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Old 05-13-2018, 07:53 PM   #451
Maskerade
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Meetan:

The familiarity of the region still isn't enough to make you feel "at home". And that's probably a good thing, considering most of the denizens of Bedlam are murderers and thieves.

But not even the side of Good, if one can call them such, is particularly welcoming in the Ridge: the Marshalls do what need to be done, and there is little room for sympathy in the Headquarters as everyone is up to their necks in missions and errands. Even the man behind the counter, little more than a glorified cashier with a badge, eyes you with annoyance.

"You sure talk a lot," he mutters under his breath before raising his voice to continue, as if he genuinely believes you didn't just hear him. "Look lady, quite a few months is a lifetime in Bedlam Ridge. Everyone who was here a month ago has either been relocated, retired or buried by now. But hey, if you made it out okay once and are back for more, we got a number of jobs for folk like you."

He motions with his head to a bulletin board leaning against the wall next to the desk, topped by a yellowed piece of paper that read "SPECIAL JOBS" in large, ugly letters.

You're not sure if you should take "folk like you" as a compliment or an insult, but if you choose to assume he meant "hardy survivors", then it was probably a good thing. With no better leads and your preferential contact seemingly removed from the premises long ago, you approach the wooden board and glance through the requests. Judging by the state of the papers, they've been hanging there for a long time, and you wonder if any of these are still active problems or ones which Time has already solved, as it always does one way or another.

"Don't bother with those, I'll tell you what actually matters," says a raspy voice behind you. Turning around, you see an officer in his fifties, pale-skinned and overly thin, who bursts out in a violent fit of cough shortly after he speaks. The nonchalant way he recovers tells you he's more than used to it, however.

"Shells are behaving suspiciously lately - as in, they're not doing shit. All holed up in Crimson Sanctum like they're preparing something big, or they got hold of something important... like a coiling viper before it strikes. That worries us," he says, stopping often for a breather. He pulls out a cigarette, lights it and takes a couple of puffs before continuing.

"The few of them that actually do anything anymore have been seen scouting the vicinity of the Bastion of Vacuous Dreams, but they never enter. Nobody gave a damn about that building for years, so we need to know what the Shells want."

He walks over to the bulletin board, curses under his breath and begins ripping out the countless requests that have piled up over the years. Mid-task he looks at you with expressionless light blue eyes and finally remembers to introduce himself.

"Sven Larson. Don't bother with those other jobs, kid; leave those to the idiots who're doing this for the first time." He holds out his hand, and you go for a handshake, only to realize he was only reaching for another cigarette. "We believe the Shells are preparing for a raid into the bastion with some sort of new weapon. Either infiltrate their Sanctum and find what it is, or get to the Bastion before they do and find out what they're after. Because if they want it, we don't want them to have it."

Marshall Larson seems certain you'll take him up on the offer, but nobody ever said you had to. If none of the propostions appeals to you, there's bound to be more work around, but maybe none as significant as either of these assignments.

What's your call?
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Old 05-13-2018, 09:07 PM   #452
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Meetan:

The familiarity of the region still isn't enough to make you feel "at home". And that's probably a good thing, considering most of the denizens of Bedlam are murderers and thieves.

But not even the side of Good, if one can call them such, is particularly welcoming in the Ridge: the Marshalls do what need to be done, and there is little room for sympathy in the Headquarters as everyone is up to their necks in missions and errands. Even the man behind the counter, little more than a glorified cashier with a badge, eyes you with annoyance.

"You sure talk a lot," he mutters under his breath before raising his voice to continue, as if he genuinely believes you didn't just hear him. "Look lady, quite a few months is a lifetime in Bedlam Ridge. Everyone who was here a month ago has either been relocated, retired or buried by now. But hey, if you made it out okay once and are back for more, we got a number of jobs for folk like you."

He motions with his head to a bulletin board leaning against the wall next to the desk, topped by a yellowed piece of paper that read "SPECIAL JOBS" in large, ugly letters.

You're not sure if you should take "folk like you" as a compliment or an insult, but if you choose to assume he meant "hardy survivors", then it was probably a good thing. With no better leads and your preferential contact seemingly removed from the premises long ago, you approach the wooden board and glance through the requests. Judging by the state of the papers, they've been hanging there for a long time, and you wonder if any of these are still active problems or ones which Time has already solved, as it always does one way or another.

