Name: [url=http://i59.tinypic.com/14dikc8.png]Arthur Montgomery[/url]
Age: 14
Gender: Male 
Hometown: Blackthorn City  
Appearance: Arthur has all the potential of a very handsome man in a very awkward body. Just beginning the in-between stage, he's still growing into what will one day become powerful shoulders and a strong back but, as a teenage, simply accentuate his late-coming growth spurts. Slightly  short even for his age, he wears the sour expression of a young brat. Favoring heavy, baggy clothes and a beanie over his lank white hair, he slouches and generally shuffles his way along with poor posture and attitude. He is rarely seen without his headphones pumping out some tinny, angry musing from around his neck, and he often seems to cover about as much of himself as he possibly can at any given time.

He does, however, have large scar on his nose where his aunt's Gyarados lashed him with its tail as a child. He is sensitive about it.

Personality: Arthur is curmudgeon. In general he is quick to be snarky and sarcastic, as much a performance of his [i]obvious[/i] teenage angst as anything else. Just old enough to feel slighted by his place in the world and not quite old enough to give in to existential ennui, he instead contents himself with traipsing about like a thundercloud and generally being a dramatic and obnoxious teenager. He swears a lot because he can until people snap at him enough, where he reverts to monosyllables and glowers. As a trainer he's a hardass, pretending very much to be one of those people that only cares about how strong a pokemon is or how well it will shore up their team. 

Still, the truth of the matter is that Arthur is a good, intelligent guy who just wants to feel like he's special. He's got a heart of gold under his tough shell, and he's always ready to step in and save the day (even if he says it's just to steal the glory). 

Profession: Pokemon Trainer

Talents: Arthur is very good at reading people, seeing them for who they are instead of who they pretend to be. He's also a fair hand at pretty much everything about being a Pokemon trainer--how to handle a pokemon, help it reach its potential, whip it into shape and judge its strength. What he's poor at are the basic things, setting up camp and cooking his own meals. 

Inventory: 
10 Pokeballs, a very warm sleeping bag, a one person tent, a change of clothes, a high-end .Mp3 player with studio-quality headphones, several pairs of shoes, pokemon food and grooming supplies, personal food and grooming supplies, a utility knife, rain gear, multi-tool and flashlight all in a high-end hiker's backpack. He also has card access to a bank account with $500 currently available from his parents/winnings.

Starter Pokemon: Lv. 5 Axew "Lancelot"

Biography: 
Arthur was going to be anything but a pokemon trainer.

Pokemon ran in his family's blood. Though his mother, sister to Blackthorn City's own Claire, was a successful accountant every single one of his family members--up to and including Uncle Lance--were some form of badass pokemon trainer or another, and most of them with Dragon-types no less. Dragon-types like Auntie Clair's Gyarados (who wasn't even a real Dragon, anyway!) that slapped him in the face when he was five and left a messy scar on his nose, which made all of them pokemon non grata in young Arthur's book. About the only pokemon he tolerated was his Axew, Lancelot. Even then he and the proud, snarky creature dealt with each other as tersely as one could imagine two best friends were able. But there was always so much pressure to [i]fight[/i]--it was all about whether or not Lancelot could beat up Remy's Goldeen, or if he was going to have the lizard focus on on wallbreaking or Dragon Dancing. Everybody just assumed he'd be a trainer without ever asking him, and his contrary nature insisted that he would be a plain, boring accountant out of spite.

Over several years of this behavior, people began to lose interest and move on to greener prospects. If he didn't want to be a trainer than he didn't have to, though they would all of them admit to being a little disappointed.

Except Auntie Clair, who wouldn't give up the ghost. Closer to Arthur than any of his other relatives, his Aunt kept the torch burning for young Arthur's budding career as a trainer and needled him about it at every opportunity. It was she who brought him to Unova during a conference on Dragon-Types and allowed him to pick out his Axew, hoping having a [i]different[/i] dragon would help him get over whatever this [i]thing[/i] he had about pokemon training was. She was quick to point out how well the [i]other[/i] boys were getting on, even without a proper Dragon to raise and how he was [i]wasting[/i] his potential on something as menial as accounting (even around his mother, who politely agreed and also politely over-salted her dinner). It was only when she got around to insulting Lancelot ("He's so [i]scrawny[/i]!) that Arthur finally had enough. After years of this he finally, at fourteen, slammed his hands down on the table and marched upstairs to pack.

Claire, of course, beamed like she'd won the lottery, but she wouldn't be for long. He'd wipe that smug look off her face when Lancelot wiped the floor with her stupid gyarados and its slinky dragonaire buddies.