Author's Notes: Hello there! First story (for this account anyways) and I'm not gonna lie, this is kinda nerve wrecking. I can't imagine too many people being very interested in it but, ah well. Anyways, this story here has been on my mind for awhile, but uh...

Sorry, I'm rambling. I don't want to talk too much here so I'm just gonna shut up now and let you guys judge my work for yourself :)

Edit: So, because I realized lemon can mean two things on this sight I changed the title to Beat the Devil's Tattoo, one of my favorite songs. It's sung by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, and I think the song fits the story fairly nicely in terms of atmosphere (I say this mostly because I was listening to it on replay while making plans and writing the first chapter). You should check it out if you haven't already heard it!)

Pandemonia, a harsh world rampant with anarchy and discord.

As beautiful and fallen as it is deadly and mysterious, this planet is one full of outlaws and daemons, strange beasts with only bloodlust in their hearts. It is as much a place of ambition, discovery, and adventure as it is a place of conflict, cruelty, and unforgiving ruthlessness.

Many opt to spend their lives in towns and villages, protected by each other and force fields made from the elusive empire enterprise, Dulcettie Production, from the monsters that roam outside their doors. Few choose to go beyond the boundaries of their birthplace, leading a frontier either through discovering treasures, collecting bounties, or taking up jobs that require traveling through the raging lands. Most who take this route either die a horrible death or become legendary in their hometowns.

Between the wildlife and crazy deviants, there are times where the world itself seems to be out to get you. Even worse, jobs that require travelling are widely viewed as suicide, though they still exist and are taken by the dozen by the desperate, the brave, the insane, and the thrill seekers.

One job in particular would be a transporter, a freelance delivery (and sometimes escorting) profession in high demand because of the ridiculous mortality rate. Anyone with nerves of steel, a sense of direction, good driving skill, and an ability to shoot can do it. The problem is that while most people might have two or three of these attributes there are few who have all four.

Another life saving skill to have in this profession is knowing which deliveries to take or to decline. Some requests are just not worth the reward.

For the most part Roman had everything he needed to be successful in his career. The one thing he did not have was good judgment on what jobs to take and refuse...

Chapter 1
Making Deals

Somehow he managed to survive.

The obnoxious ache all over his body are a testament of this, as are the lack of angels (or demons) and the panicked screams of his adversaries running around in a chaotic frenzy. Of course this isn't what was on Roman's mind when he first comes to.

Why is there so much noise? Roman wondered. The cries and hollers around him mesh into one loud, irritating sound that hits him from every angle, and all he wants to do is shut it out. Moving his hands to his ears does little to even muffle it and he is left with no choice but to groan in acceptance of this.

The next thing Roman ponders is why there is so much sand.

Every now and then something would kick up the tiny minerals and pile the sand on his fallen figure. It left him feeling gritty and uncomfortable, the tiny rocks managed to slipping through the tiniest crevices in his clothes and getting in the most uncomfortable places imaginable.

Yes Roman survived something, that much was clear to him even in his hazy state of mind. The thing that concerned him right now wasn't how he survived but what he survived. Even more pressing was how he got caught up in this mess.

...it was something about a bomb right...? And then it hit him: he was on his way home from a successful delivery when one of those crazy raider groups caught up to him. The kind that had bikes and jeeps and typically entered one of those underground arena death races. As if to make matters worse the loons had a bomb from their last raid and, one of them had the bright idea to set it off in the middle of an intense chase.

Pushing himself into a sitting position the young man blinked, trying to make sense of the orange tinted, blurry image in front of him. Why was everything... orange?

A shaky hand gracelessly reached up to slap itself over his face. Oh, right. Bugeye goggles, orange lenses. A must-have in his line of work.

As if he wasn't standing smack dab in the middle of a fire zone Roman stood up, shook off all the sand, straightened his goggles, and scanned the area.

