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  1. #1
    Cheers and good times! Neo Emolga's Avatar
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    [RP] Broken Sun - The Mandate of Anarchy


    BROKEN SUN
    The Mandate of Anarchy

    The True Soul Pact has been shattered. And now oblivion is at hand.

    The Pact was meant to be an agreement between the heavenly skies of Utopia and the burning bowels of Abyss. The pact decreed that no living soul of Pokémon would bear witness and be influenced by either of the two afterlife realms before the moment of their death. If left alone to live their own life according to their own choices, the true nature of their soul could be determined for proper and adequate judgment. The Abyss would be able to claim their evil dead, while Utopia would welcome the compassionate and the righteous that had passed on, one of the only things Utopia and the Abyss could agree upon. For many centuries, the True Soul Pact was honored by both the righteous and the wicked for the mutual benefit of discerning proper judgment.

    But the Abyss crossed the line. The legions of the Abyss were able to break into the Pokémon world of Talandra after a portal was created by the dark necromancers and warlocks of the infernal pits. But like a thief in the night, they were silent, spreading among normal Pokémon as sleeper cells while causing no initial alarm or suspicion. These agents of the Abyss made no friends or enemies among the living Pokémon. They simply waited, watching and listening for the moment. Their entry had been undetected by Utopia, and when the Abyss took note of this, they spread even further, their secret shadow moving like an underground plague. They soon settled upon other living worlds of Pokémon, erupting into the very cataclysm that would later be called The Infernal Schism.

    That moment of darkest dusk has come, and now the fires of The Schism War have been lit and enrage with soul-consuming flames. Dishonorably, the Abyss ignited its rebellion against Utopia, and have already begun to entrench their morbid pestilence among the living Pokémon of these three ravaged worlds, soon to spread further with every dishonorable victory they acquire. Through dark influence, evil and scourge has spread across all three of these once-beautiful, lively worlds, already plunging the souls of the living into darkness, anxiety, and wickedness. Pokémon, both wicked and righteous, are being ensnared by the shackles of damnation as the dark legions of the Abyss continue to rise to make way for their ultimate plot. Their infernal plan is to grasp the plane of Utopia itself with its hideous gauntlets of damnation, and send the heavenly realm itself plummeting into the foul, fetid trenches of the infernal underworld. Once this happens, no Pokémon, no matter where in the universe they are, will ever see salvation, doomed to suffer the fate of the damned no matter how honorable or righteous they live their lives...

    Already, they have begun to carve, butcher, and craft Talandra, Valkea, and Kokoro into the material of nightmares, the same, macabre abomination that The Abyss is, and will soon target others if not suppressed. In time, it is feared that these three worlds will be transformed into the horrific sisters of the Abyss with more to come. Now, the infernal dominion continues to grow and threatens to dominate all existence both in life and beyond death in a final, eternal apocalypse. As the Abyss sneers and smirks at their vile, dishonorable deed, screaming laughter at their cheating act of villainy, Utopia has been blocked from entering the world of the living by the Infernal Barrier, bound to only watch and weep as all of creation succumbs to this unholy apocalypse.

    Already, a dark prophecy, one called the Black Doom, has been made, a foresight that has declared all living worlds will be sullied and infested by the Abyss, and once this has been done, Utopia itself will join it as the gauntlets of death seize the heavenly realm by the heart, and laughingly yank it from its celestial haven and send it screaming into the foul pits of burning doom.

    Hope for all Pokémon dies for eternity if we fail...

    YOUR INTERVENTION

    Upon the industrialized world of Talandra inhabited only by Pokémon, you are one of the Indigo Seers, just one of a handful of mystical warrior sages born with powers and capabilities that some Pokémon can only dream of. As a mystic soothsayer, other Pokémon have gone to you for your power of clairvoyance and divination, but never once did you think your powers would be the ultimate gambit against the Infernal Schism. Initially, the Abyss didn't suspect you of being any different from all the others. But, it wasn't long until they realized the danger of that assumption.

    Now you're a critical target for their assassins.

    The truth came to you in a vision, and visions of the Indigo Seers never lie. The Abyss's infernal plan would have already worked, and all would have been forever lost. But instead, because of you, a small but fading splinter of hope still exists. In a universe so rapidly collapsing out of control, you are but the few grains of sand in the hourglass of doom that cling to the edge and have not plummeted through the infernal vortex that so many are falling through already.

