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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| Titan v Scon; =D | |
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| Topic Started: Nov 26 2008, 11:04:03 PM (170 Views) | |
| Titan | Nov 26 2008, 11:04:03 PM Post #1 |
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Protagonist
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{Set across the Edael River from the Arvada Range} {Yeah, so, Scon, I started writing as Robyn but it failed because Robyn sucks but Havyn also sucks so I don’t think anyone would make the first move. However, with Mere maybe...Robyn could think that Havyn was attacking Mere? Maybe Havyn would do something since Mere looks so helpless?} {Lol Post starts in eighth paragraph} The tide churned powerfully behind him - it wasn’t too wide, perhaps, but it mattered not whether the strait spanned one yard or twenty thousand leagues, so long as the said body of water itself was present; Mere would have sunk like a stone. So about a hundred and eighty degrees of the area around him were no longer viable; or one hundred and seventy eight point five, if he accounted for the curve of the beach. Perhaps he should have accounted for that before he’d found himself cornered like this, or perhaps he should have considered himself lucky and pulled up his stakes a few days ago. Mere had been planning - purely subconsciously, of course, for his conscious thoughts tended not to stray far from his vroom-vrooms and his choo-choos - to move on because his gut was telling him that he could last maybe another forty eight hours without sustenance before he ran out of fuel. It was a bad habit of his to leave eating so late, but it didn’t occur to him that life could be lived any other way. He did as he pleased and sporadically entertained the chores that his beating heart demanded of him - so he snatched an hour of sleep here and there and dragged himself to the nearest source of food whenever it become necessary. And seeing as sleep didn’t require a whole lot of movement, the Sandshrew had even dozed sitting there in that particular hunched over manner of his, so in fact he hadn’t needed to get up in over five days; thirst would have driven him from his comfy-spot sooner, perhaps, had it not been for the bout of rain two or three nights ago. Funny story about how that had worked out, actually. A total of three hundred and sixteen Wingulls had flown overhead over the course of the last five days, as well as thirteen Pelippers. Of these, seventy eight Wingulls and no Pelippers had touched down on the beach, and while Mere had also noted that any of the seagull Pokémon had dared come near him was five inches, this data was irrelevant. He’d glimpsed twenty seven Remoraid and six Majikarp, one Mantine in the distance and a total of eighty nine human boats, although fifteen of those had been simple fishing boats. Nine of them had caught Remoraid. All but one of them had fished up garbage - six clumps of weeds, a boot, a discarded fishing rod, miscellaneous items - and thrown it back into the waters. This was a long-winded way of explaining that the Sandshrew counted practically compulsively. He didn’t actively go in and count each individual repetition of an event - he would have had to know in advance that, for example, more than one fishing skiff would fish up a clump of weeds, and more importantly he didn’t possess the attention pan. But there could be no denying the power of his memory - it was more like the information his senses fed him all accumulated in the chasm of his mind, and when the physical world failed to stimulate him he found himself grouping these memories into different categories. It was in this manner that Mere counted blades of grass or drops of dew, or the number of breaths he took daily, etcetera, etcetera. This was along-winded way of explaining that one of the sole endeavors that Mere consciously undertook was the gargantuan challenge of counting the stars in the sky. Perhaps because it was one of the few projects that continued to defeat him. The Sandshrew had begun counting the stars in the sky two years ago, and yet it was still clear that he was nowhere near mapping down each individual light in the sky. He’d never lost count or counted the same twice, of course - given that he had never left the island of Althea in all his life, it was no difficult feat to calculate the positions of the cosmos relative to current location; so every time he gazed up at the night sky, he was still seeing the same starscape each time. As it happened, the night it had rained, the stars had obviously been obscured by the rain clouds. This displeased Mere on a level too low for him to understand, but instinct dictated that he stare upwards anyways, unable to do anything about the rain splashing into his eyes (probably kept them from drying out) and into his mouth. How fortuitous! In fact, this extraordinary chain of events had probably saved his- With a start Mere remembered the human in front of him. He smiled a little as he did so, pleased with this accomplishment. The pair, consisting of the male human, approximately eighteen years old, and a Kecleon - Spoiler: click to toggle Intuition finally made the leap that if these two had been standing there observing him for all this time, perhaps something was expected of him. Mere’s eyes locked onto the Kecleon’s, although he was speaking to the human as well. “My name is Mere.” After that herculean effort Mere went back to building his sand castle. He cocked his head to the side inquisitively. |
A Titan's Tale A Titan's Past
23 Jan 09, 19:23 Munch: ...can ducks drown? | |
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| Sconnorsiz | Nov 30 2008, 09:52:26 AM Post #2 |
So old it's new.
