Circus Darkrai - Munro McVey

Going to try my luck with this neat little group. Ever since PKMNC closed down, I've been craving for some RPing.

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Name: Munro McVey

Age: 66 (7th of January)

Gender: Male

Pokémon: Metagross

Ability: Clear Body: Prevents other Pokémon from lowering its stats.

Nature: Brave, Somewhat stubborn

Height/Weight: 153 cm; 215 kg

Hometown: Geosenge Town

Faction: Lune

Job: Flaming Bagpiper – Munro’s acts involve entertaining guests before the Circus opens doors for the main acts and between some of the main acts themselves. He owns a custom bagpipe with a small propane tank especially rigged to produce flames whenever he wishes. He’ll play some dandy melodies to the guests, and occasionally pull off some tricks and stunts of his own. This happens near the circus gates, and for safety reasons within a generous radius from any of the tents (as a matter of precaution though, Munro always carries a couple fire granades in his pockets while acting).

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History:

Munro was born in the Town of Geosenge, in the coast of the Kalos region. He belonged to clan McVey, one of the many clans of that area that shared a friendly rivalry (most of the time!) between each other. He was a true McVey, bearing the same surname as his forefathers and founders of the clan before him. Few members would be as passionate about the clan as he was, the result of true devotion and loyalty and a sense of responsibility for bearing the name of the clan itself.

His upbringing was shared by every member of the clan, and not only his parents and brothers. It was a tight knit family, where tradition, loyalty and respect for fellow clan members was most prized, clan meetings held almost every week, sometimes even more frequently. Munro thrived in the midst of this environment and the clan members, and as he grew into a young man, his love for the clan only grew further. He’d do anything for his clan, and whatever was good for the sake of it, was good for him as well – even risking his own life. So much so, that he did not hesitate to enlist in the army with fellow clan members of the same age when a war broke out. Unsurprisingly, this eventually took its toll on clan McVey, for most of the young lads eager to prove themselves in the battlefield ended up dead or missing in action. Where once a mighty clan stood, a generation gap arose, with old clan members on one side and small children (mostly orphans) on the other. Lucky ones like Munro came back to tell the tale, but not without a price – his right eye was gouged, when a stray enemy bullet met his head. If it wasn’t for being a steel type and the bullet miraculously not hitting a major vessel, Munro’s fate would probably be the same of his comrades - that and having 4 brains. The bullet wrecked one, but he was still left with 3 brains to make up for that loss.

War aside and with the return of peace, Munro’s life seemed pretty fullfilling after those events, for he was not the sort of ‘mon to dwell much on the past - or so he'd let seem. It actually took some time for the Metagross to burry those memories under merrier ones of following years, as most young folks with which he had grown with were now all but burried in shallow graves somewhere. He sometimes wondered what he could have done to prevent that, the haunting thought of guilt that he felt for being taken out of combat so soon, while his fellows remained in the fields, battling for their lives - and more often than not, being unsuccessful at that. Years passed though, and he eventually landed a job in the docks near his town, and after working hours, spent countless evenings in the company of his mates, both from his clan and fellow sailors and dock workers. Despite that apparent happiness that filled almost everyday of Munro’s life however, one thing keep eating away at the back of his mind – his beloved clan. The gap that arose after the war was becoming more evident than ever, with clan members disperse and uninterested in the clan’s affairs. Munro tried to keep the clan together, passing those values to the new generation, but even 4 arms couldn’t handle and teach the young ones everything. Gradually, things started to slow down in activity: meetings were held once a month when once they were held several times in the same period; there was no more interest in teaching younger generations of ‘mons the importance of tradition and the clan’s values; traditions were being lost or forgotten; the influence of the clan in the Town’s council was less and less evident, with other clans overlapping their ideals on top of clan McVey’s. All of this and more saddened Munro to a great extent, and was one of the few things that took the constant smile off the Metagross’ face.

One day however, an odd Circus came to town. Munro, not wanting to pass an opportunity to have fun gladly bought a ticket to watch the show and hang around with other visitors and even some circus staff alike. It was already late into the night when Munro was at the counter, ordering one last beer (which were adding up tp the stack he had already gobbled up). All his mates had already left, and he was all but alone. As tried to reach for a couple of coins to pay up for the beers, he realized there were none left in his pocket.