All around him were men dressed in edgy rags and masks, as if the accessory were there only to enhance their frightening image (something Roman wouldn't doubt was their intention). He might have been more concerned about them if they were paying any attention to him or if any of them had a pokemon, but none of them did. No, he was more concerned about the rabid black beasts that ran amuck, shredding everything living thing not of its own kin.

"Freaking daemons," Roman grumbled under his breath and drew out the sawed-off shotgun at his hip. One of the grotesque monsters strayed from its brethren to stalk towards him. Though he made sure to keep his eyes trained on it, Roman couldn't help but glance around in search of his absent partner.

As a general rule all daemon species are ugly, vicious animals, no matter the breed or form they took. There are almost no similarities between the thousands of breeds save for their shared bloodlust and soulless black eyes.
The absolute bane of humanities' existence, they make traveling all the more difficult, especially for Transporters like Roman.

The daemons attacking the group now were nearly as large as a venusaur and almost as bulky. Their long mahogany heads and large floppy ears poked out of hunched, dull brown shells on their back, revealing a face set in a horrifying snarl. Every now and then at random, another of the loathsome beasts would craw out of the ground, exiting large burrows that some of the unlucky psychos would fall into.

Roadkillers, Roman confirmed with his eyes trained on the monster slowly waddling his way. That was strange. Roadkillers normally stuck to semi-desserts; this breed of monster had trouble surviving in climates that were too cold or had too little water, and Roman was pretty sure semi was a word that would not be used to describe the dessert they were in now.

They must've been in those stock trucks the freaks were lugging, he reasoned, thinking back to the large metallic, hole filled boxes attached to the bikes of some of those psychos. The explosion must have released the devilish fiends.

...at least they weren't that big. The roadkillers here appeared to be babies, kids at most. They hadn't managed to grow into the big bad wild things they were destined to become, and as an extra perk, they hadn't even begun to gain the special abilities all daemons gained once they went through their animalistic version of puberty.

But toddlers or not, here they were and they were just a bloodthirsty as their mothers. The roadkiller heading his way snarled, revealing an impressive set of long, yellow teeth and swaying its long raggedy tail, excited by the bloodshed around them.

"Come to papa," Roman whispered, right arm holding out a pistol and tongue pressed against his cheek in anticipation.

Right before he pulled the trigger a blue blur caught the corner of his eye, and a moment later a large being leapt in front of him, ramming its shinning head right into the head of the monster and sending it rolling a few feet back, brutally injured and squealing.

The action was so sudden Roman squeaked (in a manly voice, mind you) and jumped back, eyes wide and arms crossed over himself defensively. This new monster roared so loud that its voice managed to carry over the entire battle field as if in an unquenchable rage, though no one bothered to give it the time of their day.

Thinking it was another daemon, Roman quickly positioned his gun to shoot the thing in the back when it turned to him with a pleasant expression on its face. Seeing its face and suddenly recognizing the figure, the dark haired young man frowned in irritation and directed his gun away from the giant land-shark in front of him.

"Gunner, where have you been!? You messed up my shot!" He shouted in an accusatory voice. The garchomp pouted and attempted to explain himself via many growls and soft little "rarws". Though no one else would have understood what the torpedo dragon was trying to say Roman did, and he wasn't impressed with his partner's excuses.

"Look, just forget it. We need to get out of here..." Roman trailed off when he noticed another roadkiller heading their way, this one running for them at high speeds on four paws, its jaws wide open and long, ugly black tongue lolling out of its noggin. Irked, Roman aimed his gun for its head. The moment his finger pulled back the trigger the armadillo's noggin exploded.

Gunner gave a low whistle. As a general rule small guns were terrible for long distance shooting, so for Roman to make such a clean shot at the distance between them and the roadkiller... well, it was a very impressive feat, to put it mildly.

"Thank you," Roman grinned, nodding to his blue, red, and yellow friend, his sour mood gone after the successful kill. "I take pride in my marksmanship. And oh, hey, have you seen my bike? I don't want to leave without my baby."

Said baby had been smashed to the point of no recognition. Gunner knew this, he witnessed the roadkiller roll over it in its curled form after he smacked it with Iron Head. Even though it was technically his fault there was no way the blue dragon was going to take the fall for the destruction of his master's favorite toy.

