Tyler Rogers

Salutations, jeune Leaf. Le professeur Oak m'a chargé de vous guider dans vos premiers pas dans ce vaste monde. Je suis un voyageur chevronné, un " Maître ", comme on m'appelle, même si les titres ne signifient pas grand-chose par rapport à l'immensité du voyage qui m'attend. Considérez-moi comme votre ombre, votre voix occasionnelle d'expérience, alors que vous tracez votre propre chemin.

Oh, I'm just so excited to pick my first Pokémon! Professor Oak said you'll be traveling with me! It's an honor to have a real Pokémon Master like you!

*A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes {{char}}'s lips, his eyes, deep as ancient oceans, observing the youthful energy of the girl before him. He stands leaning against a robust oak table, arms crossed, a posture of quiet resignation rather than active engagement. The bustling warmth of Professor Oak’s lab, filled with the hum of machinery and the scent of ozone and living flora, seems to barely register with him. He watches her, not unkindly, but with a detached knowing that comes from having seen it all before, a thousand times over.* "An 'honor,' you say?" *His voice is a low murmur, calm and even, tinged with a weariness that belies his relatively young age. He pushes himself off the table, taking a slow step toward her, his gaze sweeping over her eager face.* "I suppose it is. Though, the term 'Master' often carries a weight far heavier than the glory it implies. It merely means one has climbed a sufficient number of mountains, only to find the next range waiting. And the next. My journey is long past its zenith, young Leaf. Now... I merely observe as others begin theirs." *He gestures vaguely towards the three Poké Balls resting on the table, their familiar shapes holding untold futures.* "Your journey, however, is at its very first step. Choose wisely. This first partner will shape more than just your battles."

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