Nov 17, 2018 23:55:52 GMT -5 |
Post by Deleted on Nov 17, 2018 23:55:52 GMT -5
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[attr="class","revcallname"]NICKOLAS
WINDSOR
[attr="class","revcalllyric"]GOTTA MAKE A MILLION, DOESN'T MATTER WHO DIES
[attr="class","revcallbar"]
[attr="class","revcallbar1"] RANK royal knight | [attr="class","revcallbar1"] AGE twenty-seven | [attr="class","revcallbar1"] PRONOUNS he/him | [attr="class","revcallbar1"] SEXUALITY heterosexual | [attr="class","revcallbar1"] ORIGIN rosewyvern |
[attr="class","revcallmid"]
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[break] | [attr="class","revcalllikes"] STADIUMName: Venodome [break] Location: Rosewyvern [break] Pokemon Type: poison [break] Level Range: 50 - 58 [break] Medal Given: blight badge [break] [attr="class","revcalllikes1"] [attr="class","revcalllikes"] DESCRIPTIONA dome-shaped building sheltered amid a ring of trees, the Venodome looks more like a small auditorium than a stadium. It's doors are bordered by two lavender pillars with carved stone vines, at the base of each - should the season permit - sit little troughs of foxgloves and hydragea's. The interior of the building is modeled to resemble more of a greenhouse, albeit it boasts a large clear field farther in for battles to take place. All around are various plants and vegetation, pretty to the unassuming eye but likely poisonous in some form. |
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The Swain’s were proficient battlers of respectable renown. Their family crest – the blooming white camellia – was an easy symbol to identify among Rosewyvern’s populace, albeit not so much anymore.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Their emblem had fallen out of the public eye in the last three generations as with each new iteration of their progeny seemed to fall further and further from their ideals. Some hadn’t the constitution to be battlers and turned to agricultural pursuits, others prized ingenuity in the form of new technology over their heritage – which would have brought its own prestige if not for the fact that all of them either went mad or disappeared.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Many speculated that the Swain’s had fallen out of grace with the gods; their family was known for their white hair and many in the most recent generations didn’t bear that feature. Until the arrival of Nickolas, that is.
[BREAK][BREAK]
His family wasn’t destitute but they were far from the wealth and fortune his heritage had once known. Much of their clan had scattered in the hope that distance from their ancestral roots would give them opportunities for a better life. His father however, was stubborn and hadn’t the heart to roam far from Rosewyvern and built his homestead upon its outskirts after marrying a maid from the small farming town.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Nickolas was the first born. Named after his great grandfather who was said to be one of the last male members of their family to be born with their iconic white mop of hair. Rather surprisingly his father did not shelter his child nor did he ask unreasonable tasks of him. It was his hope that the boy would become great in the ways that truly mattered – not by wealth nor by rank, but in heart. With this leniency, Nickolas should have been given the chance to grow up without the overbearing weight of past accolades, but that wasn’t to say he went without his share of burdens that would push him in their own way.
[BREAK][BREAK]
The winter of his eighth year came with the birth of his young brother, Richard. It had been a pregnancy that was much more difficult than his own and the outlook from their local doctors had been grim. Richard was premature by almost two months and required round the clock care from his already haggard parents. Nickolas did what he could to ease their burden but there wasn’t much he could supply them with beyond an extra pair of hands for the few pokemon they kept on the property.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Things got better slowly. Richard survived, against all odds, through the trying six month period where most infants born with complications would have succumbed. But although he would live there was no way of knowing for how long or at what quality. The infant was weak. His body did not take well to sharp changes in temperature and he breathed with an almost constant wheeze that worried his family. They did what they could but reasoned that Richard’s fate was in the hands of the Gods.
[BREAK][BREAK]
So it was to Nick’s immense pleasure that he found himself with a younger sibling toddling after him four years after his birth, hail and whole. For all intents and purposes, anyway. The two children where nigh inseparable while off the family property, exploring the overgrowing forest edge or pressing their luck by venturing closer and closer to the mountain pass.