Instead he told him that a group of roadkillers rolled over it in pursuit of their victims.

"Oh come on!" Roman lamented throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. "That's the third bike this month!" As much at fault as Gunner was he didn't dare let the distraught man know of his involvement. Instead he put a consolidating claw on his shoulder and patted it.

Sighing, Roman put a hand on top of Gunner's claw and said, "It's okay buddy. I know you would have stopped it if you could have." The truth was quite the opposite, but Gunner said nothing to contradict his master's faith.

It was at this moment another roadkiller noticed the two standing idle.

Rather than taking them head on alone this, daemon came at them in a small group of three, and instead of charging at them like the last two these roadkillers had the sense to curl into a ball and roll at them in alarming speeds. "Gunner," Roman said, nodding to the roadkillers behind his garchomp.

Catching the command in his master's voice, Gunner turned around, claws glowing with a bright, iridescent light and lunged at the monsters. He clawed his way through all three with the glow from his claws streaking briefly behind him, the hits hard enough to scratch and force the daemons out of their shells and sending them flying with their underbellies exposed.

Immediately Roman aimed and fired three shots, each bullet landing their mark. The roadkillers' corpses landed messily on the sand, all on their back with a long tongue lolling out of their mouths.

"We should get out of here," the transporter advised grimly and Gunner agreed, folding into himself and extending the blades on his appendages as if to look like a plane of some sort. Without needing to be told Roman climbed onto his back and held on tight. As much as he enjoyed flying, he did not enjoy the possibility of running into a flying daemon. If they did, they were as good as sitting ducks.

"Alright buddy, take us home," Roman encouraged, and a moment later Gunner took off at the speed of sound...

XXXXXXX

Placed dead set in the middle of the hard, rocky dessert, you'd think Penumbra would be a ghost town. Even discounting daemons, there was the high risk of dehydration and mirages thus making it not worth the trip for most. At one point it had been so insignificant its name hadn't even made it on the official map or travel guide for those who braved the wilderness. That fact that it had nothing to offer save for a large river nearby didn't help much either.

Penumbra had since evolved from its former empty shell into a hot way-station, and made its name known even to those who stayed shut in their own little towns through word of mouth. It became so popular that many adventurers would come by simply to visit, encouraging the town to expand in business and size until it became the glorious city it is today.

Much of Penumbra's success can be credited to the Akiyama family, starting with the excitable and visionary Lee Akiyama, then Lee Jr. Akiyama, followed by Keith Akiyama, and then by the last remaining Akiyama in the city, Denzel Nathaniel Akiyama.

While the three elder Akiyama men had indeed been the starting point to the great fortune of their beloved city, it was Denzel's ingenious entrepreneurship that made it grow into what it is today. Penumbra is his country, and at the heart of it is his pride and joy, the Nurses Heart.

A scandalous burger and bar joint where they serve alcohol, burgers, and hot wings and the waitresses wear skimpy nurse uniforms. Though it was received with plenty of skepticism at the start, the service, atmosphere, and most importantly the food had won favoritism among the locals and those who stopped by. And to think, he had accomplished all of this by the age of thirty-five.

Being someone of such importance, Denzel has had his fair share of run-ins with goons. When you get to be as rich as he is in a world full of thieves and backstabbers you get to have a big, bright target sign painted on your back. Not that Denzel minded all that much; he could tumble with the best of them. But these people...

Because the Nurses Heart became so big Denzel was able to establish many, many back rooms for personal and/or private meetings. These rooms were either big or small, depending on how many people were involved and what the occasion was. The one that Denzel and his guests were in now had black leather seats, a glass coffee table, mahogany floors and burgundy walls with a white door to let them out. The only decorations in the room was a single white vase that gave life to a yellow lily, the painting of a milotic on the wall, and the white light on the ceiling that took the form of a lotus looking down on them.

