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[travelingdarkness]

Out-of-Character Information

Name: Toni
Are you over 15?: yes
Time Zone: Pacific
Personal Journal: zedlast
Reliable Method of Contact: parakeetnomad by AIM or punchpolygons
Other characters in the game: Vinnie (Red's Venusaur) at punchtheflowers

In-Character Information

Name: Blake the Mightyena
Game/Series: Pokemon
Teacher/Student/Other: Student
Canon Point: post-HGSS
Age: 15
Grade Level/Class Taught/Job: Sophomore
Dorm or Living Arrangement: Dorm with Warren if that's okayyy. Cats and dogs fun times.

Personality:

For a species renown for its ferocity, its dangerous bite and intimidating presence, Blue's Mightyena does little to support their typically fierce image. Blake is modest, polite and docile in almost all his interactions. His meekness, however, is not one that should be mistaken for faintheartedness - he simply knows his place, that's all. As with any pack, if the strong become leaders, then it falls to the rest to follow. So, as one of the younger, weaker and only male members of Blue's female dominated team, Blake has the dubious honour of being their watchdog and doormat - despite his trainer's efforts to deter him from the latter.

In speaking he constantly strives to be courteous, and his habitual formality reflects it. Sometimes his curiosity will manifest itself in very blunt observations, but he's always quick to ask forgiveness if any offense is made. Soft-spoken even to his tormentors, he always aims to placate, though often disingenuously. It's in his best interest to foster coexistence in any living environment, and to that end he's learned to live off pyrrhic victories, scraps, or sometimes just settling for nothing. But as willing as he is to play the submissive, if the Mightyena has something within his sights, it will take quite a bit of discouragement to shake him from the task completely. He has a persistence to him, and instinctively knows to seek opportunity wherever he's able - the law of averages apply even to underdogs. Together with his keen senses, and aided by a rather shaky understanding of propriety and the instinct to scavenge, Blake has the unfortunate combination of great civility paired with an awkward disregard for privacy. He can make for a highly conspicuous stalker, especially if food is involved.

One thing that becomes readily apparent about this Mightyena is his body language. His neutral face will be one friends will have to get used to, as he wears it even in times of great joy. Anything else is likely a mask, a front he puts up to hide his emotional vulnerabilities - Blake is master of his Façade. Should he feel anxiety, he will grin. Should he feel sorrowful or frightened, he will smile. And should he feel great hate and rage, he will be beaming brightly with his teeth fully bared. It can become disconcerting, the way he offers a smile so easily to people who treat him poorly, but it's what Blake uses to cope as a mild-mannered scavenger in a world of predators. Real smiles are extremely hard won from him, and only possible if he's able to let down his emotional guard completely - but it's a rare achievement, even among members of his team.

On the other hand, he's quite unequipped to handle large quantities of affection. Though his self-esteem admittedly enjoys it, outwardly he can only grimace in severe embarrassment and distress. Being modest-natured, Blake doesn't really know how to respond to praise from others, especially if he feels it's undeserved - even a small compliment can turn him bright red. It took quite a while before the Mightyena felt comfortable with all of Blue's constant positive enforcement, but it can still send a flush through his face even now.

Blake is slow to trust, but always striving to learn more about people in his efforts to properly gauge their strengths and weaknesses. Being a pack animal accustomed to complex clans of very large numbers, his mind is tuned for memorization, and is absolute in preserving the characteristics of everyone he comes across. Hierarchy is everything in society, and to that end he is constantly alert for any shifts in social order. Of special note are women, who out-rank male Mightyenas simply by nature of their sex - it's possible to mistake his demeanor around them for boyish shyness, but in truth it is a reverence born from the fear of pain. Any one of them could walk all over Blake, push him around or hurt him, and he would show no resistence. When it comes to men, however, Blake simply hasn't lived amongside their company for quite a long time. There's a lot of uncertain territory to be tread when it comes to how much wiggle room he has for asserting himself. Up against more confident and powerful personalities, the Mightyena is sure to be his usual self, but should he come to odds with a more timid, introverted type, it's questionable. Give him enough dominance over you and he may yet discover the aggression dormant in his blood.