[BREAK][BREAK]
It was on one such outing that the mischievous duo happened across the mouth of a small cave and ducked inside during one of their games, finding within a weakened zubat. The pair took it upon themselves to nurse it back to health, a task that sounded simple enough at first. Richard, despite being stronger now, was still considerably less durable than his brother and could not make the trek back and forth without straining himself. It fell to Nickolas to see that the injured cave-dweller made it through and in doing so earned himself a friend. His mother was none too pleased to even consider hosting the ‘filthy vermin’ in her household and his father urged him to release the zubat back to where he’d found it.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Disheartened, the boys did as instructed. Sort of. Nick wasn’t going to abandon his new friend just because his mother didn’t find it ‘cute’. So although he left Flit the Zubat in the mountain pass he promised to visit it as often as he could.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Things settled for the next three years in quiet stagnancy. Little changed for the family of four as they struggled and prospered in equal measure. Nickolas, while not unhappy, was restless. As much as he loved his family and their peaceful way of life, he felt himself steadily growing apathetic to the ins and outs of this routine. He began wandering farther and farther from home, as much as daylight would permit, and most often accompanied by Flit who had started roosting in the forests close by.
[BREAK][BREAK]
It was one one of these walks that they were flagged down by a group of boys from the neighboring farms and challenged to a battle. He wasn’t lacking exposure to the use of pokemon in battles – the knights that routinely patrolled the area would often amuse themselves with the rowdier locals willing to engage them – but he’d never entered one himself. Bewildered but excited by the new avenue he’d accepted… and was immediately crushed.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Oddly the defeat didn’t leave him bitter but exhilarated and Nickolas quickly set off to improving himself alongside Flit. Four hours he’d disappear into the woodlands, fighting the wild pokemon he and his flying partner happened across and discovered his love for the sport and the thrum of energy that battle brought him. From his progress he started entering these little scuffles with others and bet money on the outcomes, using what earnings he made to purchase a pokeball for his zubat.
[BREAK][BREAK]
From then on his vigor only grew but his little farming community could only offer so much variety. It was then he decided to enlist in the knight program. They were the strongest, most competent battlers next to the pokelords who commanded them and at soxteen he left him, fully intending to enroll.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Sadly it was nothing quite so easy. Although Nickolas could write his name and small messages he was largely illiterate – as were most of the lower castes. And though the training regime did offer some form of education for its attendants, it was not a program easily entered. Hundreds applied and barely a fraction of that number ever passed to the second stage, let alone received the highly coveted benefits.
The testing he endured was for physical and tactical aptitude, the latter of which he had in spades and the former needing work, but he managed to impress one knight, Garfield Hemming, offered to act as his sponsor.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Three years passed under the harsh tutelage and the fruit of his labors were remarkable. He throttled lesser opponents and accepted his defeats graciously, eager to surpass his superiors for the simple love of the thrill working in tandem with his pokemon brought him. What little downtime he had was spent writing letters to his family, wandering the ever-populated streets or, on more rare occasions, teasing miss Antonia.
[BREAK][BREAK]
She was a royal of some sort, that much he’d grasped without needing to have it pointed out but he rarely treated so. He teased her at any given opportunity (that is, when no one was around to overhear his ‘impudence’) and greatly enjoyed the little arguments they’d spring up about what types were better. She was of courting age and the few instances where he saw her potential intended’s he made it a point to offer subtle distractions, if only so she wasn’t bored with the men vying for her attention. He had no interest in her romantically – not that she wasn’t pretty, he merely knew the caste system didn’t favor him as a potential suitor and preferred her friendship over the political nightmare that being betrothed to a pokelord would undoubtedly bring. And so imagine his horror when she damned him in front of all her would-be-husbands and his fellow knights with three little words.
[BREAK][BREAK]
“I choose Nickolas.”
[BREAK][BREAK]
He’d never been quite so aware of how many people were in attendance until they came to rest on him. If he were being wholly honest a refusal was on the tip of his tongue. He wanted nothing to do with the politics nor the headache such a union would force them to suffer, but more than that – how would he even be capable of making such a willful girl happy? He had neither wealth nor land to his name, he could offer her no societal clout… and yet he found himself amused by the scornful looks of her many suitors as they tried to cow him with their glares. He accepted, mainly to spite them but also because it was clear his friend would rather settle for someone she knew had no designs on her title or standing. It entertained him greatly to see his superiors gape at the ease with which he teased the young lady.