The mood in the room was tense, at least for him. His guests, a (presumably) young man with gray hair that was partially shaved on one side, and a tiny woman with a clottish smile and green eyes, didn't seem to be affected at all by the atmosphere. If anything they seemed comfortable, the girl leaning back and twirling ginger strands between her fingers cutely, and the man leaning into his chair with an easy smile, his shades hiding his eyes.

Additionally they had all brought their pokemon into the room. Masayoshi, Denzel's arcanine, sat dutifully beside him. The man in the shades had his luxray napping at his feet and the girl's beautifly rested on her head, blinking owlishly at him.

... who wore shades in a building?

"Look man, all we want is to meet with Mr. Mercier and give him a job," the gray haired man, Pierce, said smoothly. "And we were told the easiest way to do that is to contact him through you." Pierce pointed a finger in at him and the girl nodded enthusiastically... good lord Denzel hated these people.

Denzel groaned, palming his face and letting the hand slid down a bit so that they could see his eyes. "And I told you he isn't here right now."

They'd been having this conversation on repeat now. Perhaps the only person able to get in touch with his brother-like friend Roman, Denzel had become something of a contact for him. Able to call him into the Nurses Heart's back rooms for meetings and discussions concerning job offers, it had become all but official that he was the guy you went to if you wanted Roman Alexander Mercier to deliver your package.

Normally this was good business for Denzel. The man's large build proved intimidating enough to get most people to order something for the meeting out of courtesy. But these people...

Though they did order a meal (which now lay finished on the table), and though they didn't have a posture that would suggest aggression, Denzel couldn't help but be on full alert around them. They might not have been his enemies, but they were differently dangerous.

Pierce shrugged, his smile not faltering one bit, and said, "Then I guess we'll just have to wait."

By this point Denzel had had enough. He was not about to have the same conversation again. "And I'm sure you two can keep yourselves preoccupied while you wait," he said, getting up and heading for the door. Masayoshi perked his ears and then tailed his master without so much as a glance backwards.

"Come on Akiyama. I'm sure your friend won't take much longer, so why not wait with us? We don't bite!" Pierce called.

Denzel quietly snorted, hand on the doorknob, and said, "I'm sure you don't, but I have work to do so..." Denzel's sentence trailed off when he cracked the door open.

Standing in front of him, hand reaching for the doorknob, was Roman. His olive skin was smudged with dirt, and his clothes were ruffled and ruined as if he had just escaped a fight. Behind him was his giant land shark, who smiled and waved at Denzel and Masayoshi happily.

Before the younger man could so much as make a sound Denzel slammed his hand against his face, covering his mouth and forcing him backwards so that the two could get away from the room without the transporter being seen. As soon as Denzel closed the door, Roman pried his hands off his face and glared heatedly at his friend. "The hell, why'd you push me back like that?"

Again Denzel clamped his hand on his friend's mouth, putting a finger to his own lips in a gesture for him to speak quietly. Removing his hand once he was certain Roman got the message he hissed, "Where have you been? You were gone for three days!"

Sheepishly, Roman scratched his unruly dark hair and laughed nervously. "I ah... there were a few complications."

"Right," Denzel nodded as if that explained everything. And technically it did. Denzel figured Roman got caught in a scuffle on the way home... and then came to the Nurses Heart without even washing up... figures.

Sighing Denzel said, "Look, you've got some clients in there-

"Yeah, Karrie told me on my way in. By the way, shouldn't I go meet them?"

"...but there's something off about them." Denzel frowned at his friend, unamused with being interrupted. "Look, I'm not saying they're bad people but... well, listen to their offer with a grain of salt. I know you want to take up every job you're offered - hell, you need to take up just about every can get with how deep in debt you are - but you really need to tread this one carefully."

While the reminder of his debt did feel like a slap to the face Roman was careful not to show how it affected him. Instead he tried to make a serious face.

It was completely and utterly fake, and did not fool Denzel in the slightest.

"I'm serious Roman. Weird people in there. Don't jump the gun on this one," Denzel warned.

