Post by eridann on Jun 22, 2012 21:24:04 GMT
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ERIDAN AMPORA
h o p e d e s t r o y e r
♒ --- Name --- ♒Eridan Ampora
♒ --- Starter Pokémon --- ♒
MAELSTROM THE SHINY HORSEA
GENDER: Male
TYPE: Water
LEVEL: oo5
ABILITY: Sniper - A result of a keen eye and uncanny precision, Maelstrom's abilities are that much more deadly, dealing threefold damage in critical strikes.
MOVES: bubble | smokescreen | move | move
NATURE: Ever since being auctioned off by the Lilycove Gentleman's League after being snared by a fishing boat, Maelstrom had a sense that he, too, was bound for greatness. Being an alternately colored Pokemon was a symbol not of taboo from underwater society, but a just herald of his greatness.
In that vain, Maelstrom actually thinks himself greater than his trainer and isn't above disobeying him should his opinion be the wiser... which is actually more than you would think, considering Eridan's generally poor direction. One day, though, perhaps their relationship will prove more than just a bit of passive-aggressive resentment.
♒ --- Hometown --- ♒Eridan's hive is located in some cluster of uncharted islands off of Sea Route 126 in Hoenn. Though crowned in antiquity, the archaic and isolated Sootopolis City meant nothing to a troll like Eridan... until, of course, it eventually would.
♒ --- Appearance --- ♒Spending a bit more time swimming beneath the ocean than other Pokemon trainers (most sweeps of his life, that is to say), it wouldn't be unreasonable to lay claim to Eridan's oddity as a- pardon the pun- a fish out of water on the surface world of Kanto and beyond. Even so, Eridan is held with a sort of smugness, a sort of undoubting certainty of positive reception by all who see him and gaze upon the royal blood stained about his garb. It's only natural. His angled face, fishy-parts and all, along with paled skin and air of royal trollish charm, leave him at all the more devilishly ambiguous end of the MAN-spectrum. He is a prince, afterall.
With a lean swimmer's build, a rather flat, averagely squareish chest, and low body fat from stemming from a diet of mostly Magikarp and non-processed low-sodium gluten-free kelp, Eridan could well fill a shapely role of royalty. His figure is only one of many of his dashing traits, after all. He falls at a very comparatively grand 5'8¾", a stature fit only for a grown prince, standing with a very articulated and overdone posture. A sort of pair waves resembling (♒), best described as a pair of stylized squiggles, wind about his various garments as stitching, matching two waved horns which slick back into his casually windswept and purple-streaked hair. Gills flourish prominently on either side of his neck, and intense amber eyes almost glow, providing excellent underwater navigation.
Yet, despite his efforts, Eridan can be only be described by the common man as “that annoying hipster fish guy”.
But what do peasants’ words mean? Does that mean the reigning prince of trolls would be careless of his disposition, ignorant of his image? To rule, one must do so with the utmost poise and grace, if not initially understood by his people. Actually, Eridan would be a sort of imposing figure were it not for the frilly blue summer-scarf on his neck, the dangling purple semi-tone opera cloak hanging ever over his shoulders, and the vintage Buddy Holly glasses framing his face (which, as far as he is aware, do nothing for his vision). His vertically striped clown pants, on the other hand, are quite intimidating. A closer eye might note the vague traces of dusted (waterproof) blush and even light mascara and eyeliner about his face, an effort to prove his ever-improving image he must retain. They're not girly or feminine, they only accentuate the man beneath. Even after all this, one thing is painfully certain; though he may be a bastard, Eridan is a bastard with excellent fashion sense.
♒ --- Biography --- ♒What is a prince's rule without a princess to share it with?
Eridan had always known since the beginning of his grimy, lonely life that he was destined for greatness. He was of very high-caste blood and that naturally meant, should he rise to power, he could potentially become ruler of the trolls. Yet, this lead to resentment. While born in a very prompt and courtly hive filled with lavish underwater furnishings and the most exquisite library and armory, there was an absence of family in his life. Even his lusus proved to resent him to some degree for the first sweeps of his life. Life was, effectively, dreary.
There was not much to do in his time. In a way he had disliked his world; there were too many pitiful Magikarp and Feebas roaming the sea and each and every one of them were a waste of the water he dare breathe in each day. Likewise, he was raised to pity the ilk of the lowbloods on the surface. At least, it was something he'd read in the text bestowed upon him by the man before him.
Boredom, lack of a parent's love, and an insufficient social life eventually shaped him to the vaguely bitter, egotistical bastard he is today.
Occasionally Eridan would channel his frustration by hunting. It was a hobby, and while he was no good shot, it occupied his time. To some degree this was considered Pokemon poaching, but there were no rules or regulations or even anybody to tell him "no". If there was nobody to tell him what he was doing was right, or how proud of him they would be, then Eridan would simply have to show it to himself he was worth something.