[BREAK][BREAK]
That day he swore a new oath to her, promising to be her protector and confidant in whatever capacity she needed be it shield or sword. They were married not even a few months after and the time allowed to them both turned their playful niggling to something much more intimate. Over the course of the following four years he found himself quickly enamored with the woman, delighting in her smiles and her intractability. It was strange how easy it was to love her.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Now, happily married, he presides over the Venodome.
[BREAK][BREAK]
The Last Camellia
The Swain’s were proficient battlers of respectable renown. Their family crest – the blooming white camellia – was an easy symbol to identify among Rosewyvern’s populace, albeit not so much anymore.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Their emblem had fallen out of the public eye in the last three generations as with each new iteration of their progeny seemed to fall further and further from their ideals. Some hadn’t the constitution to be battlers and turned to agricultural pursuits, others prized ingenuity in the form of new technology over their heritage – which would have brought its own prestige if not for the fact that all of them either went mad or disappeared.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Many speculated that the Swain’s had fallen out of grace with the gods; their family was known for their white hair and many in the most recent generations didn’t bear that feature. Until the arrival of Nickolas, that is.
[BREAK][BREAK]
His family wasn’t destitute but they were far from the wealth and fortune his heritage had once known. Much of their clan had scattered in the hope that distance from their ancestral roots would give them opportunities for a better life. His father however, was stubborn and hadn’t the heart to roam far from Rosewyvern and built his homestead upon its outskirts after marrying a maid from the small farming town.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Nickolas was the first born. Named after his great grandfather who was said to be one of the last male members of their family to be born with their iconic white mop of hair. Rather surprisingly his father did not shelter his child nor did he ask unreasonable tasks of him. It was his hope that the boy would become great in the ways that truly mattered – not by wealth nor by rank, but in heart. With this leniency, Nickolas should have been given the chance to grow up without the overbearing weight of past accolades, but that wasn’t to say he went without his share of burdens that would push him in their own way.
[BREAK][BREAK]
The winter of his eighth year came with the birth of his young brother, Richard. It had been a pregnancy that was much more difficult than his own and the outlook from their local doctors had been grim. Richard was premature by almost two months and required round the clock care from his already haggard parents. Nickolas did what he could to ease their burden but there wasn’t much he could supply them with beyond an extra pair of hands for the few pokemon they kept on the property.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Things got better slowly. Richard survived, against all odds, through the trying six month period where most infants born with complications would have succumbed. But although he would live there was no way of knowing for how long or at what quality. The infant was weak. His body did not take well to sharp changes in temperature and he breathed with an almost constant wheeze that worried his family. They did what they could but reasoned that Richard’s fate was in the hands of the Gods.
[BREAK][BREAK]
So it was to Nick’s immense pleasure that he found himself with a younger sibling toddling after him four years after his birth, hail and whole. For all intents and purposes, anyway. The two children where nigh inseparable while off the family property, exploring the overgrowing forest edge or pressing their luck by venturing closer and closer to the mountain pass.
[BREAK][BREAK]
It was on one such outing that the mischievous duo happened across the mouth of a small cave and ducked inside during one of their games, finding within a weakened zubat. The pair took it upon themselves to nurse it back to health, a task that sounded simple enough at first. Richard, despite being stronger now, was still considerably less durable than his brother and could not make the trek back and forth without straining himself. It fell to Nickolas to see that the injured cave-dweller made it through and in doing so earned himself a friend. His mother was none too pleased to even consider hosting the ‘filthy vermin’ in her household and his father urged him to release the zubat back to where he’d found it.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Disheartened, the boys did as instructed. Sort of. Nick wasn’t going to abandon his new friend just because his mother didn’t find it ‘cute’. So although he left Flit the Zubat in the mountain pass he promised to visit it as often as he could.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Things settled for the next three years in quiet stagnancy. Little changed for the family of four as they struggled and prospered in equal measure. Nickolas, while not unhappy, was restless. As much as he loved his family and their peaceful way of life, he felt himself steadily growing apathetic to the ins and outs of this routine. He began wandering farther and farther from home, as much as daylight would permit, and most often accompanied by Flit who had started roosting in the forests close by.