Rubbing his hands together, the dark haired transporter dismissed the debt comment and said, "Right, got it. Well then, let's go meet this client."

Though he wanted to say more Denzel only shook his head and opened the door, letting Roman pass through. Before stepping into the room himself, he shared a knowing look with his arcanine. The idiot would probably end up disregarding his advice, per usual...

XXXXXXX

"Well speak of the devil, you're Roman right?"

Roman stepped into the room, Gunner tailing happily behind him. The man and woman on the couch immediately stood up at the sight of him, smiling brightly. The gray haired man in the shades stepped forward first, pushing his drowsy luxray off of his lap and raising his hand for a handshake.

"I'm Pierce Alton. This lovely young lady here is Pepper Olszweski. I like to think we have a job you'll be interested in." The two shook hands before Roman moved on to the girl.

She was short. There was no way she could have been taller than 4'10". Being 6'0" himself, Roman almost kneeled down so they could be on the same eye level; instead, fearing possible retribution for such an offensive action, Roman simply returned her smile and accepted her handshake.

If the two were at all put off by his inappropriate appearance they didn't show it.

"By the way try not to mention how short she is. Pepper doesn't take to reminders," Pierce advised while plopping back onto his seat. Roman suspected that the girl, Pepper, would have retaliated against that statement but was too busy staring star struck at his partner who took his place in a corner.

"Dully noted," Roman acknowledged. Behind him he heard Denzel and Masayoshi come step into the room. Instead of coming to sit at one of the couches Denzel stood by the door, attentive and frowning.

"Well, I guess you guys already know me. So, what's this job offer... you... um... what'cha you doing there Pepper?" Roman asked while seating himself. While everyone else seemed ready to talk business, the ginger woman seemed taken with Gunner.

She stared at him with starry eyes, creeping out the poor torpedo dragon who looked away uncomfortably. An extremely rare breed of pokemon nearly impossible to obtain, Roman was used to people being star struck with the sweet garchomp. Many a time he has come across bandits, thieves, and poachers who have tried to steal him away, and not a single one of them were successful.

Yet for as much as those thieves wanted to steal Gunner away, none of them reacted to seeing him the way she did. The woman was basically salivating over the blue dragon.

Pierce glanced in her direction and shrugged. With little interest he explained, "Pepper is a pokemon fanatic. Whenever she sees a rare breed she get a little... crazy."

"I see that," Roman said warily. "Can you make her to stop? She's freaking out my garchomp."

Gunner was, indeed, freaked out. His back was pressed as hard against the wall as possible with the short woman standing only a foot apart from him and staring up with transfixed eyes.

"Pepper," Pierce said, "we came here to do business, not drool over exotic pokemon. Get your arse back here and behave yourself."

Pierce's order made Pepper freeze. Pouting she stomped back to her seat and angrily plopped down beside him.

A brief, uncomfortable silence followed, one that was broken by a cough.

"So about that job...?" Roman asked, and as soon as the words left his mouth the room seemed to come back to life.

"Right!" Pierce exclaimed. "So I have some business that needs to be taken care of here in town. Ya know, hush, hush, market stuff. My dear Pepper here," Pierce clamped a hand on her shoulder, "needs to head back home as soon as possible. Personal family matters. And I heard you are the best there is at deliveries and escort jobs, so I thought I could entrust her life to you."

Roman nodded in understanding, leaning forward with his fingers intertwined and his chin resting on top of his hands. The job sounded easy enough. All he had to do was take the girl home, right?

Before he could accept the job... "Where is home, exactly?" Roman could feel Denzel's approval emanate from his spot beside the door. Obviously the man had little faith in his abilities to choose a job wisely...

Honestly, Roman couldn't blame him.

"Yorkton," Pierce said casually, a stark contrast from how the other two men chocked on air.

"Yorkton?" Denzel echoed loudly, breaking his silence. "That's on the other side of the country!"

Though the names of big time cities are well known across the world, very, very, very few people realized that Pandemonia has such things as continents, countries, or even states. Such knowledge is typically reserved for travelers, not on purpose but because they are the only ones who find a necessity for it in a world where there is very little difference between countries.

