Open The Rebellion

[Starfall]

(hello! This is my first RP in a while, so sorry if I'm rusty. This rp is about a world where humans were extremley cruel to pokemon: beating them, treating them like tools, and forcing them into slavery. Many pokemon try to escape their cruel masters, but few can. The few that do escape have started a rebellion to free their kind and start a society of pokemon. It will take many drops of blood and tears, but the pokemon stand a very slight chance. Here are the rules!
1. No one can be the same pokemon
2. Everyone must have a scar or wound of some sorts
3. You can die, but you can make a new character after they die.
4. No character can be innocent or naive, because they have all been scarred for life.
5. Cussing is allowed, just no derogatory terms.
6. Fill out the form that I fill out!
Name: Olive
Gender/Pronouns: Female, she/her
Species: Vulpix
Personality: brave, fierce, and a natural born leader, Olive is a no nonsense kind of pokemon. She is extremley stealthy and graceful, but not a hard hitter. She is not very considerate, due to lack of love as a child.
Looks: Olive has large, ocean blue eyes. She has a large scar over her eye, cut very deep. Most of her fur is extremley messy, but her tails are sleep and well groomed. She is pretty short for a vulpix, standing about 5 inches shorter than the norm for her species.
Past: Olive was born into slavery. She worked as a cleaner for her master, having to use her beautiful tails as a broom or a duster. She was beaten If the job was poorly done or completed too slowly. Using her small size to her advantage, Olive barley escaped with her life. Most of the wounds healed,except for a large scar over her eye to remember her past. Not wanting others to suffer the same fate, she started the rebellion. She would take in any pokemon who escaped, training them to fight agianst the human tyrany.
Status: Leader
Now, let's begin!)

Warm, sticky blood oozed down Olive's side as she limped through the forests. "Move on! I'll catch up in the Clearing!" She had told her soldiers, edging them on. She thought she was brave, letting them escape from the havoc. She now realized that she was a fool. Olive had a large chance of dying in that forest, judging by the wound on her side. Her troops had attacked another human family. They rescued 5 servants, and no lives lost. The worst wound was her own. She had been struck by a human's knife on her right flank as they were retreating. Olive sighed, pushing that memory out of her mind. She limped forwards, finally reaching the clearing.

 

[Il Fantasma]

Name: Tamias (wishes to go by Midas)
Gender/Pronouns: male, him/his
Species: Chespin
Personality: a quick thinker with a keen sense of sight. Treats himself like royalty, though, and believes he's better than everyone.
Looks: like any ol' Chespin, but the spikes on his head are sharper and pointier than usual, and he has a large gash across his back, covered by a bandage
Past: Midas was born with a Fennekin and Froakie in the Professor's lab. Instantly forced into working for the man, all three made a plan to escape. One day, while they were washing the windows, they flocked to the one closest to the front door. Sure, it probably wasn't the best of plans, but it was a plan nonetheless. After counting to three, Tamias, with the Froakie's help, jumped up to the door's handle, pushing it down to earn them all access to the outside world- a foreign world they had never been able to experience. Waiting for both other starters to get out, the Chespin, now back on the floor, almost got to closing the door behind him when a large pain surged through his back. Looking behind him, the Professor stood there, holding a bloodied shard of glass in his hand. Not able to close the door by now, Midas ruses out as fast as he could with the pain. The Fennekin and Froakie helped him get away from the lab with what little strength he had left. Somehow, they managed to find a bandage, quickly wrapping the Chespin in it. Even though the Fennekin and Froakie are long gone and the gash is now a scar, Midas keeps the bandage on, and hadn't taken it off to this day. While wandering through the forest, wary of Trainers, he found the rebellion's heart, and instantly joined, earning the sergeant status.
Status: sergeant

Already in the clearing, a bandaged Chespin surveyed the open area, a paw over his head to shield him from the sun. He had fought in the battle with the humans, earning a chip in a head spike. Seeing no danger at the moment, he turned around, called back to his leader, who was trailing behind due to her wound. "No enemies in sight, ma'am!" Looking at the others, Tamias yelled, "c'mon, you Slowpokes, let's move, move, move!" Not realizing that he was basically leading the group, Midas rushed behind the soldiers, forcing them ahead. Turning his head to look at Olive, he asked, "we resting here?"

