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Old 06-06-2017, 11:18 PM   #42
134
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Join Date: Feb 2017
Location: The Roman Empire
Posts: 619




La Ville des Farceurs et Voleurs

Raves:
You cross the street, torn between your indifference towards the suffering of man, and the Mawile's pity. It isn't as though the van isn't long gone by now anyway, and therefor only so much your problem, and so you walk with only vague and noncommittal plans to do anything about what you've seen. There is trash gathering in the gutters, you notice, as you cross the road under the orange glow of streetlamps.

While by no means cold, it is a cooler evening than might be expected for this time of year. On the opposite corner, you find a girl's plaid flannel button-up lying on the concrete sidewalk. You hadn't noticed the child wearing it, but the wrists are still looped together, as if it had been tied around her waist. Perhaps she had dropped it in the struggle? You don't have much time to determine if the item is worth your attention, however, because you find yourself right outside of a bar, and no sooner do you happen upon the sweater does the front door swing open; a man being ejected violently by a bouncer's Mienshao. He hits the pavement violently, six inches from the toes of your boots, and rolls. Rising up on his elbows, he rips a Pokéball from his belt. The bouncer -- a man with blonde hair and a sandy goatee -- arrives in time to be blinded by the brilliant white light of a Pangoro materializing there on the street. Looking for a fight, the irate customer is on his feet now, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

It lands on your shoe.

What will you do?




Le Cimetičre des Cœurs Oubliés

Balmund:
"You are a terribly forward man," Amelie complains, and for a brief moment she seems a touch less sorry about your fate. Pulling away from Yuki, she motions around you, to the cemetery; the sky above you grows dark rapidly, and the snow stops falling, everything growing still. Only the moonlight and your footsteps in the snow break the purity of the dark and motionless night. Yuki begins to giggle in that eerie way again, the sound like cracks spreading through a frozen lake. Amelie looks tired. "This, mister Balmund, is the day on which I died."

Her tone is straightforward. She looks at her watch, though what she hopes to see in this darkness is anyone's guess. Yuki clasps her hands together under her glacial chin, hollow body swaying in the winter wind.

"It's shortly after six o' clock in the morning," she informs you, with a jarring sense of practicality. "And soon the sun will rise. Every morning, the sun rises a bit after six-thirty. Breakfast is at seven. Tea is at eleven. The Thomas family buries their daughter at two in the afternoon. I attend dinner with my fiance at 6:45pm. At 10:27pm, my heart stops -- I die of exposure. And then I wake up here again, at 6 o'clock in the morning, for longer than I can remember."

She pauses, and looks at Yuki, and then at you. She laughs, small and contrived. "I think this is hell-!"

It takes her a moment to compose herself, during which she continues to giggle, the situation so tragic it has become funny, if only as a matter of self-preservation. How she hasn't gone mad under the circumstances is beyond anyone's guess; who's to say she hasn't? She seems stable, however, if not a tad eccentric. She claims, however, that you're in her personal hell. What will you do?
Maskerade:
The graveyard is densely overgrown, and densely packed with mausoleums, around and between which you and Munchlax weave, you with trepidation and he with hungry determination. The site is quite verdant and were it not for the eerie reputation and cloying fog it might even be beautiful;
moss grows on the stone surfaces of crypts and in the crevices of tree bark,
while flowering vines find purchase seemingly everywhere.

Passing by a large tree -- a thick, ancient Apricorn tree -- you take note of something peculiar: an arrow, driven into its trunk about ten feet above your head. It has a wooden shaft and large, green leaves for fletching; when you notice it, it strikes you as highly unusual, but it blends in with the foliage around it, and you're afraid that if you looked away from it for too long, you might not be able to find it again in the surrounding greenery.

A few yards away from where you stand, looking up at the arrow, Munchlax has found something of interest, however. Head shoved into an overgrown Bluk Berry bush, he roots loudly through the leaves, seemingly oblivious to the fat, ripe berries around him; whatever he's trying to reach but be more interesting than mere fruit. Is it more interesting than the odd arrow? Should you risk it? What will you do?


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