    Meanwhile, the Abyss has cut Utopia off, ensuring the souls of the deceased are only pulled into the underworld, and the armies of Utopia are prevented from interfering. You can hear Utopia's cry in your visions and dreams, but it is distorted and distant, only able to stutter incomprehensible statements before being swallowed by the shroud.

    But you can change it.

    The power of the Indigo Seers goes far beyond the powers of mysticism. Alone, you carry the power to alter the course of the Black Doom Prophecy, to rewrite the dark declaration made by the Abyss's acolytes. And only you have the power to undo the chains and shackles that prevent the armies of Utopia from defending the souls of the living.

    You must ensure that The Schism War will take place and be a true war... and not a horrific massacre of woe and eternal grief...

    YOUR MISSION OBJECTIVES ARE AS FOLLOWS

    The mission has been made clear in the visions you have seen. Only you and the other Seers are capable of changing the course of doom.

    Broken Prophecy - The three Brothers of Despair, Xac the deranged Hypno, Undax the diseased Gengar, and Delath the villainous Grumpig, are the ones responsible for writing the Black Doom Prophecy on the Parchment of Fates. Until their dark deed has been undone, what has been written will come to pass, and Utopia and all the worlds of the living will fall. Already, time marches on and the shadow of doom creeps further over everything with every passing second.

    The vision has told you that all three Brothers must been slain, and their black blood will need to be mixed together. Once done, the blood has to be used to blot out the dark runes on the Parchment of Fates, and then burned in fire. If and only when the dark words have been blotted will the Parchment of Fates be flammable.

    Once this is done, only then will the vice of the Black Doom Prophecy be shattered. Only then will hope have any fighting chance whatsoever. However, you must beware. Xac, Undax, and Delath are formidable and merciless opponents, and will not be defeated easily.

    Rites of Passage - The Abyss has established a massive stronghold upon Talandra, a dark and truly damned citadel known as the Cathedral to Corruption, currently skewering its way into the fallen city of Sartaras in Victakan. Only the Indigo Seers know that this infernal building is the reason behind the Infernal Barrier, the reason why Utopia's warriors are barred from providing reinforcements. In their haste to establish their offensive front and keep Utopia blocked, the Abyss left this citadel as the only forefront to keeping Utopia barred, and it will be some time before they can reinforce the barrier or provide supplemental protection as their current operations are very resource demanding. At the current moment, they believe no one among the living knows about this weakness in their operation and have made a costly assumption.

    The structure will fall and collapse if the Altar to Pain is destroyed by Cleansing Fire, a conjuration ability the Abyss did not think you and the other Indigo Seers possesses. If the Cathedral to Corruption falls, the Infernal Barrier will be shattered, and Utopia's armies will descend from the heavens by the millions. Once the holy battalion arrives, the Abyss will be completely unable to further prevent them from entering the realm of the living again, and their merciless massacre will have to become a war of equal sides. Victory for the Abyss will go from a certainty to a struggle.

    Others - While these two missions are of utmost, critical importance, there will be other missions that will need to be accomplished. Stopping key commanders of the Abyss, providing support for Utopia, and undermining the Mandate of Anarchy are but just a few. Some of these missions may require you to head into the heavenly realm of Utopia, while others may only be accomplished by heading into the Abyss itself.

    LEGIONS OF THE ABYSS

    The undead horrors of the Abyss come in many forms. These are but a few of the ones you have seen in your clairvoyance of the darkness. They come for you, knowing you are the last hope that the living have against the dark campaign. Your ability to foresee their plans, reveal their weaknesses, and undermine their campaign of darkness is a threat they will not ignore.

    You must continue to defy them by fighting them and resisting their dark influence. Until Utopia becomes involved in the fight to bless the weapons of the resistance, the slain members of the Abyss can only be sent back to the foul pits where they came from upon their "second death," where unfortunately they can regroup and resurface again in less than a year. Killing them, however, does buy precious, invaluable time.

