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Old 04-21-2017, 10:41 AM   #15
Marion Ette
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The mind loves the unknown...

Originally Posted by Ex-Admiral Insane View Post
The gigantic and abandoned building was hard to miss for someone in the city. The structure pierced the sky itself and grew only more imposing the nearer Lucas got. All throughout the city, screams were heard amidst the orchestra of gunfire and explosives, only occasionally slumbering to allow the fires to cackle and the winds to whistle their echoes in the vacated houses. If laughter and play had once been possible for the city, it must have felt like a distant dream right now. Various factions had risen to power and taken advantage of the city’s turmoil ever since the mysterious assassination of a few council members, and the unannounced retreat of the few who had remained. With the power-vacuum in play, the police had done all they could to oppose the two gangs that have claimed a significant portion of the city as their own, even so much as sending out flyers, asking trainers for their help.

It was after Lucas had read one of these flyers that he had decided to look up the locale. He had never heard of the city of Goldenridge before. Granted, he was barely able to pay attention to names and the like as well. For all his Pokémon knew, they may have very well passed through it on more than occasion. Online information was riddled with the news updates about the city and Lucas was hard pressed to find anything significant about the place that would have interested him. That is, until he came across the myths of the Bastion. They were myths mostly, ghost stories people told each other after the bloody massacre of the council members, but Lucas cared little about the divind line between myth and reality, especially when it came to treasure.

“You’re falling behind again,” Lucas called back to his Gallade. Rags was disquietly sauntering behind his trainer, taking tentative steps in the hopes that doing so might get his trainer to give up and go back. From the get-go, he was against his trainer’s wishes to visit the city, largely because he was planning to take advantage of the chaos and loot the government building as opposed to helping the marshalls restore peace to the city and supporting the victims. Immoral didn’t even begin to describe his stance about his trainer.

“Gal, gallade.” (You know it’s not too late.) Rags said upon approaching his trainer.

“Not this again,” the trainer said annoyed. The two had grown up since they were both a kids. Their shared experiences allowed for the two of them to understand one another’s emotions, an ability that was not lost when Rags evolved from a Ralts to a Gallade. Though lately, their mental link weakened as a result of their differences. “We discussed this at the base. You didn’t even have to come along.”

But he did, or so Rags felt. Truth of the matter was that Rags had considered for a long time to abandon his trainer. Over the years the two had grown up it was Lucas who looked for adventure and came back with stories while Rags had to act his moral compass. Lately that chore had become more demanding than usual. Lucas appeared to have only gotten worse and Rags was getting fed up of having to straighten him out. The two had grown apart too much and they clearly had different ideologies. If Lucas was going to continue his blasé attitude towards morals and ethics, the Blade Pokémon might very well leave him.

“Lade-allade, gal. Gal, gallade-gal, lade.”(We can still go back to the police and help them fight the Ribs.)

“No,” he said firmly. “Now come on Rags,” a smile stretched across his face, “last one there has to explain to Ms. Khan who broke the plantpot,” and he set off at a pace.

“Gallade gallade?” (Did you at least bring other Pokémon with you?)

“Don’t worry about it,” and he sped off towards the Bastion doors.

“Gallade!” (That’s technically not an answer!)


It wasn’t much of a race; Rags only sped up at times to avoid losing sight of his trainer. By the time he saw the entrance doors he relaxed into his previous sluggish pace. Lucas was already waiting for him by the time he got there, surprisingly patient. The trainer was holding a familiar, red device in his hands, gently tapping the buttons one by one with his one hand, the other occupied by a cigarette that had nearly gone out.

“Took you long,” his trainer grinned as he put out the butt of the cigarette with his shoe.

“Gal?” (Ready to go?)

“Almost, just give me a sec.”

Rags was surprised at his trainer’s calm composure. Usually he would barge into a situation without thinking if it meant he got his hands on treasure. What on earth interested him more now than money? The Gallade felt a small twang between the two of them - a spark from their mental link – and Rags wondered about his trainer’s true intentions.

The red devide Lucas was holding was a Pokédex Rags knew. He was there the day Lucas received it. The only reason he was given one was out of trust he’d compile data on it from passing Pokémon. Thus far they had not lived up to the professor’s request. So was Lucas here to catch Pokémon? Rumours had it that a few had decided to take refuge in the abandoned building, though none had returned since. But if his trainer’s plan was to go in and catch a rare Pokémon he would have said so from the start.

