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Old 05-13-2017, 08:59 PM   #76
Whimsy
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neverthrive:

You take some time to consider whether this was all one big trap, before ultimately shrugging it off and going for the gold-spewing shell. As your hands touch the surface of the shell, you finally realise something's up. The gold that you saw pouring from the shell was actually a very sticky honey. You don't have time to curse your bad luck, however, as you feel the ground around your feet start to shake and spin. Ah. Yep, definitely a trap. The orange clasps that held the shell aloft start to sink into the earth, pulling the shell, you and Greg down with it. You struggle to try to free yourself but it's no use - you just sink faster. You're almost ready to resign yourself to your fate when a loud voice booms from down the road.
"Well, look what we have here. Looks like those no-good varmints got to you too huh?
An old man, dressed in the get-up of a miner, makes his way down the road towards you twirling a spade in his hand.
"Well, you're not the only one to be fooled by them Trapinch. Although you're the first human that has. Ahaha!"
The man starts to dig the soil out from around you. You slowly find yourself able to move slightly, your arms coming free at least. He gives you a reassuring smile before offering the handle of his spade to you.
"I think I got it loosened up enough, try and grab hold of this somehow."
You pull one of your arms free and grip desperately to the spades handle. Greg manages to find a hold on your shirt. With a mighty heave, the old miner pulls you and Greg out of the makeshift quicksand. You end up sprawled across the floor beside him, gasping for air.
"Well I guess you'll want an explaination as to what just happened. I'll tell you all you about it back at my place. Come on, hurry before it comes back and wonders where you went!" The old miner gestures for you to follow him, and makes off back down the road from which he came. Do you follow him, or do you go looking elsewhere?

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Heather:

The woman is taken aback by your sudden hostility. She holds her hands up defensively.
"Heather, please. You wouldn't hurt your old Auntie Vivian would you?" She pleads. Wrong answer. You expand your Emolga's Pokeball threateningly. She tilts her head, concerned.
"Don't you remember me? Oh, this simply won't do! Come now, I'll show you everything you need to know." With that, she walks past you, pulling you by the arm. She leads you upstairs, and across the hallway to a door.
You open the door, and what you see inside the room causes you to gasp in shock. It was a master bedroom - or at least, the remains of one. Almost everything, from the walls to the bed was charred and black. The sheets and carpet were torn and frayed black. The faint yet unmistakable smell of smoke still lingered in the air. The only thing that wasn't dyed charcoal black was a white sheet that seemed to be draped over something standing in the corner. Even more surprisingly is the fact that Vivian doesn't seem to react to any of this at all. She simply strolls amidst the chaos as if she were at the park. She makes her way over to a dresser upon which an old photoframe stands. She picks the stand up, looking at it wistfully.
"This was an old family photograph of yours. You and your mother, Sarah. I knew her, you know. She told me all about you, and that boy Darren from your school. Such a pity she didn't make it..."
She hands you the photograph. It must have been an old photograph judging by the fact that everything was in black and white still. It depicted three people - Vivian, who hadn't seemed to age a day apparently as she looked the same in the photo as she does right now. Beside her stood another woman. This must have been Sarah. And between them, stood...
You couldn't believe it. You wouldn't believe it. But no matter how hard you tried to deny it, the person in the photo is definitely you - right down to your fiery ginger hair. That shade of orange in the photo was unmistakeable. You even had your black knee length dress and tennis shoes on.
"Well, Heather? Does that answer your questions?" Vivian looks at you, expectantly. You can't help but feel something is off about this whole entire thing though. What do you do?
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Old 05-13-2017, 09:30 PM   #77
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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.
Up until now, Alice Hope's adventures had been for pleasure or for her own goals and nobody else's. Of course, she had always kept in mind which of her Pokemon would suit places best. Axel had no place in Phantom Isle, for example, and Eridian was not going to be fond of icy caverns even if his raw power could eliminate most enemies in such a place. This expedition was something different, however, and it had taken more courage than anything else she had faced yet.

Spiked red trainers scraped asphalt as the young woman made her way through the shanty town, blue eyes surveying the dismal surroundings. Even in an outfit less bright, the petite blonde stood out in an area suffering this much: distressed shorts on the bottom and a cropped red and black tee on the top. A beaded necklace hung around the young woman's neck, soft material dangling from her earlobes and fluttering with the refreshing spring breeze. A black crossbody bag secured her inventory. Alice wouldn't trust a backpack or a less secure handbag not to be pickpocketed in this place, even if other areas of Bedlam Ridge were more rife with crime.

The chaos of the city was what had brought her there, after all. Although the mystery of the government building and its circulating rumours might house answers that Alice needed, she couldn't help the concern she felt knowing that so many were struggling to escape the mayhem and danger going on. Alice wasn't sure exactly what she could do to help, and she knew her life was on the line, but surely anything was better than nothing.

“You okay there, little dude?” Alice peered through her lenses down at an odd looking Lotad. Most of its features were a hot pink, and all of them were a vibrant variation of the shade. Alice had always loved the goofy water type even before she had been thrust into the world of Pokemon, and he had been the first of her team to have met, too. Their pace was lazy given its stubbly legs, and Alice would likely pick him up and carry him soon. As it was, surveying the area nice and slow was just fine. Besides, it was better than dragging her snoring Abra around or worrying about Peach the Pichu (so she had maternal instincts after all!).
"Lo, lotad, lo!" The Pokemon affirmed, jolly as ever.
“Good stuff.”

It was best they kept their guard up. Who knew what could happen here?

((Mah member post.

Active party for this adventure: Vulpix, Abra, Lotad, Pichu, Snubbull, Sableye.))

Last edited by Meetan; 09-08-2017 at 06:08 PM.
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Old 05-13-2017, 11:13 PM   #78
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THE MARSHAL'S HEADQUARTERS


BALMUND – As you make your off-hand comments about the jobs while looking them over, the receptionist grew more and more aggravated. He seemed to be taking them somewhat personally, but at the same time could not really find fault in what you had to say. He kept quiet.

“Alright, ‘Balmund of Blackthorn City.’ Here’s the deal.” He pulled out a map and smacked it down on the counter in front of you. “Ralph’s Barbecue. Don’t take this hole-in-the-wall bar and grill lightly. Years and years ago, the Marshal’s conducted one of the biggest gangbuster operations in the city’s history here. Turned out Team Rocket was using the place as a front for massive international money laundering. It led to the arrest of 223 Team Rocket members and helped contribute to their local downfall.” He took a sip from his coffee, which was now beginning to run dry. “You know how the rest of that story goes. Well, the place reformed as a legitimate restaurant, and before you knew it, business was booming. And then the council was murdered and all hell broke loose. We aren’t sure what happened, or when, but we recently received an anonymous tip that the Shells took the place back over in the name of Team Rocket.” He grimaced. “As you know, it’s been reported to be a gambling ring for down-on-their-luck citizens to bet on illegal Pokemon battles. Now, we don’t know the exact nature of what goes on down in the old speakeasy under the restaurant outside of a few details. For starters, the only day we know for certain that they gather on is Friday nights, and it just so happens that today is a Friday. Second, we don’t know what kind of Pokemon they are using in this ring, or where they are even getting them. But given that they are Shells, it doesn’t really take much stretching of the imagination to come to several possible conclusions. We’ll need hard evidence before we can truly know for sure, though.”

The receptionist furled the map and tucked it under his desk. He then pulled out a large bowl with several marked Pokeballs in it. “Should you choose to, we have several department Pokemon available to assist trainers on these types cases. You may take one with you if you wish.” The receptionist pushed the bowl forward. The marked balls read the names of each species they contained. Braviary, Growlithe, Machoke, Hawlucha, Shiftry, and Gumshoos. “You have one advantage that many of us do not. You’re an outsider, and it shows. While this place’s primary demographic are common folk who are living paycheck to paycheck, these types of shindigs also attract a lot of passing travelers, a bill you fit perfectly. Use that to your advantage.” He took another sip of his coffee, this time slurping what remained. He was not happy with this fact. “Anyway, if you want to get into the ring, you’re gonna need to do exactly as I say. You’re gonna go to the barbecue joint, and you’re gonna go up to the bar. When the bartender asks you what you want, you’re gonna tell them you want the Slowpoke Special. They’re going to take you to the back, and from there you’ll be led into the basement. We don’t really know much else, so you’re on your own from that point.” Lastly, he hands you a small shortwave radio. “If you find yourself in any sort of trouble you can’t get out of, you can use this to reach out to me. Otherwise keep it off and hidden.” He pulled out a cigarette and twisted it between his fingers. “We’ll leave the way you approach this up to you. My personal recommendation is to play dumb, get in there, partake as a spectator, and survey the area. If you get an opportunity to look around, take it. Now, given that we don’t have all the details, you’ll need to get some of that information on your own before coming up with a game plan. Now get the hell out there and clean this city up.” He waved you toward the door.

You’ll need to decide if you are taking what the receptionist is offering or not.

- -

Arriving at Ralph’s wasn’t much of a hassle. The partially burnt out neon sign reads “AL BAR CUE”, but for some reason this actually gave the place a bit of charm. You could hear music playing loudly from behind the closed doors of the locale; it seemed to be particularly bustling tonight…
Duke listens to the officer's debriefing and instructions, nodding quietly every now and then as a sign of attentiveness. Unfortunately, much of the new intel Duke did not find to be particularly useful, but at the very least it was reassuring to know that both his and the officer's plans of action were tuned to the same frequency. This sort of tasks had to be taken with due precaution, and, given the chance to pick a new (temporary) partner as back up, he thought it prudent to give it a moment of thought before moving on. His first instinct would be to pick Gumshoos given its strategic value. While Chris swept the competition with her sheer strength, Gumshoos should put its incredible patience to good use while it stakeouted for the perfect opportunity for a surprise assist. A downside however was its inability to operate at full power during nighttime, which was a well known weakness of the mostly diurnal creature. Though it was a Pokemon offered by the Marshals, and surely one trained to be up to task, Duke couldn't risk the choice failing him miserably during a time of need; not at least when he had a better pick to choose from. All things considered, he ultimately decided to settle for Hawlucha. The luchador hawks were not only proficient brawlers, but they also fancied a rather flashy style of combat, and Duke knew he would have quite an audience to entertain; it could the perfect distraction while Chris infiltrated their ranks. He fastens the ball into his belt before putting the shortwave radio into the inside pocket of his leather jacket, though not without ensuring it was properly turned off beforehand.

"Well then, I guess we're all set. I'll be back. Alive, most likely. Cheers." Turning around, he wished the other two trainers good luck on their missions before heading out to his destination, heart pounding in anticipation to what was certain to be a long night.

- -

Nonchalantly strutting into the worn-out restaurant, Duke could already feel the gaze of the locals burning into his entire being. Though his attire at the moment was mostly casual wear composed of grey kicks, overused light jeans, a white tank and brown leather jacket, his sporty bag made him easily identifiable to all but the blindest of people as a traveler. This was fine. What he needed to keep in mind was not about standing out but about maintaining the correct attitude throughout. Weakness of character, it was the one thing he would try to never show again, lest he be seen as easy prey.

Duke walks up to the bar, and signals up to the bartender, intent in placing an order for the Slowpoke Special, casually, as if he had done this before hundreds of times somewhere else. The plan had been set in motion, and while Duke and his new Hawlucha awaited for a chance to see what was like in the ring, Orchrist had already been sent to do her own reconnaissance on the outside. If all went well, she would successfully Dig into the speakeasy from the back, slithering through the air vents on her own in order to locate all the rooms of interest within. Duke hoped she wouldn't run into significant trouble along the way, or that she would at the very least deal with threats quietly, but at this point in her life he knew the Seviper had nothing left to learn from him, and whether he was present or not would make no difference. At this moment, he would have to cast aside his concern, and focus entirely on what was coming for him.
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Old 05-14-2017, 10:48 AM   #79
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Crystal Grove.

Missingno. Master
: "Was giving you the choice really necessary?" Donovan jokes as you give your word of assistance to the cause of hunting down and bringing this Black Scarab person to justice, with your own reasons for this being admittedly personal partly. "We'll get your Meowth seen to at the outpost, though for reasons that should be obvious I recommend withdrawing your Scolipede for now. Come, we head to the south."

With Salazar in the safety of his pokeball and your own safety reinforced more, you and Meowth start to follow Donovan and Hawkeye when the Chespin gives a chirp to him, showing him the tablet as he nods. Turning to you, the man explains that despite being technically wild due to lack of trainer, the Chespin mostly serves as a link between the Marshals and the Vanguard, and as such will be heading back to the headquarters to report on the recent activity, and that they'll rejoin the group in a few hours or so. The journey through the grove is relatively peaceful, and you're quick to note the architecture seems much more intricate the further south you venture, until you find yourselves at a small granite structure outside a fortified wall, with an enormous complex structure beyond the gates, the skies above absolutely swarming with flying pokemon.

"The Crimson Sanctum. The five hundred metres between here and the boundary gates down there are a no-man's zone. The Vanguard, however, are situated in the undercity," your companion explains as he unlocks the door on the granite building revealing a staircase. "Down here, and stick close. The place is a labyrinth, and the people have told stories of something unnatural said to stalk the undercity...something not of here." he whispers, as you get the feeling he's not willing to explain any further. Heading into the tunnel, you and Meowth are about to discuss the sights you've seen when a small red berry lands in the paws of your feline ally, handed by the Decidueye: a Cheri berry, which Meowth practically inhales in a manner that would make a Swalot jealous, paralysis abating though he still feels a little sore from the previous sortie.

The walk through corridors is long, and Donovan seems quite knowledgable, so if there's anything you and Meowth were curious on regarding the scenario before you, be it the sanctum, the Shells, the unnatural phenomenom, or even about the man himself and his group, now would be the best time.
Keith chuckled as Donovan joked about whether it was nevessary to give him a choice in the matter. He then stated that while Meowth would be treated at the outpost, it was best that he withdraw Salazar. Keith nodded, turning to the grey Scolipede. "He's not wrong, Salazar," he said. "One case of mistaken identity is enough for me." He held out Salazar's Poké Ball. "Take a good rest, man," he said, withdrawing the Megapede Pokémon.

Chespin showed Donovan the tablet as they headed out, whereupon Donovan explained Chespin's position- technically a wild Pokémon, considering he had no Trainer, but still serving as a link between the Marshals and the Vanguard. He'd be returning to headquarters to report on what went down, and would rejoin them in a few hours. Keith nodded at this, taking in his surroundings as they traveled- as they continued south, the architecture seemed to get more and more intricate. This culminated at a small granite structure outside a fortified wall. Beyond this, the skies were packed with Flying-types. Donovan explained that between this point and the boundary gates, it was a no-man's zone. He then went on to explain that the Vanguard were situated in the undercity. To drive home the point, he opened the door to reveal... a staircase. "Whoa," Keith remarked. An underground city. He'd heard of an underground city once before- Grandma Masters had visited such a city during her vacation in Orre, though apparently it's since been abandoned and destroyed. But enough dwelling on that- Meowth was now shuddering because of Donovan's mention of an otherworldly being said to stalk the undercity. Keith followed Donovan, while giving Meowth a look, silently telling him to stop being so scared. Though Meowth wasn't too inclined to take this advice, he was much more inclined to take the Cheri Berry that the Decidueye handed him. Meowth gobbled up the paralysis-curing berry, giving a sigh of relief as he felt its healing effects. "Aaah, dat's better," Meowth nodded.

