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Old 05-13-2013, 01:13 PM   #574
lilbluecorsola
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Join Date: Apr 2007
Location: Searching for time
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Eevee Lost Time Memory

And I'm back. Sorry these are kinda short, figured you guys would rather have them sooner than later after waiting for so long. ^^; Thank you all for your patience!

I have also decided to take Jerichi and Marion Ette into my group. Welcome aboard, you two!

Sky Gate

Shadowshocker – The sun sets on a strange yet satisfying day, and you trek back towards the stage for the final curtain call. As you and your Pokémon take a seat on the bench, somehowa it seems fitting to leave a small suggestion of space in between, just large enough for a small child to fit. The sky slowly deepens to darkness and somnolence saturates your eyes, dimly reflecting the fireworks and feathers as they dance through the air, the former illuminating the latter in order to help make up for lack of light and color. Despite fading consciousness, you try to focus on following each Murkrow’s movement as they swoop and swirl magnificently overhead. The leader was surely the one at the head of the pack, gracefully guiding every turn, but where was the cohort who accompanied you? You squint and shake your head, senses failing to distinguish, as their forms all begin to blur together into black. …Perhaps tiredness isn’t the only reason, as you rub your soul’s windows to find slight traces of sadness seeping through. You brush them away and wrap your jacket around like a blanket against the growing chill, seeking warmth which is no longer there. Not that there was any to begin with, but you know it must’ve been there, briefly, before vanishing forever from this earth…

You rouse to the cries of the crowd, as the performers reveal their last display, resembling the preview show you saw earlier. A giant spark shoots up over the center of the fairgrounds, bursting into a rainbow balloon. The crows circle in sync, descending with the shower of shades. You smile as you add to the applause, claps continuing quietly even after the other spectators start to leave. Through the gaps of shuffling shoulders, you thought you caught a corner glimpse of a boy beside you, a Drifloon doll lying in his lap as he cheers. It’s only an illusion though, as the image quickly passes from your periphery.

Turning to your own Drifloon, you find him fast asleep, huddled against the folds of your coat. You watch as he breathes softly, round body expanding and deflating in rhythm. His strings still clutch the apple core, fruit juice dribbling along with a bit of drool onto your pants leg. You carefully wipe the stickiness as Arugulus wrinkles his nose. You note that despite trying hard to maintain a rigid and regal appearance, he seems to be losing alertness as well. Even Novawing’s head is nodding a bit as he dreamily wraps his tail around a drifting Durin, preventing the steel seed from rolling straight off the bleachers.

Grinning, you gather all your drowsy operatives, preparing to head back to Base to give a report on the odd objective you just encountered. Though the trial was both trying and tiring, you feel the result was worth it. Not just due to the toughness of the challenge itself, but for the friends you’ve made along the way. Thus, it will be with a full and happy heart that you’ll be able to close this mission at last and file it as “complete”.

…But before that, you muse to yourself with a yawn, you might just join your members for a nap.

*end transmission*

Charminions – After seeing the way the father treats his daughter, you can’t help but feel a slight sense of sympathy for the girl, reasoning her rash and rude behavior might just be a result of such high standard upbringing. You approach the man to make this observation known (unable to suppress a smug smile whilst doing so), and offer to help search for her. He glances at the butler in confusion for a moment, who nods to presumably confirm your identity as the one spoken about on the phone. The father looks at you and sighs.

“You are right, Amanda has been unhappy for some time now. However, I had hoped that she would calm down once the situation changed. It seems things have only become worse though…” Skimming a hand through his smoothly-combed hair, you observe the expensive-looking gold band on his ring finger. He twists it awkwardly as he speaks.

“Are you aware of the Hero’s Festival in Fizzytopia?” His voice gradually gains weight. “The great tragedy that occurred there… Many people died… Including my wife. Amanda’s mother.”

Mist clouds his eyes as he speaks wistfully, recalling the memories of his marriage. (You note some snootiness still seeping into his words, though most likely without ill intent.) “My wife was a commoner, so she enjoyed the simple pleasures in life. She was very fond of flowers. Her one dream was to live in the Cloud Garden to be amongst nature’s beauty, though business ties always kept me grounded – literally.” He trails off, musing mildly to himself. “Although I also had to travel a lot so I was often away from the mansion, which perhaps is why she took up gardening as a hobby…”

He shakes his head, snapping out of self-reproach. “After her passing, we moved here to try and fulfill her wish by having her body buried in Memory Lane. And also to get away from it all. I sold my entire earth estate, wanting to start fresh.”