"Don't bother with those, I'll tell you what actually matters," says a raspy voice behind you. Turning around, you see an officer in his fifties, pale-skinned and overly thin, who bursts out in a violent fit of cough shortly after he speaks. The nonchalant way he recovers tells you he's more than used to it, however.

"Shells are behaving suspiciously lately - as in, they're not doing shit. All holed up in Crimson Sanctum like they're preparing something big, or they got hold of something important... like a coiling viper before it strikes. That worries us," he says, stopping often for a breather. He pulls out a cigarette, lights it and takes a couple of puffs before continuing.

"The few of them that actually do anything anymore have been seen scouting the vicinity of the Bastion of Vacuous Dreams, but they never enter. Nobody gave a damn about that building for years, so we need to know what the Shells want."

He walks over to the bulletin board, curses under his breath and begins ripping out the countless requests that have piled up over the years. Mid-task he looks at you with expressionless light blue eyes and finally remembers to introduce himself.

"Sven Larson. Don't bother with those other jobs, kid; leave those to the idiots who're doing this for the first time." He holds out his hand, and you go for a handshake, only to realize he was only reaching for another cigarette. "We believe the Shells are preparing for a raid into the bastion with some sort of new weapon. Either infiltrate their Sanctum and find what it is, or get to the Bastion before they do and find out what they're after. Because if they want it, we don't want them to have it."

Marshall Larson seems certain you'll take him up on the offer, but nobody ever said you had to. If none of the propostions appeals to you, there's bound to be more work around, but maybe none as significant as either of these assignments.

What's your call?
Alice's cheeks tinged red at being called out. It was fucking true, and it was sometimes her job to, but bitch please. "I am literally right here..." She sang sarcastically under her breath, Zoey detecting the meanness in her tone and tilting her head. With less enthusiasm than before, Alice added, "Okay, thanks."

She turned, cooing to her companion, who fluttered to climb onto the female's shoulder. The pitter pat of her feet touching pale skin made her giggle, mood bolstered a bit. The handwriting on the board was ugly, but nobody was impressed with her own, so whatever. It was either out of date or nobody was solving shit around here. Alice got her answer, but not without a jump scare, whirling around to face the Marshal. With a sharp inhale, Alice almost coughed, too. He was a sight for sore eyes, and he stank of his deathly habit. Yikes. At least he was friendly and helpful.

The Pewdiepie moment of a failed handshake killed her a bit inside, but hey, if things went wrong this mission would kill her on the outside, too, so-- why the fuck was she doing this again? "Alice Hope, nice to meet you. I'll head to the Sanctum. Nobody ever comes out from the Bastion, right? If I can't beat them to the punch, I can make a final stand there. I wanted to explore the Bastion myself anyway, eventually." She had wondered if it held any answers to her lost memories there. Alice had recovered some of them from Phantom Isle, but... Well, there were plenty of gaps, and she'd sort of been avoiding filling them in... "Do you have any tips or anything like that I can use? I've dealt with some Ribs before in passing, but it was more putting out a fire they started then actually knocking on their doorstep. I'm not a fresh idiot but I'm not the most familiar with Bedlam."
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Old 05-13-2018, 10:26 PM   #453
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BEDLAM RIDGE
The Temporary City Zone

Marshal's Headquarters (Marshals): Situated in the relatively stable north, the headquarters of the police force is a large compound with tight security, home to the Goldenridge Marshals in their fight to restore the name of Goldenridge to bedlam. The force has recently started a campaign against the Shells and Ribs, seeking to push them out of the city once and for all, and are willing to accept mercenary support from trainers willing to help out in the fight. The reinforced location seems to be more attractive to pokemon who enjoy a sense of justice and honour. Reply in Silver.
She knew she would one day see this city once again when she last left, and accepted that it would most likely would still be the battleground it was when she left. She wasn't so naive as to believe that the stunt she pulled last time had been little more than annoyance to the gangs, either. The den she busted was unlikely to be their only source of new recruits, and their numbers before her interference were likely too large to be meaningfully phased even if it somehow were.

All Amicae had achieved so far was place a single stone upon the road to liberating Goldenridge once and for all.

The amount of time she waited to return did have a few practical purposes, of course. The injury she had taken to her arm needed to heal, even if just enough to keep the pain from debilitating her every time she hit it on something. Her pokemon needed more training if they were to be capable of taking on the more fearsome challenges ahead. She needed enough time to make sure her face faded from as many of the gang members' memories as possible so that she wouldn't be jumped the moment she finally returned.

