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The Royal Pokemon Clan

Red Starr

  • "Part-time Space Cowboy"

  • Description

    He's a scrawny-looking bastard with a crooked nose and mean glint in his eye. Despite his slim build, he doesn't look frail, and typically sports some kind of bruising or new scrapes from fighting.

    Freckles blanket his sun-baked face and shoulders. He's got hundreds of small scars concentrated mostly around his hands, arms, and knees. There are a few larger pockmarks along his back and shoulders. His most identifying scars are a somewhat sun-shaped gouge above his left eye, and a 2 cm bit missing from the lobe of his right ear.

    Gap-toothed. Calloused hands. Keeps his thick brown hair in a short braid whenever possible.

    Wears sturdy, faded clothes that have been mended repeatedly, and a pair of old leather boots.
    Rarely ever seen without his favorite Stetson, which was a hand-me-down from his dad. Loves big belt buckles, especially the ones that say stuff.

    Unless he's in a sniping mood, you'll always know he's coming - loud, animated gestures, and swagger for days. Turns sadness into angry energy... It's all pretty irritating. He's someone who always feels like he's got something to prove and might just walk head-first into a known trap just to show what he's made of.

    That said, folk should watch out when he's gone quiet. It means he's well past tossing ideas around and fully prepared to make good on some malicious intent.

  • His Loves

    Rhubarb
    His weapon, his gun, his trinity.
    He loves her no matter what form she's in - rifle or dual pistols, magitek or pure wonder of science. She's the most beautiful thing to him in the whole galaxy.

    Cutter's Grace
    His steed, his chariot, his golden ticket.
    As much time as Red pours into his personal armament, he pours just as much into his ship. That's the main reason he's always broke - there's always something to repair or upgrade, and neither is cheap. This baby's worth it, though. His ship is the only thing between him and a life of sorrow.

  • Basic Info

    • Gender: Male
    • Nicknames: Marcellus, Marcel, Mars, Lonestar, that consarned sow-bred sonnuva gun
    • Age: 22
    • Race: Human
    • "Alignment": Chaotic Neutral
    • Body Type: wiry
    • Complexion: freckled, leathery
    • Ht/Wt: 5'10" / 147 lbs
    • Hair: sun-faded brown
    • Eyes: brown
    • Personality: volatile, proud, stubborn; tries to come off as a white-hat lawman, smacks of a backwoods prison warden
    • Relationship Status: forever single :(
    • Likes: tinkering (especially gunsmithing), excitement, bragging, exaggeration, trick shooting, arguing
    • Dislikes: fights he can't win, being called out on a lie, sitting still
    • Scars: gouge above left eye, chunk taken out of right ear, hundreds of small nicks and pockmarks elsewhere
    • Mannerisms: loud unless he's not and he's scarier when he's quiet, animated talker, got the swagger of an outlaw
    • (Under)handedness: right

  • Bio

    Non-Voronin RPs:
    For Red, life really began on the road - drifting from place to place offering his services as a farm-hand or wrangler. It's where he learned how to really live, if you ask him. Making it by strength of will and a quick trigger-finger, Red was living the dream.

    That's where the majority of his best stories come from, those early years of being a nomad...

    The rest of his good stories are from when he upgraded to bounty hunting and made it into the stars. He worked hard to get where he is today, and he'll tell everyone who listens how he did it. If you hear him out, you'll find his bragging is just as much a warning as anything: don't cross him and things'll work out juuust fine.

    Make him your enemy, and you'll realize you couldn't find a more dogged, grudge-holding ass if you'd walked into the depths of Hell.
    ________________________________
    Voronin:
    For all the bragging he does, Red doesn't talk much about home or what he used to do there.

    He will happily talk about what got him thrown in jail, though. He killed his boss. Red killed him brutally, and insists the bastard earned it. That his old boss really deserved a lot worse.

    Red was apprenticed to a weaponsmith who specialized in ranged items - especially repeating crossbows and flintlock rifles. The man loved infusing his best work with arcane stones, when he could get hands on them, and did a lot of work for the more powerful citizens of Orokin. He taught Red everything he knows about tinkering and appraising arcane stones for crafting.

    For whatever reasons, Red made off with the man's tools, blueprints, and one of the prototypes they'd worked on together. And he insists the authorities will never find any of it. Red doesn't have any of it, either, but that's besides the point. He knows where it is. He'll get back out that way later...

    Maybe.

  • Catch him around...

    Any time Sometimes Maybe Never
    Any time
    • SPAAAAAACE
    • Earth-like planets
    • Not-earth planets
    • DANGER!
    • Exploration! Smuggling!
    • Weird West
    Sometimes
    • Steampunk
    • Magical worlds
    • Monster hunting
    • Freedom-fighting
    • Multiverse madness
    Maybe
    • Cyberpunk
    • Solarpunk
    • Wild West
      Never
    • High society
    • Coffee shops
    • Modern settings