On one such occasion, he drifted a bit away into a foreign sea. It was a distant and clearly marked boundary, but he'd heard such glub that there lived another seafaring troll not unlike himself. In fact, this would be a princess, a gorgeous troll girl named Feferi who was in line to become the next Queen. Armed with but a harpoon gun and his own wits, he sought out his matesprit in the ocean beyond. Unbeknownst to her, Eridan knew their destiny. They would run away together and rule the world one day, she would fill in the gaps which had haunted him all his life and he would provide companionship to his lover. They would be perfect.
Days would pass as he trekked through the sea floor, leaving behind a trail of Pokemon blood as he brimmed with hope and determination. But he wouldn't tell her that, she didn't need to know. She didn't need to know anything about his past, or what he was; just that they would one day transcend the quadrants in faithful matrimony.
One day, all of his hopes would become crushed.
Eridan would surface, for the first time in his life, to Pacifidlog Town, a colony meant to assist the heiress to the throne which in itself was built upon a Corsola colony. The people were fine and the air was surprisingly; their hospitality seemed to defy what the notes of the former occupant of his hive would warn. Yet, the trolls and humans on the island meant nothing but to distract him from the jewel of his eye, the illustrious woman he'd traveled across the ocean to meet. She did not expect his arrival, as he had expected, allowing him to play the mysterious stranger. It was perfect. All was going to plan, and over time, he would gain her trust. They became moirails, or as she would call them, "moray -E-ELS!". He was completely devoted to her, though whether it was simply her naivety or just her ignorance which separated them from "the next step forward". Still, he fed her mother and aimed to please her in any way he could, hoping one day she'd finally notice him.
More and more time would pass and Eridan was becoming impatient. Eventually he would overhear two gossiping humans, who seemed to know of their relationship. But... who didn't? It was the talk of the town. He learned that he'd entered what was described as "the friend zone", an impassable No Man's Land in which he would be bound by moirallegiance for the rest of his life. The two gossips would giggle and laugh, but humor was far from what he was experiencing now. It was... crushing.
As he grew older, his compassion would still lie unfaltering. There was still hope for him, wasn't there? Surely there was. He hadn't gotten this far to fail, had he? She mentioned her duty as heiress to confront her closest relative from dooming Kanto, a region some ways away from the Hoenn he knew (or didn't- at this point, he'd never actually been on the mainland). She also told him about her journey, which she would depart on in the months to come. It was then where he decided to depart for the mainland to gain a "headstart"; he would need it if he were to continue protecting his princess. It was in Lilycove City where he would win his shiny Horsea, Maelstrom, in an auction funded graciously by the amassing pile of gold in his home, then set sail for Kanto on one of the city's various sea liners.
♒ --- Personality --- ♒In the very set of his shoulders to the subtle slink of his stride, the troll carries an extravagant theatricality matched by an unsavory few. If his positively douchebag appearance weren't hint enough, Eridan is quite the arrogant asshole. His confidence in his abilities transcend the heavens and he has enough ego to swamp a small country. Yet, this all masks a husk; a hopeless shell of a man held together by only his own lies. One day, it will collapse under its own weight and there won't be a soul to help him back up.
Despite allegedly hating all terrestrial life and being extremely dramatic about it, Eridan's tough facade crumbles when faced by, well, pretty much anything, which is an excuse for even more theatrics. At the end of the day, he's just another hopeless romantic without a friend to steer him in the right direction. But he wouldn't need one, as it's quite obvious that the world revolves solely around him. When things don't go his way, Eridan is the sort to complain and mope and fail utterly at the things he does, not realizing himself as the true problem.
The reasoning behind his holier-than-thou is simple. He acts like the the best thing ever simply because he wants to be the best thing ever. And to those wise enough to see through his exterior to the frail, cowardish thing beneath, he'll reject them and push them away because, for one, he has a very important image to protect.
This, of course, all changes in light of her moirail Feferi.
On a similarly distant note, Eridan has a perhaps strikingly Machiavellian interest for tales of historical leaders, conquerors, and military history, and they prove to lend to his passion and god complex. He also likes magic and wizards, even though he knows that magic obviously doesn't exist.
In battle, Eridan's direction proves to be lacking, leading him to be a bizarrely cruel trainer. His only concern is of their strength in battle, favoring Water, Dragon, Dark, Ghost and Poison types, once again not realizing it is he who is at fault. Perhaps one day he'll actually become a great trainer and prove everyone he isn't at fault. Until then, it's just discipline and brutally callous training.
♒ --- Goal --- ♒Eridan only seeks power, both to justify himself as a person but also to woo his moirail. In doing so, he seeks the Pokemon of Legend, though unknown to him is that the land of Kanto is home to the least of any other region. And not only that, but becoming renowned as the most powerful trainer in lieu of his practices would just be the icing on the cake.
