and (barely) balanced his schooling with a part-time job to save money, running the boy ragged. His only solace were his companions, Sunshine and another (albeit wild) Pokemon, a male Nidoran he affectionately nicknamed Spines. They treated him kinder than most humans, and Brandon never felt obligated to use words when he was around them; after all, it wasn't like they could respond with words of their own.

His seventeenth birthday was probably the worst day of his life, if only because it made Brandon's life-changing (or life-ruining) deadline seem closer than ever. Already reclusive by nature, he started shutting himself in his room even more than usual, trying to get both his things and plans together. With his minimum wage job and lack of human friends, Brandon fully expected to be out on the streets for awhile, maybe permanently, so it wasn't as if he could take a lot with him. Why did his parents have to be so damn stubborn? No matter what Brandon said to try and convince them (which took every ounce of courage he had), they always shut him down. It was like they wanted him to starve and die out on the streets.

His weight began to drop, and Brandon often left the house with eyes red from crying. Spines would look up at him as he walked to school and make chattering sounds, as if trying to ask what was wrong. At night, when stress kept him awake with horrible headaches and body aches, Sunshine would slip into his room, jump up onto his bed, and curl up around him like she always had during his childhood. The closer his eighteenth birthday inched towards him, the worse Brandon's condition got, and his Pokemon noticed. They worried more than anyone else did, even his own parents, and the thought only worsened Brandon's depression. He could die today, and his two Pokemon might be the only ones that cared.

At least he was able to switch to a full-time job.

Before his eighteenth birthday arrived, the beginning of what would go on to become the epidemic hit-and where Brandon lived, it hit hard. He'd caught rumors of normally harmless Pokemon turning violent, and was disturbed by the implications, but the reality of what was coming was more than even his anxiety could've imagined. When the attacks started up in bulk, he hadn't been at home, but the chaos did not take long at all to spread. Emergency services couldn't hope to keep up with everything that was happening, and soon enough, his once dull home was running red. Brandon's mind must have been overloaded from sheer fear, and he ran on autopilot back home. It had to have been sheer luck that kept him from being torn to shreds, or maybe it was the horrid luck of others, because he made it with only minor injuries, barely anything worth mentioning.

The worst of it all was a mental wound, regardless-on the way, Brandon had caught sight of the lifeless body of Spines, and whatever had killed him hadn't been...subtle. It would take days before his brain was able to process the image; if Brandon had thought about it then and there, he might have broken down completely and become easier prey. As it was, he still had more trauma to endure.

The front door of his house was slightly open, and judging by the state of the doorknob, someone had broken in. Sure enough, there was someone inside he didn't recognize-but their corpse was being torn at by a Pokemon covered in blood and grievous wounds, injuries no normal Pokemon should have been able to live through. That wasn't what Brandon cared about, though. That Pokemon was a Furret-Sunshine. Brandon should have snapped then and there. He should have been killed by his own companion. But when she turned to face him, she didn't look like Sunshine anymore-this creature was empty, and the spirit of his beloved Furret was gone. When she-no, it-lunged at him, trying to sink its teeth into him, survival instinct kicked in. The entire situation would become nothing but blurs in his memory, but at the time, Brandon managed to kill his oldest companion through blunt force trauma, using whatever heavy objects his parents left around the house.

In the aftermath, Brandon ran. His parents hadn't been anywhere in their house. Covered in the blood of his Furret, and completely alone, he ran. He kept running, but no matter where he went, nowhere was safe. No humans nor non-hostile Pokemon were ever in sight.  Eventually, when taking shelter in some sort of building-a warehouse, maybe?-Brandon finally had enough time to himself to break down, the weight of true solitude, of witnessing pointless death, of Spines and killing Sunshine himself finally getting to the boy...it was too much. He couldn't keep the tears back. By the time he was able to gather himself back up again, Brandon felt as though every single one of his emotions had gone numb. Maybe he'd finally become too far gone to be saved.

Survival didn't come easily. Brandon lived by hiding, taking shelter wherever he could, and scavenging for food and water; he never fought one of the roamers, not unless they were weak and alone. Even then, killing one was an ordeal; it always dragged back memories of his own Pokemon. There were several points when Brandon was certain he was going to die, whether due to exposure, starvation, or by a roamer finding his resting spot...but he always woke up again. A part of him was disappointed. Was this life worth living? Brandon didn't think it was, but he still trudged on regardless.

His first encounter with another human did not happen for a long, long time, and it...didn't go well. He'd been traveling alongside a river when Brandon was held up at knifepoint by a man both bigger and older than himself. Judging by his wild eyes and ruined clothing, this man had been through hell and back; he demanded Brandon's supplies, but as he reached for the backpack the boy was carrying, something must have spooked him. The man began screaming at Brandon about some sort of noise that the boy hadn't heard, and though he tried desperately to calm the other down, the crazed survivor attacked.