    The Infernal Scourge - These fetid, ghoul-like Pokémon are the souls of the wicked. Those that murdered others and enjoyed it. Those that acted as fiends even in life, and now continue to seek that same, murderous desire in undeath. Others have been so corrupted by sin that they know nothing but slaughter and mindless mayhem. Like many other horrors of the Abyss, they bleed black.

    All they want is to see you die, and inevitably join their ranks of the damned.

    The Cohorts of Chaos - These blackened, shadow-colored Pokémon are the main workhorse of the Abyss's legion. These foul but strong warriors of doom never breathed life, and have always been savage combatants of the Abyss's army since their grotesque creation. While many of them still reside in the Abyss, many of them have set foot upon the living worlds of Pokémon, infecting the living and the environment with their pestilence and plagues of sin and vice.

    Unlike the legions of the Infernal Scourge, the Cohorts have the power to wound souls, but not kill them. Wounds inflicted by the Cohorts and their jagged weapons of darkness will not heal on their own, and must be healed by Utopia's clerics or by their heavenly salves.

    The Cohorts of Chaos are commanded by Meiun and Banjin, the Brothers of Doom, the twisted renditions and rejected legendaries that are the Fallen of Lugia and Ho-oh. They currently command their dark legions from the Abyss.

    The Fallen - Every living and deceased Pokémon has a Fallen, a powerful, evil rendition of themselves made of all the sins that Pokémon has committed in their lives. Yes, even you have your own Fallen lurking in the shadows as it tries to hunt you down. The more sins a Pokémon commits, the more powerful their Fallen is. But in contrast, a righteous and honorable Pokémon is mirrored by only a weak and frail Fallen. While Fallen are rare to see outside of the Abyss, there are a few that have surfaced in the world of the living, often serving as captains of the Infernal Scourge or the Cohorts of Chaos.

    Fallen can also wound souls, but seeking the soul of their counterpart to infest them with an overwhelming darkness is their highest priority. However, they will not hesitate to corrupt those that seek to stop them or hinder the efforts of their dark allies. A soul that is defeated by their Fallen becomes forever corrupted, lost in mind, body, and soul into a never-ending whirlwind of sin and malice. These Fallen become "The Defilers," and are stronger and harder to kill as they are the living embodiments of sin and insanity.

    Defeating and destroying a Fallen is extremely difficult, although possible (definitely not in groups). Upon destroying a Fallen, the counterpart soul undergoes a divine, angelic transformation, a state of such infinite white purity that they become Utopian Paladins, resistant to the temptation of sin and influence of corruption, and possess powers of holy purity and righteousness. These Paladins are very rare, and make up some of the strongest warriors Utopia has for this very reason...

    Legendary Pokémon also have Fallen renditions (such as the case of Meiun and Banjin, and other Abyssal commanders). Meanwhile, The Fallen are commanded by Zaiaku, the Overlord of Sin, the twisted, dark travesty of Arceus himself.

    NOTE: It is impossible to kill your own Fallen alone. Seeing your own Fallen generates a feeling of paralyzing and unfathomable fear, and the fact any wounds your Fallen rendition receives, you will receive as well with an excruciating level of pain. As the Fallen begins dying and bleeds out of control, you suffer the same, and only until they are completely destroyed will you undergo the holy rebirth.

    The Legion of Xov - The Legion of Xov is made up of dark, shadowy, blob like enigmas that are living entities of the void, vaguely resembling black, oily Pokémon with glowing red eyes.

    Xov's minions of despair are infamous for their ability to vaporize souls upon consumption, and erase their existence from memory of all. Meanwhile, Xov has many lieutenants, sub-commanders that have lost all resemblance to Pokémon. As for Xov himself, he resembles a massive, shifting mass of voids and nothingness, constantly shaping itself into intimidation, resembling skulls, unholy symbols, clawed hands, and other infernal shapes.

    Even just touching Xov or any of his underlings results in full and total erasure. But even worse, the means to destroy them still remains a mystery. Thankfully, these abominations remain exclusively in the Abyss, although those that would venture into its depths would need to beware.

    Others - There are many other types of enemies and Abyssal threats you may find in your travels. These are but a few of the followers of infernal evil.