Keith nodded, smiling as he followed Donovan. The opportunity to ask questions seemed to be upon them, considering the walk they had ahead of them, but Keith had so much he wanted to know about all this he had no idea where to begin. "So, Donovan," he said, upon finally deciding on a starting point. "One thing I gotta know... I got no sympathy for murderers like the Black Scarab, and I'm all for stopping him and the rest of the Shells, but... will I need to kill anybody?" he asked, somewhat nervously. He recalled with no fondness when he'd been recruited by a group of poisonous ninjas who expected him to assassinate a Pokémon poacher. As much as he despised people like that, killing was still something he didn't do if he could avoid it.
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Old 05-14-2017, 10:54 AM   #80
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neverthrive:

You take some time to consider whether this was all one big trap, before ultimately shrugging it off and going for the gold-spewing shell. As your hands touch the surface of the shell, you finally realise something's up. The gold that you saw pouring from the shell was actually a very sticky honey. You don't have time to curse your bad luck, however, as you feel the ground around your feet start to shake and spin. Ah. Yep, definitely a trap. The orange clasps that held the shell aloft start to sink into the earth, pulling the shell, you and Greg down with it. You struggle to try to free yourself but it's no use - you just sink faster. You're almost ready to resign yourself to your fate when a loud voice booms from down the road.
"Well, look what we have here. Looks like those no-good varmints got to you too huh?
An old man, dressed in the get-up of a miner, makes his way down the road towards you twirling a spade in his hand.
"Well, you're not the only one to be fooled by them Trapinch. Although you're the first human that has. Ahaha!"
The man starts to dig the soil out from around you. You slowly find yourself able to move slightly, your arms coming free at least. He gives you a reassuring smile before offering the handle of his spade to you.
"I think I got it loosened up enough, try and grab hold of this somehow."
You pull one of your arms free and grip desperately to the spades handle. Greg manages to find a hold on your shirt. With a mighty heave, the old miner pulls you and Greg out of the makeshift quicksand. You end up sprawled across the floor beside him, gasping for air.
"Well I guess you'll want an explaination as to what just happened. I'll tell you all you about it back at my place. Come on, hurry before it comes back and wonders where you went!" The old miner gestures for you to follow him, and makes off back down the road from which he came. Do you follow him, or do you go looking elsewhere?
Erven and Greg struggled to pick themselves up, having nary a moment to catch their breaths before having to decide whether to follow this seemingly helpful old timer to wherever his place may be or simply let him vanish into the distance and get as far away from this place as they possibly could. Erven glanced at Greg from the corner of his eye to get a read on his partner's impression of the situation. The Squirtle looked to be ready to follow after the prospector, and this was all the push Erven needed to make the decision. That, and the guy had just saved them from a horrendous fate, and being that the young trainer was a relatively trusting individual, Erven thought the old man to be a stand up kind of guy.

"H-hold on a second, w-we're coming!" Erven managed to call out to the prospector, despite his still aching lungs, and hurried to catch up to him, Greg lagging behind, slightly, as he carried himself on substantially shorter legs. Erven wasn't sure what was going on in this town, but sticking around with someone with as much experience with such happenings as this old man appeared to have seemed like a good idea to him, at least. They were promised answers and Erven was, by then, rather eager to hear them. The quest for turtles could take a back seat for a bit, long enough, he figured, for them to get to the bottom of this.
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Old 05-14-2017, 10:58 AM   #81
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THE MARSHAL'S HEADQUARTERS


Brave Saix - Being the third to choose your mission, you wait for the other two to leave the building before coming to a conclusion. One of the trainers was going to the park, and the other was going to be investigating the gambling ring in hopes of finding out if there was a connection between it and the nightclub. As soon as the trainers took their leave, you snatched the paper out of the clipboard. Jill excitedly took the paper from your hands and flapped it over to the receptionist, Officer Ehrmantraut. He slowly grabbed it from her claws, and then looked up to you. The unlit cigarette he had sitting between his lips fell out. He grimaced. “Kid. Are you sure you want to do this?” You nod excitedly. Your Noibat, Jill, lets out a screech of excitement and confidence. The receptionist sighed. He stood up. “So be it.”

He pulled a large file box from under his desk and dropped it onto the counter. This guy seems to have a lot of boxes under his desk. You wondered how much room was down there anyway. Oh well. “Listen up. We really do not know much about this case right now. Our intel is extremely limited, but that’s where you come in. The Shells have one big problem, and they’ve recently realized that: their numbers are dwindling. Because they are remnants of the city’s Team Rocket prior to its downfall, their numbers have only been decreasing with time due to members leaving, being arrested, or dying. So, they’ve opened up recruitment. They’re marketing themselves as the chemo for the Rib cancer, so to speak. They want to annihilate the Ribs and, in their ideal world, rule the town with an iron fist. The thing is though, they aren’t recruiting just anyone, at least not yet. They’re only recruiting family and friends of current or former Shells. And surprisingly, it’s working.” He began to boil a new pot of coffee. “Much of the town’s citizens are tired of the ongoing war between the Shells and the Ribs and would rather see a lawful-evil rule than a chaotic one full of vandalism and petty crime. In other words, a lot of people would prefer organized crime, believing it would clean the town back up.”

He slammed his fists onto the table, catching you and Jill of guard. “It’s such bullshit. We don’t need either of them. They BOTH need to go!” He was shaking and his face was beet red. He slowly reached for the cigarette he dropped, lit it, and then cleared his throat. “Anyway.” He lifted the lid of the file box. “Former Rocket member Thomas McLarty. KIA in a police operation seven years ago while robbing a bank. He was killed by one of our undercover agents on the scene when he nearly blew out some poor clerk’s brains. Saved her life, it did.” Ehrmantraut looked a little sad. “Turned out he was the sole provider for his younger brother James McLarty, who went into foster care after his brother was killed.” He turned to you, looking you up and down. “You’re about the right age now to be his brother, James. You see where I’m going with this?” He lifted an old Rocket shirt out of the box and handed it to you. “You’re not going to wear this, but you are going to keep it on you. “Once you arrive at the nightclub, you’re going to hand this to the guard, and tell them you’re James McClarty. You need to come up with a reason, but tell them you want to join. Whatever happens from that point forward is up to you – you’re on your own. We’re blind on this.”

He pulled out another bowl of Pokeballs, like he did earlier with another trainer, but this one was different. Each ball had a small label on it: Poliwrath, Hariyama, Gallade, Escavalier, Pangoro. “These are the department’s prized shared Pokemon. We don’t have many, but we save them for cases like this one. Please, take one with you. You will, of course, return it once your mission is successful… if it’s successful... but in the event that you get stuck between a rock and a hard place and decide you need backup, the option is there. Don’t get in over your head if you can help it. Ideally, you should not have to use the borrowed Pokemon at all. Going the entire mission without its use is both preferable and signifies you did not get put in a situation you couldn’t get out of, but regardless, we all need a backup plan.”

“Lastly, take this shortwave radio. If you are in an emergency, let me know immediately. It’s small enough to hide, so keep it somewhere hidden and safe. Now get going. And come back alive. We need that Pokemon back.”

He insists you borrow a Pokemon for backup and sends you on your way to the Delphroxx Nightclub…

Sypher eyed the bowl placed before him, quickly narrowing his choices down to two: the Pangoro and the Gallade. Both had, in some capacity, the ability to sense their surrounding which would come in handy if things went south. Reaching to the pile, he grabbed the sphere labeled "GALLADE". "My dad has one on his team. It helps add a bit of variety to all those fairy-types he uses. I think he be wishing me luck right about now..." A grin forms on his face as Sypher finally becomes calm and collected. "I'll be sure to keep you safe!" HE packs the ball and other items into his pack, taking care to hide the radio and the Gallade within arms reach.

Turning for the door, he looks back to the receptionist and asks her to congratulate the other two when they return and maybe "send them his way if they are up for it." Leaving he starts to form a basic plan from the information he was given.
  1. I'm James McLarty, younger brother of Thomas McLarty. We were all each other had in the world.
  2. I didn't know it at the time, but Thomas was a TR member years ago. He lost his life when a bank robbery went south seven years ago.
  3. After that I was placed into foster care. They're good people.
  4. My foster family is getting hit hard by the Ribs. They've attacked my family and the last straw was them stealing what money we had left for food out on 17th and Centrifuge.
  5. I found this shirt amoungst what I had left of Thomas' belongings. So I decided to do for my family what he did for me.