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{Lawl stars. And I'd tell you when my post becomes relevant to you, but I know you'll read it anyway<3 =D} A quiet murmur of concern had been Havyn's first reaction when he saw the Sandshrew clumping the wet sand that'd built up. Or rather, the sand that had been reduced to mere particles over the millions of years that the river had churned the rocks up. Why concerned? Well, the reason that the Sandshrew shouldn't be there was the same as that of why he was there. And, as the only human in the area, or so he had to assume, Havyn as always felt that it fell to him to ensure this Pokémon, as any other, would continue to live safely. Since he's such a great hero and stuff. Havyn didn't really look at this Pokémon with desire, for it wasn't normal type, but he observed it with caution, remembering all he could; it was a ground type, it evolved into Sandslash, they were generally fond of burrowing, only learned one damaging Ground move, but it did also learn Poison Sting and Rollout, both very dangerous moves. Especially when one has the painful realisation they didn't bring any Antidotes; if the little soricomorpha was hostile, then things had the potential to get difficult. This one was particularly slow, Havyn had to admit, and he wondered if for a moment whether it was mentally deficient. That would account, after all, for its ignorance in the face of danger. The sandcastle it was constructing looked better than any Havyn himself had ever made on the beaches of Olivine, and he had tried many a time. The last time he had, though, it'd been when he was 11. His castle was, compared to the rest of them a huge success. Perhaps that had been why he never built another; he'd completed that task, so there was no reason for it to be done again. And there was also the small matter that he hit pubescence shortly after, rendering things like creating sandy failurepieces entirely boring and childish, compared to the more exciting things in life... Like studying and having no friends. Thinking about this made him realise that, quite possibly, the small orange creature was a child, and so oblivious. Well, oblivious as it was to Havyn's concern, it wasn't oblivious to him any more. He'd been approaching Sandshrew with slow, steady, steps, hands limply hanging by his side, open to show he intended no harm, facing the Pokémon to signify he meant it. Kecleon, of course, was perched on his shoulder, and it had as friendly a face as one could muster, but when you look at that chameleon's features, you'd often find it difficult to see anything resembling friendship, sociable as he was. It did, after all, look like a high speed collision between Hex and a Metapod... Or Hex and an Aggron... Or Hex and... Well, everything and anything. Nonetheless, Kecleon was prepared to play whichever game the Sandshrew was interested in; battling, chatting, arguing, sandcastle building, chess... Well okay, he sucked at chess, and Havyn had forgotten to pack his board, so that one was out, but to draw out the point for half a paragraph, Havyn's oldest Pokémon companion was on his toes, awaiting a sign of pretty much anything. If it did come to battle, which he knew Havyn really didn't want, they had a few problems to face; the terrain was to Sandshrew's advantage, as if the very fact his namesake was their flooring wasn't enough, the shrew had one less objective hanging over his head. Fortunately, however, it seemed that, as they got closer, the Pokémon had no interest in battle, at least not yet. Maybe it hadn't even noticed them, so content in building the castle, and so Havyn stood there for a long moment, awaiting him to notice them, rather than alert him and cause panic. Kecleon knew the drill, and continued to look on very casually, with that non-threatening look he would probably never actually master. They just stood there, watching as he clumped up sand, and dumped it into something resembling a tower, at one corner, before using his claws to fashion details into it; windows, archer slots, even a door. For a wild Pokémon, he seemed to know more about castles than he probably should. Waiting. Still. Continuously. ...And then some. Well this was demanding... It's a good thing Havyn is a patient per- At last, the orange fellow noticed them, looking up to acknowledge their existences. He then seemed to spend a lingering moment pondering, or perhaps staring blankly as Havyn suspected he might, before speaking. His pupils had locked on Kecleon, and the Normal type returned the favour, eyes swivelling naturally as Mere finishing introducing himself. That didn't last long, though, as this little one broke contact and returned to his task. Well, now Kecleon knew what his name was, even if Havyn never would, and that it hardly intended to rip him a new asshole. Now to play charades with Mister Ackerman; it's fortunate most Pokémon know English. “So, is he friendly?” the boy ventured first, keeping his line of sight on the Ground type's creation. Kecleon responded by nodding, chirruping a higher pitched call to resemble yes (which is what Mere would've heard it as.) Havyn thought for a moment, then continued to say “Well okay, that's good. Be nice, and try to explain