[BREAK][BREAK]
It was one one of these walks that they were flagged down by a group of boys from the neighboring farms and challenged to a battle. He wasn’t lacking exposure to the use of pokemon in battles – the knights that routinely patrolled the area would often amuse themselves with the rowdier locals willing to engage them – but he’d never entered one himself. Bewildered but excited by the new avenue he’d accepted… and was immediately crushed.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Oddly the defeat didn’t leave him bitter but exhilarated and Nickolas quickly set off to improving himself alongside Flit. Four hours he’d disappear into the woodlands, fighting the wild pokemon he and his flying partner happened across and discovered his love for the sport and the thrum of energy that battle brought him. From his progress he started entering these little scuffles with others and bet money on the outcomes, using what earnings he made to purchase a pokeball for his zubat.
[BREAK][BREAK]
From then on his vigor only grew but his little farming community could only offer so much variety. It was then he decided to enlist in the knight program. They were the strongest, most competent battlers next to the pokelords who commanded them and at soxteen he left him, fully intending to enroll.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Sadly it was nothing quite so easy. Although Nickolas could write his name and small messages he was largely illiterate – as were most of the lower castes. And though the training regime did offer some form of education for its attendants, it was not a program easily entered. Hundreds applied and barely a fraction of that number ever passed to the second stage, let alone received the highly coveted benefits.
The testing he endured was for physical and tactical aptitude, the latter of which he had in spades and the former needing work, but he managed to impress one knight, Garfield Hemming, offered to act as his sponsor.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Three years passed under the harsh tutelage and the fruit of his labors were remarkable. He throttled lesser opponents and accepted his defeats graciously, eager to surpass his superiors for the simple love of the thrill working in tandem with his pokemon brought him. What little downtime he had was spent writing letters to his family, wandering the ever-populated streets or, on more rare occasions, teasing miss Antonia.
[BREAK][BREAK]
She was a royal of some sort, that much he’d grasped without needing to have it pointed out but he rarely treated so. He teased her at any given opportunity (that is, when no one was around to overhear his ‘impudence’) and greatly enjoyed the little arguments they’d spring up about what types were better. She was of courting age and the few instances where he saw her potential intended’s he made it a point to offer subtle distractions, if only so she wasn’t bored with the men vying for her attention. He had no interest in her romantically – not that she wasn’t pretty, he merely knew the caste system didn’t favor him as a potential suitor and preferred her friendship over the political nightmare that being betrothed to a pokelord would undoubtedly bring. And so imagine his horror when she damned him in front of all her would-be-husbands and his fellow knights with three little words.
[BREAK][BREAK]
“I choose Nickolas.”
[BREAK][BREAK]
He’d never been quite so aware of how many people were in attendance until they came to rest on him. If he were being wholly honest a refusal was on the tip of his tongue. He wanted nothing to do with the politics nor the headache such a union would force them to suffer, but more than that – how would he even be capable of making such a willful girl happy? He had neither wealth nor land to his name, he could offer her no societal clout… and yet he found himself amused by the scornful looks of her many suitors as they tried to cow him with their glares. He accepted, mainly to spite them but also because it was clear his friend would rather settle for someone she knew had no designs on her title or standing. It entertained him greatly to see his superiors gape at the ease with which he teased the young lady.
[BREAK][BREAK]
That day he swore a new oath to her, promising to be her protector and confidant in whatever capacity she needed be it shield or sword. They were married not even a few months after and the time allowed to them both turned their playful niggling to something much more intimate. Over the course of the following four years he found himself quickly enamored with the woman, delighting in her smiles and her intractability. It was strange how easy it was to love her.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Now, happily married, he presides over the Venodome.