Because as docile and conciliatory as Blake can be, it should never be mistaken for true kindness. Dark Types know better than any other Pokemon that the world is a grim place - life is nasty, brutish and short. Good and evil are nothing but constructed terms, justice and law are not inherent in nature, and it is the common condition for all creatures to compete for their survival. If anything, Blake is a realist. Perhaps erring more on the side of cynical and morbid realism, but he recognizes the need for some pragmatism to offset his trainer's postive outlook. For this reason, he serves as the ever-wary watchdog for his team, earning his place despite being much lower tier in strength.

Survival is the only creed he follows when it comes to a code of ethics - the purpose of life is, quite simply, to avoid the alternative as long as possible. Even if the prospect of dying doesn't frighten him, as a carrion-eater he knows there is nothing beautiful in death. Blake is not too proud to beg if it means living. He is not too principled to steal if it avoids starving. He will flee, he will cheat, lie, and even kill if the situation is deemed dire enough. As ruthless as it sounds, he's by no means wicked - Blake will not wantonly break rules simply for the sake of it, because it puts him in danger of being expelled from the safety of society. However, he is quick to discard moral qualms the instant they are unnecessary, and has no great desire to uphold the law.

The only thing he will not break, however, is the bond of loyalty to his clan - to Blue and his team. They rely on each other so intimately to survive on their long journeys that any breach of trust could be potentially crippling. Blue has proven her leadership qualities time and time again, and in Blake's mind there is no one he could ever serve better. She knows his thoughts and compensates for his weaknesses, and has never failed to keep him fed. He will never enter battle unless it is under her direct command, and follows every order to the letter. While the hyena can certainly think for himself, in matters that will dictate the standing of his clan in the eyes of their peers, he defers completely to his Mistress. The other ladies of Blue's team are regarded all with the highest respect, and he appreciates any gesture of care that they may bestow on him. Unfortunately, most of what Lady Bryony bestows is in the form of pestering, harrassing, and a lot of physical teasing - and he endures it all. Blake often ends up relying on her more than the rest because of her Heal Bell and his tendency to suffer status effects, and a certain sisterly bond was born as a result.

Ultimately, if there was one thing in all the world that this Dark Type would ever sacrifice himself for, it would be this clan - because in all honesty he's unsure he could survive for long without them anyway. Through patient care and dependability, they have actually earned a place in the Mightyena's heart where the needs of survival no longer matter. For their sake, he does not fear pain or poison. For their benefit, he would dirty his hands with any subterfuge necessary. In their stead, he would traverse the darkness - because that path is one he already knows.

Backstory:

Born with fangs so large they can't properly fit into their own mouths, Poochyena begin to compete amongst themselves within their first days. Too young to know any restraint to their bites, a single scuffle can prove deadly - thereby weeding out the weak and drawing out the lines for dominance as early as possible. Those born with the ability to Run Away were especially blessed in this regard, able to escape any battle with their skin intact. They would never have to know loss unless they were careless, and this factor made the pups bolder, more aggressive towards their peers. Mightyena were not gifted tunnelers by nature, so the burrows for their young were borrowed from the abandoned holes of Zigzagoons - but for that reason, they were too small for any adults to use. The fathers had no role in rearing the pups, and though the mothers would defend their own litter as best they could, once the pups were returned to the communal den, they were on their own. In order to survive the long days, Poocheyna who weren't born so blessed with ability had to rely on other tactics to survive.