- “Drat, did I really drink that much?...” the Metagross wondered, wobbling a bit as he hopped from the bench. He folded his pockets from inside out and showed them to the bartender “Ahhh lad, looks like I be skint.” he said with a nervous laughter. This wouldn’t have been a problem in any of the pubs in town (as they all knew Munro – and how big his tab tended to be), but this time none of that would help. He was already trying to find some sort of explanation or way out when he felt someone behind him “Bollocks, I be headin’ for the slammer…” he whispered, already prepared for anything. He turned around to see it was that was looming over him, and his single eye met the cold, yet alluring gaze of a Darkrai dressed in circus regalia.  

- “Perhaps we can discuss an alternative form of payment.” the legendary stated, with a charming and yet intimidating grin "My name is Valentine Dark, the ringmaster of this illustrious circus." he hummed as he introduced himself, tipping his hat to greet the pennyless Metagross.

Munro exhaled in relief - at least they weren’t outright taking him to the police.

- “I’m all ears laddie, I may have no monny, but I can do sum’ work tah pay up fer this mess.” he laughed, pointing at the stack of empty beer mugs on the counter.

- “Is that so?...” the Darkrai intimidatingly leaned over the shorter Munro, still with a smile plastered on his face, making the Metagross wobble a bit as he eyed the Darkrai suspiciously. “Tell me Mr…?” the ringmaster raised an eyebrow, waiting to figure out what was the name of this broke loser.

- “Munro McVey, from clan McVey nonetheless!” the old Metagross pumped his chest and tapped it proudly with a clenched fist.

- “McVey. Hmmm, I see.” the Darkrai mumbled, faking interest ”Yes, I’ve noticed this Town is riddled with clans. I’m sure your’s is one of the most powerful around here – or am I mistaken?” his grin widened, while in turn Munro’s smile started to fade.

- “Eh, it seen better days mate. Times o’glory be long gone me thinks. Ye know, modern days be upon us, maybe this was bound tah happen sum'day.” Munro said, as he took his cap to nervously scratch the back of his head and adjust his eye patch.

- “This seems to trouble you greatly… you seem to love this clan of yours with all your heart.” the Darkrai said, now with genuine interest.

- “Aye lad, there be few things I love the most!” the Metagross nodded emphatically.

- “I bet you do – say Mr. McVey, should you, let’s say, have a wish…” he straightened his back, and Munro attentively followed his words “… what would it possibly be?”

- “Ah, that’s a though one…” the old man scratched his chin. He was innebriated, but his three remaining brains could still make up for some sort of judgement. But the conversation with the Darkrai made his thoughts drift away to his clan and how hopeless he felt about it. So, he said his thoughts out loud “Ah lad, I wish Clan McVey was as mighty as it was back in the day…” he said, full of nostalgia. However, his face went from happiness to sorrow in a matter of seconds "Sum'times I think I better off have stayed bleedin' in those fields o'war rather than all me mates, ye know?..." he finished, and an uneasy silence ensued.

- “Your wish is now granted.” Mr. Dark stated, breaking the silence that had settled - his smile bigger than ever, despite the sad confession of the Metagross. “I shall be waiting for you soon, Mr. McVey.” The Darkrai said coldly, turning around and disapearing in the shadows as silently as he had appeared.

Munro took a second to blink and scratch his head “… did the lad go bonkers?... And what does he mean he’ll be waiting fer me, he didn’t even tell me what I needed tah do!” the Metagross raised his eyebrow, turning to the bartender – but he too was gone. Strange... Shrugging it off and happy he ended up not being charged a dime for all the beer he had drank, he took out a match and lit his pipe in the way back home.

However, he noticed a strange commotion as he got nearer. He heard laughter and the night sky was shinning reddish from bonfires outsider the usual clan’s gathering place. As he loomed closer, he saw something he hadn’t seen for ages – all clan members, young and old alike gathered around the fires, dancing, singing and overall having an hell of a time.

- “Oi mates, what be happenin’ here?! Are me eyes playin' a trick on me?!!!” the old Metagross shouted in disbelief, filled with happiness, running to meet familiar faces. The party however went silent – dancers stopped their prancing, man set their glasses aside and even the band stopped playing.

- “Who the Hell would ye be?” one of Munro’s long time friends said, closing the circle around the Metagross.