Reaching into his blazer, he retrieves a pocket watch, which he opens to reveal a photo of a smiling female, her face radiating warmth like sunshine.

“She truly was a wonderful woman. She was never after my money. Whenever I tried to give her any extra to spend on herself, she’d donate it to charity. I even offered her a matching diamond locket, but she refused. Instead she preferred to wear one that I, er, tried to make out of wood.” He pauses, scratching his head with embarrassment as he smiles with a mix of sadness and joy. “It took me a long time, but I finally managed to find someone else like her. Someone I can honestly share my feelings with. She helped heal my heart after it had nearly lost all hope.”

The butler chimes in at this point. “Yes, I do recall there was a time when the Master shut himself inside his room and refused all his meals, so the young lady took the tray from us and marched in there to force him to eat.”

Mr. Banks blanches. “James, please! The public doesn’t need to know that!”

“Sorry, sir. Simply stating the facts.”

Lillian pipes up at this point. “The Master also came to me to ask for dating and fashion advice. He spent hours pacing and fussing with his appearance in front of a mirror before attempting to ask her out. He kept changing cuff links, and was so nervous I had to button them for him. I even had to order a dozen different bouquets just so he could decide which one would be best to express his sentiments.”

Their boss blushes further, muttering, “How is that even related?” Hearing a couple girls giggling behind him, he levels his back and clears his throat. “Both of you cease this mockery at once, or I’ll have you fired.”

While James’ mouth – or rather moustache – merely moves as before without breaking the owner’s blank countenance, you catch a small, teasing twinkle in his eyes. “Honestly, sir, I mean no offense, but we’ve been working with you for the past 20 years, and have always spoken our mind. If you were to let us go you would’ve surely done so by now.”

“I-I suppose that’s true.” Their employer slackens, pouting.

You chuckle a little to yourself, beginning to get an idea of where Amanda’s childishness comes from. Despite their surface status, these people are no longer starting to seem so superior. Certainly not towards each other. Their friendly, almost familial banter reminds you of a silly sitcom, and you resist the urge to make a popcorn run.

Remembering his audience, Mr. Banks quickly returns to attention, continuing with his story. “Anyway, after a sufficient period of proper courtship, we were wed a year ago. But Amanda has yet to accept our union… I would give anything for her blessing, but every time I try to broach the subject she runs away, as you can see. If you have any clue as to her whereabouts, I would greatly appreciate your assistance. Don’t worry, I will reward you handsomely for finding her.”

Do you accept the proposition? And is so, where to begin investigating? Something tells you that tracking a tiny girl through the crowd will be impossible. If only you had some idea of her destination…


The Space Path

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Memory Lane

Marion Ette – Fresh flowers for a fresh start. That is what you decided Minerva needed most after an entire year’s worth of memories was wiped spotless from her mind. A year gone mad, full of feelings and mistakes – now was the moment to make it all right. After all, when one has nothing left, there can only be right. …Right?

No use to question now. The clock can only keep advancing. Still, one wonders, where does the hour of life lost to daylight savings go? “Spring forward, fall back,” they say. Or was it “one step forward, two steps back”? Either way, the quest for eternal sunshine continues…

As time marches on, so do you through the Cloud Garden’s hallowed burial grounds, which, despite its depressing atmosphere in comparison to the rest of the floating island, is still brighter and more cheerful than most grave sites you’ve been to. (Being intimately familiar with the field through your research, that’s saying something.) Here visitors tend to pay tokens of respect to the spirits rather than simple appeasement, lending color as well as a fragrance that at least makes breathing bearable – albeit but barely for those who aren’t as accustomed to the bitter aroma of the afterlife.

Fortunately, your friends are already well acquainted with death’s scent, seeing as they themselves are marked distinctly by it. In turn, your own senses adjust easily, tolerating odor and darkness (in all senses of the word) better than the average human. At present, light source is abundant, from both the midday and little Lampent by your side, casting shadows for the benefit of your Banette to help fill in the blanks of her blotted brain – or cotton, rather, considering that’s all her cranium contains currently. Any semblance or shred of humanity has been stripped bare from her body. Now she is simply stuffing and string, and, for the time being, you find yourself satisfied to have your precious sister stay this way. Perhaps a somewhat selfish choice on your part, but, as Gwyn’s latest puppetry has proven, some pieces of the past are best left buried. The process of picking up and putting back together, only to watch it all fall apart again… You don’t want to put the parties, the people involved through any more pain. Like a director shooting a script, you’ll carefully screen each take, keeping a close eye on all the actors’ positions. Lie, cover up with makeup and a smile – all in order to protect the ones you love most.