Brandon managed to avoid the first stab, and that gave him an opening to fight back. The two engaged in a fierce, yet short battle, with the older man dying when his neck was slammed against a rock. However, before Brandon could do this, the survivor got in one messy attack, his knife slicing through the flesh on Brandon's cheek and jaw, earning a shrill shriek of pain from the boy. Even though he'd technically won, Brandon knew he was dead. Blood was flowing freely from the wound, and he had nothing that could fight infection. Slowing the blood flow as best as he could, Brandon got back to his current hiding spot, his head light from hunger, blood loss, and stress combined. He was going to die-the roamers would smell his blood, track him down. But Brandon couldn't stop himself from blacking out.

Somehow, he woke up again. Something pressed down on the side of his face-gauze? Brandon remembered with painful clarity the knife wound he'd taken during that scuffle. But he didn't have any gauze, and there was no way he could've survived while unconscious. So then, how...?

He got his answer when another person moved into view, someone he didn't recognize. Brandon wanted to jump to his feet, but the best he could manage was sitting up quickly, his heart feeling as though it wanted to rip itself out of his chest. He wasn't good with people normally, and the last human tried to cut him open. What was this one planning? They must've seen the sheer terror in his expression, because their voice was the epitome of calm. Introducing themselves as Micah, they explained how'd they were tracking down a man that had robbed them. When they found his body and no sign of their belongings, they'd followed Brandon's blood trail and found him, unconscious and wounded.

Brandon didn't know what to think or say. Micah had helped him when they hadn't needed to, using valuable supplies on a complete stranger. "Thank you" couldn't possibly be enough, but he said it anyways. They accepted it graciously, if a little emotionlessly, and invited Brandon to eat with them and their Pokemon. Seeing a human with Pokemon companions broke his heart all over again, but he didn't say so. His savior's generosity was once again overwhelming; he needed to find a way to repay them.

Brandon and Micah became traveling companions after that. Their personalities meshed well, with the latter's quiet, standoffish nature agreeing well with Brandon's anxiety and need for solitude. He kept expecting to be stabbed in the back, but nothing of the sort ever happened. Maybe...maybe Micah was someone who he could depend on. Brandon had met a handful in his life, but with his only real friends being now-dead Pokemon, it was difficult to tell who could be trusted. Still, Micah didn't tell him to go away, and he felt safer in their presence, so Brandon stayed.

Eventually, they found Veilstone. Amazingly, and terrifyingly, the old Department Store was filled with survivors from all corners of the region. It freaked Brandon out, and he had to carve out a spot away from everyone else, but both he and Micah could agree that it was safer there then anywhere else. Brandon still has a horrible feeling in his gut, and it's not just due to the concentration of humans and Pokemon that's slowly overwhelming his brittle mind. No, it's like something terrible is waiting to happen, and he doesn't have a clue what.

There is no way they're safe here.
Accent I honest to God have no idea

Brandon is rather small, scrawny, and altogether non-intimidating. He has light brown hair that always looks like a mess, simply because Brandon never bothers to try and fix it. This, along with the prominent shadows under his eyes, gives him a perpetually exhausted look. He has a long, visible scar running along his left cheek and jaw, a remnant of a knife wound received during a fight with a homicidal survivor. The wound was deep enough to make it more physically difficult for him to speak, though not enough to permanently damage his facial expressions. (Added note because describing things ain't my forte: basically it can hurt for him to talk because speaking messes with the bottom part of the scar, but he's not paralyzed or anything along those lines.)

He is constantly underweight and suffers from chronic fatigue thanks to the stress of both his unmet physical needs and untreated mental illness. With no motivation to care for himself, Brandon has let his body slowly deteriorate (which leaves him feeling disgusted and horrid). His only saving grace throughout this is Micah; the only reason Brandon keeps himself from outright starving or dying from dehydration is because he sees death as a poor way to repay the person who saved his life.

To avoid the judgmental eyes of other people that fuel the flames of his anxiety, Brandon has a dark blue hoodie he can use to cover his face. Like the rest of his scavenged clothing, it is filthy from the dirty living of apocalypse life. His own body is not much different; Brandon would kill for a hot shower (metaphorically speaking).

Long story short, Brandon has suffered immensely throughout the epidemic, and it shows.
Religion Shaky faith in Arceus, though he rarely invokes the Legend's name due to superstition; he believes that his actions on earth will bring him his death sentence if he draws the Legend's attention to himself.