But beyond all of those valid justifications, she had been afraid. She couldn't remember why she had her houndoomfire burns, but the burns Madame Marsh had given her were seared- almost literally- into her mind. She had seen what would've happened to her if the electrical power had continued to course through her body as an ally suffered that very fate, wildly convulsing and coming within a thread of her life and likely crippled for what remained of it. She had witnessed the birth of an incarnation of raw hatred towards her, and still couldn't tell whether or not that beast had turned on its own creator to this day.

Bedlam Ridge was a war zone, plain and simple.

And like a good little soldier, the girl was reporting back to central command for the next line of duty.

Ami took a deep breath in front of the marshall's Headquarters, a clear attempt to calm her nerves. "You've drug yourself back this far. There's nowhere else to go but further in."

She stepped through the doors, and thus began her second foray into the tumultuous struggle against gang violence.
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Old 05-17-2018, 05:11 AM   #454
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King Ghidorah- Trekking through the quarry, you find that it is rather deserted, at least at the moment. It was the middle of the day, it would make sense that Ribs would do their work at night when darkness would conceal their shifty behaviour. If you hoped to find riches you were in the right place, but you would have to work quickly to ensure any spoils you gathered weren't swiftly added to the Ribs' coffers.

As you make your way towards the mines entrance, you hear a man shouting for help. Surging forward, it isn't long before the elderly man comes into view. Despite his robust build and age, the old timer could certainly swing a pickaxe. The target of his violent outbursts? A horde of black reptilian Pokemon, all scrambling to get at the contents of a wheelbarrow. The Pokemon were relentless, even when struck down they leapt back to their feet and continued to try and get at the ore the man had gathered.

As he turns to swing, the man catches sight of you and pleads for your assistance. "You there, can you help me get these pesky Salandit away from my haul?!" He continued to lash out with his pickaxe, it was proving ineffective against the agile Salandits, he needed the assistance of Pokemon. Quickly counting the Salandit, you count seven of them however they are moving so quickly that you could have easily miscounted. There was no way of telling what was motivating the Salandit to harass the elderly man, perhaps they simply felt like causing chaos, or perhaps they had a purpose?
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Old 05-17-2018, 10:28 AM   #455
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Meetan:

Sven Larson's lips curl into a coy smile once you mention your past experience with Ribs.

"F*ckin' perfect," he says in a voice that makes sandpaper sound like a harp. "Shells can spot a Marshal a mile away; most new blood around here cycles in and out, but they always still manage to recognize us even undercover. But you... you've been around Bedlam and the Shells have no idea who you are, if all you dealt with was Ribs."

He motions for you follow him as he walks over to a nearby table with a map of Bedlam Ridge spread out on top of it.

"Crimson Sanctum," he growls, placing a finger on the map. "Used to be a holy place for folks with such inclination; went by a different name then too, but who gives a f*ck anymore. What matters is you'll be infiltrating the place and act as a double agent for us. Find out why they plan to raid the Bastion. More importantly... find out how they plan to do it."

Larson pulls out a(nother) cigarette and casually motions with his head to the man behind the counter who you'd met earlier - the one that thought you were deaf.

"He'll give you a uniform we kept from some Shell we offed. It will be sweaty and unwashed, and it won't fit that skinny frame, but going to the Sanctum in that Barbie outfit will get you shot, so weigh your options," he says dryly. "Be nice to him and he might remember he's also supposed to provide you with a small care package for the mission."

He approaches you and holds out his hand again, but this time it seems to be for an actual handshake.

"You're a brave lass. Someone with less tact would say you got balls," he says as he smirks, all proud of his joke, probably the only one he knows judging by his shining personality. "Once you arrive, tell 'em you've been kept hostage by Marshals for months but managed to escape. They'll be starving for intel on our own activities, so it won't be hard for you to be allowed inside the Sanctum if you spin the tale right. Go get 'em, soldier."

Reluctantly approaching the counter and the man who'd welcomed you so warmly to the HQ, you begin to tell him Sven Larson sent you before he cuts you off.

"I heard the whole thing, y'know? You were, like, right there. Jeez."