The weaker pups could opt to lie low in the smaller underground pockets, but that in itself was risky. If they were too timid to venture out, then they would simply starve to death in their own hiding places. One Poochyena in particular, too modest to ever stand up to his more aggressive denmates, would have by all rights been chewed apart if he didn't learn very quickly to dig himself his own makeshift hiding spots. To keep himself from being perceived as any kind of threat, he surrendered as quickly as possible from any battle, suffering their less fetal nips and scratches in order to walk away alive. At the same time, he stalked the layout of the tunnels to cannibalize his dying peers for food. Survival had no room for remorse or pity. It was difficult for his mother to bear, watching her litter dwindle in number as the days passed, but she was accustomed to hardship despite being new to the wild.

After Team Aqua's defeat, quite a few disgrunted members released their Mightyenas into the wild, frustrated and blaming their failure wrongly on their Pokemon. It had never been easy, being a land-based beast in a team dedicated to submerging the world - after all, it went against all rational sense. Why bring your support for a cause that would ultimately harm you? In this, Blake learned one important lesson from his mother: clan was everything. The goals of humans were inessential. And having goals of your own, apart from the direction of the team, was similarly unimportant. Survival of the pack was paramount, because only by extension was the survival of the self even possible. If following the footsteps of others earned you another day of living, then it was worth all future pain.

So the modest Poochyena ate what he could of the dead, cementing his status as a lowly scavenger among their ranks. Despite dooming him to quite a lot of misery, however, he never fought against this reality. There was no point in trying to compete against those who were naturally more gifted after all, and there was no room in the pack for clan members who did not know their place. His potential as a hunter would always be more limited with his Quick Feet ability, so it relegated him to stealing meat from the kills of others while the stronger pups grew to develop their powers of Intimdation against prey.

The separation of the sexes, however, quickly became more pertinent as the pups grew older, away from the care of their mothers, and began to evolve. As a rule, the females were offered more dominance within their hierarchy, with complete control over the interests of the clan. They raised the pups, lead the hunts and exerted their strength over the males with increased aggression. In all, they formed the elite core of their ranks. It was such that once males evolved to Mightyena, they would leave their original clan to seek their fortunes in new packs - ones where they could vie for higher standings and privileges than what they were born to. One by one, the males left, replaced by newcomers fresh from their own journeys in the wide grasslands.

There was no way such a modest Poochyena could ever aspire to leave the relative security of the world he knew just to venture out into the great unknown. Subservience was a role he had resignated to playing for the rest of his days, and to that effect he never allowed himself to grow any stronger. He would not evolve for fear of being eventually chased out to fend for himself, and in remaining so weak, even puppies several seasons younger were able to push him around with no retort. The long nights and weary days carried on in this fashion, barely getting by with scraps of bone and bits of rotting carcass.

Then Blue arrived on the shores of Lilycove city. With Johto behind her, Hoenn was the next region the restless champion had set her eyes on. Once she had explored all the city had to offer, she set off into the wilderness of Route 121, in high spirits to find what this new, green world had to offer her. What she found, however, not too long into her trek through the bush, were howls, growling, and the yelps of pain. A pair of young, aggressive Poochyena pups picking on a weaker one while they were away from their dens. It couldn't be called a fight, being so one-sided - despite being older, the modest pup offered no resistance to being bitten and tackled, which only encouraged the other two to assert their strength over him even more brutally.

Puppy blood was being shed before Blue's very eyes. She did not care if this was nature taking its course. She would not stand for this.

It didn't take much more than releasing her Charizard and Sandslash to frighten the two bullies into running away. The injured Poochyena, however, was too hurt to have any confidence in escape and too weak to fight back. He could only see the presence of these huge, unfamiliar predators as his impending death, rather than his saviours. When Blue tried to approach him with a potion, he barked and snapped and bared his fangs, trying to fight back for the first time in his life.

What was a trainer to do? She only wanted to give the pup medical attention, but he was too frightened to receive any first aid. In the spur of the moment, Blue panicked and punched him in the snout. Bam. Unconscious.