However, it would seem you’re not the only one watching the play with intent, as you suddenly catch a flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye. You turn to strangely discover a pair of fox-like ears peeking out from behind a tomb, the rest of the owner having temporarily concealed out of sight. Minerva grins, pleased to be playing a game of hide-and-seek with such an easy prey. She claps and sings a song, summoning whatever ghostie or ghoulie or creepy-crawly to come out and show itself. Curiosity convinces you to coo and coax as well, and slowly the creature peers its head around the stone, revealing to your surprise what appears to be a small child. The ears are apparently plastic, attached to a white mask with red whiskers that obscures the features of the… Boy? Girl? Without access to the face, it’s impossible to tell.

Without a word, the youngster cautiously approximates and tugs on your sleeve, pointing first emphatically to Gwyn, then down the pathway. Though the painted black sockets betray no soul, it seems he/she wants you to follow.

What do you do?


The Rose Arch

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Stardust Fields

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Cloud Forest

takkupanda¤Link to Your Last Update¤

Jerichi – The endless sea of emerald is a far cry from the sparkling sapphire ocean you’re used to, but nevertheless you’re eager to explore its depths in search of treasure and/or precious sights to behold. On your shoulder stands your scout and first mate, the little Snorunt having accepted you as his new captain since the original owner mysteriously vanished, leaving you all his possessions and Pokémon. Thus taking the helm, you begin to steer straight into the trees, seeking adventure and excitement.

Before you can progress a single step, however, you hear a rumble from your right. Glancing, your jaw slacks in shock as you see a limousine come barreling across the grass in your direction. You dive into the thick brambles (which, unfortunately, aren’t nearly as welcoming as water) just in time to avoid being shipwrecked, peeking out over the shrubbery to watch the vehicle veer onto the Rainbow Road , rushing towards the Sky Gate. It was hard to tell through the tinted windows, but you could’ve sworn you saw a blushing boy seated in the back between a butler and a maid. Scratching your head and muttering something about rich people plus crazy drivers, you gently sooth a chattering Snowy. Shaken but not deterred, you shrug and continue on with your quest for intrigue, although preferably from less spontaneous a source.

As you wander the woods, the silence save for an occasional chirp and cool shade from the canopy help calm your nerves. You admire how the shafts of sunlight that stream through the leaves resemble the way they dance on the surface of the waves, staining the forest floor in dappled gold. Distracted by such beauty, your sea legs wind up tripping over several roots, resulting in further cuts and bruises. So you resolve to start taking more care to watch where you’re going, relying on your second set of eyes to keep observing for signs of life. Soon enough, you hear a cry from the crow’s nest, and turn to find Snowy has spied an actual nest insinuated between the boughs. You smile, tiptoeing close in hopes of catching a glimpse of its inhabitants.

It would seem you’re not the only one with sneaky plans however, as you spot an Ekans slithering up the trunk. A long strip of pink teases in and out of its mouth as it tastes the air, presumably looking for lunch. Approaching the bundle of twigs and straw, it hisses with hunger and lunges forward, drawing its fork(ed tongue) in preparation for a feast. You marvel in awe as its whole jaw unhinges, as if meaning to swallow the “plate” in addition to its meal.

What do you do?


The Fountain Garden

Talon87 & dosuser – Having had enough of such blatant perversion, Cyrus swats the intruding hand, scolding that the lad’s mother should’ve taught better manners. The boy frowns as he rubs the back of his palm. “Yeah, look who’s talking? Your mom never teach you not to hit a kid? Bet she’s so fat and lazy she didn’t bother.”

“Oooh, burn~” the girl squeals as both of you roll your eyes at such a lame joke. Real mature, these children are.

Morg tries once more to appeal to diplomacy, but these brats are clearly having none of it. The brother sneers, baiting Cyrus by his next words.