Penumbra and Yorkton are two huge cities residing in the country known as Epsilon. Just as Denzel said, the two are on opposite sides of the country, a journey that would take only Arceus knows how long to complete when factoring in Daemons and the common "abnormal" events. This did not sit comfortably at all with either the transporter or business owner.

"Indeed. It was no easy task getting here, I can assure you of that," Pierce lamented, pulling Pepper into a one armed hug. "So many escorts lost on the way. But I do believe you'll be different. You're the only transporter I've heard of who has successfully completed every job taken on, even the stupidly impossible ones. You're a legend in the transporting community and I believe you are the man for the job."

"This is all true," Roman nodded in agreement, not bothering to mention a big reason for his success was Gunner's involvement and the help he received from outsiders. Then again, one could expect that all transporters were given help from outsiders. Regardless the comment had inflated his ego, so Roman accepted it without a word.

Still, going all the way across the country?

"But, I mean... Yorkton is pretty far from Penumbra. Sure, in the past I've taken jobs that require me to go a long ways from home, further than most other transporters would chance anyways, but... no one transporter has ever gone all the way across the country for a job. It hasn't even been done in groups. At least not in recorded history."

Roman scratched the back of his head in thought, "I'm sorry; I can take her halfway but that's about as far as I'm willing to go."

Pierce listened to him with his undivided attention. When he was done, he nodded in understanding, pulled off his shades, and said, "I understand. But before you turn us down let me show you what we're offering for going the whole nine miles."

Before Roman could ask him not to, Pierce pulled out a check and held it out. Giving in to temptation Roman took it and stared at the numbers.

"... that's a lot of zeros."

"That is only half of what we're offering. Take Pep all the way to Yorkton and you'll get the other half. We're also willing to provide the money needed for supplies and rations."

"... that's a lot of zeros."

Curious, Denzel left his post by the door and looked over Roman's shoulder. Like his friend, Denzel's eyes went wide and his jaw loosened a bit. There were, in fact, a lot of zeros.

Roman was a lot of things. Irrational was one of those things, as well as greedy, selfish, and hopelessly in debt. Stupid is not one of those things... well, at least not completely stupid.

Growing dead serious, Roman looked straight into Pierce's dark blue eyes asked, "Why are you dead set on me taking her across the country? Wouldn't it be better to have multiple transporters from different towns take her? They'd know the area better than me and you clearly have the money for it."

Pierce's answer was simple, "Because you're the best of the best, and because if anyone can do this it's you."

Whether the comment was sincere or just a way to butter him up remained to be seen. Not that it really mattered, Roman made up his mind when he saw all the zeroes on that check.

A quick shared glance with Denzel said that he, too, knew what Roman was going to do and disapproved of it heavily. Regardless the owner of the Nurses Heart held his tongue.

Smiling at the pair across from him Roman announced, "Well when you put it like that how can I refuse?"

"So you'll take the job?" Pierce asked in a chipper voice.

Roman stuck his hand out, stuffing the check into his pocket and said, "I'll need a few days to get things ready. I'll also be more than happy to let you guys cover all the expenses."

Author's Note: And there it is. Nothing of much importance is really happening in here... well, except for the introduction of a few important characters and some information about being given Pandemonia. Didn't get into the meat of their character but... um, what did you think of them anyways?

... By the way, do you guys feel like I'm going too fast with the info? I know this is a whole new world and all, but I don't want to make things seemed rushed...
Kind of an abrupt ending too but eh, I thought that would be a good place to cut it off. So was it good, bad, okay? I know there are a lot of mistakes and I feel like the flow of this isn't really... well, lucid. I was trying to flex my descriptive muscles but... well, I think we can all see the results of that. I hope these mistakes are forgivable. Hmm, I don't know.

