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Old 06-23-2017, 06:51 AM   #56
Not gonna fight you.
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Join Date: Feb 2017
Location: The end of the line.
Posts: 938

OOC: My apologies to everyone for the delay in updates. It’s been one thing after another the past couple of weeks and it seems like every time I’ve sat down to update, something has come up! In addition, I’ve been sick, which has not helped. Thank you for your patience!

La Ville des Farceurs et Voleurs

As expected, the ejected patron doesn’t seem to appreciate your interjection. Both he and his Pangoro turn to you, the latter of which towers menacingly over you. However, at the sight of your companion, it recoils slightly, intimidated by the Mawile’s cool resolve. This seems to irk its trainer, who gives it a drunken slap upside the head.

“Th’ fuck is wrong with you?” He snaps. “It’s just a girl an’ a fuckin’ faerie! Fucking girly shit. I’m so tired of this shit! What the fuck do you want, bitch?!”

The last question seems to be directed at you. The bouncer who ejected the drunkard leans in the doorway of the bar, watching the exchange; he apparently no longer deems this his problem, it no longer being in his bar, but damn if this isn’t entertaining. He lights a cigarette, deciding to take his fifteen, while his Pokémon returns inside to keep the patrons at bay in his absence.

Your dapper companion, meanwhile, has begun emitting a rather pleasant aroma, which seems to have caught the now downtrodden Pangoro off guard. Having been yelled at by her trainer, it looks on the verge of tears -- the first sign that it might not be as cut out for battle as its visage might suggest -- but it stops wiping its face when the delectable aroma hits its nostrils. Sniffing the air, it approaches Mawile, infatuated with the scent, and when close enough it bats its eyelashes at him, evidently trying to attract the dapper young ‘mon -- holy shit. It’s female! And she likes your Mawile’s cologne. Oh dear. Too polite to break the poor girl’s heart, Mawile finds himself between a rock and a hard place -- he has to let her down easy, right? But politeness can look an awful lot like infatuation to a girl like Pangoro, who hasn’t had much experience with suitors -- she misreads the signals, and bad.

The drunkard looks at you. The Pangoro makes eyes at Mawile. What next?

Le Cimetičre des Cśurs Oubliés

”Help?” Amelie asks, as if the question is strange to her. She looks to Yuki, who fits you with a suspicious glare; clearly, the Frosslass distrusts you. Her trainer less seemingly so, however, because she snickers; far less manic than her previous laughter -- her despair appears to have vacated for the moment. Nonetheless, she isn’t optimistic.

“Mister Balmund,” she begins, rather matter-of-factly. “I do not expect there is anything you can do to help me. But if you do like, you may join me for breakfast.”

Without waiting for your response, she turns, and begins walking through the snow, towards what takes you a moment to realize in the dim is the silhouette of a house on a hill in the distance. The edge of the sky behind it is just barely turning the first shades of blue, and you can make out the shape of a truly massive Apricorn tree, the likes of which are familiar to you; after a beat in time it occurs to you that you’ve see the tree before, standing alone above the cemetery, its domicile companion long gone in a time more familiar to you. Expecting you to walk with her, Amelie continues to speak, Yuki drifting alongside her with eerie, jerking movements.

“You aren’t the first,” she informs, liltingly, as if having read your mind. “Others have disturbed Yuki. She doesn’t care for the forwardness of men. I cannot say I blame her. She thinks you’re quite presumptuous, too, but I think you’re harmless. Foolish perhaps. A flirt. My fiance would have hated you.”

She snickers again. This time, Yuki snickers too. The sound is ethereal and unnerving. At the base of the hill now, Amelie pauses in her tracks, and turns to look at you, folding her hands behind her back.

“Tell me, mister Balmund -- have you ever been in love?”
Fascinating -- and concerning -- though the arrow might be, your primary concern is your partner Pokémon, Munchlax. Putting the bizarrely-fletched projectile out of your mind, you wandered over to the Belue Berry bush to see what has fascinated the miniature glutton more than food. Sifting through the branches and brambles is a difficult task, and you spook more than a few Bug-type Pokémon in the process, but after a few moment’s digging, you come upon your answer: on the other side of a thick, forked branch at the base of the bush is what appears to be a nest!

Lined with leaves, it has eggs of varying sizes inside. Charcoal grey on top and light peach on bottom, with two golden spots each that almost seem to glow, they radiate an eerie ambiance despite being simple eggs. Munchlax is desperately trying to get to them, but his fat body cannot fit through the fork of the branches, mercifully saving the yet-unborn lives from a presumably swift end. Nonetheless, his grubby, greedy fingers wiggle centimeters from the slick, delicate surface of one of the ovum, his head crammed through the fork -- he really wants an omelette!

What will you do?

Le Marais Sacré de Celebi

Gemini Spark:
You take a seat under a nice, shady tree, so that you and your Pokémon can enjoy a long-awaited picnic lunch in this serene and picturesque scenery. Though your teammate’s eating habits may be macabre, you don’t mind; that’s just nature, after all! In fact, there’s a trainer around these parts who would sympathize quite well with your naturalist lifestyle.

The wind blows through the leaves, and the waters of the swamp ripple and bubble with life. Here and there, you hear something croak, or caw, or coo. Everything around here buzzes with life, staking out territory or seeking a mate; hunting for food or trying to stay off the menu. You and your gang don’t have to worry about such things, of course; you’re more than intimidating enough, more than prepared enough, to scare off anything that might try to make a meal out od you!

Satisfied with your vantage point, overlooking the beauty of Celebi’s sacred home, you begin unpacking your own foodstuffs, when something drops onto your head. Reaching up, you pluck a leaf out of your hair. How quaint! What a charming venue for a picnic! You set it aside, but another drops. And another. Looking up to see what might be causing the tree to shed, you jump when what appears to be a grimacing face glowers down at you!

Wait, no. Faces don’t have green skin. After the adrenaline subsides, you realize you’re looking at the raised haunch of a Spinarak. That’s… well, a little concerning. It doesn’t look happy, but it’s just one Bug-type. There were bound to be bugs all over this swamp. You’re about to shoo it off, when another descends from the tree you’re sitting under. And then another. And yet another. Soon, a dozen have crawled their way down the trunk. Then two dozen. Then three. Then an innumerable amount are covering the wood, and they all look pissed. Perhaps this was the wrong place for a picnic?

You’ve come for a friendly outing, but now you’re under a tree, covered in angry spiders! What will you do?!

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