    TALANDRA



    Gutted and bleeding from the inside, Talandra is just one of several victim worlds who has had its core become a channel to the Abyss as the once lively world now rots from the inside out. Talandra, once a world of ingenious Pokémon inventions such as airships, clockwork devices, steam engines, and other steampunk inventions is now on the brink of destruction.

    City locations with red names and areas on the map covered with a reddish-black blotch are areas that have become overrun by the Abyss's legions, and are quickly spreading like cancer. The once majestic capital city of Sartaras is now the stronghold of the Abyss upon Talandra. Like the other defiled and corrupted cities across the bleeding planet, it cannot be saved, and must be destroyed and eradicated like a vile, festering tumor.

    RULES AND ABILITES

    As an Indigo Seer, you know exactly where and how to find other Seers (other RPer's characters). You can even communicate with them via a special Seer Telepathy message. If you use this ability, write the communicated message in italics.

    Main Rules:

    • Follow all standard PXR and RP rules.
    • No godmodding outside the scope of what your character is capable of. I'm okay with a few rules being bent, but don't do it excessively.
    • Bunnying should only be done with permission.
    • You're free to make as many characters as you like, but please give them equal attention. Also, each character should get their own sign up. Characters that are only acquaintances of your character mentioned in their history are still only considered NPCs.
    • Try to be active if and when you can. Talandra and Utopia are depending on you!


    SIGN UP

    It all depends on you...

    Name: Your character's name
    Gender: Male, female, or genderless
    Age: Your character's age in years. Assume Pokémon and humans age at the same rate.
    Species: What Pokémon species your character is. Can be evolved or non-evolved.
    Description: How your character differs from other Pokémon of their same species. Note any visual differences, such as scars, cleanliness, birthmarks, or even body art tattoos. Also, some Talandra Pokémon do wear loose and small articles of clothing and jewelry, such as cloaks, bandanas, pendants, and so on.
    Personality: Your character's attitude, emotions, and perception. At least one paragraph.
    History: Your character's background and past. At least two paragraphs.
    Weapons: What kinds of weapons your character carries.

    THE CAST
    Duke Stellar the Ledian - Played by Phantasm.Angel
    Theo Myrsky the Quilava - Played by Morzone
    Professor Talahass von McYarglefargle The Ninth - Played by The Nonexistent Tazz
    Kaxo Sychal the Lopunny - Played by Neo Emolga
    Raven Karan the Mightyena - Played by Noblejanobii
    Shiro Minamoto, Lugal of Jansen - Played by Death's Spook
    Moira Magro the Lucario - Played by Velocity
    Last edited by Neo Emolga; 07-19-2015 at 06:50 PM.

  2. #2
    Cheers and good times! Neo Emolga's Avatar
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    Kaxo Sychal the Lopunny
    The Hole Tavern, Scarwell, Azmarax
    Affected RPers: N/A


    I hated this place, but it was one part of the planet I could sit down, forget about all the hellish things that were going on outside, and just relax with a drink.

    The tavern was a dirty and filthy wreck, as if the owners figured since the apocalypse was happening anyway, no one had to give a rat's damn about cleaning the place. The stools and tables were dirty, random pools of alcohol, spit, drool, or whatever bodily fluids were about, and I didn't think much of the regulars here. Most of them were bumbling idiots that drunk themselves stupid on Cinnabar Cider or the seasonal ale. I wouldn't be shocked if the Plusle I saw on the wooden, barroom floor was lying in a puddle of his own piss.

    Normally I liked to be alone, but there was the problem of a Floatzel named Lude who told me he had money that apparently he actually didn't. And then there was his friend Bretner the Furret that thought Lude had him covered. So now I had to drag these two knuckleheads around trying to find some use for them as repayment for the money they owed. The three of us sat at the clunky table in the back, the only one that didn't smell like urine. There was an awkward silence, with Lude and Bretner exchanging looks, not sure what was to come out of this.

    "What would you three like to drink?" A Lilligant waitress came to ask us, looking a little moody.

    "For me, one Cinnabar Cider," I told the bouncy flower. "These two dropout zombies don't want anything."

    That wasn't entirely true. I was sure these two would have loved a drink on my tab, but like hell that was happening. When she nodded and left, the two of them looked at me like I just cheated them yet again.

    "What do you want from us, man?" Lude asked doubtfully, acting like I was actually enjoying their company.

