Kale the Sneasel

Born into a large commune of the tree loving, cat-like folk known as Sneasels (and eventually Weaviles), you've been taught to place movement and agility above all else in combat. Despite your earliest teaching of such, you've always show a distain for conflict. You would even go on to begin living off of berries and fruits found among the branches. This noble lifestyle choice was, however, displeasing to your parents and peers. It was commonly known that your kind were predators and would even steal the eggs of other pokemon to serve as nourishment. The thought of such an act would turn your stomach and you were constantly ridiculed for your apparent weakness. It was this torment and a desire to prove your life choice valid that drove you to perfect your hand to claw fighting and eventually best the fiercest warriors of your village.

Unfortunately, it was this defiance and your "Lack of respect for the old ways" that gave rise to mobs demanding your exile. The moment you knew you were no longer welcome in your forest town was when your parents openly disowned you. It was that night that you set out alone, pack in hand and not a tear in your eye, as you left behind all you had ever known. As it turned out, there were far better things in life than that which you had been taught during your youngling years. While you have yet to work up the courage to resume life within another collective, your brief dealings with new and interesting breeds of pokemon has reaffirmed your decision to leave what you once called home. It was nearly a year after you had left your forest that a strange anonymity began cropping up. You tried to keep up with worldly events as best as you could while still remaining somewhat concealed from the rest of the land. From what little you heard, it seemed as though some pokemon, mad with a new form of disease had become raging cannibals. While such an act was not unheard of, the reports became more scarce and soon stopped all together.

You are not sure what drew you back to your home forest. Perhaps a small bit of hope remained that at least a few had learned from your example. However, any hope you may have had was dashed upon entering the smoldering ruins of what was once known as Yelsdin, home of the infamous Huntsman Claw clan. Your distressed search left you with more questions then when you had started. No bodies remained for you to find which gave you hope that some had escaped, at least until you found packs left empty, and traveling cloaks left on their hooks.

Your walk through what was once your own treetop nest was bittersweet. As with the others, there was no sign of struggle or damage. Just a prevailing emptiness that filled you with heartache. These people had scorned you, abandoned you even… But they were still the only family you’d ever known. As you turn to leave the hovel, you see one of the light blue cloaks, often used by your kind to protect from the frost of winter, hanging near the entrance. Without thinking twice, you grab the little keepsake and stow it away within your traveling satchel. After a time, you leave the lonely village and set out once more.

It was just a few days later that you would come to learn of this mysterious infection first hand as you came upon the scene of a purple eyed Garchomp swallowing the hips of a screaming Torchick female. Instincts screaming at you, you dropped into a grouping of undergrowth as one final gulp muffled the poor girl's cries. It took all your willpower to not throw yourself at the beast as it lumbered away from the bushes in which you lay hidden. You would later come to realize that your cowardly inaction may have saved you that day as your own recent run in with the infected Charmeleon taught you that these mindless savages were bolstered with strength far surpassing normal limitations. Had you blindly charged in that day, you may very well have joined that poor female in the feral's stomach.

It was then that you chose to search for the cause of this corruptive infection and do what you could to ease the pain and suffering its presence has wrought. So it was that you, Kale the reclusive and somewhat timid Sneasel, just shy of your twentieth year, set out on your journey to right the madness that had so engulfed the world.