Lucas continued going through the Pokédex’s search functions and information slides. Rags felt another pang in their mental link, something Lucas didn’t seem to notice. A small shot of understanding came through. ’If Lucas wasn’t here to catch Pokémon, then perhaps…’ The Gallade shook his head. Humans and Pokémon had gone missing amidst the chaos of city. Some may very well have taken refuge inside the government building as it was the only place in the city that none of the three factions wanted to fight over. Lucas may not have wanted to be involved with the city’s conflict, but it seemed he was willing to help the missing victims instead – even if he never would admit it. Perhaps part of him had rubbed off on his trainer after all.

Lucas pocketed his Pokédex and hurried through the Bastion’s entrance. “Come on Rags, let’s go find treasure.” His smile reappeared across his face.

In that short moment, Rags felt his mental link with Rags restore itself to what it was, and in that moment he understood his trainer’s true intentions. ’You can’t fool me.’

Lucas’ face turned red. Apparently having understood Rags’ thoughts as clear as spoken words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spat as he turned his face away. He clapped his hand with fake enjoyment and called out to his partner one more time. “So you coming or not? Let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into.”

“Gal.” (Sure) The Gallade picked himself up with renewed dedication to his trainer and followed him into the building’s empty hallways, guarding Lucas from any danger that might have lurked within.
In the time following the grisly events which transpired in the very Bastion that Lucas now approaches, hunters of all types have swarmed Goldenridge City, looking for treasure... but treasure is so often a subjective term – one man's expensive antique on display is another's gaudy eyesore gathering dust – and while it was true that the gleam of gold had tainted the eyes of many a trainer in this land, Lucas' mind betrays the true intention behind his seemingly materialistic focus. In the momentary spark of psychic union between trainer and Pokemon, Rags perceives the true nature of the “treasure” which Lucas seeks, and that momentary spark reawakens the fires of the Gallade's resolve. Our heroes – whether or not they would appreciate the term - march on.

Even with this renewed resolve, however, there were the ominous myths to contend with. Of course, they were only myths... but there's something about the way the heavy, gold-plated doors hang out of their hinges, pulled open as if their immense weight were immaterial to those who broke through, the dark, yawning expanse within the entryway, and the shimmer of promised wealth within suffocating darkness that lends some credence to the whispered tales. As the light sensors trigger upon recognizing movement in the entrance hall, the area floods with artificial light, oddly still functional after a year of abandonment – and the scene is laid out before Lucas and Rags.

Excessive displays of wealth define practically every architectural and decorative decision within the Entrance Hall, from top to bottom; a golden sky stretches over the pair of adventurers, with silver clouds carefully molded atop the ceiling, surrounding a giant, glittering yellow sapphire and citrine sun with flecks of gold to accentuate its brilliance. The large, heavy glass windows, strong enough to repel bullets, are framed by thick silk curtains with incredibly detailed stitching of various Pokemon in lifelike poses. Each mother-of-pearl tile on the floor beneath them features a very intricate, hand-etched Meowth, with a tiny, individually-carved, inlaid gold coin on its head. Just a small piece of the ceiling, or a tile from the floor, could fetch a good price back home. A number of pewter stands scattered around the foyer have been knocked over, the valuables displayed upon them missing, but even the stands themselves (if one was willing to carry them, given their weight) could fetch a decent payout... Some even appear to have silver accents and etchings.

But even all this finery cannot compare to the pičce de résistance, which stands at the very center of the entrance hall – an off-set statue of a classy looking gentleman in his mid-40s, plated in silver. He stands beside a pair of jeans sculpted in amber, with curls of hair falling past the knees and a feminine hand still posed on the hip – the rest of the sculpture, above the waist, lying in shattered amber fragments around its feet and spread all the way towards the right-hand staircase. Indeed, there appear to be fragments of gold, bronze and marble littered across the floor, all around the statues' feet, indicating perhaps that more figures once stood in this centerpiece... probably about five in all, including the one and a half present. By the right heel of the amber statue appears to be a crumpled human figure with long, dark-brown hair, lying face down in what appears to be a giant, sticky, dark red splotch, a shade darker than the clothes the figure wears. White marks cover the figure's shoulder blades, and a yellow ring appears to be painted around the head. A Pokeball lies close to the outstretched right hand, while the left is held at the neck, from where the splotch radiates. Part of the artwork, perhaps...? But judging by the horrific stench lingering in the air, such a judgment would be wishful thinking at best.

The foyer is ominously silent. If there is anyone else present, they have not made their presence known to Lucas or Rags.

The next step is yours. Tread carefully.
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Last edited by Marion Ette; 04-21-2017 at 10:23 PM.
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