    "Yeah, why do you have to be like that?" Bretner joined in. "Just let us go, we don't want any trouble."

    Pft, yeah. Should have thought twice about that before telling me there was money involved when there wasn't. The deal was Lude was going to pay me for saving his idiot friend Bretner from a Rhyperior loan shark who enslaved him. I did as he asked by busting Bretner out of prison, and Lude was broke.

    "Let me ask you this," I told the both of them, "have either of you killed anyone before?"

    "I swear, never in my life!" Lude exclaimed.

    "No... no way, I'm clean!" Bretner told me, thinking I was accusing both of these rejects.

    "Shame, that makes both of you even more useless," I told them, thinking they could have been as least somewhat instrumental in helping me kill off the brothers.

    Instead, these two clowns would simply get themselves killed and it would solve nothing. It was hard to figure out some kind of use for these deadbeats, and I had no intention of letting them go. News of that crap floats around like a fart.

    The Lilligant waitress came back with my Cinnabar Cider, and I was interested to see why this drink was such the rage here. I took the brown clay mug, looked at the orange-tinted liquid inside, grabbed the mug with my paw, held it to my mouth, and took a sip.

    As the cider touched my tongue, I had to wince. It was ungodly sour and bitter. I swore, I could get drunk off of urine sooner if it was alcoholic. I couldn't believe this was the kind of stuff some Pokémon were getting plastered over. I began to figure that if this was the kind of place that passed for a bar around here, it was no wonder the drinks were just as deplorable.

    "Kaxo?" A slightly familiar voice asked me. "Kaxo Sychal?"

    I then looked up from the disgrace of an alcoholic beverage I was going to have the hassle of paying for later and saw it was Ergin, the Darmanitan. I wasn't expecting to run into this monkey-head with arms and a grin that went out of its way to be punchable. He was with his idiot henchmen, a Heliolisk named Renk and a Mawile named Sankin.

    "Listen here, you bastard rabbit," He snarled, pointing a finger at me. "I swore I'd be ripping your furry, little face off the next time I ran into you. I have proof you cheated me out of my money, and I'm going to make you pay back in blood for it! You're a damn con!"

    Psh, as if it was my fault Ergin was an idiot gambler.

    "Ha, ha, you were the idiot who decided to keep going," I told him, knowing he was too dim-witted to ever blame himself for his own idiocies. "Yes, I take total responsibility for your own lack of restraint. Sorry about dropping you on your head at birth too. That was totally my fault."

    "EERRAAGGGHHH!" Ergin roared, grabbing a wooden table and throwing it aside in his tantrum, suddenly disrupting everything in the bar. "When I'm through with you, I'll wear your bones as a necklace!"

    "Listen, we have nothing to do with him!" Lude told him. "We're not his friend!"

    Well, this was just going swell. I sighed, figuring Scarwell's medical clinic could probably use the business anyway.

  3. #3
    Actually Prefers Popeyes Kentucky Fried Torchic's Avatar
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    Duke Stellar the Ledian
    A Jail Cell in Morbidtree, East of Scarsdale, Azmarax
    Affected RPers: N/A


    Duke Stellar woke up from the same nightmare that he had been having for the last few weeks. It was a vision of fire and death. It was a painting of a world gone mad by a drunk, hazy visions of Pokémon screaming and bones turning to dust as the sun slowly went black. Cheery images. The dream had become so common place that the Ledian didn’t wake up with a start anymore, no, now it was just a cold sweat that dripped off his red and black body. He took a glance around to find out where he was starting his day this time. The poorly plastered wall and thick iron bars told Duke that he was in a jail cell. He didn’t remember anything out of the ordinary happened, so he reckoned that it was the drunk tank and not because of anything serious. Jail cell or not, it beat waking up in a ditch at noon reeking of alcohol. This way, he got something resembling a mattress at least.

    The headache was something else he had gotten used to, a sort of collary to the dreams. As soon as they had started, Duke found that the more that he drank, the foggier and less vivid they got. And since the current horrors meant that he was getting a lot of visions of pain and suffering, the drinking had picked up in earnest. The migraines were a small price to pay for not having to look at the kind of unwarranted gore and misery that seemed to be one of the lingering curses of Duke’s birth as an Azure Seer. As he held his head, the thought of what he might be seeing if he had kept training made his body shudder anew. But, like all the others, the headache simmered down into a low throbbing.