Visibly inconvenienced, he gets up and disappears behind a nearby door, eventually reappearing with with a black and red uniform that borrows heavily from the famous (if maligned) Team Rocket garments of old. And the clothes are precisely in the condition Larson had told you, because of course they are.

"Here, all yours. Now, we're short on supplies, so you'll have to choose. I got a couple of Super Potions left, a Full Heal, a... hm, ran out of these already? Oh, look, a spare Smoke Ball. And this here... ah, right, two Sitrus Berries. Moldy."

he spreads the meager haul on the counter, but before you can take them, he raises his voice.

"Three. You get to choose three."

Once you've made your choice, he finally points to the PC on the counter. It's so old, it's a wonder how it still works; worst still, it runs Shutters Vista.

"Use that to choose the Pokemon you're gonna take with you, in case you don't know what a PC is for. Good luck, don't get shot, yadda yadda."

Time for your final preparations. Are you ready to do this?
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Old 05-17-2018, 03:27 PM   #456
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Meetan:

Sven Larson's lips curl into a coy smile once you mention your past experience with Ribs.

"F*ckin' perfect," he says in a voice that makes sandpaper sound like a harp. "Shells can spot a Marshal a mile away; most new blood around here cycles in and out, but they always still manage to recognize us even undercover. But you... you've been around Bedlam and the Shells have no idea who you are, if all you dealt with was Ribs."

He motions for you follow him as he walks over to a nearby table with a map of Bedlam Ridge spread out on top of it.

"Crimson Sanctum," he growls, placing a finger on the map. "Used to be a holy place for folks with such inclination; went by a different name then too, but who gives a f*ck anymore. What matters is you'll be infiltrating the place and act as a double agent for us. Find out why they plan to raid the Bastion. More importantly... find out how they plan to do it."

Larson pulls out a(nother) cigarette and casually motions with his head to the man behind the counter who you'd met earlier - the one that thought you were deaf.

"He'll give you a uniform we kept from some Shell we offed. It will be sweaty and unwashed, and it won't fit that skinny frame, but going to the Sanctum in that Barbie outfit will get you shot, so weigh your options," he says dryly. "Be nice to him and he might remember he's also supposed to provide you with a small care package for the mission."

He approaches you and holds out his hand again, but this time it seems to be for an actual handshake.

"You're a brave lass. Someone with less tact would say you got balls," he says as he smirks, all proud of his joke, probably the only one he knows judging by his shining personality. "Once you arrive, tell 'em you've been kept hostage by Marshals for months but managed to escape. They'll be starving for intel on our own activities, so it won't be hard for you to be allowed inside the Sanctum if you spin the tale right. Go get 'em, soldier."

Reluctantly approaching the counter and the man who'd welcomed you so warmly to the HQ, you begin to tell him Sven Larson sent you before he cuts you off.

"I heard the whole thing, y'know? You were, like, right there. Jeez."

Visibly inconvenienced, he gets up and disappears behind a nearby door, eventually reappearing with with a black and red uniform that borrows heavily from the famous (if maligned) Team Rocket garments of old. And the clothes are precisely in the condition Larson had told you, because of course they are.

"Here, all yours. Now, we're short on supplies, so you'll have to choose. I got a couple of Super Potions left, a Full Heal, a... hm, ran out of these already? Oh, look, a spare Smoke Ball. And this here... ah, right, two Sitrus Berries. Moldy."

he spreads the meager haul on the counter, but before you can take them, he raises his voice.

"Three. You get to choose three."

Once you've made your choice, he finally points to the PC on the counter. It's so old, it's a wonder how it still works; worst still, it runs Shutters Vista.

"Use that to choose the Pokemon you're gonna take with you, in case you don't know what a PC is for. Good luck, don't get shot, yadda yadda."

Time for your final preparations. Are you ready to do this?
Alice smiled in spite of the Marshall's grating voice, although his words weren't entirely reassuring. Sure, she'd managed to get in and out of the Casino without ever being investigated, but she'd played on her moe idol trash image for that. She wasn't a brute by any means, and couldn't help but worry that if these people could see through trained professionals, her famous idol-trainer arse was going to bullet hell the moment she stepped into the Sanctum. Yeesh.

At least, though, it had been quite a while since she had stepped into Bedlam at all. There was a good chance that the Rib who had seen her - because his friends hadn't - wouldn't have even known she was the same person who had come to Fizzytopia's aid and entertainment on numerous occasions. Hell, plenty of them might not even care for that kind of news or media, and hopefully that would be the same for the Shells. Alice looked down at the map and took a picture of it for reference, especially as she sucked at maps, and then saluted Sven once he was done. "Yes, sir!"

