Non-Weekly Quote:
(Updated when the fancy strikes us)
"Strong Pokemon, weak Pokemon. That is only the selfish perception of people. Truly skilled trainers win with their favorites" - Karen, E4
Did someone say missions? Because I think I just heard someone say missions. Current Tourney Leaders James Ramos - 2/0 Randy Savage - 2/0 Breia Exarch - 1/0 Daniel Genrud - 1/0 Sophia Blackwell - 1/0 Zackary Joel Ortega - 1/1 Devlin - -0/70 |
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| Topic Started: Aug 15 2009, 08:57:26 PM (97 Views) | |
| President Stings | Aug 15 2009, 08:57:26 PM Post #1 |
Murderous Weedle
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[man here goes nothin] The claws of sleep began to lose their grip on the young mind, and try as the body might, it slowly began to awaken. Very little light penetrated through the leaves of the trees (Those massive, greedy behemoths, sending out cloaks of shadow to choke the life out of those not fortunate enough to grow to the size of themselves) was sheltered by pile of leaves he had crawled in. As he woke up more and more, one thought crossed his mind: Hunger. And with this, he brought his mouth to nibble at that which had so graciously sheltered him, had hidden his sleeping form from the hungry eyes of those that lurked in the trees and flew through the air. Soon enough, he had made it out onto the forest floor. Here in the open, one would finally be able to see the creature- A creature whose basic body structure was like beads on a string. On each end of that string was a barb- The head could be discerned from the tail because the barb on it was much larger, and also there was a nose and eyes. Overall, he was a rather silly looking creature… But in those barbs was housed a highly potent venom. The Weedle crawled along the forest floor, observing its surroundings with greatest care. All these sights and sounds were new, and were so fascinating! There were a few other insects like him that crawled about the ground- Most merely paid him little more than a passing glance before going about their own ways. A few showed some signs of hostility, but when they were completely ignored, they went about their own business. At some point, it occurred to the Weedle to look up. And its first sight upon doing so was enough to fill it with an instinctive dread. High up on a branch sat a creature that, to most humans, would be completely harmless. It was a slightly chubby looking bird, with brown feathers covering its body, mostly. The belly had a softer, downier type of feather along the belly, which was a light shade of tan. The wingtips shared this shade. As bird and bug eyed each other, the former gave a slight chirp. To most, this would be cute. To the Weedle, it was as menacing as a lion’s roar. Without any warning, the bird lunged at the young Weedle. The insect instinctively dodged- The bird wound up with a talon full of dirt. Insectoid faces are not prone to showing emotions, but if they could, fear would be etched all over the little Weedle’s. He was in the middle of something with an ancient foe, and it knew not what to do or how to do it. All he knew- On a level he did not know, nor have the capacity yet to know- Was that this bird was trying to kill him, and that he needed to it first. After its miss, the bird started flapping up into the air again. A mischievous glint flashed across its eyes, and the avian tossed the dirt and debris at its prey, along with a flap of wings to generate more dirt to weigh it down. But the Sand Attack also obscured the bird’s vision, and it did not see the Weedle crawl to the side. The larva was still confused, but he was crawling with a purpose. Across his mind, one simple command kept on repeating itself: Gum up the wings. He didn’t know what it meant, but he still followed his body’s orders. Eventually the bird stopped its Sand attack, and when the dust settled down it immediately noticed that there was no insect in the dirt. The bird let out a chirp of confusion as it looked about its surroundings, until it spotted the prey- Sitting down behind it, doing little more than watching. With an angry chirp, the bird began to fly up higher into the air, to perform a killing strike… And at that moment, the Weedle fired. A concentrated, sticky silk jettisoned from its mouth, on a direct course with the bird’s wing. The feathered foe was caught off guard, and was unable to resist before the wing was glued to the rest of its body. With only one wing flapping, the bird began a slow flutter downwards… Until another precisely aimed String Shot glued shut the other wing. With now no means of aerial movement, the bird plummeted towards the ground. The moment the bird impacted, the Weedle began to hastily make its escape into the underbrush. The fall was no great height- The bird might suffer some scrapes, but it would survive. Still, it would take it a few seconds to pick itself back up, and those few seconds were all that the Weedle would need to escape. [did I do it rite u guiz i guess now somebody else posts or something? the way this place works has confused me since day one. and that's a pidgey if anyone cares] Edited by President Stings, Aug 15 2009, 09:09:05 PM.
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6:53 PM Jul 30