“You struck first, so that must mean you want to fight, right? The lady here might be too chicken, but I’ll take on your little leaf. Don’t worry, I at least know not to beat up on women. They’re weak anyway.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? Are you calling me weak?” his sister hisses. Her Combusken caws indignantly as well, apparently taking offense to the use of the word “chicken” to stand for “coward”.

“Well, you always lose whenever we battle. And who said you were a woman, flat-chest?”

“That’s because your Marshtomp has a Type advantage!” she retorts back, bristling with rage but perhaps purposefully choosing to ignore the the latter part of that statement. “I’m sure that Chikorita will kick Skipper’s butt! Besides, it’s clearly a female too. I mean, just look at it!”

She jabs her finger at Celes, who shrinks in confusion, not sure how to respond to suddenly being called the center of attention, let alone receiving support(?) from the opposing side.

“Huh, guess it must be since she’s cowering so much. Ahhh, how boring. What about the fish?”

His sibling stares at Enchantress’s dopey expression, and shrugs. “No idea,” she confesses, failing to notice (or more likely know/care about) the white whiskers which mark Magikarp’s gender. Which makes her intuition about Celes’s feminity all the more biased surprising.

“Whatever, not like it matters. I’ll show you guys are stronger by beating both of them! Go, Skipper, attack that Magikarp with MUD SHOT, followed by an even bigger MUD BOMB!”

“We’ll see about that! Come on, Bella, now’s our chance to win for once! Use EMBER on the Chikorita, then give her a SKY UPPERCUT!”

By now it seems they’ve all but forgotten Wooper and the other two trainers in the area in favor of their own personal competition. If neither Morg nor Cyrus acts quickly though, their Pokémon could unfortunately wind up casualties of a pointless war to prove a single sex’s superiority.

How will you respond?


Rock Garden

blazeVA – A voice – all too familiar – speaks to Marche – to me, to you, to everyone. In fact, the words of wisdom it weaves are ones this narrator knows well. But that tale is neither here nor there, and now is not the time to dwell. In point, whoever it is, they come to us at moments of need, across universal planes, in all manners of language and presentation, to remind of us who we are, what we’re striving for. They may take the form of a friend, in rare cases perhaps even a foe, or simply face an individual directly. Either way, they can only guide us forward, to take the starting step. In the end, we must reach within ourselves and find that for which we fight. Something that is worth defending – no, what we must defend.

“Pride goeth before a fall” – therefore, in order to go forward, one’s pride must first fall.

A stone soldier’s pride peels, baring the soul within. The pulsing core plunges, purges, purifies – and in its place stands a proud, powerful paladin, prepared to protect. Holy light having rinsed his eyes of sin (“was blind, but now can see”), Marche roars and rushes to his companion’s aid, raising the rocks pinning the poor rabbit with ease. She rises to her feet and smiles up at her hero, giving him a huge hug to thank him before glaring at Gigalith, sticking her tongue out from behind the boulder blockade. The two partners then nod to each other, prepared to give this mean old monster much more than just a taste of his own medicine.

Lemon Drop leaps nimbly onto Marche’s back, and together they charge into battle with renewed vigor. Before the opponent can react, the lofty Lemon Drop rapidly fires a few beams of frost from the safety of her station, coating his entire backside. Marche quickly follows by stomping the earth, causing the Gigalith to stumble and collapse due to the cold dead weight. Face already planted in the EARTH, the beast roars as he pumps further POWER into the ground, transferring across the terrain towards the rock + rabbit tower. The totem pole totters, but fortunately manages to maintain footing. On the other hand, this gives Gigalith opportunity to get back up and charge at them, SMACKing Lemon Drop DOWN straight from her perch as soon as she had refastened her grip. He grins as he lifts his leg, about to squash the poor bunny into a pancake.

What will you do?

RoseradeX¤Link to Your Last Update¤


The Forbidden Garden

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Rainbow Waterfalls

Celebii151 – After setting up some last-minute subs and strategy, the signal sounds, and Neptune ducks his head just in time as he’s dropped to the ice. Both sides lunge forward, brief chaos ensuing as everyone strains for the puck. Unfortunately the Golduck are faster, one of them darting underneath Nahkriin’s outstretched arm to nab the shell, leaving the rest struggling with each other in a cloud of confusion. It skates swiftly in the direction of your squad’s goal, and Boing waves his arms in a panic, trying to assemble his teammates’ attention. When his cries fail to alert and he realizes he’s on his own, he gulps and buckles down, trying to focus his mind on bending the field’s gravitational forces in order to slow the opponent down.