 

[Cicada]

Name: Sclav
Gender/Pronouns: Male, he/him
Species: Gliscor
Personality: A bit of a wildcard, Sclav (named after the Romanian word for "slave"), has a tendency of laughing "too much." He's speculated to have trauma-induced Involuntary Emotional Expression Disorder, though he won't answer you when you ask him about it. He speaks with a Slavic accent that occasionally slurs into nonsense when speaking for long periods of time. He's not to be physically interacted with in any way, lest he snap and attack as he is heavily provoked by being touched. Apart from all the damaged bits, he is extremely loyal to the rebellion and is rather optimistic despite his past.
Looks: He has a very ragged look to him with his hardened outer shell a duller colour than his reciprocals and riddled with dents and other markings. His eyes are wild and unfocused. His wings are uneven have obviously been torn and stitched together multiple times. The bottoms of them are filled with holes.
Past: Sclav was owned by a wealthy nobleman who conditioned him to be the perfect war hawk. Eventually, Sclav was sold to various weapon enthusiasts, where he was set up as a guard dog or otherwise. Unaware of the lives he was taking, he became a merciless missionary to his human masters until he accidentally attacked a young child who had been trespassing and was immediately released. Lost and confused, his knowledge was applied onto the rebellion, where he is continuing to learn about morals and the uprising against humans. He never speaks about the cruelties he executed against Pokémon before he had joined.
Though they tried giving him simple tasks like berry-picking and base maintenance, the only thing he was actually good at was violence. Despite his stability, they eventually allowed him to go onto the battlefront.
Status: Soldier

Sclav tried not to look back as he hustled ahead, body close to the ground as he ran. He tried not to think of the smell of iron and his pinchers tightly clamped and still slick with blood. There was a huge smile on his face and his stomach kept convulsing as if he had been told an excellent joke. Occasionally, one of the others would glance at him with narrowed eyes or curious horror.
Fingers of warmth tickled his thick skin, heating the already sun-soaked earth that burned his two-toed feet. Taking this as motivation rather than Midas' calls, he rushed onwards.

 

[Rex]

Spoiler: Seth's Bio

Name: Seth
Gender/Pronouns: Male, he/him
Species: Buizel
Personality: Friendly and approachable, Seth tries his hardest to be a point of emotional stability others can latch onto in times of stress. He has a strict code of ethics instilled in him by his mentor that demands he help anyone he finds in need. His caring nature was something he had to learn, a fake it 'til you make it sort of thing, but he's been like that for so long, it comes natural to him. However, when pressed too hard, he came become distant and quiet, almost seeming to cave in on himself. He rebounds from these episodes on his own time, nothing anyone else can do can make him come back faster. He doesn't like to talk about these episodes.
Looks: Seth is taller and thinner than the average Buizel. Each of his digits end in a sharp looking claw, these three traits together being inherited from his father, a Weavile. He wears a black bandanna around his neck, which hides a mess of scar tissue where his flotation sac used to be. He has also found a black newsboy cap on his travels, which he wears for fun. Finally, he carries the tools of his trade in an actual brown leather doctor's bag - Arceus knows where he's stolen that from - which is about a third to a half as tall as he is and is thus carried slung over his back.
Past: Seth doesn't often talk about himself. He was born in the wild, his earliest memory is the feeling of blood oozing from his neck as he hid in the darkest place he could find, knowing, even if he couldn't exactly understand how he knew, that his parents had perished. He was found and raised by a Mienshao named Scott, a doctor who taught Seth everything the Buizel knows about medicine and first aid. Once Seth was old enough to care for himself, and had learned everything Scott could teach, the two parted ways, both agreeing that they could cover more ground, and thus help more people, if they split up. While he is not directly affiliated with the rebellion, injuries, illnesses, and infections tend to follow them, and thus as a doctor, Seth follows them as well.
Status: Unaffiliated medic

He had heard, through the grapevine, that a raid was going to go down. There was never a dull moment, providing medical services to a rebellion. Still, it was the path that Seth had chosen for himself, and he couldn't argue that these Pokemon weren't often in need of his services. It was messy work, and he couldn't always save his patient, but he was proud of every stitch and every bandage he'd applied, and wore the lives he did save as if they were a badge of honor.