Ah, dealing with the receptionist again. Good shit. He cut her off, and although Alice pulled a face, she looked thoroughly entertained by the way he did it. Nice, she could appreciate that sass at least - and the strict scolding he gave her as she reached for the 'gifts'. "I'll take the Smoke Ball, Full Heal and a Super Potion. Thanks." Alice said, tone balanced as she moved to pack them away. At grasping at the uniform, the blonde cringed, her expression dramatic. "Ick. This is great..." Alice grimaced. "Thanks, though. I don't want my plastic body getting wrecked on sight if I can help it."

She glanced to the computer, thinking hard. Her Pokemon stood out for sure, and some were social media stars as well, especially with their vibrant hues. Alice would have to consider her team well for this one, especially with the risks involved. If she went into the Bastion... She might not even get out. The lag of the computer was frustrating, but it gave her time to think. "Zoey, if you're willing, you're coming along." Alice told the Zubat who chittered an affirmative, happy to comply. Eridian the Bagon and Nina the Alolan Vulpix were among her selection, and when Alice went to change, she had the Pokemon blast the outfit with water and dry it out, hoping that might help the sweat issue. She tried to reduce the smell with deodorant and body mist.

Her things packed into a more subtle bag than previously had and her accessories removed, Alice returned to the lobby, ready to duty. Her blonde hair was pulled into a practical, albeit fluffy, ponytail, and the uniform had been belted to hold the trousers up. Letting Larson know she was ready to roll, final preparations complete, it was off to the Sanctum with Zoey on arm and the others on standby.
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Old 05-17-2018, 07:19 PM   #457
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King Ghidorah- Trekking through the quarry, you find that it is rather deserted, at least at the moment. It was the middle of the day, it would make sense that Ribs would do their work at night when darkness would conceal their shifty behaviour. If you hoped to find riches you were in the right place, but you would have to work quickly to ensure any spoils you gathered weren't swiftly added to the Ribs' coffers.

As you make your way towards the mines entrance, you hear a man shouting for help. Surging forward, it isn't long before the elderly man comes into view. Despite his robust build and age, the old timer could certainly swing a pickaxe. The target of his violent outbursts? A horde of black reptilian Pokemon, all scrambling to get at the contents of a wheelbarrow. The Pokemon were relentless, even when struck down they leapt back to their feet and continued to try and get at the ore the man had gathered.

As he turns to swing, the man catches sight of you and pleads for your assistance. "You there, can you help me get these pesky Salandit away from my haul?!" He continued to lash out with his pickaxe, it was proving ineffective against the agile Salandits, he needed the assistance of Pokemon. Quickly counting the Salandit, you count seven of them however they are moving so quickly that you could have easily miscounted. There was no way of telling what was motivating the Salandit to harass the elderly man, perhaps they simply felt like causing chaos, or perhaps they had a purpose?
“God, those things are relentless,” Hugo thought to himself, watching the Salandit harass the man. “I had always heard that about them, but to actually see it up close in person was a different story.

Hugo knew all about Salandit. When he was a kid, his grandfather had gifted him a set of Pokepedias, and he loved to read about all the different creatures and their habits. Salandit were especially interesting to him. Not only were they an exceptionally unique type combination, but their social hierarchy where the females control the males through use of pheromones – to the point where males couldn’t even evolve – fascinated Hugo.

But there was a time and place for admiration, and this wasn’t it. Someone was bound to get seriously hurt under the current circumstances. Either the Salandit were going to take a bad shot from a pick axe or they were going to overtake the man and…well, Hugo shuddered to think of what would happen then.

And it’s not as if Hugo didn’t notice the wheelbarrow. There was obviously something valuable to someone there. Perhaps he could get a piece of it. And even more appealing to Hugo was the chance that Hugo could capture one of the Salandit.

“Don’t worry!” Hugo shouted to the man. “Help is on the way!”

He pensively fingered the Pokeballs around his waist, weighing the pros and cons of sending each of his Pokemon into battle. But then it donned on him that there was really only one choice that could handle the swarm without being overtaken.