They carried him back to Lilycove's Pokecentre where he was fully healed, and from there, the Poochyena was much more docile - if still fearful. Blue had proved her strength, her superiority over him. Seeing as how she had so many formidable females who followed her commands, she had to be a clan mistress of considerable power. He couldn't understand why she had elected to spare him, though - altruism was not learned behaviour for Dark Types, and its purpose was alien to him. It took a lot of coaxing to get any real response from the pup. In his reservedness, he had already conditioned himself not to react to fear or pain, but it made connecting to him past all his defenses difficult. In the end, however, the answer was simple: food. Lots of food. Fresh meat that he didn't have to struggle for or steal - she gave it to him easily and willingly. All her Pokemon ate well under her leadership, and working together, she provided for members big and small. It was a concept he had never experienced before. Though Mightyenas relied on perfect teamwork to hunt and survive, they were not equals, and not a one would care if you were hungry. It simply meant you weren't strong enough to keep up with the rest of the clan - and they owed you nothing.

Perhaps it was his own weakness that made the Poochyena long for such treatment. He knew the world was harsh, and he knew he would not last long regardless if he was left to his own devices or returned to his clan. Blue and her team spent a few days long in Lilycove, taking a room out in the motel to see the pup gain some more meat on his bones and to get the mats out of his fur. It wasn't an official capture, so he had no Pokeball to return to - but nonetheless, the trainer was undeniably fond of the Poochyena. Puppies, man. They were a weakness for her.

Once he was returned to enough health, Blue walked him to the edge of the grass and asked him whether he wanted to go back or stay with her. For the modest Poochyena, answer to that was simple as well. Though significantly smaller in numbers, Blue's clan was stronger and better fed. In a matter of perspective, joining them was like trading up for a better life. There was no way he would refuse. And so, on that day his new mistress departed from the city again, with her first Hoenn Pokemon in tow. That night they set up for camp and hauled out the baby names book and plant guide to choose a nickname for their new team member.

They picked... Leila.

But in their defense, it can be pretty hard to tell male and female Poochyena apart.

So okay, once they figured out he was actually a he, (because he was far too modest to ever want to claim a female name, that was something that was too far above his station,) Blue could forego the flora reference and named him simply Blake.

On with the Hoenn adventure, then. The first destination Blue had in mind had always been Mt. Chimney and Lavaridge Town so they could test their mettle against the regions Fire Type gym leader - and maybe soak in some hot springs and eat a lava cookie while they were at it. The journey would have to take them from one side of island to the other, with much terrain in between. It would've been a good opportunity to level up the new recruit as they crossed these lands, but Blake... well, he was not conducive to training. Being a nocturnal creature, he would always be most awake in the dead of night, leaving him sluggish and sleepy once the sun was up. He insisted on leaving his Pokeball to stand watch while the rest of the team slept, no matter how safe Blue insisted they were. Practice times became limited to dawn and dusk - much less than any of her other over-leveled Pokemon.

But on the whole Blake was, unconsciously, still holding himself back. There was that lingering anxiety that becoming stronger would invite dissent. After all, he never had anyone to guide him into becoming greater than he was, nor was he ever encouraged to do so - it only invited punishment. What if it made him too forward, too bold? What if he no longer had a place among them should he evolve? At this point, the Poochyena had nothing without them, and it frightened him to think that this comfortable reality that he found himself in would be a dream that one day would end.

As the team headed east, the mountain range eventually came to an end, giving way to a desert that seemed to stretch out endlessly. Knowing that they would not be able to cross the sands in one day, they set up tent for the night, and Blue decided to sleep on how to prepare for this leg of the journey. Blake took up his customary seat as watchdog, and night fell.

Their tent was buffeted by nonstop wind and sand through those cold, long hours, and it was impossible to pick out any of the scents and sounds he relied on to warn of danger. What he could see, however, were dark shapes in the distance, encroaching upon their tent at an indistinguishingly slow pace - so slow they could've easily been mistaken for terrain. A cactus in the distance, or a rock. It was too dark to make out their forms through the veil of sand. But there was a Darkness that stirred in Blake as well, and it kept him wary - he was accustomed to the things that lurked in the night. After all, he was one of them.

