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Old 10-03-2017, 07:58 PM   #132
Meetan
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Join Date: Feb 2012
Location: England
Posts: 419
EpicSquirtle: There were plenty of places to explore in the Fizzytopia region, but this one was perfect for the time of year and less treacherous for a trainer of your calibre. What you lacked in experience, though, you made up for with uniqueness: a talking Snover accompanied yourself and the cute little Sewaddle (or more accurately, a Snover who spoke in the common tongue). Benny probably wasn't enjoying this jaunt as much as you and the bug, though-- the valley's shady areas provided some respite, but heat wasn't exactly best for a winter tree.

The three of you lazily follow the map held in the branches of the dual-type, hoping to find something of intrigue. This was a special place for many trainers near your age and stage of adventuring, as the Blue Valley was the root of many lifelong friendships. It's an area, too, of some beauty and serenity, the type of place that one would remember fondly in their old age from momentous occasions and vacation days. Wait, scratch the serenity, some kid's crying. It is a resort island (ish) in summer (maybe), what did anyone expect?

“Help me! Someone help m-- give that back, that's mine!” Up ahead, the three of you overheard the desperate, panicked crying of a small girl. Something was up, obviously, but was it really worth ruining your good day for? Really?


-

Sandaa: The mission had gone swimmingly thus far, so it would have been a shame to lose out now by having your arm or something else ripped off by the Feralgatr. As such, you were quick to back away from the beastie, and although it seemed to be stirring and grumbling; the sounds were faint. There was plenty of time for your team to skeddadle, which is exactly what you did, messaging Bill to let your friend know that the trip had been successful and where you were. It was less than two minutes before you received an enthusiastic and grateful response, with the retailer suggesting you move to another, specified spot for the guide to meet you.

The walk east up the shoreline is brisk but not uncomfortable, although part of you has an ear out for an angry gatr incase it tried to track your sandy steps for vengeance. Deep breaths. Time seemed to pass slowly while you waited, but it wasn't actually very long before you saw your guide – or so you presumed – drift over the treetops with the help of a Drifblim. As if descending with a parachute, heavy duty boots slid across the golden grains, the Pokemon pulling him to a stop not far away before unravelling its tethers from the man's wrists. One day, he was probably going to get said wrists snapped doing that. Health and safety and all that.

“Hey there, are you Gary?” The man greeted. He might have been a bit younger than you, but then he also might have had a youthful face: white hair with a faint hint of blue, in a short windswept mess above tanned, cheerful features. The guide's tanned cheeks were flush, and he was dressed like someone who knew how to adventure in a place like The Mints, his belt holding five spheres, not all the same. Drifblim floated here and there, letting the wind carry itself, neither seemingly concerned that the ghost might wander away to steal a living soul while you chatted. You confirmed your name. “I'm Masao, Bill sent me over. Sounds like you did everyone a favour over on the beach, so I'm to reward you with a tour, is that right?”

I mean. You could lie, or not, or something. Up to you.
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