First things first: Brandon is not brave in any sense of the word. Thanks to a tumultuous upbringing, he never developed a thorough sense of self-worth nor the strong will required to resist authority and/or intimidation. As a result, the boy is quite easily cowed by threats and physical abuse; even mere movement directed towards him will cause Brandon to flinch and shield himself. He will almost never actually fight back, however; unless his life is being outright endangered, Brandon will simply take the abuse and hope that the other person eventually loses interest. His only true line of defense is to make himself blend in with groups and keep from standing out as much as he possibly can, in order to avoid unwanted attention.

He is constantly anxious, and afraid of most things. His fear has been woven throughout the entirety of his personality, making it difficult for Brandon to both interact with others and handle his copious amounts of stress. His instincts tell him to simply avoid or run from the things that terrify him, especially in life-or-death situations; though he takes absolutely no pride in this fact, Brandon is far more likely to save himself than try to help others. Hiding has been a habit drilled into him since childhood, and he's developed some stealth capabilities alongside it as well, as Brandon used to sneak throughout his house in order to avoid his parents; more recently, he's also snuck past undead, and uses his surroundings to conceal himself from them. Though Brandon decries himself as a worthless coward, he's actually adapted quite well into surviving however he can. He's not good at fighting, so he learned how to live with only his wits and speed as his tools.

Brandon's social capabilities are not the best, stemming from the fact his avoidance habits began in childhood and were never properly addressed. He is nervous around most people, and is especially anxious in large crowds (such as the survivor group in Veilstone, which is still overwhelming). Keeping up conversations is a challenge for him, but he'll force himself to speak anyways in order to avoid others seeing him as a "freak" or an "idiot", as he was often labeled in his younger years. Brandon is deeply afraid of being humiliated in front of other people, and takes often-drastic measures (such as outright isolating himself) in order to avoid this occurrence. Due to his low self-esteem, others' opinions matter a lot to him, and his own self-image can easily be influenced as a result.

Deep down, Brandon believes that he deserves all of the suffering that has been inflicted upon him, and that he hasn't earned the right to be free from his fear or pain. If others insult him accordingly or try to tear him down, he might end up internally agreeing with them, even if Brandon vocally says differently. Compliments and praise are easily shrugged off by the boy, and he can always find a way to twist his positive traits into something less appealing. Strangely enough, despite not really fighting back against his own abuse and seeing it as well-deserved, Brandon will become incredibly angry if he witnesses similar things happening to other people, and will stand up for those who are being hurt.

The loss of his Pokemon inflicted a great deal of damage upon his mind. With how quickly he was forced to leave Spines' body behind, Brandon was never really able to process the loss entirely and thus, a part of him believes the little Nidoran is still alive out there, somewhere. Sunshine, however, gave him no such hope. He still has nightmares that force him back to when he was forced to bludgeon her to death; the stillness of her body and her blood covering him is still horrifyingly real, as though she'd died only yesterday. Despite Brandon's mind rationally understanding that it wasn't really Sunshine, he still sees himself as a murderer, brutally killing one of the precious few creatures that ever truly cared about him. As a result of his trauma, Brandon can hardly stand to be around other people with Pokemon companions, especially trainers-he can barely keep himself from crying in their presence, and if they have a male Nidoran or a Furret, he truly can't hold back the tears.

Brandon can't stand physical touch, whether it is done in anger, concern, or any other reason; it causes him to immediately go on the defensive. He has grown very distant, even more than he was in the old days, and absolutely hates any sort of affection regardless of whether or not it's aimed at him. His personal space is very important to him, and whenever someone gets close, he'll become tense, as though ready to bolt at any given second. However, rather paradoxically, Brandon simultaneously longs for someone to hold him close or let him rest near them, like how his Furret used to curl up around him whenever he slept. He would love to be treated with care and tenderness, but his cynicism causes him to see such a wish as a hopeless pipe dream, never to be fulfilled.

Ultimately, Brandon is a fatalist, and views the entire world as a lost cause with no happy ending for anyone in sight. He can never fully trust anyone, not even Micah, who is the closest possible thing he has to a friend at this time. With the walls built around his increasingly fragile mental health keeping everyone else out, who knows how long it'll be before Brandon breaks completely?
Affiliations ("Friends? Y-yeah! I have friends, plenty of them. Like...like...none at all.")

His only real affiliation is with Micah, who saved his life. They traveled together for some time before finding Veilstone. Brandon lowkey adores them, but is prevented from trying to become true friends by his own paranoia and their dispassionate personality. Still, he would do anything for them.
User Notes
  • I kind of fell in love with Fallout 4's Travis Miles and now this guy exists haha whoops!
  • Refers to the undead as "roamers".

  • _________________

    Veilstone lad #2 229
    All My Characters Are Trans

      Current date/time is Sat Mar 06, 2021 4:07 pm