Golduck quacks in surprise as it feels its limbs become leaden, lifting its leg in slow-motion for a slap-shot. Frames stutter, forming a still image – a snap-shot. By the time the MEGA KICK contacts Neptune’s shell, the majority of momentum is lost, leading to a leisurely glide towards the target. Boing sighs in relief and easily redirects the planet’s orbit, sending it back across the frigid frontier.

Having realized by now they’re fighting for naught, the group in the center splits apart and chases after the true prize. Receiving a boost thanks to Boing, Nahkriin rockets after the kappas, keeping pace in the race to space. She glowers at her competitors, cowing them into submission as she slides comfortably past. Larry scuttles in her wake like a little comet’s tail. Being bigger, one small step for Nahkriin equals one giant leap for Larry, yet their movements are nearly synced due to the simulated weightlessness. While he could technically surpass her at this rate, he submits to serve as her satellite instead, headbutting anyone who tries to get close. Perhaps he’s holding back from stealing stardom as a show of sportmanship, but more likely out of laziness/unwillingness to confront Nahkriin’s aggressive nature.

Setting the first foot on Neptune, Nahkriin roars and proudly claims the territory in the name of dragonkind. With one powerful stroke, she launches Neptune at the Golduck’s bank before the keeper can even blink. It makes a desperate dive, but fails to prevent the meteorite from striking. Neptune lodges straight into the snow, surroundings practically smoldering from the impact. Score one for Cele!

The ref scowls as it digs a dizzy Neptune out from the crater, not bothering to brush off the flakes. You note the remainer of the pack huddling together in the meantime. The leader deliberates for a moment, then sends the three on the ice back, calling out the substitutes instead. You realize to your dismay that these members appear much meatier, meaning that while speeds will be evenly matched, these bulky brutes can pack more punch than the previous players.

What will your orders for the next round be?


The Oasis

Kori Gotcha
“Trust no friend without faults […].”
- Gotthold Ephraim Lessing


Tsk. Furrow temple. Trust faith. First, toss familiar to fray. The tall treetop feeder flounces, firing flabbergasting flare. The Flygon falters, fully tricked to think Trapinch transposed ten feet. Tweaking trajectory, flames flood the figment. Temporarily forgotten, forward fast, flipping Trapinch topright. Transport far from threat. Turn to find Flygon flushing, the truth flickering through fallacy. Twisting, Flygon first faces two-headed trickster. Furling fans, the Flygon’s figure fades, FAINT-ATTACKing. The target’s toes totter, fixes footing. Twirling too, twin tail translates the Flygon’s thoughts, forming telepathic tie. Tensions flow, transferring talents. The Flygon thrashes, flaunting fangs. Treble tone thunders, fracturing the fortune-teller’s focus. The forecaster flinches, fortifications tempered.

Though traumatized, thy four-legged friend tolerates fear, toughening fortitude. Thickened forehead tucks, then firmly thrusts towards Flygon’s trunk, factored twice thanks to further filched funds. The Flygon folds, tenderly touching throbbing torso. FURY-filled, the Flygon fiercely fillets the foe, torturously flaking flur from flesh. First the freckled thighs, then traversing the thin throat. Thy thorax thumps tangibly to terrified trumpets.

Trapinch taps tentatively, feeling fault. For forgiveness, the termite trots toward the field, flashing teeth. They tug the Flygon’s three-feathered train, trying tirelessly to tow the fiend. The Flygon’s fanny twitches, flinging the tiny troublemaker to the flank. Trapinch tumbles face-first, tasting filth. The tenacious trooper forbears to throw the towel. This time the Trapinch tackles Flygon, tickling ‘till the titan’s forced to forego the telekinetic-type. The Flygon flails foolishly from fun, flaying to-and-fro. Flapping, Flygon flutters to the firmament, trembling to free the flea. The Trapinch fails to tighten tenure, thus the tremors take their toll, triggering the tick’s fall towards the terrain. Floundering fruitlessly, the Trapinch tearfully flutters fair flag, forfeiting to fate.

Facilitate the Trapinch, ‘fore the floor flattens the feeble thing?

Last edited by lilbluecorsola; 05-14-2013 at 08:44 AM.
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