"Okay, that sounds convincing enough. I just need to keep it from sounding rehearsed."

~~~~

Arriving at the nightclub, Sypher could feel the air of crime that permeated the city slowly get heavier and mixed with the stench of depravity. Finding the entrance, he walked up to the guard handing him the shirt "Name's James McLarty, that belonged to my brother James. Y'all are recruiting right? Cause I want in."
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Old 05-14-2017, 10:37 PM   #82
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Heather:

The woman is taken aback by your sudden hostility. She holds her hands up defensively.
"Heather, please. You wouldn't hurt your old Auntie Vivian would you?" She pleads. Wrong answer. You expand your Emolga's Pokeball threateningly. She tilts her head, concerned.
"Don't you remember me? Oh, this simply won't do! Come now, I'll show you everything you need to know." With that, she walks past you, pulling you by the arm. She leads you upstairs, and across the hallway to a door.
You open the door, and what you see inside the room causes you to gasp in shock. It was a master bedroom - or at least, the remains of one. Almost everything, from the walls to the bed was charred and black. The sheets and carpet were torn and frayed black. The faint yet unmistakable smell of smoke still lingered in the air. The only thing that wasn't dyed charcoal black was a white sheet that seemed to be draped over something standing in the corner. Even more surprisingly is the fact that Vivian doesn't seem to react to any of this at all. She simply strolls amidst the chaos as if she were at the park. She makes her way over to a dresser upon which an old photoframe stands. She picks the stand up, looking at it wistfully.
"This was an old family photograph of yours. You and your mother, Sarah. I knew her, you know. She told me all about you, and that boy Darren from your school. Such a pity she didn't make it..."
She hands you the photograph. It must have been an old photograph judging by the fact that everything was in black and white still. It depicted three people - Vivian, who hadn't seemed to age a day apparently as she looked the same in the photo as she does right now. Beside her stood another woman. This must have been Sarah. And between them, stood...
You couldn't believe it. You wouldn't believe it. But no matter how hard you tried to deny it, the person in the photo is definitely you - right down to your fiery ginger hair. That shade of orange in the photo was unmistakeable. You even had your black knee length dress and tennis shoes on.
"Well, Heather? Does that answer your questions?" Vivian looks at you, expectantly. You can't help but feel something is off about this whole entire thing though. What do you do?
The old lady was quickly on the defensive as Heather drew Grace's Ball, claiming to be her "Auntie Vivian." She'd never known an aunt by that name, but given her position, she was far from in a position to assume that such a person didn't exist. Either way, she didn't trust this lady, and expanded the sphere in her hands. The woman grew even more concerned, suddenly dragging her to a room to show her "everything she needed to know." The woman led her upstairs to a door, Magus hurriedly following behind.

I don't like this, Heather. You need to separate yourself from that woman as soon as possible. the ghost urged, but Heather didn't have the time to respond, as the door opened up into...

Oh, Arceus. Not this. Anything but this. Heather would have gasped in shock, at least if the sight didn’t make her immediately want to retch. Flashes of memories went by in her brain, causing her to stagger back as her hands flew to her mouth to stymie the urge to vomit, running into Vivian, who simply pushed her back into the room. Heather's grip on Grace's Ball turned to steel, her knuckles positively white. While she at least gathered up some semblance of composure, the redhead was still clearly disturbed by this sight, barely thinking rationally. And yet Vivian walked through it like it was nothing, not even batting an eye at the charred everything in the room. Instead, she went to an old photo frame, somehow untouched by the fiery apocalypse that once visited this room, and showed Heather the photo in it, drawling on some spooky, inaccurate speech about how her mother, whose name was not actually Sarah, for the record, had passed and Darren was a classmate of hers. But Heather was only barely tuned in to that part. She was transfixed on the photo before her.

Heather's eyes widened at the sight. It couldn't be real. There wasn't any way. The photo showed Vivian, her mom beside her, and between them...her. Her, exactly. Little black dress, fiery red hair, even the tennis shoes! But this photo, it had to be so old! There was no way this photo could exist-if it was that old, then Heather wouldn't look like that at all, certainly not wearing a dress! Her gaze finally separated from the image as fear began to intrude upon her sensibilities, meeting Vivian's once more, a sharp glare.

"I'll ask you again, one more time." Heather said slowly, shakily setting the photo back on the dresser, the effects of the room on her starting to amplify. "Who the hell are you!? My mother is alive, I don't have an aunt, I've never known a Darren, and that photo cannot possibly exist! So out with it: who are you and what do you want!?" she growled, backing towards the covered object in the corner. It was at this moment, however, that fear finally took over rationality. "No, don't answer that, I already know! You're here to do his dirty work, aren't you!? You're here to finish what he started-you're here to kill me! You're going to burn me alive, just like you did this room, aren't you!?" she shouted.

Heather, please, calm- Magus tried to say, but Heather wordlessly returned him to his Poké Ball, once again holding Grace's out threateningly.

"Well too bad, lady! You miscalculated. One wrong move and there will be enough amps through your body to down a full-grown man, understand me!?" she shouted, a wild expression in her eyes. There was no reasoning with her in this state. Even if she was certainly exaggerating Grace's strength, she was in no position to hesitate if the woman did anything that could even remotely be considered threatening.
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Old 05-15-2017, 01:30 AM   #83
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PikaGod: Walking through the doors of the high security building before you, you realise immediately the starkly grim situation that the city found itself in. The disrepair of the headquarters was somewhat astonishing, the place giving off a decidedly temporary feel. Wooden desks were situated around the lobby, worn detectives desperately trying to remain awake as they worked. As if manifest in this single lobby, the dark outlook for the future of Bedlam was etched onto the face of every detective in the dimly lit room. Their calloused hands worked furiously over documents, each no doubt detailing the most recent ongoing activities of the two warring gangs. Some managed to stave off the tiredness by drinking cups of coffee, while others smoked prodigally. It is one of these officers who approaches you on noticing your presence.

Lumbering over from his desk, the large yet portly man looks down his nose at you through small, black eyes. While the detectives in the room certainly looked far from their best, this man in particular had distinctly unkempt attire. His shirt was stained here and there with blotches of what could only be meals previously consumed, and his jacket that he wore over the once white shirt was frayed at the cuffs and seemed a size too small - it had certainly never been buttoned at the front in quite some time. Despite this, the general air exuded from the man held a sense of authority, though the way his colleagues eyed him suspiciously made it clear he was not a welcome addition to the squad. As if to punctuate the sentiment that oozed from his coworkers, his gruff tone barks out a greeting .. of sorts.

"Come t' 'give us some help', eh?"

His words had a sneering accusation to them combined with a heavy cloud of smoke which crawled forth as he spoke, the cigar clenched between his teeth never once seeming in danger of falling from his mouth.

"Well, sorry t' tell you that the only work I have for someone like you is patrol duty. You walk around the streets surroundin' the Headquarters and make sure to chase off any stragglers that come to cause us bother. Only the small fry though. Anything bigger to fry, you come see us immediately. Wouldn't want someone of your 'delicate' disposition getting hurt now, would we?"

His final words are marred with a gruesome smile, his lips widening enough to show a number of teeth were missing from their place.
It took all of Melody's will power not to physically cringe when she saw the officer who approached her. He had the air around him that made her feel like she was back with one of those really creepy managers who seemed... a little bit too interested in her. She took what she hoped was an invisible deep breath and channeled her disgust into a burst of pep.

"Why yes, I am here to give a helping hand," Melody said, ignoring the unsubtle accusation the officer's words carried.

Die in a tire fire you goddamn monster pig she thought, a smile on her face, pressing her leg against Princess to stop the Stufful from jumping up onto the desk. It was actually difficult for Melody to keep talking to this man, no wonder those other officers gave this officer those looks.
"Patrolling on the street, huh?" she said, feigning an innocent and naive voice. "Sounds like it could be a very difficult job. Good thing that you are thinking about making sure that people of my 'disposition' don't get hurt. Wouldn't want to see something obscene and swoon, would I? But, as difficult as it could be, I think that I can handle a little patrolling. And don't worry, I'll make sure to stay away from anything that looks dangerous."

She smiled and turned away, her smile turning into a grimace of disgust as she and Princess left the station. While Melody thought that the officer's... everything had been insanely offputting, she did have to wonder if a simple patrol could actually end up being dangerous.
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Old 05-15-2017, 09:07 PM   #84
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Bedlam Quarry

Connor - Immediately upon entering the mine you can feel that the air is completely stagnant and the smell of mold is lingering. The humidity is so high that you begin to slightly sweat although it’s not particularly hot and you haven’t done anything to exert yourself. You blink a few times as your eyes take time to adjust since there seems to be no source of light present, it’s almost as if the light from outside is forbidden from seeping in. As you try and figure out your surroundings by taking a few steps forward you suddenly hear a loud crunch under your foot. Since you can’t see very well you reach down to feel for whatever it was only to discover it’s a flashlight! A flashlight you busted by stepping on. You whack it against your palm a few times and suddenly it turns on! Phew. It seems to be a little dented but otherwise it’s okay! You use the flashlight to examine your surroundings, it seems that before you lay 3 different tunnels.

The center tunnel stands out to you right away as being the most well constructed and is more clearly carved out than the other two. It has an arch entryway and a sign placed above, you walk closer aiming your flashlight at the sign so that you can read it. The sign is slanted and looks very worn, it is also covered in graffiti that you can’t really make out but you can still make out the words “Mining Office” written in basic text. After you finish examining the sign you aim your flash light down the tunnel so that you can get a better look. You see that support arches line the tunnel and that there are lamps mounted along the walls on both sides as well as electrical cables connecting each one. You notice a lever labeled “power” directly next to you so you decide to pull the lever but nothing happens. From where you’re standing you can’t see the entrance to the office so it would seem that you’d have to go further down in order to enter it.

“Let’s go boys!” Joss had decided that now was the perfect time to use one of his most annoying catchphrases once again. You are of course startled by the sudden noise since you had been so focused on examining your surroundings and drop your flashlight. Fortunately, it stayed lit and when you reach down to pick it up you noticed what looks like golden dust on the ground. After you firmly have the flashlight back in your hand you look at the golden dust and see that it actually appears to be a trail that just so happens to start from right where you’re standing. You follow the trail and it leads to the tunnel on the right, you don’t want to enter the tunnel without getting a good look at what’s down there first. Aiming the light down the tunnel you can clearly see that the gold dust leads to a pile of rocks laying next to an overturned busted mine cart. It looks like the rocks were probably the contents of the mine cart before it met its demise. The rocks don’t look like they would be very hard to move and you can’t help but be curious about why the gold dust is leading to it.

You begin to take a step toward the rocks but are suddenly distracted by the sound of muffled voices behind you! Your body jolts and you quickly turn around while forming goosebumps up your arm but you see no one. The voices sound like they are getting closer but then they sound like they are getting further away this pattern keeps repeating and no matter how hard you try you can't seem to make out any words. You were frozen to the spot for a while but eventually after a few deep breaths you are able to think and move again. You can tell that those voices are coming from the tunnel on the left and you aren’t so sure about whether or not you should actually go over there and investigate.
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Old 05-16-2017, 02:02 AM   #85
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TheKnightsFury – The receptionist sighed as the man who called himself Balmund of Blackthorn City took his leave. He was clearly irritated by the amount of work you were giving him in regards to your heavy gear. Frankly, he was almost certainly more irritated by the fact that he had just run out of coffee, and the pot on the counter behind him was bone-dry. If you had to guess, it was most likely the only reason he hadn’t passed out where he stood. He rose up from his chair, hunched over, and let out a grunt. He pulled a small filing cart with an unhinged wheel out from underneath the counter. Piece by piece, he lifted your equipment into it. He slowly began to push the cart down the hall to his right. “Locker room,” he noted, nodding his head towards the direction he was walking. You apologized to him, but he shrugged his shoulders silently. “Just stay put for a moment. I’m going to need to debrief you further.”

The receptionist returned moments later with a cardboard box under his arm. He plopped it down onto the desk with an uncaring thud. He leaned one arm against the counter and scratched his five o’clock shadow with the other. “Alright, listen up, Jayson,” he grunted. “The job may say it’s Rank C, but truthfully the department isn’t entirely sure if this particular complaint is part of something potentially much bigger,” he said. He pulled a wooden chair out from behind him, without breaking eye contact, spun it around, draped himself across it legs spread, and leaned forward. “Because of the nature of the complaint, the department couldn’t justify a ranking higher than C. But as far as the higher ups are concerned, moving forward, you should be prepared for anything to happen. In all of our time dealing with the Ribs, we’ve learned that they can be unpredictable, and disjointed. Sometimes a call is just a couple of punks spray painting crude images onto the side of some abandoned house, and other times it’s a huge drug bust. Am I making sense?” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What I am telling you is that, even though this is a Rank C mission, you need to go in with the mindset that this is something even higher. Because quite frankly, it could turn into that.” The receptionist stood up and kicked his chair to the side. He pulled open the box on the counter and revealed to you its contents. “Here. I want you to take these.”

He reached in. The first thing he pulled out was a small, shortwave radio no bigger than the palm of your hand. “Its range isn’t great, but given that you’re not going very far, it shouldn’t be a problem. Keep it safe, hidden, and turned off unless you really need it. I will be standing by on the receiver if you need anything or have any information to share – in fact, if you make any sort of discovery that becomes too much for you to handle, I expect you will inform us immediately, or else you’ll just end up like…” He cleared his throat. “Anyways. Onto the next items,” he said as he lifted some tattered garments out of the box. “Taking off your… whatever that junk was, and rustling up your hair a bit, isn’t going to be enough for you to blend in. With all due respect, you stand out like a Glameow in a litter of Rockruff.” He handed you a blue beanie, a muscle shirt, and worn out jeans. “These are the types of clothes our officers wear when they go undercover. Since you’re essentially doing just that, I highly suggest you put on at least some of these items. You’ll blend in more.” Finally, he lifted out a Pokeball. “This,” he said in a hushed tone, “is off the record. This one isn’t even sanctioned by the department. Only use this if you have no choice. Consider it a backup plan. If my boss finds out I am lending you this, I could lose my job. But,” his voice cracked a little. He cleared his throat. “I don’t want someone else disappearing because we didn’t take the necessary precautions.” He regained composure. It was odd; in the short time you’ve known him, this struck you as a particularly vulnerable side of the officer that you, perhaps, weren’t supposed to see. “I can’t stress it enough. Only use this Pokemon if you are out of options. Our work is supposed to be subtle, calculated, and efficient, something that this... is not.”

He walks you to the door. He seemed less irritated now, and more sympathetic. “If you need me, you know where to reach me. And by the way, you can call me Detective Ehrmantraut.”

You need to decide whether or not you have accepted your offered items, or if you will stow them away.

- - -

You arrived at Goldenridge Park with seemingly no complications. A few suspicious characters shot you some passing glances as you made your way to the park, but otherwise no problem. The tall, gated entry to the park was broken, one side hanging on loose hinges, slowly swaying in the wind. Three medium build men stood just past the gate leaning against a tree, smoking. They were stocky and lanky, and seemed somewhat on edge about something. They definitely looked like common street thugs, whatever common street thugs looked like. Behind them, you could see a bit into the park. From what you could tell, there was a half-standing playground, a gazebo next to an old well with broken ropes, and a small lake. Suddenly, one of the men takes notice of you, and the other two turn their attention toward you as well. They flick their cigarettes on the ground, stamp them out, and walk toward you slowly, smiling. One cracks his knuckles as a grin stretches across his face. “Well well well, boys,” one said, “looks like we’ve got company. I haven’t seen this one around here before! I always love a fresh face. Unless you’re a dirty Pignite, because then,” he motioned toward his pocket, patting it lightly, “we might have a problem. If you catch my drift. You get one shot at this, and one shot only, pal. Are you with us, or are you against us?”
