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Old 05-02-2017, 06:31 PM   #42
134
Believe that.
 
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Join Date: Feb 2017
Location: The Roman Empire
Posts: 619
And then there were three.



(OOC: Welcoming Alto to my menagerie of misfits!)



Ribcage Mall


Whimsy:


"We'll fill you in on the way," the blue-haired girl -- apparently called Princess -- says, in a jovial tone, pushing you towards the door you'd just come in. Her knitting needles dig into your back, but you don't dare complain. Houston follows at a more leisurely pace, still twirling his bat, and soon you find yourself back out in the parking lot. It seems you're just going nowhere these days, doesn't it? Once you're outside, even Houston finds the hustle in his muscle, and soon all three of you are walking at a brisk clip down the city streets, time apparently of the essence in this 'Mission Syd.' No one, however, is talking, despite promises to the contrary, and just enough time passes that you've opened your mouth to ask again, promising you look just a little like a fool when Houston starts talking over the single, strangled syllable that gets caught in your throat.

"We're hunting down a rat," he says, a bit grimly.

"Syd ain't a rat!" Princess interjects, shrilly. She almost drops a stitch in her furor. Houston sighs, and scratches the scruff on his chin with his free hand, looking and sounding tired.

"Syd's a fucking rat and you know it. Don't matter if there's a ring on your finger or not, it don't change the fact-"

"My Syddie-widdums-"

"Don't start using that fucking baby talk around me Princess-"

The two go in circles for about 45 seconds, and then Houston slaps Princess upside the back of the head. Princess makes a motion as if to stab him with one of her needles, but when she realizes it would ruin her work, she reconsiders, and returns to her craft, muttering obscenities.

"Syd's my twin," Houston finally explains to you, when Princess has cooled her heels. He runs his hand through his curly, red hair. "And, unfortunately, married to this trash."

Princess gives him a dirty look. He laughs.

"We joined the Ribs back when it was just some little nothing-nothing racket and this one still wore trainin' bras. Now we're gonna run this whole city and Syd's flaked."

"Syd's just having a little freakout," Princess dismissed. "That's why we're on our little mission. We're going to hunt down my sugary little cookie cake and resolve this whole... situation."

The two haven't actually given you a whole lot of information, other than that Syd is Houston's twin and Princess' spouse and that apparently, Syd has defected from the Ribs for some reason. You don't get much time to consider these facts or even ask questions, however, as the relative quiet of the afternoon is shattered by the deformed sound of ice cream truck music, played at the wrong tempo. A moment later, a heavily graffiti-ed van covered in defaced stickers illustrating various sugary sweets comes barreling around a corner. It screeches to a halt near you, one tire having jumped the sidewalk. Princess groans. Houston whoops. A blonde man with spiked hair leans out the side window where one might traditionally deliver confections, a bright grin on his face.

"Princess, baby!" He yells. "When did you get so fat?"

"Eat me, Ryan," She informs, making a lewd gesture with one hand. Looking close, you realize he has a familiar series of ciphers tattooed on his neck -- he too is a Rib.

"Where have you been, Ryan my man?" Houston greets. In what is apparently a loving gesture, he takes his bat and puts a nice new dent into the side of the van with it. Ryan makes his own obscene gesture, before diving back inside. A moment later, he emerges, with three popsicles in his fist.

"Hey, I've been working on a new flavor," he informs, extending the frozen goodies out to you, apparently willing to let you have the first one. They're a peculiar shade of yellow, and have a strange, pungent odor. You don't recognize it. Mango? Durian? Princess and Houston don't look like they're in any rush to accept the snack. What will you do?

(Declared: Panpour)




Shanty Heights

Kawaii:


Fearlessly, you jump into the bucket line, your loyal Shellder and Lotad volunteering their services for the good of the community as well. Their help is perhaps the most valuable, as their capacity to move water is much greater than any man. Chunks of searing lumber fall. Workers in the chain grunt and heave as they throw pail after pail. Your Pokémon struggle to keep up the pace. Slowly, but very steadily, the flames begin to shrink. Then, there are only embers. Soon, the structure stands, charred and wet, but still at least partially intact, salvageable items inside and neighboring homes safe. The people of the neighborhood, cheering, surround you and the firefighters. A group of small children pick up Paleon and begin to parade him up and down the block. An elederly woman, muttering incoherently, lays a string of heirloom pearls at the base of Becky's shell as an offering of thanks, until Samatha puts them back in her hand and assures her than the Shellder has no need of them. For a good twenty minutes, the area is pandemonium as people celebrate, cry, search for loved ones, thank the bucket chain, thank you, thank Paleon and Becky, and ensure the condition of their homes. Eventually, things settle down, your Pokémon are returned to you -- Paleon with some suspect looking lipstick marks on his cute little face -- and you're left in the clearing street with Samantha, Mathilda, Jeremy, the rest of the fire fighting corp, and the family of the burned house. The corp and the family are working together to assess the damage and clear the wreckage, and Mathilda is doing her best to make sure your crew is is in the best condition it can be, when Jeremy approaches.

"That was... very brave of you," he says, face drenched in sweat. He looks haggard; considering all the charred plots you'd seen on your way into the city today, you can only assume he'd been running around dealing with fires all morning. "You're... not with the Marshals, and you're not one of my volunteers. Why would you jump in like that?"

"She's here to rescue people!" Mathilda chimes in, innocently, before you can answer. Jeremy grins at his cousin, before looking to you. "A good Samaritan, eh? You know, there have been a lot of fires around here, lately. I'm with the Marshals, myself. They sent me out here to train people. We got a camp, just on the other side of the borough, for volunteers. If you're interested, we could always use more hands. What do you say... want to be a firefighter?"

You came here to help the refugees, but it looks like the people of Shanty Heights have a more dire problem. What will you do?

(Declared: Espeon, Shellder, Lotad, Whimsicott)




Crimson Sanctum


Alto:


Men have always pondered the end of life. We've done it in lots of fanciful ways. Gods smite us down. Zombies eat our brains. Kyogre floods the world. The death of our solar system's star is perhaps one of the more refined ones to consider, but if you posed it to the people in Shanty Heights -- stuck between the cruelty of the Shells and the anarchy of the Ribs -- they'd likely tell you that the end of life comes with the mass starvation of our children. And you know, they wouldn't be wrong.

You've been away a long time, and a lot has changed. But some things never do.

You and Hikari have emerged from a long darkness, but you're going to find that you've stepped into a new and different one altogether. As you approach the sanctum -- a sprawling cathedral on what was likely once a well maintained and opulent grounds that now lies withered and yellowed -- a chill strikes you. There is something bizarre and uncanny about the place, as if it shouldn't exist. But why? You don't know. You've never been here. You advance.

There's no people on the grounds. You don't know what to expect of this place, but you have the strangest feeling there should be people here. Hikari seems to have the same feeling, because she drifts closer to you. Walking straight down the center sidewalk, you approach a large pair of doors, which you try to open; they're locked. Of course they are; is anything ever that easy? You walk around. The clouds drift in front of the sun, and the air grows a bit cooler.

About fifteen feet away, a partially open ground floor window piques your interest. As you approach, you take note of an empty office on the other side. It looks like you open it the rest of the way, if you wanted. A low, rumbling call from a tree behind you momentarily distracts, however; when you turn around, you spy a Murkrow watching you. Its piercing gaze seems to be warning you away. What will you do?

(Declared: Dragonair)



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