    Rising to his feet, the Ledian saw his duster and hat hanging off a hook in the cell. Although the filthy dirt floor didn’t bother him, the lack of weight to his cloak did. They had taken his guns. Great. Nothing that could be done now though, so Duke set about getting dressed, a quick task for a Pokémon with four arms. He still found the time to read the graffiti that had been crudely etched into the wall next to the cot though. There were enough familiar pieces of chicken scratch, “The ladies at Madame Phong’s are the best!” and “Someone tell Kinney that he owes me money”, to let the Bug-type know that this was one of his regular stops on his current tour of barhopping and fist-fighting. There was also enough new scribbles to keep things interesting. The most prominent of course was the huge gaping holes cut in the wall, probably by a Scyther or the like, that read, “The end is nigh!” in all frightening capital letters. Underneath this some joker had etched in, “Jirachi saves”, which put a smirk on the Ledian’s face.

    As soon as Duke finished pulling the boots at the foot of the bed on, another Pokémon entered the jail. It was an old Beartic wearing a white hat, a belt holstering a gun, and a small silver badge pinned to the belt. How an Ice-type like him found the misfortune to find himself in the arid Vectaken wastes, or found the fortitude to survive was beyond Duke’s comprehension, but the Pokémon himself was not. “Howdy, Sheriff,” the Ledian said with a nod.

    “Don’t howdy me, Duke,” the Beartic said with a heavy sigh, dropping his enormous bulk behind a desk that he dwarfed. “Do you only come to our fair city to get trashed? You spend half your time in Morbidtree in the bars and the other half sleeping it off in here. Why don’t you settle down, find yourself a good woman?”

    “What’s the rush when your wife’s such a great cook?”

    With a sigh, the huge white-furred Pokémon tossed a sack to Duke, landing it next to the cell with the grace of a man who’s performed the same action with drunks since as far as he could remember. The Ledian tore open the paper bag to find a sandwich and a piece of fruit. Between bites, he said, “Much obliged, Goyi.”

    “That’s still Sheriff Goyi to you, Duke,” the Beartic said with weak chastisement. “At least until they find another poor sap to fill these boots.”

    Duke finished the food, wiping up the crumbs around his mouth with the bag. “So, how about you let me out of here?”

    “So you can head back to the bar?” the sheriff said with a raise of one shaggy eyebrow, the movement barely perceivable under his thick coat of fur.

    “It’s either that or Madame Phong’s.”

    “You gotta be careful, Duke. One day that mouth of yours is going to get you into a lot of trouble.”

    “Already has, Sheriff,” the red Pokémon said. “Now, what d’ya say?”

    The Ice-type rose to his feet and lumbered over to the cage, a key clenched in one giant paw. “I don’t know why I try anymore,” he said, more to himself than to his prisoner. “The whole world’s literally going to hell and I’m locking up drunks.”

    The Ledian grabbed his hat as the door swung open and plopped it onto his head as he walked out of the cage. “Now, how about my guns?”

    “Right, right,” Sheriff Goyi said with a heavy sigh before heading back over to his too-small desk and opening one of the drawers. Duke walked over and fetched his twin six-shooters, stowing them in the back of his duster with two hands while the other two picked up his other belongings, mostly ammunition and money. Before the smaller Pokémon could leave though, the Ice-type stopped him with a firm but gentle paw on his back. “I’m serious, Duke, I don’t want to see you again tonight.”

    “Where should I go then?”

    “Why not Scarsdale? It’s the biggest city in the region, it’s gotta have a better selection of booze than a little mudhole like Morbidtree. The law enforcement there isn’t as nice as I am, but that’s the price you gotta pay.”

    The Ledian tipped his hat at the Beartic. “I just might do that then,” he said. “Give me best to your family, Goyi.” And with that Duke Stellar walked out of the jail and into the harsh sunlight of one of the small towns in the Vectaken wastes. The glare triggered another burst of his still lingering headache, but once it died down the Bug-type spread his wings and with a buzz began flying west. If his mental map of the area was accurate, then Scarsdale wasn’t more than an hour’s flight away. His circuit of barhopping had taken him another lap around the ring of cities in the desert it seemed. With that cheery thought, the red and black Pokémon zipped off in search of more alcohol.
    Last edited by Kentucky Fried Torchic; 07-14-2015 at 02:16 AM.
    Dreams do come a size too big. It's so that we can grow into them.