Still feeling a little sorry for dumping so much of his gear on Detective Ehrmantraut, Jayson quickly accepted the clothes offered to him and got changed. He barely recognised himself in the new attire, hopefully that meant the thugs that roamed the streets would be more willing to accept him. Ready to take to his task, Jayson accepted the Pokeball that the detective offered him, his curiosity peaked as to what might be inside. Of course he would prefer to rely on his own Pokemon for this mission, but having an ace up his sleeve could be helpful.

Goldenridge Park was less pleasing to the eye than expected, it seemed to be claimed by disrepair. At least he didn't he didn't have to go looking for suspects, three hoodlums engaged him nearly instantly, going straight down the path of intimidation. Jayson had dealt with these types before, he couldn't appear unsettled, nor could he seem too confident.

Jayson acknowledged their presence with a quick flip of his head, before making his way over with no real haste, his thumbs tucked into the pockets of his jeans. Meeting the gaze of the thug who addressed him, Jayson offered a reply, his voice as deep as ever.

"Hey fellas, good day for it right? Man, I just rolled into town and all these prissy, high society sorts getting around makes me sick. You know where a man can get his hands dirty? I'm a bit strapped for cash and could do with a little action to pad my wallet....."

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Old 05-17-2017, 03:21 PM   #86
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Deoxys: Despite the possibility of danger, you decide to press on and try to come to the bottom of the strange happenings. Believing it to be supernatural in nature, you call upon the assistance of Umbra, the Umbreon appearing in a flash of red light. After indicating the path you were to follow, the Umbreon takes the lead, stalking carefully ahead with his nose angled towards the ground. It becomes immediately evident that something was not right. His fur raises on end involuntarily, some instinct deep inside him screaming that there was something strange, foreign about what his brain was processing ... but nothing seems to come to his mind. Finally reaching the door, you put a hand to the steel handle, flinching immediately at the sudden sensation of intense burning. This time, as you pull your hand away, angry red welts are forming across the skin of your palm ... only for your vision to blur a moment later, all signs of injury vanishing as quickly as they appeared. By your side, Umbra whines, drawing your attention to the floor.

A stark crimson pool was beginning to ooze from under the door, the substance certainly resembling blood, but something was off about the texture and consistency. It was too viscous and thick, pooling around your shoes in an awkward manner. Stranger still, when you pulled your feet away from the gathering puddle, your footprints remained, the ooze not shifting to fill in the prints left there. With Umbra now seeming decidedly spooked, you try the handle to the door once more, and this time the old hinges give way, the heavy fire door swinging open to reveal what was beyond. A darkened corridor leads deeper into the building, with numerous doors leading off the corridor here and there - presumably the office spaces of people who once worked here. The corridor is sparsely lit, the little electricity still running through the building only reaching a few intact bulbs overhead. As you consider the corridor before you, the grinding noise from earlier grows more intense and, most worryingly, louder.


PikaGod: For a moment, it seems like the detective before you is going to rise to your barely masked sass, his eyes narrowing and his posture slouching, the way he was considering you with such scrutiny distinctly uncomfortable. Then, with an exhaled snort, he turns on his heel, walking towards an abandoned desk and waving a hand behind him as he goes.

"Yeah, yeah. Make sure you check in with the register desk once you're done. Let me get back to doin' some real work."

The emphasis put on "real" was clearly yet another jibe at you, but despite your disgruntled Stufful you choose to save your true feelings for after you had turned your back on him. One of the younger officers stationed around the room notices this as you leave, shooting you a brief grin and mouthing an apology.

Stepping out into the not so fresh air once more, you look around, noticing for the first time just how grey everything looked. If depression were a colour, this would be it for certain, the drab exterior of the surrounding buildings doing nothing to help the grim cloud hanging overhead, threatening to come thundering down with rain at any moment. Still, you had a job to do, and it isn't long before you come across something which catches your attention. As you round the corner of one of the nearby streets, not having long since left the headquarters behind you, a young girl comes crashing headlong into you. You both fall to the ground, and after fending off the shock of the sudden impact, you realise that this could be quite a situation. The young girl couldn't be any older than 10, and her arms were peppered with band aids from wrist upwards. She seemed frantic, her pale blue eyes stricken with fear and her blonde hair messy and loose. Before you can truly process what was happening, the young girl leaps to her feet, desperately spewing out a plea for help.

"Mi-miss! You gotta help me! They got my friend!"
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Old 05-17-2017, 06:41 PM   #87
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Bedlam Quarry

Connor - Immediately upon entering the mine you can feel that the air is completely stagnant and the smell of mold is lingering. The humidity is so high that you begin to slightly sweat although it’s not particularly hot and you haven’t done anything to exert yourself. You blink a few times as your eyes take time to adjust since there seems to be no source of light present, it’s almost as if the light from outside is forbidden from seeping in. As you try and figure out your surroundings by taking a few steps forward you suddenly hear a loud crunch under your foot. Since you can’t see very well you reach down to feel for whatever it was only to discover it’s a flashlight! A flashlight you busted by stepping on. You whack it against your palm a few times and suddenly it turns on! Phew. It seems to be a little dented but otherwise it’s okay! You use the flashlight to examine your surroundings, it seems that before you lay 3 different tunnels.

The center tunnel stands out to you right away as being the most well constructed and is more clearly carved out than the other two. It has an arch entryway and a sign placed above, you walk closer aiming your flashlight at the sign so that you can read it. The sign is slanted and looks very worn, it is also covered in graffiti that you can’t really make out but you can still make out the words “Mining Office” written in basic text. After you finish examining the sign you aim your flash light down the tunnel so that you can get a better look. You see that support arches line the tunnel and that there are lamps mounted along the walls on both sides as well as electrical cables connecting each one. You notice a lever labeled “power” directly next to you so you decide to pull the lever but nothing happens. From where you’re standing you can’t see the entrance to the office so it would seem that you’d have to go further down in order to enter it.

“Let’s go boys!” Joss had decided that now was the perfect time to use one of his most annoying catchphrases once again. You are of course startled by the sudden noise since you had been so focused on examining your surroundings and drop your flashlight. Fortunately, it stayed lit and when you reach down to pick it up you noticed what looks like golden dust on the ground. After you firmly have the flashlight back in your hand you look at the golden dust and see that it actually appears to be a trail that just so happens to start from right where you’re standing. You follow the trail and it leads to the tunnel on the right, you don’t want to enter the tunnel without getting a good look at what’s down there first. Aiming the light down the tunnel you can clearly see that the gold dust leads to a pile of rocks laying next to an overturned busted mine cart. It looks like the rocks were probably the contents of the mine cart before it met its demise. The rocks don’t look like they would be very hard to move and you can’t help but be curious about why the gold dust is leading to it.

You begin to take a step toward the rocks but are suddenly distracted by the sound of muffled voices behind you! Your body jolts and you quickly turn around while forming goosebumps up your arm but you see no one. The voices sound like they are getting closer but then they sound like they are getting further away this pattern keeps repeating and no matter how hard you try you can't seem to make out any words. You were frozen to the spot for a while but eventually after a few deep breaths you are able to think and move again. You can tell that those voices are coming from the tunnel on the left and you aren’t so sure about whether or not you should actually go over there and investigate.
Between the gold dust, the overturned mine cart, and the voices that Sweeney could hear in the distance, the trainer rationalised that he would likely sooner rather than later come into contact with those who owned the voices. Leaning against the nearby wall, he considers his options for a moment, his thoughts whirling as he ponders the origin of the gold dust, as well as the ongoing faction wars between the two gangs. He had no doubt that the gold was somehow linked to them - after all, this place was apparently a much fought over mining spot despite having largely been stripped. Gingerly banging the back of his helmet off the wall, Sweeney finds the rhythm he falls into an aid to his thought process, stepping forward having come to a decision.

No matter how he considered his options, confronting whoever the voices belonged to was the most obvious choice. If they were friendly, they could help him investigate and maybe come to some sort of conclusion regarding the gold dust - as much as he disliked working in a designated group, this option was much the more favorable to Sweeney. The other option was that whoever was in here with him belonged to one of the gang factions, and he would either have to bluff, run or fight. The former two would be preferred ... but if it's the latter, Sweeney wasn't terribly confident in the ability of the Pokemon he had to hand in holding their own in a drawn out fight. Luckily, he had some sort of a plan for that inevitability. A half plan, one might say. Maybe a quarter.

With Samson and Joss already out of their Poke Balls, Sweeney has Sophie come out, the Solosis settling at his right shoulder. Using their typical communication paths, she relays info to Joss and Samson - Joss and Samson were both to hang behind slightly. In the event the group needed to make a hasty getaway, Samson was to lay down some Poison Gas while Joss uses Chatter to add to the confusion while they made a break for it. In the event they were friendly, Sophie could easily relay a greeting on behalf of her trainer. These safety precautions in place, Sweeney makes his way through the tunnel towards the voices.
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Old 05-18-2017, 10:29 AM   #88
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The Ribcage Mall.

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: Ross only shrugs as you mention your reluctance to battle, before his brow furrows in annoyance at your mention of having the upper hand.

"Don't get cocky, kid, looks can be deceiving...detect what the water fox does," he growls as Kakahai, confident against this inferior Eeveelution gives a large yawn at the situation, attempting to reduce the will of the fire type, a small wave of pink bubbles drifting towards it, only for the fox to deftly roll to the side in a perfectly timed dodge, before staring at the Vaporeon, in anticipation of her next move.

"Snare it in a grass knot, then strike with a burst of fury swipes."

Surely he jests, you think to yourself, given neither of those moves make any sense. In fact, you're sure Flareon learns neither of those and are skeptical of the order, but as you watch in alarm, the Flareon stomps forward, tendrils of green snaking across to the surprised Vaporeon and wrapping around her legs, pulling them together and causing your companion to topple over. Thankfully her relatively low weight reduces a potentially powerful attack to be merely painful, and from her grounded position Kakahai still has a clear shot at the rapidly approaching Eeveelution, inhaling then spitting a jet of water at the fox's face, seeking to gun down the approach...

...only for the Flareon's skin to start melting, to your shock. No, it wasn't melting...it was closer to dissipating, as though the Flareon was only an illusion! As the true culprit bursts out, you hear Ross burst out into a laugh as a black fox with red markings begins to scratch at Kakahai's face and body, the Zorua having played you both for fools as Kakahai struggles free of the grassy bindings and puts some distance between her and the dark type.

"Hah! Like I said, looks can be deceiving, and I ain't dumb enough to use my Flareon against a Vaporeon. Still, the jig's up, Loki. Double team around the water thing, then get in with aerial ace before putting distance and blasting 'er with yer dark pulse!"

You've been tricked it seems, yet Kakahai is still raring to go despite taking some noticable damage, while your true foe stands before you, the Tricky Fox preparing to live up to its classification, having taken a respectable hit. How will you and Kakahai cover for your disastrous start?



Tate was truly horrified. Neither of them had ever battled before. From the moment they had met, the trainer had coddled Kai due to her hip defect, and seeing her roughed up made Tate's stomach roll. For a moment, the aspiring bird keeper felt like vomiting. Then, something snapped. All other feelings -- fear and sadness and disgust -- became anger. Who was this guy? What right did he have, picking fights? They hadn't done anything to him! Okay, well... they broke his video game. But it had been an accident! It wasn't worth fighting over!

Wiping a snotty nose with one forearm, Tate took a colorfully patterned Pokédex -- the waterproofing mechanism thankfully functional -- from the back pocket of the familiar overalls which sagged under the weight of water and debris, and flipped it open, scowling at the treacherous black creature opposite of Kahakai.

Quote:


Zorua, the Tricky Fox Pokémon. To protect themselves from danger, they hide their true identities by transforming into people and Pokémon.

Tate made a clicking sound with tongue and teeth, unimpressed, and closed the device. Slowly, the trainer shrugged off the heavy backpack which was always present on the many misadventures the group was known for, and slid it into a side pocket.

"You're a coward," Tate finally decided. "And so is your Pokémon. Hiding behind tricks because neither of you have the guts or the skill to win without a cheap shot."

Tate unzipped the backpack, and rooted around for a second, before producing a pair of leather sandals. Dropping them on the floor, the soaking wet, filthy, scraped up trainer then toed off the scuffed up work boots which had carried the tumukltuous story of adventure from Johto to here, and kicked them aside. Standing in wet socks, Tate then unsnapped the bucked which kept the overalls suspended, and let them drop the floor, though signature plaid reached down to scarred knees and hid anything tawdry.

"Kai," Tate sighed, stepping out of the wet denim. First neck, then knuckles, the naturalist began cracking bones. Looking around at the dirt and debris left from the collapsing balcony and the shattered cabinet, Tate considered all options. "...blind that little fucker with a Sand Attack."

Swallowing dryly, Tate maintained a facade of confidence. It was hard, but watching Kai stay standing, despite the beating she just took, was enough to steel the trainer's nerves. Unbuttoning the wet denim shirt, Tate shrugged it off and threw it aside, revealing an equally wet, but significantly gaudier, short-sleeve shirt underneath, in vibrant tropical print. Salmon colored shorts peeked out from under the hem. One at a time, wet socks were peeled off, and Tate slid moist feet into dry sandals.

"Then, scald him. And if that doesn't burn him, let's see what something toxic does. If he wants to play dirty, we'll play dirty. We're leaving here in one piece, Kai. Show them what you're made of!"

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Old 05-18-2017, 12:27 PM   #89
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The Bastion of Vacuous Dreams.

Sparkbeat: War. War never changes. Even in the earliest days, people waged war against one another for any number of reasons. You were not here for the interests of battling factions, however. After months of inaction, you longed for adventure, and on receiving one of many leaflets, your mind was set on the enormous spire which stood before you now. Under cover of silence you and your Murkrow made your way through the ravaged streets to the bastion, a tale of destruction and deceit tainting the history of said structure irreversibly.

Perhaps it was foolhardy for you to approach the structure, but you cared not, taking the nothern approach to the magnificent building, carefully manoeuvring around the marble to a set of relatively intact mahogany doors that had to be the size of Groudon, each. The massive lumber blockades before you only made your heart beat, as you take a hold of the handles, push down and begin to pull with your might, the dull creak making Chord quietly screech indignantly, not enjoying the presence here. Whatever brought you to the single place not even the Ribs and Shells wanted near, it lay within the stronghold and heart of the city.

Squeezing through the door, you take a few steps in before a very loud thud behind you tells you the doors have closed, the Murkrow squawking in protest. Hushing the bird, you find you're in some sort of foyer, with a door to the left in the unsettling gloom. The right hand side consists of a wall, while ahead you can see a great hall, though not much more within due to the chilling fog that seems to have set in. A small giggle reaches your ears, or rather an echo of one, though where is beyond your knowledge.

You're pretty much stuck here now, but you certainly have two potential options, those being the door to the left or the hallway. As Chord lands upon your shoulder, seeking a little rest, your call for adventure has certainly been answered.
It wasn't until Spark was at the base of the tower that he truly understood the size of the structure. Formidable from a distance, the structure became unspeakable colossal when seen in person. A simple doorway doubled, tripled, quadrupled the height of anything Spark had ever seen before with his own two eyes. But he wouldn't turn back now. This was exactly what he'd been searching for, and no matter the size, no matter the mystery, no matter the danger, he dared to see how high he could climb. Grasping the firm, dusty door-handle in his sweaty palm, Spark tensed up, preparing to have to use all of his might to maybe, just maybe force the door to budge. Yanking it harshly, Chord fled from his shoulder, startled into a cacophony of squawking by the sudden motion. Unsurprisingly, the barricade creaked open slowly, inching along the dirty marble floor. Soon, Spark could pull no more, his arm dropping to his side, completely limp. Taking a good look at the slight crack he made, Spark massaged his shoulder with his other hand, feeling as if he'd tweaked something from the overexertion. Almost immediately, however, the pain subsided, overpowered by the alleviating adrenaline pumping through his veins from his anticipation of whats to come. Forcing the door slightly more ajar with his body, he managed to slip his way through the crack, Chord reluctantly following.