- “Ahah, very funny, ol’Munro can’t be late fer the party and ye lads already forget me name!" he laughed, his eyes frantically pacing from one face to the other “I really can't believe me eyes, how did this happen?!" he loomed closer, full of emotion, but as he did, he felt something streaming down his face. Was he... crying? No, that couldn't be. I mean, he was surely as happy as one could be, but not to the point of crying... It wasn't until he tried to wipe it off that he realized it was not tears - but blood running from his left eye.

- “Munro McVey?” one of them said “Ye are mistaken old man, maybe yer senile!” another shouted, making some burst out in laughter, while yet another stated, with a more serious tone “Munro died years ago in the war mate... We never seen ye face before.". Those words hit Munro like a train. No, he knew these people, they wouldn't take a prank this far. Something was definitely off - that, and the increasingly sharp pain arising from his left eye. They escorted him to the outskirts of the clan's homestead and left him under the shade of the night sky, with nowhere else to go. There was just one possibilty – go back to the wretched Circus and make things clear once and for all.

- “Oi mate, what the HELL did ya do?” the Metagross shouted, back to the circus grounds, bleeding profusely from his left eye, and with pain increasing with every step – strangely enough, the Darkrai was the first ‘mon he saw upon arriving, still with the same smile with which he left. Well, he did tell Munro he'd be waiting for him, but something definitely was off “Me mates not recognizin’ me. They say I be DEAD fer YEARS?! Is this sum' sorta joke? Does this have anythin’ tah do with that glaikit wish ye asked me aboot?”

- “Are you not happy with the wish I granted you, Munro McVey?” the Darkrai’s grin was wider than ever, his eyes piercing Munro’s soul.

- “Ye be one lousy wish maker then, ye sheep shagger - I didn’t ask fer everyone tah forget who I am! Jings, I didn’t think ye were serious at all!” Munro shouted, raising his four hands to his head and clenching his hat between his claws, in a vain attempt to numb the pain that was starting to get unbearable “What does it matter if me clan’s the best clan in tha world if I can’t be part of it?!” he desperately shouted. Surely this was a bad nightmare – probably shouldn’t have drank so much beer. Yes, that was probably it. But what the Darkrai said next, brought shivers down the Metagross' spine - very real, cold shivers.

- “Oh, but you do belong to the best and mightiest clan in the world.” The Darkrai said calmly, taking a few steps forward and menacingly looming over Munro, whispering to his ear, his chilly voice stabbing Munro’s very soul “Welcome to Circus Darkrai.” – his fate had finally been sealed as an eternal servant of Circus Darkrai.

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Wish: “Ah lad, I wish Clan McVey was as important as it was back in the day… Sum'times I think I better off have stayed bleedin' in those fields o'war rather than all me mates, ye know?...”

Backfire: As he wished, Munro’s clan is now, once again, one of the strongest clans of his hometown, with proud and strong leaders like their forefathers before them - with a catch... From that day on, none of his former clan mates recognize Munro as a fellow bretheren - in fact, they all think that Munro died years ago during the war! Should Munro ever leave the Circus, not only the clan will slowly start to fall appart once more, leaving the Metagross with no family or friends, but he will also effectivelly bleed to death from his old war wounds, all coupled with a searing and unbearable pain - a reminder of his altruistic sacrifice for the sake of his beloved clan, as well as his eternal bind to Circus Darkrai.

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Personality:

Good hearted: Munro always as a kind word for his friends, even if his choice of words isn’t always the best. He likes to keep younglings under his wings, since they remind him of his nieces and nephews. Always likes to share a good story of his past with the kids and eagerly watches their expressions of awe. He thrives in the company of friends, and would do lift mountains for them. He enjoys their company for long talks about pretty much anything. At the end of the day, he's prone to seek out the company of someone with whom he can chit chat nonsense while smoking his pipe or exchange a few rounds of beer. He’s a social butterfly, so everyone is a possible new friend for this old man.

Brave: Or fool, whatever you preffer. He’s known to take more than he can chew, all for the sake of his clan or anything he considers worth fighting for. If there should be a looming threat to something he holds dear, he wouldn't hesitate in showing his darker side, which with enough provocation, can actually turn quite brutal...