why we're here.” Once he finished, he kinda straightened up, and stepped forward a bit more, subconsciously trying to hurry the situation along. Kecleon jumped off his shoulder, and into the sand, kicking up a tiny cloud of sand that lingered around his feet for a second. A soft echo and the footprints being the only other signs that he moved, as his form briefly disappeared in the cloud. He noticed this wasn't the friendly Havyn was preaching for, and so he reappeared pretty quickly. “Well, it's nice to meet you, Mere. I just go by Kecleon, but this human's called Havyn.” our normal type started, sounding artificially sweet. “That's a nice sculpture you have there, by the by. How long have you been working on it?” Once he had a reply to that, he would then continue on “Well that's nice” Or something. “But to be painfully short, I must say that we have a motive for being here; You're in a certain amount of danger!” He gave that a moment to settle in, the little drama whore that he was, before finishing. “We need you to come up off the beach to the safer roots of the mountain, okay? Basically, a violent Gyarados is causing mayhem just downstream, and that's threatening high tide to be even more pronounced than usual... If you don't come with us, you face serious problems.” Edited by Sconnorsiz, Nov 30 2008, 09:54:04 AM.
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| Jacob | |
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| Titan | Nov 30 2008, 03:22:58 PM Post #3 |
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Protagonist
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{...Sigh} Without really thinking, Mere brought his left paw up - not without great effort - and engulfed half it with his maw as a Teddiursa will suck honey from its paw. He sought not sweetness from the little spaces between his claws, for his already-parched tongue was met with only salty grains of sand; he alternated between clamping down upon it and relaxing his jaw, able to comprehend his thoughts with much more success with the aid of the physical stimulus. With his free paw he continued to trace little patterns onto his castle with delicate dexterity. The Kecleon fascinated him. As was the case with Mere nine times out of ten - nine point six, actually - he had learned much about this particular species of Pokémon, although he had never physically set eyes on one. As a matter of fact, it had actually taken him half a second to identify the creature as a Kecleon; he had taken in the red zigzag pattern on its belly, the strange facial patterns, and even the number of toes the creature held to his name. Then he had systematically ruled out any species which was not green, any species that was not approximately three feet tall, and any species that did not have a tail, repeating the process of elimination until at last only Kecleon remained. Quod erat demonstrandum. It was the Kecleon’s trademark camouflage ability - he had demonstrated it for a second - that really, ironically, caught the Sandshrew’s eye. He noted just how effective synergetic colors could aspire to be, although he also supposed that such a trait wouldn’t accomplish much in itself should scent still cling to Kecleon. Food for thought - Mere tucked away his musings for another rainy night. Usually the Sandshrew found it difficult to derail these wayward trains of thought, but the buzzing in his ears helped; Kecleon was talking at him. …Gyarados? Mere had never seen a real life Gyarados either. The Sandshrew was curious, but the prospect of high tide did sound pretty bad. He had been planning to move on soon anyways. He stopped chewing on his paw, his mouth falling slack as he contemplated his options. Reality slipped from his grasp briefly; Mere’s eyes stared unseeingly at the purple-haired human in front of him while his claws continued to- “Oops.” Mere’s focus condensed as his claw hit one of the turrets at a bad angle. The sand had grown dry and brittle in the hours gone by; at this pressure the entire left side of his castle crumbled away, and forty eight straight hours of work were erased. A castle built of sand…That could have been symbolic of something. Or was it pillars of sand? Ah well. There was little point in his monument enduring the day if he was moving on. Oh. The human. The Kecleon. Mere had forgotten. -_- They wanted him to go along with them? Mere cocked his head to the other side, contemplating the offer. The human was blatantly a “Pokémon trainer,” - Pokeballs and such will give off that kind of vibe - but it wasn’t as if Mere would ever have to worry about being caught. =D Should he…? Purple hair. Mere had never observed such an odd shade of hair in humans before. Humans were certainly strange creatures; in addition to wearing really weird clothes, they tended to color their hair with all sorts of funny things. Purple was red and blue put together, so - blue, like the ocean. The Sandshrew stared at his ruined castle; he wondered how many waves the thing could withstand before it completely disintegrated. If he could calculate the momentum of the waves…? Oh. Kecleon in front of him. “Pleased to meet you, Mister Kecleon, Mister Havyn. My name is Mere.” Edited by Titan, Nov 30 2008, 03:25:19 PM.
