{Pokimono Application} Kenta Kobayashi

{Name}

Kenta Kobayashi

{Pokemon}

#181 Ampharos  

{Age}

35

 {Height | Weight}

6'7"ft. | 195lbs. (Pretty much all muscle).

{Village}

Scorched Mountain

{Job}

Artist/Travelling Bard

{Ability}

Static: When a Pokémon with this Ability is hit by a move that makes contact, there is a 30% chance that the attacking Pokémon will become paralyzed. This can affect Ground type Pokémon.

{Attacks}

--Iron Tail (Egg Move from Father)
--Thunder Punch

{Likes}

| Music |~Ladies~| Simple Rice Dishes | The Outdoors |  Children  | Alcohol |

{Dislikes}

| His Scars | Fighting | Gloating |

{Personality}  

|+Cheerful|+Optimistic|+Gentle|+Calm| |-Fears Commitment|-Self Defeating|-Secretive|

Kenta is a gentle, happy soul despite his large stature, more often than not looming over those whose company he surrounded himself with, and yet lacking that intimidating factor that might have otherwise scared people away. Most found this strange for a bounty hunter, one who would take on some of the most vicious wanted criminals, and yet still managed to keep his friendly and optimistic demeanor.

Alongside being a cheerful fellow, when inebriated (under the influence of alcohol) he also becomes rather loud and boisterous, and though he would deny it when sober, he also becomes rather sentimental and sensitive.

He is not a man without his flaws however, having a surprisingly negative outlook on commitment, whether it be to a relationship or to remaining in one place for too  long. Any questions about a significant other or any plans for the future will end up being deflected, wearing an emotional mask as well as a physical one. Before his burns disfigured his face, he had also been somewhat vain when it came to his appearance, now he is plagued by some self loathing, though he tries to keep up an air of false confidence by joking about the appearance of his scars, or brushing off any rude or nasty comments, when really they hurt enough to almost make the burns feel fresh again.

{History}

Kenta was born and raised in Fire Field, with his mother—another Ampharos—and his father—a Aggron-- who had made a name for himself as a Samurai in their village. At a young age the pressure to become a samurai just like his father was dumped on his shoulders, receiving very little praise for any victory, and harsh scolding for every small failure as he was tutored in the way of the sword. Despite all this he remained his cheerful and optimistic self, often skipping out on training to play and rough house with the other local children before getting dragged back by the ear or tail. It was difficult for those around him to tell just how much the pressure was getting to him with the way he behaved, assuming him to simply be lazy or lacking the same work ethic his father lived by, when really the anxiety the harsh training and pressure from his tutors and family members were like anvils on his shoulders, weighing him down and crushing his spirit.

And the older he became, the worse it got. The closer it got to his nineteenth birthday the harder he was worked, sparring with the teachers his father had contracted for him for hours on end, preparing for the final test his father would give him himself. To test his readiness before handing down their family heirloom, and preparing everything for him to receive the title he had been forced to work for his entire life. The morning of this final test, his family would find him gone from his room, from his house and gone from the village entirely. A sword from his father’s armory now missing, but leaving a majority of his belongings behind in his hurried escape from a fate he couldn’t bear to face. His family and friends he left behind would not see him again.

Years would pass and the young Ampharos had found a place in a band of Bounty Hunters after proving his worth to them through his skill with a  sword, only taking up the job because he had been desperate for food and had not a penny left to his name. He became rather close with the others in the group, and feeling rather comfortable in his newfound lifestyle despite his dislike for fighting. He was able to live in relative comfort with all the freedom he could have wished for. Things would not remain this way forever. They would all be sound asleep inside a small inn for the first night in weeks of sleeping outdoors, but they would all awake to screaming, and fire. The flames had already begun to consume the building in which they slept, making the wooden floors hot beneath their feet as the group made to flee through crumbling wooden walls, and what had been strong beams that held up the roof creaking and beginning to blacken as well. Everything had been moving so quickly, and he had already inhaled so much smoke, it wasn’t long before he found himself falling victim to a weakened beam on the bottom floor of the building when it finally gave way, and he found the right side of his body trapped beneath its weight. It seared his flesh and crushed his bones, his pained cries would go unheard or ignored by his comrades, who fled the building out into the mayhem in the streets and abandoned him…left him for dead.

When he would awake next, it would be in what they had managed to set up as a medical area for the injured survivors of the attack, his body wrapped in many bandages and limbs in splints, and in oh so much pain. There was little they could do to help with the pain, so he would suffer for the many months it took for these injuries to make any progress in their recovery. From that day onward the Ampharos would give up his job as a bounty hunter, now a practicing pacifist, he would instead travel from town to town as a bard, playing what little he had learned growing up and learning more on his travels, but always keeping his face covered with his mask whenever he could get away with it in public.

{Additional info}

--If asked about his scars, Kenta will never be honest. Every request for the story behind his scars leads to a new and over the top lie, stories of adventures and feral, fire breathing beasts. He doesn’t like to talk about the actual incident, but he doesn’t like to be dismissive either.

--He stays away from sleeping in inns and prefers the outdoors, even in storms and rain he would sooner build his own temporary shelter outside than find shelter inside an inn.

--He actually loves storms, finding a lot of comfort in the rumble of the thunder. He stays away from trees during thunder and lightning storms however, for fear of one catching fire when being struck.

--He can hold his liquor really well, tending to drink the stronger stuff that burns going down and warms you up from the inside out quicker than you could blink. It takes a while for him to get drunk.

--He’s pretty much a traveling bum with a lute, don’t let the “bard” business fool you.

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