As soon as the crow made it through the narrow passageway, an alerting creaking rang throughout the room, resulting in an unceremonious thud. Eyes drooping in an unamused fashion, Chord looked at the now shut doors before grumbling in protest towards his trainer, attempting to be sure that Spark knew he knew beforehand how bad of an idea this was. A mildly irritated hand gesture gently knocked the complainer away, as Spark found himself more interested in another, fainter noise echoing throughout the spire. Although an eerie fog clouded his sense of sight, he could make out an on...giggling. Too muffled to make out any distinguishing characteristics, he had no choice but to accept its existence. A mystery to solve later, he supposed. For now, two options lay before him. Near enough that he could see it, a doorway existed to his left. To the front, a hallway that from his current point of view seemed endless. Having begrudgingly accepted their situation, Chord resettled himself on Spark's shoulder, willing to stick with his trainer, but under no sort of contract to be happy about it.

"Alright...let's leave to stone unturned," Spark decided, heading towards the door to his left.

Last edited by Sparkbeat; 05-18-2017 at 01:21 PM.
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Old 05-20-2017, 09:03 AM   #90
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Meetan: As you made your way through the rundown streets of Shanty Heights, the surroundings only ever seemed to become more bleak and grey. Lotad toddled along beside you, his almost absurd hue only causing the area to seem more depressing. What passed as houses in the area were little more than cobbled together huts made of what materials could be found, corrugated sheets of iron acting as walls with near rotted hangings of wood masquerading as doors. Still, there seemed to be a resilience in the place. A determination to survive and exist despite the the turmoil, despite the awful cards dealt to the few inhabitants. Overhead the clouds hung dismal and yet, here and there the light shone through, breaking the dark curtain to shine down below. There was some hope here, despite the crushing grip of reality.

As you make your way deeper into the Heights, a sound catches your ears, Lotad turning his gaze up towards you to quiz for a reaction. Turning towards a nearby alleyway - or at least, that was what it most closely resembled, a small gap between two handiwork houses - you manage to spot a small figure huddled over. It was clearly a child, crying his eyes out, completely unaware of your presence due to his own distress. His legs, from what you could see, were covered in bruises and scratches here and there, their number far too many to have been gathered from playing with friends and taking a tumble. He had dirty blonde hair, with it not being quite clear whether the odd streaks of brown were in fact natural or were clods of mud adhered to the strands of hair. His clothing was similarly dirtied and torn, barely fit for purpose, but as harsh as the reality was this was it for the people of the Heights. Either way, the boy was in clear need of help, but given the reputation of the area it would never be certain whether this was a legitimate cry for assistance or a well rehearsed ploy.
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Old 05-20-2017, 06:20 PM   #91
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Connor – After coming to the conclusion that investigating those voices is obviously the most logical choice you begin to put an escape plan in place with your Pokemon just in case. Once everyone understands the plan you begin to cautiously make your way toward the left most tunnel where the voices are coming from. When you look down the tunnel you can see that there is light in the far distance. The light looks like it’s around a sharp turn but it’s definitely there. You make your way toward the light and the voices slowly start to become clearer.

“You are outnumbered so if I were you I’d speak up.”

“Pffffft HAHAHA!!”

It sounds like someone may be in danger so you begin to speed up while also being careful not to give yourself away. You finally make it to the area the light is coming from but you keep yourself hidden around the corner and carefully peek in. You see three men, one of them is wearing a blue tshirt and baggy black jeans and is backed against a wall with a big grin on his face. He looks like he is trying to contain his laughter. Next to him is a brightly glowing Solrock which is obviously where the light is coming from. The other two people are wearing red uniforms and are much more well dressed, they are clearly working together to interrogate him. Those two don’t appear to have any Pokemon out but you can clearly see they have pokeballs on their belts. You don’t want to act rashly so you decide to just observe for now. One of the red uniformed men roughly grabs the guys blue t-shirt and pulls him in with a snarl on his face.

“Listen to me. You are going to tell me exactly what it is you Ribs found if you know what’s good for you.”

The man who is clearly with the gang called the Ribs begins to laugh, “Hahaha! Ya’ll ‘re a riot! All ya’ll Shells can go ta hell!” and then he proceeds to spit in the Shell members face.

The Shell throws him on the ground and after he wipes the spit from his face you notice an unsettling smirk come across it as he reaches for one of the pokeballs from his belt. “Oh, that’s fine. I’ll just find it myself.” He raises his arm to throw his pokeball but then at that exact moment your arm is grabbed from behind and you feel something placed on one of your wrists with a metallic click. Your Pokemon immediately see that you’re threatened and spring into action. Joss uses Chatter and the sounds begin to echo loudly down the tunnels, Samson lets out Poison Gas and the gas starts to fill up the confined space rapidly.

“*cough* What the hell *hack* is going on!?” It’s the voice of the Shell who was about to throw the pokeball, you could barely hear it over the chatter but still made out that much. The sounds of coughing mixed with the chatter echo everywhere and although you are confused since you know the men you were watching didn’t see you, holding your breath, you turn around to make your getaway. However that is short lived as you’re yanked back, your wrist is clearly attached to something.

“*hack hack* GUST!!” The Shell shouts and now there is a strong wind blowing the gas away, nearly knocking you over in the process. After all of the gas has cleared out it finally goes quiet again. Looking at your wrist you can now see that you are actually handcuffed to another person. And since now you are apparently no longer hidden and are standing directly in the Solrocks line of light you can also clearly see that the person you’re attached to is a marshal with an adorable cotton Swirlix on his shoulder. “Alright boys you’re busted!” The marshal yells. “It’s the feds! I’m outta here!” The Rib member uses that moment to take off deeper into the mine with his Solrock following after him.

As the Solrock begins to leave so does the light, so the marshal turns to his Swirlix, "Junior Detective Creampuff, use Flash.” The Swirlix’s entire body begins to glow, lighting up the area once again. The two Shells members still remain standing there and it is now that you notice there is also a Flygon with them as well. The one member that has been doing all of the talking this entire time glaces at your connected wrists. “I know that you marshals never operate alone so we’re going to go ahead and take our leave while you’re still a bit held up dealing with that. Lets go boys!” The Shells and the Flygon run past you both.

“Wait!!” The marshal shouts and begins to chase them but is immediately slowed down because he has to drag you with him while the handcuffs dig into your wrists so the Shells get much farther ahead. The Shell looks back with that same smirk you noticed earlier. “Call this a farewell gift!” With that final statement a Voltorb begins to glow in front of you both.

"GET BACK!" The marshal turns back around, grabbing your arm to pull you along with him so that the handcuffs don’t dig into your wrists further. *BOOM* The explosion knocks you both over and you get even more mud on your suit but otherwise you're fine. Your Pokemon have been behind you this entire time so they are also safe. The entire mine is now shaking uncontrollably and the part of the tunnel where the explosion went off has caved in. You aren’t able to stand and are forced to remain in the mud until the shaking subsides. “Damn!!” The marshal slams his fist against the wall and then stands up along with you. “Well at least I still caught you.”

He finally turns to you and gives you a good long look up and down. Sophie wastes no time and explains to him that you're not with them. “Well, I guess that's easy to believe if you’re dressed in that formal get up! Arrrgghhh!!" He lets out a frustrated yell as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key. “Listen, I don’t know what your type is doing in this here mine but you chose the wrong place to be spelunking in.” He begins to explain as he unlocks the handcuffs. “Welp, that should do it.” He puts the handcuffs away and rubs his wrist. He then pulls out a radio, “Lieutenant, come in.” as he begins to speak into the radio the only thing answering back is pure static. He bangs it against the wall a few times and is still getting nothing but static. “Damn! No signal.” He lets out a loud sigh and wipes away sweat from his brow in annoyance before turning back to you. “Look, this place is highly contested by the gangs that have been taking over these parts. I’m going to be completely honest with you, it’s very dangerous to be here.” He then begins to rub his face against the Swirlix on his shoulder and it puts a big smile on his face, making you a bit uncomfortable. “I’m Detective Thornhammer and this is Junior Detective Creampuff. He and I are gonna keep heading in deeper after that fella that got away. I left my partner back at the entrance and I’m sure he apprehended those slimy Shells and is working on digging us out of here. You can hang back and wait for him or dig yourself out. I can’t waste anymore time so I’m going on ahead!” and with that Detective Thornhammer began to run deeper into the mine all alone with his Pokemon.
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Old 05-21-2017, 10:58 AM   #92
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Connor – After coming to the conclusion that investigating those voices is obviously the most logical choice you begin to put an escape plan in place with your Pokemon just in case. Once everyone understands the plan you begin to cautiously make your way toward the left most tunnel where the voices are coming from. When you look down the tunnel you can see that there is light in the far distance. The light looks like it’s around a sharp turn but it’s definitely there. You make your way toward the light and the voices slowly start to become clearer.

“You are outnumbered so if I were you I’d speak up.”

“Pffffft HAHAHA!!”

It sounds like someone may be in danger so you begin to speed up while also being careful not to give yourself away. You finally make it to the area the light is coming from but you keep yourself hidden around the corner and carefully peek in. You see three men, one of them is wearing a blue tshirt and baggy black jeans and is backed against a wall with a big grin on his face. He looks like he is trying to contain his laughter. Next to him is a brightly glowing Solrock which is obviously where the light is coming from. The other two people are wearing red uniforms and are much more well dressed, they are clearly working together to interrogate him. Those two don’t appear to have any Pokemon out but you can clearly see they have pokeballs on their belts. You don’t want to act rashly so you decide to just observe for now. One of the red uniformed men roughly grabs the guys blue t-shirt and pulls him in with a snarl on his face.

“Listen to me. You are going to tell me exactly what it is you Ribs found if you know what’s good for you.”

The man who is clearly with the gang called the Ribs begins to laugh, “Hahaha! Ya’ll ‘re a riot! All ya’ll Shells can go ta hell!” and then he proceeds to spit in the Shell members face.

The Shell throws him on the ground and after he wipes the spit from his face you notice an unsettling smirk come across it as he reaches for one of the pokeballs from his belt. “Oh, that’s fine. I’ll just find it myself.” He raises his arm to throw his pokeball but then at that exact moment your arm is grabbed from behind and you feel something placed on one of your wrists with a metallic click. Your Pokemon immediately see that you’re threatened and spring into action. Joss uses Chatter and the sounds begin to echo loudly down the tunnels, Samson lets out Poison Gas and the gas starts to fill up the confined space rapidly.

“*cough* What the hell *hack* is going on!?” It’s the voice of the Shell who was about to throw the pokeball, you could barely hear it over the chatter but still made out that much. The sounds of coughing mixed with the chatter echo everywhere and although you are confused since you know the men you were watching didn’t see you, holding your breath, you turn around to make your getaway. However that is short lived as you’re yanked back, your wrist is clearly attached to something.

“*hack hack* GUST!!” The Shell shouts and now there is a strong wind blowing the gas away, nearly knocking you over in the process. After all of the gas has cleared out it finally goes quiet again. Looking at your wrist you can now see that you are actually handcuffed to another person. And since now you are apparently no longer hidden and are standing directly in the Solrocks line of light you can also clearly see that the person you’re attached to is a marshal with an adorable cotton Swirlix on his shoulder. “Alright boys you’re busted!” The marshal yells. “It’s the feds! I’m outta here!” The Rib member uses that moment to take off deeper into the mine with his Solrock following after him.

As the Solrock begins to leave so does the light, so the marshal turns to his Swirlix, "Junior Detective Creampuff, use Flash.” The Swirlix’s entire body begins to glow, lighting up the area once again. The two Shells members still remain standing there and it is now that you notice there is also a Flygon with them as well. The one member that has been doing all of the talking this entire time glaces at your connected wrists. “I know that you marshals never operate alone so we’re going to go ahead and take our leave while you’re still a bit held up dealing with that. Lets go boys!” The Shells and the Flygon run past you both.

“Wait!!” The marshal shouts and begins to chase them but is immediately slowed down because he has to drag you with him while the handcuffs dig into your wrists so the Shells get much farther ahead. The Shell looks back with that same smirk you noticed earlier. “Call this a farewell gift!” With that final statement a Voltorb begins to glow in front of you both.

"GET BACK!" The marshal turns back around, grabbing your arm to pull you along with him so that the handcuffs don’t dig into your wrists further. *BOOM* The explosion knocks you both over and you get even more mud on your suit but otherwise you're fine. Your Pokemon have been behind you this entire time so they are also safe. The entire mine is now shaking uncontrollably and the part of the tunnel where the explosion went off has caved in. You aren’t able to stand and are forced to remain in the mud until the shaking subsides. “Damn!!” The marshal slams his fist against the wall and then stands up along with you. “Well at least I still caught you.”

He finally turns to you and gives you a good long look up and down. Sophie wastes no time and explains to him that you're not with them. “Well, I guess that's easy to believe if you’re dressed in that formal get up! Arrrgghhh!!" He lets out a frustrated yell as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key. “Listen, I don’t know what your type is doing in this here mine but you chose the wrong place to be spelunking in.” He begins to explain as he unlocks the handcuffs. “Welp, that should do it.” He puts the handcuffs away and rubs his wrist. He then pulls out a radio, “Lieutenant, come in.” as he begins to speak into the radio the only thing answering back is pure static. He bangs it against the wall a few times and is still getting nothing but static. “Damn! No signal.” He lets out a loud sigh and wipes away sweat from his brow in annoyance before turning back to you. “Look, this place is highly contested by the gangs that have been taking over these parts. I’m going to be completely honest with you, it’s very dangerous to be here.” He then begins to rub his face against the Swirlix on his shoulder and it puts a big smile on his face, making you a bit uncomfortable. “I’m Detective Thornhammer and this is Junior Detective Creampuff. He and I are gonna keep heading in deeper after that fella that got away. I left my partner back at the entrance and I’m sure he apprehended those slimy Shells and is working on digging us out of here. You can hang back and wait for him or dig yourself out. I can’t waste anymore time so I’m going on ahead!” and with that Detective Thornhammer began to run deeper into the mine all alone with his Pokemon.
The entire world was mental. That was the only way this could have occurred. Having observed for the most part a weird sort of exchange between members of the two warring gangs, Sweeney had found himself abruptly apprehended - and consequently released - by one of the marshals who was presumably attempting to help curb the outbreak of crime in the city. A largely thankless task which was akin to walking to the moon, in Sweeney's mind. Sighing, the trainer slowly rises back to his feet, grumbling as he swiped at the worst of the mud which was sticking to his clothing. This definitely wasn't his day. Caved in and left to either scramble out by himself - a task which, honestly, he didn't have the man(or Pokemon)power for or to sit and wait like a good little child for the Marshals partner to eventually dig him out. Something which irked him on more than one level. Talk about the lawman beating up the wrong guy.

Left to collect his thoughts, Joss deciding to perch on his shoulder, Sweeney is left unaware of the small feud beginning to grow between Sophie and Samson. Being ever the pragmatic type, Sophie was clearly advocating waiting for help, but Samson wasn't having any of it. The small Salandit fancied himself as something of a hero, and was desperately trying to get Sweeney's attention, intending to march down the tunnel after Thornhammer to offer assistance. Despite the fact there would likely be little the Poison type could accomplish. Sweeney is abruptly brought out of his thoughts by Sophie protesting particularly loudly, and something about the sudden interruption really gets his goat. With a simple nod in the direction of the tunnel Thornhammer had vanished down, Sweeney begins to make his way after the Marshal, much to the ecstatic hissing of Samson and the disgruntled whining of Sophie.
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Old 05-23-2017, 12:27 PM   #93