This, however, was not the time for him to bask in his own ego. Seth could hear shouts from various Pokemon through the trees. A certain Gliscor's mad laughter made the Buizel shiver. It sounded like the Chespin - he recognized his voice but had forgotten his name - was barking orders, and a higher pitched, but fainter sounding voice that was likely the little rebellion's leader, likely bringing up the rear of the pack. By all likelihood, his services would be needed immediately. He had been following this group long enough to know that that was often the case, stealth simply wasn't their style.

So, the Buizel snatched up his bag, which he had already packed in preparation for the rebellion's return, and started towards the direction he heard the other Pokemon going. It didn't take too terribly long before he located the clearing the group had run to. This was a convenient location for him, since it was more easy to account for everyone when they were in an open space rather than hidden among the trees. For a moment, he wondered if the little Eevee leader had planned it like that, or just found it a convenient landmark for her underlings to gather. Seth quickly pushed that thought from his mind, and took a deep breath.

"This'll probably get hectic," he thought to himself, then entered the clearing.

 

[Cicada]

It was the chortling batch of scarred flesh and shell that halted abruptly at the sight of the Buziel who had joined them in the clearing, chuckling ravenously like a rouge Poochyena. He straightened himself up and attempted to control himself, as instructed, though each time he tried to contain his hysteria, a new wave took him under. He held a bloodied clamp to his mouth, muffling the noise, and shuddered without restraint beneath the gory pincer. It was at least thirty seconds before the laughter died completely.

He stood at standby, completely still (Save for him lowering the hook from his now slightly grisly and unturned mouth and poising it threateningly), waiting for further instruction. He looked the medic over with a curtain behind his eyes. When they made eye contact, he pulled back his lips and flattened his pointed ears, baring six needle-thin fangs inaudibly.

 

[Starfall]

Olive staggered in. "Count off!" She cried, her voice echoing through the clearing. She had previously given each member of the group a number, as a easy way to keep track of everyone. After the last number, 50, was called, Olive sighed with relief. "We will camp here until night, then continue our journey to camp under the cover of darkness. Rest, everyone." With that she ended her speech, and set off to find Seth. She silently walked up behind him. "Hello." She exclaimed, greeting the medic with kindness in her voice.

 

[Rex]

(ooc: Just as a note, the idea was that Seth has been following the rebellion for some time - he can recognize your characters by voice and people feel safe enough to discuss plans around him. I sent a note to Novosel clarifying that, but you posted before he could get back to me! So I thought I'd clarify here, just to be safe.)

That Gliscor creeped him out. Seth couldn't help shivering again looking at him. But, thankfully, it didn't last long before the little Vulpix Olive got his attention. He spun around and looked down - far down - at her. She was such a tiny thing, and of course it was even worse given he was tall for his species.

"All your Duckletts in a row?" He grinned, "any seriously injured?"

Noticing blood, the Buizel leaned to his left, catching sight of the nasty looking wound on the Vulpix's right side. "Looks like you might need stitches, I'll need to clean the wound before I can tell for sure, though."

 

[Cicada]

Sclav continue to glare at the Buizel until he was out of his sight. He then returned to his usual smiley self and stretched himself out. He didn't trust that Buizel, - Sage? Saul? - but he hardly trusted anyone. He found the concept of trust foreign and trying and friendship more so. There was an intimacy in both that made him weary.

Still, the fellow was here to do a job, as they all were. He gave himself a lookover. His front was doused in red, but he couldn't discern if he had been wounded or if he had just done the wounding. He sat down and got to work, checking for pain with great focus.

 

[Starfall]

"Thanks, you're the best." She exclaimed, looking at the gash. Needles had always creeped the vulpix out. Olive had a serious dislike for the sharp objects, usually seeing them as a potential weapon. "Any other serious wounds?" Olive asked the buizel, trying to take her mind off of it.

 

[Il Fantasma]

After everyone had entered the clearing, Midas hustled in, spotting a tree not too far away from everyone else. Using it as a backrest, he put his paws behind his head, closed his eyes, and rested, like Olive had told everyone to do. When medical attention was the subject, he was sadly inexperienced, apart from what needed bandaging or not. So, instead of troubling himself with worrying about the others, he attempted to sleep, breaths becoming more and more deep as time progressed, bandage acting as a sort of blanket for the Chespin.

 

[Rex]

"Well, no one's screaming in pain, so that's a good sign," the Buizel remarked, placing his bag down and undoing the clasps holding it closed. "I'll be doing my rounds after I patch up that leg of yours."