Stubborn: Will try to prove his point even when you prove him wrong. Often makes bets about things he’s absolutely sure are true, and in the end turn out to be a bust. If he puts something in that thick head of his, there’s little one can do to stop him from trying to accomplish it.

Knowlegeable: Despite most of the time coming across as an old geezer prone to spewing nonsense, Munro’s actually pretty wise if pushed in the right direction. He puts his brains to good use if needed and he can store incredible ammounts of information, having an outstanding memory. If he could read, he’d probably be able to recite an entire jornal word by word after reading it.

Foul mouthed and loud: Having worked for years in the company of gruff sailors made Munro’s choice of words not exactly the most… proper. He won’t outright swear every 5 words, but he isn’t exactly delicate on how he points things out, especially when he is excited or angered. Cover your kid’s ears when Munro’s mad about something, and he’s very passionate about a great deal of things. Munro is not very discrete either, so don’t count on him to keep a low profile.

Hard working: Work is work. Party is party. Despite being a reveler, he has a sense of duty and no one can deny that. He takes his job to the end, no matter what, and despite the fact that he’s an unwilling worker of the circus, he takes his number very passionately. He loves the smiles of awe in the customers faces, and that drives him through the day.

Soul of the party: Munro makes sure everyone around him is having as much fun as he is. He likes to pay rounds to his friends (despite not always having money) and will go to any lenghts to cheer up anyone in the proximity. He’s a merry 'mon, and he makes sure everyone knows that. He craves attention and surrounding himself of friends more than he craves his next meal.

A bit of a pervert: Good looking women – watch out. Munro is an old fart, but recognizes a good lookin’ lass when he sees one. Don’t get him wrong though, he knows no better - he’s spent all his life working with men with lousy pick-up lines and without a good sense of romance or politeness, so the word gentleman isn’t exactly on Munro’s dicionary. A good pummeling swift slap to the face would suffice to break the advances of this old geezer though, and with enough beatings persuasion can be quite respectful.

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Fun Facts:

- Munro stashes his tobacco inside his hat.

- Weighs 215 kg, and can be quite hard to move him or lift him if he turns his ability off.

- Despite having been a sailor and dock worker, Munro is actually scared shitless of water (not that he’ll ever tell you that).

- Lost an eye and one of his 4 brains in the war, when he was hit by a stray bullet.

- Most of the time he walks with his feet bare, but will occasionally use some wooden slippers.

- Has some sort of obssession about fire, and will admire any fire type Pokemon.

- His flaming bagpipe is named “Scorchin’ Angie”.

- Also plays concertina and sometimes the armonica, something he learned from old folks of the clan, as well as his fellow dock workers.

- Can play two instruments at a time (ahhh, the perks of having 4 hands and 3 brains).

- Munro has a speaks with an accent, and will sometimes sound like some sort of pirate due to his days as a sailor and dock worker.

- He’s pretty swift for an old man.

- Can’t read, can only sign his own name (and poorly).

- Won’t say no to a good brawl if provoked, but won’t often be the first to engage the fight.

- Belonged to the V Geosengian Riffleman Division during the war, and thus is pretty skilled with long barreled guns.

- Is pretty short compared to others of his species (he might try to throw you the nearest object available if you point this out).

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Likes:

- Beer;

- Watching things burn (weeeiird);  

- A good riddle (even if he can’t solve them most of the time);

- Smoking his pipe;

- The smile on people’s faces, especially kids and young folk;

- Friendly competitions/bets;

- His clan – be it clan McVey or the crew of Circus Darkrai, which he actually grew to consider his new clan.

Dislikes:

- Being alone;

- Not being able to cheer someone up;

- Mr. Dark (well duh);

- Water;

- Whiskey (though he feels like a failure because everyone in his clan used to love it over beer).

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Moveset:

Hidden Power (Fire) (TM Move)– Munro was so obssessed with fire when he was a lad that he asked an elder of his clan to teach him this move. Useful for his Flaming Bagpipes number, or to light up his pipe.

Scary Face – perfect if you want to make your point come across before jumping into precipitated actions and bad decisions.

Hammer Arm – slamming glasses on the counters does not always work well for Munro.

Earthquake (TM Move)– learnt the trick from a guy in a pub many years ago. He was drunk, and lets just say that the bar was never the same after that day.

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