So he watched vigilantly, unwaveringly. There was no mistake in his mind that these shadows were advancing upon their tent, and eventually, they had come close enough to reveal their forms: a dozen wandering Cacnea and Cacturnes, each of them on the prowl for the moisture that ran red through the bodies of the living. All of them had become drawn to newcomers in their desert - easy prey, caught unawares - and they had begun to amass around Blue's tent.

It was in this moment that Blake felt a very real fear in his heart, and he realized its source - he no longer wanted to protect Blue because he needed her; instead, it was because he wanted her. In that moment, a power began to well up inside him - one that the Dark Type fully embraced - emerging from him in the form of a thunderous roar. The sound carried through even the blustering of the wind, instilling a deep terror that drove the Cactus Pokemon away. Such a noise was enough to rouse Blue as well, and she woke to find her Poochyena had finally evolved into a lean Mightyena. After the initial shock, Blake found - to his pleasant surprise - the reception to his new form to be a deluge of giddy pride. From then on, he vowed to himself to only strive for the strength necessary to support his mistress, even through the shadows that she did not tread.

After a pitstop at Route 113, (wherein much grinding was had on the Spinda population and Blue collected sacks and sacks of soot from all the ash in Blake's mane,) they climbed Mt. Chimney, descended down the Jagged Pass, and saw the sights and fought the fights at Lavaridge. The team's Hoenn adventures continued from there, with Blake being encouraged to take the forefront at the double battle for the Mind Badge. As any trainer should, Blue supplemented his moveset with a few TMs that she felt suited her puppy. Façade, she felt, was a fast fit with his already strong emotional mask, and gave him an additional boost once his Quick Feet was activated. Knowing that he also had an affinity for the move, she gave him Dig as well, allowing him to master what he relied on so long ago to escape harm.

It was also with significant hesitation that Blue also fashioned a collar for him, one with a Toxic Orb. The choice was not one she made lightly, and it was mutually agreed upon that self-poisoning would be a tactic only used when absolutely necessary. Blake simply didn't have the natural strengths that most Mightyenas did, and only truly performed at his best when he was suffering in battle. Knowing that it could very possibly do more harm than good if used lightly, the Dark Type resolved himself to never enter a battle unless it was under his mistress's eye. With these under his belt, Blake dutifully accompanied Blue through all her travels through Sinnoh and Unova, both at her side and watching over her each night.

This fact did not change when his mistress made the decision to settle down at a place called Smash Academy for a while. Blake, however, regarded the idea of the school with intense mistrust - his mistress had always lead her own clan with complete mastery. Now, she was opting to join into a part of an even larger clan, where they would no doubt have to compete to secure a strong standing among them. It was disadvantageous. But far be it for him to ever question his trainer's decision - he followed regardless of his misgivings. However, knowing that new and difficult challenges would be awaiting them there, Blake wanted to be prepared.

Standing watch outside her dorm room door did very little, and as he was, he was unable to fully gauge the school. So, Blake stole an HM at night some time after Lady Bryony decided to take the step towards humanization. If she did it for curiosity, then he would do it for necessity. For Blue's sake, this was one more trial he was willing to try.

Anything Else?:
- Modest natured, alert to sounds
- Ability: Quick feet
- Moveset: Crunch / Facade / Dig / Sucker Punch (note: not a literal punch, as he lacks fists in Pokemon form. Going by the Japanese name, it is simply a Surprise Attack.)
- Also knows Howl, Thief, Sand-Attack and Odor Sleuth - to be used out of battle
- Held item: a Toxic Orb on a collar around his neck, covered by a scarf. IT'S A SECRET.
- Powerful sense of smell, hearing, and nocturnal vision.
- Dark Type means immune to Psychics. Very difficult or impossible to mind read.
- Exceptional memory, especially for people.
- Has never met anyone from Red or Green's teams, though.
- Not actually a canine. Will remind people of this if he is referred to as a dog or wolf.
- As such, his body language is slightly different from dogs as well. eg. doesn't wag his tail when happy.
- Has a spot of kleptomania; if it seems harmless to steal and is just lying out in the open, he may just try to pocket it.
- Hates clothes that require pulling something over his head. All his shirts either button up or zip up.
- Layers layers layers of clothes.
- Very sensitive about people touching his hands and feet, especially squeezing them. As a result, he's always wearing something over his hands, whether it's gloves or long sleeves or arm warmers, along with his running shoes.
- His teeth and jaws, even in human form, are strong enough to crush bone.
- His hair cannot be tamed. It's soft, though.
- Is fuckin' short. Like, 5'1" short.
- Has a fondness for wind instruments, especially the Black Flute.