Edit: Sooo, since I've recieved an OC that was obviously not created with any of the rules or guidelines in mind, I decided to move it the chapter. This way I'll know for sure that you've seen them. Please read and follow the rules :)

Rules for Life and Lemons:

1) You must PM me your character

2)Title your PM "Beath the Devil's Tattoo: (OC name). If you don't even do this I will not look at your OC, and will delete it on sight

3) You can submit up to five characters and can try getting them to all be a main character. Just keep in mind only one of them can make it. Still, there is safety in numbers sooo... yeah. Btw, if you do submit more than one character please so it in the same PM. Hopefully this will help me keep things in order :)

4) Delete the guidelines when you fill in the application. Be descriptive.

5) Put "I'm on the S.S. Rhyiona" at the top of your PM to let me know you read the rules.

6) Please understand people will probably die in here. They might also be disfigured. Then again they might not. It all depends on where we take the story. We will explore the ugly and gorgeous sides of people (but more of the ugly than the gorgeous) so be prepared to see my portrayal of your character when they've hit rock bottom.

7) If you have any trouble at all understanding any of this feel free to send me ask me questions. Please take your time.

But yeah, try to have fun with this and remember reviews for the story are greatly appreciated :)

Name: (First and last necessary. Middle is optional.)

Age: ( Main characters must be between 21 to 32)

Main: (Yes or no?)

Theme Song: (Optional) (What kind of song fits in with you character's personality? Be it the lyrics, the beat, or just the atmosphere)

Appearance: (Please be very descriptive :)

Clothes -
1)... Casual:
2)... Winter/Cold Weather:
3)... Pajamas: (Optional)
4)... Formal: (Optional)
5)... Others: (Very Optional)

Force-shield Form: (Force-shields protect the individual from bullets, stabbings, long falls, etc. so long as the shield stands. Every now and then it shatters only to regenerate after a few minutes. They are a huge contribution to the survival of humanity, and can easily be personalized. They can take on the appearance of an accessory such as pendants, hairclips, necklaces, etc. The one thing they all share, however, is the glowing sunset-orange center in the middle that resembles a gem, a trait no force-shield lack.)

Weapons: ( At least 1 melee, 1 long-range. You can have more if you want, but keep in mind these are just weapons your character will be starting out with. They will be getting more/swapping these out for different weapons as the story progresses)

Weapon of Choice: (What kind of weapon would you want your character to have? Can be a gun or a knife. Include as many explosions, elemental effects, etc as you want. Go crazy, but no so crazy that it could destroy the world. I'll see what I can do, as well as how much of a cap will be needed to be put on it to keep it from being OP)

Personality: (I cannot express how detailed I want you people to get with their personality and history. It doesn't have to be a thousand paragraphs but... well, the more detailed and insightful you are the more likely I will choose you and the better I will write your character. Keep in mind the personality and back-story of your character will determine a lot about them, seeing as the two usually tie in togethr.)

Origin of Birth: (Were they born in the dessert? A forrest? How about a plan or jungle? Were they born in a town or a city? What was the town's name? Stuff like that. Don't worry about being too detailed)

History: (Again, I cannot express how detailed I want you to get with this. Oh, and please don't put something like "and Gary Stu committed murder at the age of three", because that's just... I don't think it's physically possible for someone so young to have the motor skills to properly work a gun or knife. You can say he was born into that kind of life, but not mentored into it at impossible ages.)

Family/ Family Figure/Friends: (I'm assuming at one point in time or another your character has had someone important in their life. Be as brief as you want or descriptive.)
1.
2.
3.

Career: (You can be anything you like... :)

Like(s):

Dislike(s):

Favorite Food: (Both meal and dessert)

Fear(s):

Hobbie(s): (Optional)

Extra:

Pokemon: (You can only have 1! Yes pokeballs do exist, but they are so ridiculously expensive that unless you are insanely rich you can only afford one, if even that.)
Nickname: (Optional)
Geneder:
Personality:
Moves:
Ability:
How They Met:
Do you own a Pokeball: (Yes or no. As previously stated the majority of people can only afford one, if even that. Also keep in mind that owning a pokeball is considered a luxury... so... yeah... it'll be explained why later in the story)