“ONIX!” Hugo shouted as he tossed the Pokeball. A few seconds later, the giant rock snake materialized in front of Hugo with a frenzied roar. Onix towered over Hugo, the Salandit, the man…everything. She was sure to draw the attention of the Salandit, and if she didn’t, she would force them to pay attention.

“Alright, Onix! I want you t—wait, hang on,” Hugo stopped mid-command. “The females run the show with the Salandit, so if we can single out any females, we can cut this thing off at the head….but how do we….I’VE GOT IT!”

Hugo grabbed another Pokeball and released it next to honest. There stood Ponyta in all her flaming, regal beauty. There certainly was a stark contrast between Hugo’s two Pokemon. Onix seethed was rage, ready to launch into attack, while Ponyta radiated with grace and majesty as if she had just descended from Mt. Olympus. Ponyta took notice of Onix’ fury and followed her gaze to the Salandit and the man. Ponyta kicked her heels and shot small flames from her nostrils with a snort, gearing up to fight as well.

“We need to help that man,” Hugo explained. “Those Salandit look fierce, but we’ve got this. We need to take out females. Ponyta, I want you to distract them with Captivate. The males should fall for the distraction. Any that don’t are probably females. Onix, I want you to use Smack Down on the Salandit. Target the females but leave no prisoners! LET’S GO!”
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Old 05-19-2018, 10:56 AM   #458
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Preparations complete and uniform reluctantly put on, you hit the road determined to see this mission through. Your destination is the Crimson Sanctum, effectively the Headqquarters of the Shells, former Team Rocket members determined on controlling all of Bedlam Ridge. Their current target, and greatest concern of the Marshals, seems to be the Bastion of Vacuous Dreams, and it's your mission to find out why and how they plan to make their way inside.

The map might not have done a geat job of conveying to you the sheer distance between Marshal HQ, in the northern part of Bedlam, and the Sanctum all the way to the south-west, however. Walking in the general direction you got from Larson's map, there seems to be nothing ahead for several miles, just an arid landscape with nothing of interest as far as the eye can see. Makes sense, in a way, that two sworn enemies would make camp as far away from one another as possible, but still...

The journey is as uneventful as the road itself for quite a while, but you never manage to feel completely at ease; after all, this is a land of crooks and criminals, and getting jumped on and mugged at any point feels like a very real possibility at every turn. Dust covers your already far from pristine Shell outfit, as you muscle along the winding dirt road lined by withered bushes and dead trees. Criminals would have nowhere to hide if they tried to sneak up on you, you tell yourself as reassuringly as possible... but you still can't bring yourself to relax completely.

"G..Girl... GIRL!" suddenly yells a pained voice up ahead, startling you. "D-don't leave me here!..."

A dark firgure up ahead, lying by the side of the road against a rock, slowly raises a hand in your direction. The voice is strained, dry, heavy with a sense of dread. Cautiously approaching, you realize it's a man in his sixties and in very rough shape.
The old man looks beaten, dehydrated and whatever he wore before is now in rags. Black rags. If they bore any insignia at any point, they are no longer recognizable.

"Please..."

Passing him by, or going around him, would not be hard to do. He seems to be in a bad spot, but if there's one thing that holds tue about Bedlam, is that you should trust nobody. With that said, will you approach the man, or ignore him and move on?
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Old 05-19-2018, 11:17 AM   #459
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Meetan:

Preparations complete and uniform reluctantly put on, you hit the road determined to see this mission through. Your destination is the Crimson Sanctum, effectively the Headqquarters of the Shells, former Team Rocket members determined on controlling all of Bedlam Ridge. Their current target, and greatest concern of the Marshals, seems to be the Bastion of Vacuous Dreams, and it's your mission to find out why and how they plan to make their way inside.

The map might not have done a geat job of conveying to you the sheer distance between Marshal HQ, in the northern part of Bedlam, and the Sanctum all the way to the south-west, however. Walking in the general direction you got from Larson's map, there seems to be nothing ahead for several miles, just an arid landscape with nothing of interest as far as the eye can see. Makes sense, in a way, that two sworn enemies would make camp as far away from one another as possible, but still...

The journey is as uneventful as the road itself for quite a while, but you never manage to feel completely at ease; after all, this is a land of crooks and criminals, and getting jumped on and mugged at any point feels like a very real possibility at every turn. Dust covers your already far from pristine Shell outfit, as you muscle along the winding dirt road lined by withered bushes and dead trees. Criminals would have nowhere to hide if they tried to sneak up on you, you tell yourself as reassuringly as possible... but you still can't bring yourself to relax completely.