    Current Projects:
    Fanfiction: Pokémon: Exodus (Chapter six of nine posted)
    Nuzlocke: "Dude, Where's My Bellsprout?": A Totally Radical Red Version Nuzlocke

    Avatar by the illustrious Neo Emolga.

  4. #4
    ERROR! DOES NOT EXIST! The Nonexistent Tazz's Avatar
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    (ooc: I'm going to do this like it was an old text adventure. Hooray for obsessions with MSPA!)

    Professor Talahass von McYarglefargle The Ninth
    McYarglefargle Laboratory, Syn City, Synamax
    Affected RPers: None that I know of


    <Ple-Hel-Aby-Inf-Ana-Pal-Sto->

    -> Professor Yarglefargle: Wake.

    And that, as they said, was that.

    You immediately wake to a relatively normal day in the apocalypse, and when you do, you, finally sick of these utterly deplorable visions, give the heavens above and the hells below EXACTLY what your opinion on them is, in terms very clearly stated and very hard to argue against at any angle whatsoever

    "UNAAAAAAAAAAACEPTAAAAABLLLLEEEEEEE!!!"

    You then spend the next minute catching your breath.

    You have done this for the last week, as you gruelingly prepare to set out and kill the three brothers, burn some parchment, break into one of the ABYSS'es military bases and proceed to destroy probably the most guarded unholy shrine in its most unholy sanctum-aka, the ALTAR TO PAIN. You have also, wisely, decided that killing the BROTHERS OF DESPAIR and obliterating the so-called BLACK DOOM PROPHECY (Which you simply fail to see the intimidation factor in) with them will probably help in the considerably harder task of infiltrating the now-unholy city of SARTARAS. Granted, either direction works in theory, but the sooner the BLACK DOOM PROPHECY leaves your thoughts, the better.

    You have grown sick, tired and straight-up ANGRY at these awful visions of death and despair and hopelessness, and considering the source of them is the conflict at hand, you have officially decided that you have had enough of hell and will give it the business, the hard way.

    -> Professor Yarglefargle: Examine Laboratory.

    It's your LABORATORY, a dinky old place with gears and cogs and pressurized steam tanks laying about, your basic government-approved scientific standard with some upgrades that your father's money managed to grab. Shame it's not so easy these days, as now you are kept afloat only by the occasional success. You ARE brilliant, of course, solved several equations and made a living, but you're not exactly...You know...Famous. Or very rich. But you still are living the dream, just not as much of it as you wanted to. The most recent additions are the welded-on metal plates on the windows, designed to prevent any would-be thieves in the night or any attackers to your laboratory, what with the advent of the apocalypse.

    You might have wanted to ask your FATHER for more money to spruce the place up a bit and get some more interesting devices, but he's retired now and he probably really needs it. Your FATHER lives-or rather, used to live-In JANSEN. He's almost certainly in Sylath, as you have not received word of his untimely demise. Or word at all, really, but you would have gotten a considerable inheritance should he have kicked it, which would be somewhat useful in establishing more money for the journey ahead. It would have certainly made news, they would have paraded it around at least. The short of it is, he's not dead. Hopefully he's not worse than dead, given the circumstances.

    As it stands, you have packed into the contents of one TRAVELING BACKPACK, the following: PROVISIONS FOR TWO (2) WEEKS, your trusty GRENADE LAUNCHER with approximately FIFTY (50) GRENADES, your STEAMGUN, TWENTY (20) SMALL PRESSURIZED STEAM CANS, 30,000 in POKÉ, and nothing else. The rain never bothered you, sun won't be too much of a pain to you, and your goggles will help with the sandstorms that plague the deserts to former JANSEN, your first target on the quest to kill the BROTHERS and stop the BLACK DOOM.

    -> Professor Yarglefargle: Take TRAVELING BACKPACK.