Seth was honestly surprised Olive was still upright with that wound, limp or no limp. He'd expect adrenaline to have something to do with that. He dug through his bag until he found what he was looking for, a roll of gauze and a thick, but short,wooden pole, with evidence of bite marks on it. Looking back at the Vulpix, he motioned towards the ground.

"Lay down, please. On your left side," he said, "I'll go through this as quick as possible."

 

[Cicada]

Deciding he didn't have any life-threatening injuries, he slouched over himself and crouched onto all fours, treading carefully across the hot, yellowing grass as if it were lava. His tail swaggered above his head dangerously. He eyed the other millennials suspiciously as he passed, giving the ones he caught staring the same warning glance he had given the Buizel. That usually got them to look away, if not a little miffed.

He got to the treeline and tested a couple trees for sturdiness. Satisfied, he scrambled up its trunk loudly and crept across one branch, lowering himself by his tail. When he was comfortably situated, he wrapped his slender body in his leathery, heavily damaged wings, blotting out the sun and the small army below.

 

[Starfall]

Olive flopped down on her side. She sighed happily; the breeze felt extremley nice on the wound. "It's good no one died this time." The vulpix exclaimed, flicking her tails. "I still can't believe we lost 5 on the last raid."

 

[Rex]

"Well, you're not out of the woods yet," Seth replied, kneeling over Olive's gash, "If I wasn't here, you probably would have bled out."

He got the work, cutting a strip of gauze off the roll and using it to sop up some of the blood. This quickly proved his original concerns justified, it was quite a deep wound. Once the worst of the blood was cleared away, the Buizel tossed the bloodied gauze away, and offered the stick to Olive.

"Bite down on this, and don't let go until I say so," he said.

 

[Starfall]

"Sounds good to me." Olive bit down on the stick, feeling her teeth sink into the wood. She squeezed her eyes shut, and inhaled deeply. Her small ears flattened, along with her tails. She was ready for whatever came next.

 

[Rex]

A weak Water Gun was quickly applied to another strip of gauze torn from the roll, which was used to clean away some of the dried blood on the Vulpix's fur. This was the easy part. Next, Seth pulled a small bottle and a cotton ball out of his bag. The bottle, containing an ethanol antiseptic recognizable by its smell, had its lid removed and replaced with the cotton ball. A quick turn upside down and back, the lid was replaced, and the ethanol infused cotton ball was in the Buizel's paw.

"This'll sting," he said, then began dabbing the ball over the wound. This would hopefully clear away any bacteria, his work would be for nothing if an infection was able to take hold after he'd sutured the wound shut. Once that was done, the cotton ball was tossed aside and the bottle replaced in his bag. Now came the fun part. Retrieving a curved needle and thread from his bag, the Buizel got to work suturing. These silk sutures were non-degradable, he would have to remove them in the future, but they did the job well.

Before too long, the stitches were tied off and the remaining thread cut. Another weak Water Gun cleared the Buizel's hands of blood, before another roll of gauze was carefully cut off the roll with his claws, which was then taped down, the tape being another item within his bag, on all four edges over top of the sutures. The gauze and tape were replaced in his bag, and with that the task was done.

"You can spit that out now," Seth said the to Vulpix, "I can remove the sutures in a couple of weeks, in the meantime, try not to push yourself too hard. Don't want to reopen that wound."

 

[Cicada]

With a meddlesome curiousity, Sclav raised his wing nonchalantly so that half his unruly face peered out from beneath the rugged blanket. A single, milky eye bulged from his worn husk, the colour of honey and as warm as the Arctic.

He never trained his eye on any one Pokémon for more than an instance and found a new topic of interest frequently. His dreadfully tuned ears picked up snippets of conversation and, once, the sound of sorrowful snivelling. The source was, of course, one of their newest liberations. Even in his muddled mind, he could understand the difficulty of grasping the situation.

He wondered how many Pokémon had been trying to liberate him only to be killed instead. He wondered if he'd ever be able to discern regret from longing.

Sclav was rambling to himself again, and the panicked grasps of self-awareness this lead to often led to another psychotic break. The very psychotic breaks that would get his ass dragged off the legion if he didn't get his act together, as the general had so diligently put it. He took a deep gulp of air and buried his head deep beneath his wings before he could let his eye linger on the one he had been seeking out. The Buziel had escaped his glance.

The Buziel couldn't fix what was broken about him. He hadn't thought about it, but he might've had he not let sleep take him under. He thought no more.