"G..Girl... GIRL!" suddenly yells a pained voice up ahead, startling you. "D-don't leave me here!..."

A dark firgure up ahead, lying by the side of the road against a rock, slowly raises a hand in your direction. The voice is strained, dry, heavy with a sense of dread. Cautiously approaching, you realize it's a man in his sixties and in very rough shape.
The old man looks beaten, dehydrated and whatever he wore before is now in rags. Black rags. If they bore any insignia at any point, they are no longer recognizable.

"Please..."

Passing him by, or going around him, would not be hard to do. He seems to be in a bad spot, but if there's one thing that holds tue about Bedlam, is that you should trust nobody. With that said, will you approach the man, or ignore him and move on?
Alice hated maps, and Alice also hated walking for ages and ages with no end in sight, filled with dread and in this miserable outfit in the miserable heat. Well, she'd signed up for Hell, and at least this was relatively peaceful Hell, even if Alice suspected it of being otherwise. Perhaps it was past experiences talking, but she just couldn't shake the bad sensation she had, warning her of something being so very wrong.

A voice made her jump, Zoey immediately tensing up and ready to jump into action. Only, it's an elderly man, and Alice's heart lurches at the sight of him. He's a total mess, for sure. There's no way that Alice can just leave him, but she also knows Bedlam and knows her mission. This could easily be a trap, or Alice could be seen aiding an enemy or acting soft. The blonde can't risk either.

"I won't leave you, don't worry..." Alice trailed off ominously, procuring one of the bright spheres from her belt as well as the large, cool plastic water bottle. Its temperature was unfortunately beginning to rise in the heat, but that would soon be sorted, as in a small burst of hearts an Alolan Vulpix appeared. "Nina, use your frosty breath to cool these water bottles and this man here. And then use hypnosis on him."

The Pokemon was a little surprised at her order but didn't disobey. She used a weakened version of one of her moves to ensure that the water was cold, and Alice handed the bottle to the suffering man. Then, glassy eyes alight with a freezing, psychic blue, Nina tried to induce him with hypnotism. "I need you to tell me how you got in this state, and whether you're with the Ribs and Shells. Tell me everything you know about them, and the Marshalls, too." Alice said firmly. If he was innocent she'd feel bad, but hey, at least then she could whisk him off to safety and she wouldn't have abandoned some old man to die.
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Old 05-19-2018, 01:16 PM   #460
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Meetan:

"In Romma, be Romman", as the saying goes. And so, you take a very Bedlam-like approach to the situation, choosing to mentally probe the frail man before he (or anyone else) has a chance to ambush you.

His trembling hands reach for the ice-cold water but struggle to grab the bottle, and even raising it to his lips proves to be a herculean task, so weakened he has become. The way he eyes the drink, however, makes it clear he has been longing for a chance to kill his thirst for a long time.

Even so, before he can have a proper drink, your pristine-white Vulpix locks her magical gaze on him. Her eyes glow blue, and soon thereafter so do the man's, and Nina begins to pierce the man's mind scavenging for information.

However, he resists.

Flailing his arms about before clutching his head in his hands, the old man screams as he realizes what you're trying to do, as if he's been subjected to it before. Eventually, under the psychic hold that is being used for probing rather than inducing sleep as normally, he begins to crack, but maybe not how you would expect.

"I... I know nothing! You can't... please, stop! They'll... they'll kill..." he stammers, voice failing him on occasion due to the dryness of his throat. "Rigel will kill me! Please, I beg you... I... beg..."

Suddenly, his eyes glaze over; his head drops and he exhales one last time. The old man has died from the strain.

Nina looks at you, uncertain how to react. Did she kill him? Did he kill himself by resisting? Was she to blame?...
The elder lies motionless on the floor, and there seems to be nobody else around to judge you for what just happened. You will never know if this was a trap, but if it was, it seems the man was acting alone...

Now what?
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Old Yesterday, 08:43 AM   #461
Meetan
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Maskerade View Post
Meetan:

"In Romma, be Romman", as the saying goes. And so, you take a very Bedlam-like approach to the situation, choosing to mentally probe the frail man before he (or anyone else) has a chance to ambush you.