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Balmund – To say the bar was sensory overload would be an understatement. The darkly-lit atmosphere; the flashing neon lights; the lack of elbow room; the smell of spilled alcohol mixed with burnt barbecue, coupled with the wall of sound that was supposed to be dance music... What better way to cover for a supposed illegal gambling ring than a Friday night happy hour?

You leaned over the counter nonchalantly and said the magic words. It was as though in an instant you could feel the gaze of a dozen drunk patrons piercing into your back. The bartender recoiled and looked you over. He took a long drag of a cigarette he had been smoking. He looked over his shoulder. A bald, stocky man with beady eyes wearing a bomber jacket stood on the other side of the bar, which was shaped like an oval. He glared at you for a moment before slowly nodding to the bartender. He turned back to you, exhaled the smoke through his nostrils, and put the cigarette out in a glass of mostly melted ice. He tilted his head towards the beady-eyed man, who started walking towards you. “Come with me,” you think he said, though it was hard to tell. The two of you walked across the length of the bar, past the makeshift Friday night dance-floor, and into the smoky kitchen. Several line cooks were frantically tending to meat over open flames while others plated the food and slid them onto trays. The man continued through the kitchen, past the refrigerated meat room, and through some grease-stained curtains into a large, dark room that appeared to be a storage area with a loading bay and a garage door. The only light in the room came from a single bulb dangling over a thin, gated door.

The two of you walked up to the elevator, though the gate was locked by an old keypad on the wall. “Turn around,” the man said. And you did. You could hear three button clicks as he punched in the code that unlocked the gate. “Alright,” he said, pulling the gate open. As you stepped into the elevator, you noted to yourself that only the numbers 2 and 3 appeared to have wear and tear on them. You weren’t sure if this would ever come in handy, but you made a mental note of it regardless. The man pulled the gate shut as you stepped inside and pushed the button that read ‘B2F.’ The elevator buzzed as it lowered slowly into the floors below. You passed a floor on your way down that you noticed was completely dark, which seemed unsettling for some reason. As the elevator slowly reached its destination, the sound of dance music had all but faded into the distance and slowly became replaced with what seemed to be loud jeering and chanting. The man unlocked the gate and pulled it open.

The room was hazy, smoke filled, and dimly lit… But it was huge. Attendees stood in a large circle, holding half-filled pints of beer and hollering. How did so many people get down here anyway? Perhaps there was another entry point? There had to have been. No matter - you were confident that Orchrist’s reconnaissance would yield fruitful results. You didn’t need to worry about the where, you needed to worry about the what. The beady eyed man stepped back into the elevator, shut the gate, and ascended once again. With nowhere else to turn, you made your way toward the commotion. A few people analyzed you suspiciously while chugging their drink of choice, but that was irrelevant. You looked past the unruly crowd to scope out the area. Though the room was somewhat large, there couldn’t have been more than a hundred and fifty people at most. Denizens were situated in a large circle around a makeshift, walled-off wooden arena. Men walked around the perimeter collecting bets and counting cash between their fingers.

“And it’s a knockout, folks! Manectric is out!” At the center of the ring were two Pokemon: A Marowak and a Manectric. The Marowak breathed heavily as it stood over the Manectric, which was lying still, unmoving. You couldn’t see how badly injured it was from where you were, and you’re not sure you wanted to. A man dressed in all black walked onto the arena and pulled the Manectric onto a blanket. Two others came and pulled it off of the stage and carried it off behind one of the room’s guarded doors. The Marowak immediately charged the man on stage with a bloodied club. He turned, and, in one swift motion, as if he had done this hundreds of times before, revealed a telescopic baton and struck the Pokemon across the face, and then again. And again. The crowd fell silent. The man walked off of the stage casually and grunted. "... Alright ladies and gentlemen! Next up we have, uh, well I suppose we have our show match for the evening! That’s right! We know why you’re here! Who among you is brave enough to take on last week’s champion, Krokorok? Remember – winners will receive special VIP treatment post-match!”

The crowd started murmuring. Two similarly dressed individuals once again came on stage, this time prodding a very agitated and reluctant Krokorok. The guard at the exit the Manectric was taken to was distracted and talking to someone behind the door with a slightly concerned look on his face. Another guard left his post and began walking toward the concerned guard. “Again! Is there no one who will step up to face the Krokorok? Or will we need to pull out a champion from a previous week to face off against the beast!?”

(FYI: Your borrowed Hawlucha is Level 17 and knows Flying Press.)




TheKnightsFury - The man who questioned you crossed his arms and hinged his jaw, looking you over. He turned to his two comrades, who stood behind him. One of them spoke out. "You wanna get your hands dirty? How about you shove 'em up your mother's ass?" The two began laughing, but the man who seemed to be in charge was not amused. Without warning, he struck his joking partner across the face. He fell to the ground. "You think that's funny, AK? When I'm trying to have a cordial conversation with this gentleman?" The man sat upright. He spat blood out of his mouth. "Sorry Smithie." "You're damn right you are." The third man, who remained unidentified, stood quietly still. It wasn't entirely clear if the man who called himself Smithie was actually in charge or not, but he certainly acted as though he was.

"Don't mind these assholes," Smithie said, turning back to you. "I'd like to think I'm a pretty open minded guy," he snorted. "Here's the deal... you're strapped for cash, you're looking to pad your wallet, that shouldn't be an issue, no sir." Smithie stepped past you and started looking around intently, as though he as trying to find something. It was quiet, until the sound of a distant coughing broke the silence. Smithie turned, and grinned. "Follow me." Left with little choice, you, AK, and the unidentified thug followed behind Smithie as he walked down the street about a block away from the park entrance where you had encountered them initially. You didn't know what he was planning, but you were prepared for anything.

A man sat on a bench near the corner, coughing. He was stout, looked to be in his fifties, and had a bad comb-over. He was wearing a torn up jean jacket, a white muscle shirt, grease stained cargo pants, and very worn out sandals (with socks). "Good evening, fellas," the man said jovially. "Good evening, old man," Smithie heartily replied. He reached forward and yanked the man off of the bench by his collar. He let out a yelp in fear. "Please! I already paid for my protection this month! I promise I'll pay double next month like you wanted!" Smithie curled the corner of his mouth and let out a chuckle. He threw the man to the ground. "Alright, new guy. Take him for all he has. You said you wanted to get your hands dirty? Don't stop until they're dripping with blood." The man quivered and began to cry. "Please don't do this," he whimpered between desperate sobs. "Pathetic! What are you waiting for, new guy?" The unidentified thug questioned. "This is a golden opportunity!"




Brave Saix - The guard's eyes widened as you handed him the shirt. He crumpled it up and pushed it into your chest, grabbing you by the shoulders and pinning you against the wall. "What the hell are you thinking showing this in public!? Do you even... wait, did you say McLarty?" The guard loosened his grip on you and took a step back, looking you up and down, and then over his shoulders. He looked bewildered. "You... come with me."

The guard opened the large metal door that led into the Delphroxx Nightclub. Music was playing loudly, but upon looking around the facility you could see that there were no patrons on the dance floor or at the bar. In fact, aside from a few uniformed Shell members loitering about, some leaning over the upper level's railing, the entire room was empty. A few of them shot suspicious glances toward you as you made your way across the length of the large room, unsure of where the guard was taking you. The two of you continued toward the back, moving toward a larger than usual elevator. The guard swiped a key card, and the door slid open. Stepping inside, the doors immediately closed, and the elevator began to descend. There were no floor buttons, which seemed extremely unusual.

Though you were unsure of just how far you descended, the doors opened almost as quickly as they had closed. The two of you stepped out. The room - no, hall - was bright, and gave a very formal, professional sort-of feel. A few potted plants sat in the corners. Several rooms lined the long corridor, with two more elevators on the opposite side of where you stood. The two of you made your way over to the first door on your left, where he once again slid his key card, opening the door. A woman's voice came from within. "What is it, Hammond? I don't have time for you right now." The two of you entered. She was leaned over a desk with a pile of documents, frantically jotting something down on a piece of paper before shuffling it to the side and pulling another one from a different stack and continuing the process. "Ma'am," Hammond acknowledged as he bent one knee to the floor and his right arm to his chest. "Well, Hammond? What is it? I told you, I'm extremely busy," the woman said louder, still not looking up from her desk. "There's... I have someone with me looking to join the organization," his voice dropped. He looked troubled. "He says his name... is McLarty." The woman immediately stopped writing and looked up from her desk for the first time.

She looked as though she was in her thirties. Her hair was white, and cropped; her glasses were semi-cat-eye shaped; her lipstick was a cosmic blue, and an orb shaped earring dangled from her left ear. "Did you say McLarty?" She looked puzzled for a moment, looked at you, and then back to Hammond. He shot her a concerned looking glance. "Y-yes, ma'am." She squinted, and then looked back at you again. "...I see. Well, then," she stood up, her attitude suddenly changing, "this is wonderful, yes. Most excellent, indeed. Your... brother... he did so much for this organization, and this city. We are more than happy to have you with us, Mr. McLarty. He would be very proud of you." She walked over to you and looked you in the eyes. "Normally we have an entire process for new recruits, but you will be a special exception," she said excitedly. Hammond looked puzzled, but cracked a smile. "My name is Saoirse de Paor. I am the administrator of this facility, and this sector." She turned to the door. "Hammond, you are dismissed to your post. I will handle this personally from here." Hammond slowly lifted his head. He looked troubled. "Yes, ma'am." He left the room immediately, locking eyes with you once more as he turned the corner.

"Now," she said, "come with me." She led you down the hall and to one of the other two elevators. She slid her key card, and the door opened. As she stepped inside, she pulled another out of her pocket and handed it to you. "Here," she said. "This will get you anywhere in the facility. Well, almost anywhere. You're going to need this. Please, Mr. McLarty, by all means," she extended her arm, handing you the card. The door opened once again, almost as quickly as it had closed. It was a small, dimly lit room with a few chairs and three doors, one on each wall opposite the elevator. She led you to a chair, motioning for you to sit. "Please, have a seat a moment. I'll be right back." She opened a door to the right of the elevator, and disappeared. A moment later, she came back. "Well, it would seem we are all out of a uniform in your size. I believe we have more on the other side of the facility, so I'll need to go grab that. Please, be a dear and stay here while I go look for another." It occurred to you for a moment that she had never even asked you your size, but maybe she was just assuming based on your build. She slid her card and stepped back into the elevator. "It should only be a few minutes. Once I return, we'll finalize the expedited on-boarding process. And please," she said, smiling, "do stay put until I return." The doors closed behind her.

The room was quiet. The three doors on the walls looked like they didn't even require your new key card you had been given, though the elevator certainly did. You sat still for a moment. Suddenly, you could hear a brief, painful yelp in the distance - it sounded like a Pokemon? Or was it a person? It was hard to tell, because it went as quickly as it had come. It concerned you a bit. Now that you think of it, you were a bit surprised - the Shell members didn't even pat you down or check you for Pokemon, and you were being handled personally by the facility's admin herself. This McLarty person must have really been someone important to the organization. Regardless, it seems that, for this short period of time, you have a few moments to collect your thoughts, or perhaps something more...

(FYI: Your borrowed Gallade is Level 50 and knows Close Combat and Stored Power.)





Emi - Ascending the staircase was no easy task. You aren't even sure how long you had been walking for, but your legs began to feel heavier as you continued to climb higher and higher up the spiraling stairs. You'd made sure to avoid cracks and vines that covered some of the steps as you continued to move upward. You're not entirely sure how many floor platforms you'd passed at this point, bearing in mind that an aerial advantage in the highest position possible was ultimately the next best goal to put your plans in motion.

But something wasn't right. Something was never right, though, was it? Especially here in the Bastion. But that just made things all the more interesting, and you had taken that into account before you had even decided to venture into the abandoned citadel. Each step felt heavier, and it began to feel like you weren't even making any progress at this point. It was dark, and looking over the edge of the stairwell as it coiled downward like a golden spiral into the blackness below didn't help. Large windows still continued to line the stairs, but it was dark outside now, and it was near impossible to make out anything of substance. Looking back, you can't see, nor remember, the last platform you passed, nor could you see one approaching above.

SLAM. The window next to you unexpectedly and instantaneously blew wide open. A gust of cool wind rushed in where you were standing, so powerful it knocked you off of your feet and sent you tumbling back down several of the concrete stairs you had just climbed. An old railing broke your tumble, preventing you from falling any further. Part of the rail guard snapped from its post, breaking entirely and falling into the black abyss below. You listened, but never heard the sound of it hitting the ground.

Suddenly, one by one, all of the other windows lining the wall upward blew open violently. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. SLAMSLAM. SLAMSLAMSLAMSLAMSLAM. Before you knew it, all windows on all sides lining the stairwell in your vicinity had exploded open, slamming fiercely against the wall, in some cases shattering the glass entirely. The air surrounding you began to grow colder, and the vicious strength of the breeze bellowing in from all directions made it difficult to stand up. It was as though an Ominous Wind had flooded the area surrounding you...

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Old 05-23-2017, 04:28 PM   #94
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Balmund – To say the bar was sensory overload would be an understatement. The darkly-lit atmosphere; the flashing neon lights; the lack of elbow room; the smell of spilled alcohol mixed with burnt barbecue, coupled with the wall of sound that was supposed to be dance music... What better way to cover for a supposed illegal gambling ring than a Friday night happy hour?

You leaned over the counter nonchalantly and said the magic words. It was as though in an instant you could feel the gaze of a dozen drunk patrons piercing into your back. The bartender recoiled and looked you over. He took a long drag of a cigarette he had been smoking. He looked over his shoulder. A bald, stocky man with beady eyes wearing a bomber jacket stood on the other side of the bar, which was shaped like an oval. He glared at you for a moment before slowly nodding to the bartender. He turned back to you, exhaled the smoke through his nostrils, and put the cigarette out in a glass of mostly melted ice. He tilted his head towards the beady-eyed man, who started walking towards you. “Come with me,” you think he said, though it was hard to tell. The two of you walked across the length of the bar, past the makeshift Friday night dance-floor, and into the smoky kitchen. Several line cooks were frantically tending to meat over open flames while others plated the food and slid them onto trays. The man continued through the kitchen, past the refrigerated meat room, and through some grease-stained curtains into a large, dark room that appeared to be a storage area with a loading bay and a garage door. The only light in the room came from a single bulb dangling over a thin, gated door.

The two of you walked up to the elevator, though the gate was locked by an old keypad on the wall. “Turn around,” the man said. And you did. You could hear three button clicks as he punched in the code that unlocked the gate. “Alright,” he said, pulling the gate open. As you stepped into the elevator, you noted to yourself that only the numbers 2 and 3 appeared to have wear and tear on them. You weren’t sure if this would ever come in handy, but you made a mental note of it regardless. The man pulled the gate shut as you stepped inside and pushed the button that read ‘B2F.’ The elevator buzzed as it lowered slowly into the floors below. You passed a floor on your way down that you noticed was completely dark, which seemed unsettling for some reason. As the elevator slowly reached its destination, the sound of dance music had all but faded into the distance and slowly became replaced with what seemed to be loud jeering and chanting. The man unlocked the gate and pulled it open.

The room was hazy, smoke filled, and dimly lit… But it was huge. Attendees stood in a large circle, holding half-filled pints of beer and hollering. How did so many people get down here anyway? Perhaps there was another entry point? There had to have been. No matter - you were confident that Orchrist’s reconnaissance would yield fruitful results. You didn’t need to worry about the where, you needed to worry about the what. The beady eyed man stepped back into the elevator, shut the gate, and ascended once again. With nowhere else to turn, you made your way toward the commotion. A few people analyzed you suspiciously while chugging their drink of choice, but that was irrelevant. You looked past the unruly crowd to scope out the area. Though the room was somewhat large, there couldn’t have been more than a hundred and fifty people at most. Denizens were situated in a large circle around a makeshift, walled-off wooden arena. Men walked around the perimeter collecting bets and counting cash between their fingers.