In-Character 1st person sample:

[Voice post; 02:00 am]

Forgive the intrusion. I am in need of Mistress Blue, but I believe she and the others of my clan are in the female dens. As I am now enrolled, this means... I am to remain in my own shared den and can no longer trespass on their territory, I believe.

I tried howling to contact you, but I was ordered to stop, so... if this message reaches you, Mistress, please know I am very sorry. The woollen scarf you bought me today is unraveling and I am, um... my neck is very tangled. I don't understand how these threads knotted so quickly. I may require another scarf... and some assistance, if it is not too much trouble.

In-Character 3rd person sample:

It was entirely of his own accord that he stole the HM from off Blue's desk one night, but the act was not done out of mistrust for his Mistress. This was simply an undertaking he wanted to experience for himself, without his trainer's encouragement and praise, the subjectiveness of her delight. It would be too difficult to judge his human form that way - whehter it was practical, functional, appropriate and, most importantly, necessary. Blake had seen other Pokemon walking the halls in human skins, serving their masters or otherwise themselves. Somehow they seemed... closer to their humans. Bettered suited to protecting them in this world filled with similarly transformed creatures. The Mightyena could no longer trust form to fit, and it was an upsetting change. He, too, would have to change if he and his mistress's clan were to survive, Blake reasoned.

Of course, he could not have anticipated that transforming would have rendered him so helpless on his own weak, malformed legs. As a Quick Footed Mightyena, he relied so much on swiftness that having the most basic powers of maneuverability taken away from him was the most distressing thing he could possibly imagine. Coupled with the loss of his fur, he was a trembling wreck. His collar brought no relief at all - this chill might as well have brought the winter winds whistling through his marrow, and his skin was covered in bumps that looked like some onset of a terrible disease. Blake had never feared the darkness of sundown, but suddenly he had an inkling of why. He could only crawl towards help and hope that changing back into a Pokemon would be intuitive enough for him to figure out on the way.

That was yesterday.

He turned up at her door, pale as a ghost with a shock of long black hair. She stared in surprise before melting into fangirlish glee. Naturally, Blue had no qualms with her Mightyena's decision to take the transformation into his own hands - it was, after all, a difficult choice that was his, and only his to make. Blake, in the meanwhile, was simply glad that this lone act was not too insubordinate of him. With some borrowed clothes from Green's team and a near disasterous fiasco when Blake got stuck trying to pull a sweater over his head, it was decided that vertical motion would have to be mastered so they could do some shopping. It was a day of much hand-holding, and Blake decided he did not like his hands to feel so naked.

That was this morning.

Now, here he was, shakily standing as his Mistress picked out a human wardrobe for him. Blake gravitated towards fingerless gloves the moment he saw them, and Blue had found a thick scarf to replace the loss of his mane. Beaming at the results, Blue turned him around to face a mirror. A vision of black and grey stared back, and Blake found himself only recognizing the red-gold of his eyes from the form he used to have. With awkward fingers, he wrapped the length of this woollen scarf around and around, covering up the leather collar that continued to hug his neck. It stayed there, hidden but steadfast, a reminder of his true form and the clan he was bound to.

Blake stared into his own reflection and thought of tomorrow, a small smile threatening to tug at his lips. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.