His trembling hands reach for the ice-cold water but struggle to grab the bottle, and even raising it to his lips proves to be a herculean task, so weakened he has become. The way he eyes the drink, however, makes it clear he has been longing for a chance to kill his thirst for a long time.

Even so, before he can have a proper drink, your pristine-white Vulpix locks her magical gaze on him. Her eyes glow blue, and soon thereafter so do the man's, and Nina begins to pierce the man's mind scavenging for information.

However, he resists.

Flailing his arms about before clutching his head in his hands, the old man screams as he realizes what you're trying to do, as if he's been subjected to it before. Eventually, under the psychic hold that is being used for probing rather than inducing sleep as normally, he begins to crack, but maybe not how you would expect.

"I... I know nothing! You can't... please, stop! They'll... they'll kill..." he stammers, voice failing him on occasion due to the dryness of his throat. "Rigel will kill me! Please, I beg you... I... beg..."

Suddenly, his eyes glaze over; his head drops and he exhales one last time. The old man has died from the strain.

Nina looks at you, uncertain how to react. Did she kill him? Did he kill himself by resisting? Was she to blame?...
The elder lies motionless on the floor, and there seems to be nobody else around to judge you for what just happened. You will never know if this was a trap, but if it was, it seems the man was acting alone...

Now what?
Alice had not expected that at all, evidently. She hadn't anticipated so severe a reaction, especially from a man so old. Of course, she'd also wanted him to take a drink first, but that seemed like a tiny issue compared to the rest of this mess. "I... Shit." She cursed, aware of how still Zoey had gotten and the way that Nina was looking at her. The poor Vulpix looked distraught, which was how Alice had felt. Murdering a poacher in Minnao Isle had fucked her up enough, but at least then the adrenaline from the gunshot wound had sort of messed that memory up a bit. This? Well...

"I'm not sure we could have saved him anyway. If he was that dehydrated and traumatised, we probably got here too late - and we're assuming he's on the good side, too." Alice said. She crouched down, fluffing Nina's fur reassuringly. To the fox's surprise, after closing the stranger's eyes, Alice began patting him down and checking his pockets for anything that might have been useful or any clues about his identity. "At least if he's got anything on him that might help us, he won't have died in vain. If not, the Shells might be able to tell us something when we get there. I should call the Marshalls and ask who Rigel is..."

Nina gave a small coo of affirmation, but couldn't take her eyes away from the corpse. Alice wasn't going to put her away when they eventually moved on. She probably needed a carry and cuddle, and that aside, Nina was naturally cooler, which was refreshing in this nasty outfit and the spring heat.
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Old Today, 12:36 AM   #462
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Originally Posted by Raves View Post
BEDLAM RIDGE
The Temporary City Zone

Shanty Heights (Neutral): As with any city, upper and lower class are divided, and to the unfortunates of the Shiny Heights sector to the south, the Shells and Ribs have made the location their battleground. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, the people of the christened Shanty Heights struggle through life, trapped on all sides with their lives and livelihoods at stake, whether it be from the ruthless Shells or the rascally Ribs. What they do possess is companionship, and a yearning to flee the city as refugees, and will be willing to give whatever it takes to ensure their freedom from the bedlam. The pokemon who call Shanty Heights home are those who possess what the people do not: Freedom of movement and little worry for the battles around them. Reply in Violet.
Bedlam Heights was an oddity for Isaac. It reminded him so much of his home in Unova, but it was torn apart by gang activity and the poor people that chose to stay behind are still forced to suffer their wrath. As he walked along the war torn Shanty Heights, he couldn't help but keep looking behind him. It was frightening to be in such a place. It wasn't like looking behind him constantly was out of the ordinary. In any other region he would have to do the same to avoid any sort of publicity, but this was so much different. If a Shell or Rib snuck up behind him, he'd be toast. And he certainly didn't want that.

He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he felt comforted in knowing that he had his Pokemon to rely on. His Tynamo floated beside him, ebbing and flowing through the air as he followed his master. It didn't like this place, something about it made it's gills feel tight. But he was here to obey, and he made sure that his master knew that he was with him no matter what. He let out a small call, causing Isaac to turn to him.

"Don't worry Jericho." Isaac murmured into his hands as he lit up a cigarette. "I'm sure this place is abandoned. There should be nothing to worry about." He pulled the cigarette away from his lips and let out a puff of smoke. Isaac may sound confident, but Jericho knew deep down that he was just as afraid as he was.
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