“And it’s a knockout, folks! Manectric is out!” At the center of the ring were two Pokemon: A Marowak and a Manectric. The Marowak breathed heavily as it stood over the Manectric, which was lying still, unmoving. You couldn’t see how badly injured it was from where you were, and you’re not sure you wanted to. A man dressed in all black walked onto the arena and pulled the Manectric onto a blanket. Two others came and pulled it off of the stage and carried it off behind one of the room’s guarded doors. The Marowak immediately charged the man on stage with a bloodied club. He turned, and, in one swift motion, as if he had done this hundreds of times before, revealed a telescopic baton and struck the Pokemon across the face, and then again. And again. The crowd fell silent. The man walked off of the stage casually and grunted. "... Alright ladies and gentlemen! Next up we have, uh, well I suppose we have our show match for the evening! That’s right! We know why you’re here! Who among you is brave enough to take on last week’s champion, Krokorok? Remember – winners will receive special VIP treatment post-match!”

The crowd started murmuring. Two similarly dressed individuals once again came on stage, this time prodding a very agitated and reluctant Krokorok. The guard at the exit the Manectric was taken to was distracted and talking to someone behind the door with a slightly concerned look on his face. Another guard left his post and began walking toward the concerned guard. “Again! Is there no one who will step up to face the Krokorok? Or will we need to pull out a champion from a previous week to face off against the beast!?”
Despite his initial intentions, Duke quickly started to reconsider his course of action as the man announced the opportunity to participate in the arena. Something about the whole situation started to ring some alarms internally, leading him to conclude the scenario was not normal, and instead, pointed towards a likely trap. Firstly, and most telling of it all, was the crowd's hesitation. If this offer was indeed as grand as it claimed to be, and if the set up as recurring as implied, then it would make sense for there to be other challengers already primed to take it on. So why weren't they? And why did the man supposed it would be the show match for the evening? Under normal circumstances even illegal events would be carried within a well defined organizational framework, especially for one of this order of magnitude, and the implication of a certain degree of uncertainly gave Duke enough grounds for cautionary action. The fact that guards already seemed to be on alert over something seemed to reaffirm his notions, given the mission he had entrusted Chris beforehand. Did they find something already? A body, even? Perhaps it would be most prudent to sit back and witness how everything would unfold, placing particular attention towards the door the Manectric was carried off.

Mindful to a degree of his body language, and aware of the likelihood of suspicion falling towards him given his newcomer status, Duke decides to adopt a stance of confusion similar to that of the crowd surrounding him. Being too calm could make the guards zone in even quicker, and at least he hoped to deflect some attention by feigning unawareness. Though he felt a bit bad for the pokemon being forced to fight for dear life, right now it was best to just sit back, order a drink, place some bets, and enjoy the show.
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Old 05-23-2017, 08:39 PM   #95
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Connor - This has certainly not been your day so far. After having to deal with one crazy event after another you take some much needed time to collect your thoughts. While you're feeling a bit frustrated and trying to figure out what to do, your Pokémon are having a bit of a disagreement and you're completely unaware. In the end, despite Sophie being very vocal about her protests, it seems that Samson won out. You decide you aren't going to sit back and let Thornhammer tell you what to do and begin to head down the tunnel after him. He's alone, so he is most likely going to need help at some point.

Since the Swirlix is giving off a lot of light it is easy to track where he has gone because you can still see the glow in the distance. You're a bit annoyed about the entire situation but you continue to move on ahead anyway, making sure you're moving faster than the light so that you will eventually catch up. Only you start to move a bit too fast causing you to trip and land in even more mud. You get up and continue forward. Suddenly the light stops moving and you're catching up much faster now. You squint a bit to get a better look at what's going on and you can see the gang member with the Solrock as well as a second gang member you hadn't seen before and he has a Glameow with him. Oddly enough none of them seem to be talking, they are all just glaring at each other.

Finally you're close, but you stand back about 40 feet to observe before you make your move. You aren't hiding at all but they seem too preoccupied with glaring at each other to notice you anyway. And suddenly, the silence is broken. "Alright boys, I say it's about time you turn yourselves in. You can't run from the law forever and I wouldn't want to have to use force." Thornhammer is as confident as ever. The Rib member you saw before just let's out that same laugh he was giving the Shells earlier. You just can't seem to understand that laugh. That is, until you see it. You are viewing him from the side and you suddenly spot what you believe clearly looks like a gun attached to his belt behind him. It looks like everything about your day is getting more and more dangerous by the minute. He finally gets the laughter out of his system, "Chyea, Imma pass on dat. Da boss hooked me up wit his good luck charm today." He slowly reaches behind him toward the gun and you freeze. Suddenly, his buddy has something to say. "Yo, how's about we battle it out?" His friend seems to be slightly better spoken, though not by much. Fortunately, his friend seemed to distract him and he is no longer reaching for the gun. He also seems to have his guard completely down right now.

You notice that Thornhammer's usual confidence seems to waver for just a moment. "Fine, my partner had just let me know he would be here soon on this here radio so I'll take on that challenge since he'll be here to back me up before we know it!" He's bluffing. You know very well that his radio wasn't able to get any signal in here, and you have seen no sign of his partner this entire time. Thornhammer throws a pokeball releasing a Houndour, it seems that Junior Detective Creampuff will be sitting this one out.

"Glameow use Fake Out!"

"Solrock, follow dat up wit Rock Throw!"

And so, the 2 against 1 battle begins.

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Old 05-24-2017, 01:39 AM   #96
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((Very sorry about the long delay due to my vacation in Japan. Updates should be much smoother and quicker from here on out))



Brave Saix - The guard's eyes widened as you handed him the shirt. He crumpled it up and pushed it into your chest, grabbing you by the shoulders and pinning you against the wall. "What the hell are you thinking showing this in public!? Do you even... wait, did you say McLarty?" The guard loosened his grip on you and took a step back, looking you up and down, and then over his shoulders. He looked bewildered. "You... come with me."

The guard opened the large metal door that led into the Delphroxx Nightclub. Music was playing loudly, but upon looking around the facility you could see that there were no patrons on the dance floor or at the bar. In fact, aside from a few uniformed Shell members loitering about, some leaning over the upper level's railing, the entire room was empty. A few of them shot suspicious glances toward you as you made your way across the length of the large room, unsure of where the guard was taking you. The two of you continued toward the back, moving toward a larger than usual elevator. The guard swiped a key card, and the door slid open. Stepping inside, the doors immediately closed, and the elevator began to descend. There were no floor buttons, which seemed extremely unusual.

Though you were unsure of just how far you descended, the doors opened almost as quickly as they had closed. The two of you stepped out. The room - no, hall - was bright, and gave a very formal, professional sort-of feel. A few potted plants sat in the corners. Several rooms lined the long corridor, with two more elevators on the opposite side of where you stood. The two of you made your way over to the first door on your left, where he once again slid his key card, opening the door. A woman's voice came from within. "What is it, Hammond? I don't have time for you right now." The two of you entered. She was leaned over a desk with a pile of documents, frantically jotting something down on a piece of paper before shuffling it to the side and pulling another one from a different stack and continuing the process. "Ma'am," Hammond acknowledged as he bent one knee to the floor and his right arm to his chest. "Well, Hammond? What is it? I told you, I'm extremely busy," the woman said louder, still not looking up from her desk. "There's... I have someone with me looking to join the organization," his voice dropped. He looked troubled. "He says his name... is McLarty." The woman immediately stopped writing and looked up from her desk for the first time.

She looked as though she was in her thirties. Her hair was white, and cropped; her glasses were semi-cat-eye shaped; her lipstick was a cosmic blue, and an orb shaped earring dangled from her left ear. "Did you say McLarty?" She looked puzzled for a moment, looked at you, and then back to Hammond. He shot her a concerned looking glance. "Y-yes, ma'am." She squinted, and then looked back at you again. "...I see. Well, then," she stood up, her attitude suddenly changing, "this is wonderful, yes. Most excellent, indeed. Your... brother... he did so much for this organization, and this city. We are more than happy to have you with us, Mr. McLarty. He would be very proud of you." She walked over to you and looked you in the eyes. "Normally we have an entire process for new recruits, but you will be a special exception," she said excitedly. Hammond looked puzzled, but cracked a smile. "My name is Saoirse de Paor. I am the administrator of this facility, and this sector." She turned to the door. "Hammond, you are dismissed to your post. I will handle this personally from here." Hammond slowly lifted his head. He looked troubled. "Yes, ma'am." He left the room immediately, locking eyes with you once more as he turned the corner.

"Now," she said, "come with me." She led you down the hall and to one of the other two elevators. She slid her key card, and the door opened. As she stepped inside, she pulled another out of her pocket and handed it to you. "Here," she said. "This will get you anywhere in the facility. Well, almost anywhere. You're going to need this. Please, Mr. McLarty, by all means," she extended her arm, handing you the card. The door opened once again, almost as quickly as it had closed. It was a small, dimly lit room with a few chairs and three doors, one on each wall opposite the elevator. She led you to a chair, motioning for you to sit. "Please, have a seat a moment. I'll be right back." She opened a door to the right of the elevator, and disappeared. A moment later, she came back. "Well, it would seem we are all out of a uniform in your size. I believe we have more on the other side of the facility, so I'll need to go grab that. Please, be a dear and stay here while I go look for another." It occurred to you for a moment that she had never even asked you your size, but maybe she was just assuming based on your build. She slid her card and stepped back into the elevator. "It should only be a few minutes. Once I return, we'll finalize the expedited on-boarding process. And please," she said, smiling, "do stay put until I return." The doors closed behind her.

The room was quiet. The three doors on the walls looked like they didn't even require your new key card you had been given, though the elevator certainly did. You sat still for a moment. Suddenly, you could hear a brief, painful yelp in the distance - it sounded like a Pokemon? Or was it a person? It was hard to tell, because it went as quickly as it had come. It concerned you a bit. Now that you think of it, you were a bit surprised - the Shell members didn't even pat you down or check you for Pokemon, and you were being handled personally by the facility's admin herself. This McLarty person must have really been someone important to the organization. Regardless, it seems that, for this short period of time, you have a few moments to collect your thoughts, or perhaps something more...

(FYI: Your borrowed Gallade is Level 50 and knows Close Combat and Stored Power.)
Taking one of the seats as Saoirse left the room, Sypher began turning the key card in his hand trying to keep a relaxed demeanor. In his mind he could help but be a bit panicked. The unusual functioning of the elevator and the unknown depth triggered a touch of claustrophobia. Plus there was the odd, hurried nature of the gang members meant that something was up. Could it be that he had been made, or was it that "McLarty" was a bigger deal than he had originally thought. Either way he needed to keep his cool. Giving the card one last over view, he moved the pack over opening the main pouch. Tucking the card in the black shirt, he notice the small bouncy ball that he kept for playing catch with Jill, then he found himself with a quaint little idea. Maybe he could divine some information about the surrounding rooms.

He took the ball from his pack, and called out Jill. He held the ball up to her signaling his intent to play and she cracked a wide smile. Sypher tossed the toy several times, and each time Jill would catch it and send it back to him. Then Sypher made his move. Throwing the ball with a spin such that it would err towards the door that Saoirse had initially disappeared into, hoping to hit it and cause a knock. Jill not being used to the throw lined herself up for the straight toss before the ball veered off to her left. Taken aback, she hissed at Sypher for his trickery before pursuing the ball.
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Old 05-24-2017, 07:43 AM   #97
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TheKnightsFury - The man who questioned you crossed his arms and hinged his jaw, looking you over. He turned to his two comrades, who stood behind him. One of them spoke out. "You wanna get your hands dirty? How about you shove 'em up your mother's ass?" The two began laughing, but the man who seemed to be in charge was not amused. Without warning, he struck his joking partner across the face. He fell to the ground. "You think that's funny, AK? When I'm trying to have a cordial conversation with this gentleman?" The man sat upright. He spat blood out of his mouth. "Sorry Smithie." "You're damn right you are." The third man, who remained unidentified, stood quietly still. It wasn't entirely clear if the man who called himself Smithie was actually in charge or not, but he certainly acted as though he was.

"Don't mind these assholes," Smithie said, turning back to you. "I'd like to think I'm a pretty open minded guy," he snorted. "Here's the deal... you're strapped for cash, you're looking to pad your wallet, that shouldn't be an issue, no sir." Smithie stepped past you and started looking around intently, as though he was trying to find something. It was quiet, until the sound of a distant coughing broke the silence. Smithie turned, and grinned. "Follow me." Left with little choice, you, AK, and the unidentified thug followed behind Smithie as he walked down the street about a block away from the park entrance where you had encountered them initially. You didn't know what he was planning, but you were prepared for anything.

A man sat on a bench near the corner, coughing. He was stout, looked to be in his fifties, and had a bad comb-over. He was wearing a torn up jean jacket, a white muscle shirt, grease stained cargo pants, and very worn out sandals (with socks). "Good evening, fellas," the man said jovially. "Good evening, old man," Smithie heartily replied. He reached forward and yanked the man off of the bench by his collar. He let out a yelp in fear. "Please! I already paid for my protection this month! I promise I'll pay double next month like you wanted!" Smithie curled the corner of his mouth and let out a chuckle. He threw the man to the ground. "Alright, new guy. Take him for all he has. You said you wanted to get your hands dirty? Don't stop until they're dripping with blood." The man quivered and began to cry. "Please don't do this," he whimpered between desperate sobs. "Pathetic! What are you waiting for, new guy?" The unidentified thug questioned. "This is a golden opportunity!"
Jayson soon found himself it quite the troublesome situation. On one hand, he had to stick to his disguise and infiltrate these thugs so that he could shut them down once and for all. On the other hand, to keep his cover he would have to beat the living shit out of a defenseless old man. There was no way he could do what was asked of him, it went against everything he stood for. He had to think quickly, if he delayed too long it would sorely look bad. Perhaps it was possible to satisfy the thugs and simply rough up the old man. If he simply stripped the old man of his wallet, he could easily return it to him once his investigation was over.......

"Ha", snorted Jayson as he made his way over to the downtrodden man. "You expect me to waste my energy beating the shit out of this old geezer? Man I thought you guys were hard, this is kids shit." Jayson grabbed the old man by the collar of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. Spitting distastefully on the ground next to him, Jayson began to search his pockets for a wallet with one hand while holding him firmly with the other. He stared straight into the old man's eyes, attempting to hide his remorse with feigned anger. "If one of you wants to man up and give me a real challenge I would be more than happy to show you my skills. I will even be nice and let you choose, hand on hand combat or perhaps you would rather a Pokemon battle?" Jayson quickly produced one of his Pokeballs from his jacket, flashing it long enough for his new friends to see before returning it to his pocket. He then returned to searching the old man for his wallet, hopefully he would be able to find it and send the innocent victim on his way.
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Old 05-24-2017, 06:07 PM   #98
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Deoxys: Despite the possibility of danger, you decide to press on and try to come to the bottom of the strange happenings. Believing it to be supernatural in nature, you call upon the assistance of Umbra, the Umbreon appearing in a flash of red light. After indicating the path you were to follow, the Umbreon takes the lead, stalking carefully ahead with his nose angled towards the ground. It becomes immediately evident that something was not right. His fur raises on end involuntarily, some instinct deep inside him screaming that there was something strange, foreign about what his brain was processing ... but nothing seems to come to his mind. Finally reaching the door, you put a hand to the steel handle, flinching immediately at the sudden sensation of intense burning. This time, as you pull your hand away, angry red welts are forming across the skin of your palm ... only for your vision to blur a moment later, all signs of injury vanishing as quickly as they appeared. By your side, Umbra whines, drawing your attention to the floor.