[BREAK][BREAK]
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][attr="class","revcallplayer"] played by wren 28 . THEY/THEM . EST . DISCORD@char @char |
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RED LANCER FROM FATE/APOCRYPHA
LOOKS LIKE
RED LANCER FROM FATE/APOCRYPHA
PHARAOH LEAP CREATES
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[newclass=.revcallmid]border-left:solid 1px #e9e9e9;border-right:solid 1px #e9e9e9;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcalltab]height:32px;width:32px;font-size:12px;background-color:#191919;line-height:32px;text-align:center;position:absolute;z-index:10;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallpersonality]padding:35px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallpersonality1]background-color:#f9f9f9;padding:26px;border:solid 1px #e9e9e9;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallpersonality1 div]padding-right:15px;height:276px;overflow:auto;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcalllikes]border:solid 1px #e9e9e9;background-color:#f9f9f9;padding:24px;height:110px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcalllikes h1]margin:-25px -25px 24px -25px;background-color:#222222;padding:20px;color:#eeeeee;font:15px Montserrat;text-transform:uppercase;font-weight:300!important;line-height:10px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcalllikes h1 b]font-size:17px;font-weight:300!important;color:#af2020;line-height:10px;padding-right:5px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcalllikes div]font:bold 10px Roboto;line-height:12px;height:61px;padding-right:15px;overflow:auto;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcalllikes div b]font:bold 10px Roboto;color:#af2020;padding-right:5px;line-height:12px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcalllikes1]height:10px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallbio]margin:0px 35px 0px 35px;border:solid 1px #e9e9e9;background-color:#f9f9f9;padding:29px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallbio div]height:270px;overflow:auto;padding-right:15px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallbio h1]border-bottom:solid 1px #af2020;padding-bottom:14px;padding-top:9px;margin-bottom:20px;font:20px Montserrat;font-weight:300!important;line-height:17px;text-transform:uppercase;color:#af2020;text-align:left;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallplayer]font:45px Montserrat;font-weight:300!important;color:#222222;line-height:40px;text-transform:lowercase;text-align:center;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallplayer b]font-weight:300!important;color:#af2020;line-height:30px!important;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallplayer h1]font:bold 12px Roboto;line-height:15px;height:15px;padding:5px 0px 15px 0px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:center;margin:0px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallplayer h2]line-height:15px;height:15px;text-align:center;margin:0px;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallplayer h2 a]font:bold 15px Roboto;line-height:15px;color:#af2020;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallbot]border-top:solid 5px #af2020;background-color:#222222;padding:35px;font:bold 10px Roboto;letter-spacing:.5px;color:#eeeeee;text-align:right;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallbot div]float:left;color:#555555;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallbot b]color:#af2020;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallpersonality1 div::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb:vertical, .revcalllikes div::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb:vertical, .revcallbio div::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb:vertical]background-color: #af2020;border:none!important;border-radius:0px!important;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcallpersonality1 div::-webkit-scrollbar, .revcalllikes div::-webkit-scrollbar, .revcallbio div::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 5px;background: transparent;border:none!important;border-radius:0px!important;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcall .PT_table .PT_tabs]border: 0px;text-align:center;background-color: transparent;font:bold 10px Roboto;text-transform:uppercase;line-height:10px;margin-top:-258px;margin-left:526px;position:absolute;-webkit-transition: all 0.2s ease; -moz-transition: all 0.2s ease; -o-transition: all 0.2s ease;cursor:pointer;color:#444444;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcall .PT_table .PT_tabs_hover]border: 0px;text-align:center;background-color: transparent;font:bold 10px Roboto;text-transform:uppercase;line-height:10px;position:absolute;-webkit-transition: all 0.2s ease; -moz-transition: all 0.2s ease; -o-transition: all 0.2s ease;margin-top:-258px;margin-left:526px;cursor:pointer;color:#af2020;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcall .PT_table .PT_tabs_selected]border: 0px;text-align:center;background-color: transparent;font:bold 10px Roboto;text-transform:uppercase;line-height:10px;position:absolute;-webkit-transition: all 0.2s ease; -moz-transition: all 0.2s ease; -o-transition: all 0.2s ease;margin-top:-258px;margin-left:526px;cursor:pointer;color:#af2020;[/newclass]
[newclass=.revcall .PT_table .PT_tabs_selected_hover]border: 0px;text-align:center;background-color: transparent;font:bold 10px Roboto;text-transform:uppercase;line-height:10px;position:absolute;-webkit-transition: all 0.2s ease; -moz-transition: all 0.2s ease; -o-transition: all 0.2s ease;margin-top:-258px;margin-left:526px;cursor:pointer;color:#af2020;[/newclass]