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A Titan's Tale A Titan's Past
23 Jan 09, 19:23 Munch: ...can ducks drown? | |
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| Sconnorsiz | Dec 6 2008, 04:59:38 PM Post #4 |
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So old it's new.
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[;_; my shortest post in a long time] Kecleon's tail was itchy. Not like suffering from an outbreak of fleas or dry skin, nor because someone's tickling one with a Starly feather. No, this itching was much more a resulting factor of a persistent annoyance colliding with a lacking patience, self-restraint allowing the problem only to manifest in the irritation of the skin. He wasn't nearly as understanding as Havyn; he could be patient, sure, and he had a conscience for helping people, if he could (And if they needed it...) But he, unlike his master, valued a sense of... objective; meaning for what they were doing. Ultimately, he had to feel that he wasn't futilely wasting his efforts on something that didn't have a point. Without that, after all, he was squandering his efforts which would be better served preserved for another occasion. An efficient hero, under the rule of a totalitarian hero. And so, watching as Sandshrew began an attempt to what could only be described as rip his own tonsils out, Kecleon's fifth appendage began to flicker in his frustration. His tail whipped into the ground, sending up a brief flicker of sand, and he sighed a little, pondering on what good Havyn honestly thought he was doing. It was interfering with nature, really, if the Gyarados was going to cause a disaster which the Sandshrew was too slow to react to. Even if the normal end result was hardly considered desirable... Of course, he also knew he'd be wasting his time to think that Havyn would do anything other than help out. And that he'd be lying to himself if he thought he wouldn't be helping out as much as he could too; he was loyal to Havyn, far beyond the demands of his efficient beliefs. Flipping our attention to the purple-haired hero's thoughts, Havyn was looking at the Sandshrew with increasing concern. Seeing it Munch on its own paw made him raise his eyebrows in concern, though observing the creature's nonchalance to his own act soon reassured him it was nothing to worry over. The whole drowning thing, however, was cause for concern, and he pulled up to within reaching distance of the Sandshrew, having begun moving again. Kecleon was now by Havyn's side, on his right, eyes cast out over the river, as Havyn bent down to Mere's level. He wasn't sure whether it would really appreciate the magnitude of the situation, and looked helplessly around as if there was a simple answer to be found. He looked to Kecleon for some signal on how to proceed, given what Mere had said to him, but the green Pokémon merely shrugged; how was he supposed to explain that Mere had simply regurgitated their names and then given them his... Again? It showed, after all, a lack of memory and, to Kecleon, a distinct failing in mental aptitude. So Havyn was left stumped, and looked one last time at the Sandshrew, with his now crumbled castle, and decided it was time to do this. He reached out, and gently put a hand on Mere's shoulder, hoping to gently guide him up away from the water and off the beach! |
| Jacob | |
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| Sconnorsiz | Dec 10 2008, 12:12:36 PM Post #5 |
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So old it's new.
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Abandoned in the interest of BEE SUCKING GARGANTUAN KAWK. |
| Jacob | |
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| Titan | Dec 10 2008, 05:48:39 PM Post #6 |
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Protagonist
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D= |
A Titan's Tale A Titan's Past
23 Jan 09, 19:23 Munch: ...can ducks drown? | |
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