A stark crimson pool was beginning to ooze from under the door, the substance certainly resembling blood, but something was off about the texture and consistency. It was too viscous and thick, pooling around your shoes in an awkward manner. Stranger still, when you pulled your feet away from the gathering puddle, your footprints remained, the ooze not shifting to fill in the prints left there. With Umbra now seeming decidedly spooked, you try the handle to the door once more, and this time the old hinges give way, the heavy fire door swinging open to reveal what was beyond. A darkened corridor leads deeper into the building, with numerous doors leading off the corridor here and there - presumably the office spaces of people who once worked here. The corridor is sparsely lit, the little electricity still running through the building only reaching a few intact bulbs overhead. As you consider the corridor before you, the grinding noise from earlier grows more intense and, most worryingly, louder.
Hiero paused, rubbing his hand from the still burning sensation he felt, and yet, didn't feel. He looked down the hall at the flickering light bulbs dangling throughout the dark corridor. He was focused intently on the situation at hand, all semblance of happiness and humor left at the door of the Bastion. The grinding sound was becoming more and more troublesome by the moment.

Umbra arched his back in a defensive stance. His tail stiffened, and he bared his teeth, growling. The fright instilled into him by whatever had just happened put the Umbreon stricly on the defense, ready for anything. Hiero looked at his partner. "You're right. We shouldn't leave ourselves vulnerable..." Hiero considered the rumors of the trainers who have wandered into the Bastion and were never heard from again. He was almost certain that they were just that: rumors. Almost. The experience he and Umbra were currently undergoing made him rethink that, though he had felt that he wasn't nearly as dimwitted as he imagined your average Joe-Adventurer was. And yet, he was also afraid that jumping such a conclusion would be exhibiting cocky judgment, which could ultimately lead to punishment. He wasn't willing to risk that.

Even though he had suspicions as to what was going on, having had similar (though not all around the same) experiences in the past, he understoof that this was a situation that needed to be taken seriously regardless.

"Umbra. Do you see the lights in the corridor? Some are lit, others are not. We are going to follow them until we find the last lit bulb, with all remaining light bulbs after after either darkened or gone entirely. If there is a door near said light - assuming this plan works - I want you to attack it with the strongest Pursuit you can give it. And if there's no door, I want you to attack the light bulb itself. And, if we experience another... hallucination, or whatever it was... I want you to use your Pursuit on whatever manifests. Got it?"

Umbreon nodded in agreement. "Stay with me. We can't get cocky. Anything could happen - be on your guard. And try to ignore the intimidating sound of the grinding noise as best you can."

The noise seemed to get louder and more intense, almost as though it was responding to Hiero.
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Old 05-24-2017, 06:37 PM   #99
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There's more anarchy here than in Arkham Asylum, probably.

The Ribcage Mall.

134
: Pokemon battles. They bring out emotions in people, from joy and sorrow, to anger and giddiness. Having been thrust into an unexpected fight, and with Kai taking the head against the deceitful opponent, you feel something inside you boil, whether that be your blood or soul, and your scowl and words you fire off at Ross take the grown man by surprise, eliciting a chorus of 'ooohs' and 'fokken tolds' from the spectators. The Rib recomposes himself, however, and gives a hearty laugh.

"Hah hah hah! Ya got a spine in there after all, now let's see you back up yer words!" Giving a point, Loki begins to sprint rapidly around Kakahai, you motion towards some of the rubble before giving your stark orders, the Vaporeon taken aback slightly by the sudden change of tone but more than eager to comply, as she finds herself surrounded by a team of five doubles of the Zorua, the quintet dashing around at speed. Making her way to the rubble, the Vaporeon swings her thick finned tail down upon it in an attacking manner, scooping up a large quantity of the dusty mess before whirling around, tossing the sand around her in a wide arc, keeping a close eye as it strikes at the five foxes as they close in on her.

Biding her time, Kakahai's irritance only serves to make the water within simmer, and when the dark type and copies leaps at her in an aerial fashion, she pinpoints one slightly messier than the others, steeling herself as the fox strikes her in a manoeuvre akin to an ace acrobat, illusory copies doing the same, and as Loki sneers behind them, their cockiness turns to alarm as they find themselves dirty and their copies completely clean.

"What the-" Ross can only blurt out as the Eeveelution, cheeks bulging and a devious smile on her face proceeds to blast the Zorua with a powerful burst of scalding hot water, the illusory copies fading as the searing liquid splashes over the fluffy creature. As this happens, you proceed to remove your damp clothing for something a little drier, ignoring the fact that you're in full view of a few dozen people...who give a cheer and a few whistles at this fact, some of them flinging some papery things in your direction. As it is, you're more focused on the battle than the money being confettied your way.

Speaking of, you can tell the Zorua was not expecting the attack, judging by the shocked look it mirrors on Ross. As he barks at it to turn around and attack, your starter capitalises on the confusion and lunges forward with her small fangs tinged a noxious violet before nipping the Zorua in the side with a toxic bite, enough to inject the poison into them but not to do damage. Shaking her off, the fox growls before releasing a dark pulse of energy outwards, the wave of energy buffeting the Vaporeon but ultimately more of a defensive ward than an actual assault. Shivering, you can tell that Loki's been poisoned, and has taken quite a sharp knock in damage, though Kakahai's still worse for wear. However, you have the energy advantage, having thwarted the evasive action, though what sand may have got in Loki's eyes would have been washed out.

"Fighting dirty? I gotta admit, that was pretty clever usin' the rubble like that! Just means we get serious...hone yer claws, then give 'em a good ol' feint attack, then prepare yer other trick..." your opponent growls. Your move, kid.


Crystal Grove.

Missingno. Master
: You were most certainly one for justice, and would like nothing more than to put the Black Scarab down, but a murderer Keith Golbatson Masters was not. Some of your pokemon, perhaps, given the few unlucky rocket grunts you've encountered stupid enough to attract your ire, but you yourself wouldn't stoop to such depths. As you recall Donovan's words of the Vanguard's vigilantism, you pop the question of killing towards him nervously. The man takes a long, drawn breath, before exhaling and responding.

"Not unless you're legit threatened. We do things tougher than most, a broken limb here, bruised chest there, but only those who are foolhardy enough to pull a gun on us when they've lost are dealt with in our manner. If you're asking if I've killed any Shells..." he pauses for effect, "...then I'd have to kill you afterwards."

The jocular manner of the response earns a chuckle from you, and the remaining journey through the tunnel goes quietly, until you come to a junction. Following the man to the left, you head through a network of tunnels, only now noticing the lighting system. A number of lengthy black cables, with the occasional pointed LED bulb providing a gentle light. The bulbs themselves are no bigger than your thumb, and as you stare at them, Donovan speaks up.

"Right, the bulbs. We found a warehouse of them near the Sanctum, presumably the Shells use them for keeping their spotlights up and running. We nicked them and installed them so we can actually see down here without using flash or whatever. Anyways, we're here..."

As your companion stops, you find yourself at a steel door with a metallic box beside it. Opening it, Donovan inputs a code into the system, the door's bolts unlocking and allowing you access. As you head through, you find the base to be slightly dusty, as expected of an underground facility, yet stocked with numerous boxes of supplies. Looking around, you're approached by another man, but before he can speak, Donovan interrupts.

"Hold up there, Mike. This here's Keith, he's here to help us with the Shell problem we have, and specifically the Scarab," he explains. Mike, as introduced, seems different, with a scruffy jacket and a pair of three-quarter jeans.

"Well maybe he can get some sense out our recent catch then, Bryan's not getting much out of 'er with loud noises and his hands, and both Lee and Karl are saying that we've nabbed a dud despite blatant Rocket evidence..." he mutters. The mention of the Rockets grabs your attention as well as Donovan's, the vigilante pointing you towards the back as Mike practically hauls you towards the rear of the base. As you clamber over boxes, the Decidueye sits back to recuperate and you're brought in front of a cell.

On the outside, you find a young man with a red face, presumably Bryan, whose anger subsides on sighting Donovan, while within the wooden-floored cell sits the subject, a woman a couple of years your junior from the looks of things, holding her upper arm, as though hiding something red, a tattoo perhaps, though from your angle you can't tell, and the brunette, with her waist-length hair seems silent, though whether that's through fear or hard-boiled training you can't tell either. What you can tell, however, is that Bryan has a short temper, judging by the snapped canes here and there, and it's clear the vigilante has been violent in interrogation.

"Well, Keith. Your choice. You can head in and see if you can get her to talk. If she can prove she's not related to the Shells or whatever, we'll let her go. If she is, we'll haul her off to the authorities. Alternately, we can leave her to Bryan here, and see if his 'tried-and-trusted' method of confession works..."

The woman is facing away from you, trembling, so you can't see her eyes, but you've a choice to make. Would you be willing to let a potentially innocent lady suffer further abuse, or will you try and coerce conversation? There's also the matter of Bryan to consider, given his mannerisms may not be morally questionable. It's your call, however.


The Bastion of Vacuous Dreams.

Sparkbeat
: Your Murkrow's complaints aside, your modus operandi with the situation was a simple one, to leave no stone unturned as you put it. Not intrigued by the great hall, you opt for the left door, and the gloom within, rather than the chilling fog. Stepping forth, you find the room within to be a corridor, and carefully make your way through. You notice the darkness isn't so much a shadowy gloom but more of an actual physical manifestation you're trudging through, and looking behind you reveals nothing but darkness. Inching along slowly, you feel Chord's talons sink into your shoulder, the crow creeped out.

After several minutes of fumbling in the dark in a forward direction, you find your vision is starting to return, and the darkness is waning, returning you to...a doorway not dissimilar to the one you entered. With a reluctance to turn back into the darkness, you and Chord step through to find yourselves in a large spiral stairwell, seemingly stretching to the skies and depths infinitely. As you ponder which direction to go with your avian companion, you hear hurried footsteps heading in your direction. Looking up, you find yourself looking at someone you know very well: yourself.

Or rather, a feminine version of you, her short hair and eyes the exact same tone of colour as yours, though her eyes are in a state of panic. On her shoulder holding on for dear life nestles a small blue bird with white fluffy wings like clouds, a Swablu. As she barrels down the stairs, she looks behind her, gasping, before turning towards you as she cries at you to start running too, lest "the abyss consumes you too." As she draws near you, you glance up at the stairwell to find the skyward stairwell seems to be crumbling into nothing by some unknown force.

Are you willing to stick around, or are you doing as your female self is and booking it down the stairs? Looking behind you, you're not at all surprised to find your previous entrance blocked by a big wall of wall, leaving you with only one sensible option...
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Old 05-24-2017, 07:25 PM   #100
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Raves View Post
Crystal Grove.

Missingno. Master
: You were most certainly one for justice, and would like nothing more than to put the Black Scarab down, but a murderer Keith Golbatson Masters was not. Some of your pokemon, perhaps, given the few unlucky rocket grunts you've encountered stupid enough to attract your ire, but you yourself wouldn't stoop to such depths. As you recall Donovan's words of the Vanguard's vigilantism, you pop the question of killing towards him nervously. The man takes a long, drawn breath, before exhaling and responding.

"Not unless you're legit threatened. We do things tougher than most, a broken limb here, bruised chest there, but only those who are foolhardy enough to pull a gun on us when they've lost are dealt with in our manner. If you're asking if I've killed any Shells..." he pauses for effect, "...then I'd have to kill you afterwards."

The jocular manner of the response earns a chuckle from you, and the remaining journey through the tunnel goes quietly, until you come to a junction. Following the man to the left, you head through a network of tunnels, only now noticing the lighting system. A number of lengthy black cables, with the occasional pointed LED bulb providing a gentle light. The bulbs themselves are no bigger than your thumb, and as you stare at them, Donovan speaks up.

"Right, the bulbs. We found a warehouse of them near the Sanctum, presumably the Shells use them for keeping their spotlights up and running. We nicked them and installed them so we can actually see down here without using flash or whatever. Anyways, we're here..."

As your companion stops, you find yourself at a steel door with a metallic box beside it. Opening it, Donovan inputs a code into the system, the door's bolts unlocking and allowing you access. As you head through, you find the base to be slightly dusty, as expected of an underground facility, yet stocked with numerous boxes of supplies. Looking around, you're approached by another man, but before he can speak, Donovan interrupts.

"Hold up there, Mike. This here's Keith, he's here to help us with the Shell problem we have, and specifically the Scarab," he explains. Mike, as introduced, seems different, with a scruffy jacket and a pair of three-quarter jeans.

"Well maybe he can get some sense out our recent catch then, Bryan's not getting much out of 'er with loud noises and his hands, and both Lee and Karl are saying that we've nabbed a dud despite blatant Rocket evidence..." he mutters. The mention of the Rockets grabs your attention as well as Donovan's, the vigilante pointing you towards the back as Mike practically hauls you towards the rear of the base. As you clamber over boxes, the Decidueye sits back to recuperate and you're brought in front of a cell.

On the outside, you find a young man with a red face, presumably Bryan, whose anger subsides on sighting Donovan, while within the wooden-floored cell sits the subject, a woman a couple of years your junior from the looks of things, holding her upper arm, as though hiding something red, a tattoo perhaps, though from your angle you can't tell, and the brunette, with her waist-length hair seems silent, though whether that's through fear or hard-boiled training you can't tell either. What you can tell, however, is that Bryan has a short temper, judging by the snapped canes here and there, and it's clear the vigilante has been violent in interrogation.

"Well, Keith. Your choice. You can head in and see if you can get her to talk. If she can prove she's not related to the Shells or whatever, we'll let her go. If she is, we'll haul her off to the authorities. Alternately, we can leave her to Bryan here, and see if his 'tried-and-trusted' method of confession works..."

The woman is facing away from you, trembling, so you can't see her eyes, but you've a choice to make. Would you be willing to let a potentially innocent lady suffer further abuse, or will you try and coerce conversation? There's also the matter of Bryan to consider, given his mannerisms may not be morally questionable. It's your call, however.
Keith relaxed as Donovan cleared up the most pressing issue he had with this whole vigilante concept- he'd only have to kill if he truly, absolutely had to kill- like, if it was a matter of life or death on his own part. He even chuckled at the additional part of the answer, which was said in a jocular manner, reassuring Keith that that wasn't serious. He felt better about all this already, and was now able to focus on other things, such as the tunnel's lighting system- long black cables peppered with LED bulbs no larger than his thumb.

But before Keith could open his mouth, Donovan provided answers for that as well- they swiped the bulbs from a warehouse they'd found- presumably stored there by the Shells, so the Vanguard decided they'd take them for themselves, so as to provide some semblance of visibility in the tunnels. Keith nodded, just as Donovan stated that they'd reached their destination- a steel door, kept locked by some sort of security code. Donovan input said code, opening the door, and granting access to the base. Immediately they were approached by someone else, but Donovan stopped him, introducing Keith and explaining that he was there to help.

This new man, named Mike, suggested that Keith could help them get something out of someone they'd recently caught- someone with apparent Team Rocket ties, a detail that caught Keith's attention. He was led- well, more like dragged- across the room, to a cell. Outside the cell was a young man whose definite displeasure dispelled somewhat upon spotting Donovan- this, Keith gathered, was Bryan, the guy who had been in charge of interrogating this suspect. Inside the cell was a woman, somewhat younger than Keith if looks were anything to go by, sitting silently, facing away from Keith, and trembling. There were broken canes laying around, a testament to Bryan's short temper- this, Keith realized, might just explain the trembling. He began to realize that Bryan's interrogation methods must be a bit... physical.

He was given a choice at that point- asked whether he wanted to try his hand at interrogating this suspect, get her to talk, or leave her to Bryan. Now, were this a clear-cut case, Keith wouldn't especially care, but he recalled Mike mentioning that Lee and Karl insisted that they were barking up the wrong tree with her... there was reason for him to question whether she really had any affiliation with the Shells or with Team Rocket. Of course, he couldn't say she was innocent, but neither could he say she was guilty just yet. He didn't know one way or the other, and the only way that'd change, he knew, was if he went in there and found out for himself.

"I'll go in there, see if I can find anything out," Keith replied. They say the definition of insanity is trying the same thing over and over and expecting different results, after all, and however Keith was going to do this, he knew it wasn't going to involve physical violence.
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