    You take the TRAVELING BACKPACK and put it on your back. There is space for other stuff, which you might need later on, including those interesting Abysmal and Utopian artifacts that your quest will almost certainly intersect with. They could be extraordinarily useful for the cause of SCIENCE that you lovingly work for, hohoho!

    -> Professor Yarglefargle: Look around for any last-minute inclusions.

    In all honesty, you have planned the contents of your TRAVELING BACKPACK for five days and could have gone slightly earlier...Had you wanted to possibly return to a crater. As it stands, the Laboratory can currently be left for YEARS without maintenance by others. The worst it'll get is dusty. Your life expectancy, in all honesty, isn't that high either, so you have made sure it will get auctioned off to the public scientific community should worst come to worst, and in all likelihood it will.

    Well, it would certainly end those awful visions ONE way...

    -> Professor Yarglefargle: Exit LABORATORY.

    You EXIT the LABORATORY, slamming the door wide in ferocious anger over the audacity of the situation you've been put in. As you do so, the door doesn't slam into the outside wall and you hear a crunch, implying someone was on the other side.

    You take a quick look around your field of view. No-one else is nearby. You did live a little out of the way of the main city.

    -> Professor Yarglefargle: Investigate the noise.

    You close the door and discover some...Well, some kind of BEEDRIL ZOMBIE, really. Some fetid, horrible ghoul of an already dangerous-looking insectoid that was, rather unfortunately for it, right in front of your door, now partially paste against your wall. It looks like the blow you did in slamming it open like that was FATAL. It is not moving, and bleeding some black substance profusely...Quite disgusting, honestly. This could preclude an invasion...But you doubt it. You would have almost certainly gotten a HORDE of visions if this was the case. This was almost certainly an assassination attempt. You do not see any signs of an attack beyond this guy.

    ASSASSINATIONS FOILED: 1.
    INFERNAL SCOURGE SLAIN: 1.

    ...Oh, right. This reminds you. You need JARS, or at least a CONTAINER capable of holding LIQUIDS, like BLOOD. You will need the blood of the fallen BROTHERS to break the BLACK DOOM pact.

    -> Professor Yarglefargle: Retrieve JARS.

    You don't have any jars!

    You substitute in some empty PRESSURIZED STEAM CANISTERS instead, however. You take FIVE, just in case.

    -> Professor Yarglefargle: Clean up the mess.

    You execute DRAGONBREATH on the ZOMBIE BEEDRIL CORPSE. The scent of the burning is utterly disgusting, but fortunately it burns with surprising speed, devouring the flesh. You are left with plain, blackened, demonic-looking BONES and a relatively dark sludge after a few minutes of application. Relatively clean, you say. You don't really want to touch it.

    This MAY have been an assassination attempt. This may also mean that Syn City is about to come under attack, but you have gotten no visions to support any attacks, so you will assume the former for now. A low-ranking but dangerous soldier sent to do fieldwork and test you, maybe even kill you if they were lucky, yes...But this means the ABYSS somehow already knows you are a INDIGO SEER, and are invested in foiling their plans.

    CERTAINLY NOT A GOOD START TO THIS. Not even seconds in and already there's been a (rather ill-fated) Assassination attempt. Ah well. Now to just catch a ferry out of here...

    Before you forget: You retrieve the LABORATORY KEY from your LABCOAT POCKETS, and lock the LABORATORY. Safe and secure, on top of the BOARDED WINDOWS. You also check your ZEPPELIN TICKET-Port I, 9:00 AM arrival and 9:15 departure to the city of OASIS. You would, from there, brave the SYNATA desert to make it to JANSEN. That was the plan, in any case.

    ...

    INVENTORY:
    • GRENADE LAUNCHER (LOADED)
    • GRENADES X50
    • STEAMGUN-100%
    • PRESSURIZED STEAM CANISTERS-FILLED (STEAM)-X30
    • PROVISIONS-TWO WEEKS
    • PRESSURIZED STEAM CONTAINERS-EMPTY-X5
    • LABCOAT (EQUIPPED)
    • LABORATORY GOGGLES (EQUIPPED)
    • LABORATORY KEY
    • ZEPPELIN TICKET-FROM SYN CITY, TO OASIS
    • 30,000 POKÉ

    Avatar by the incredibly awesome Neo Emolga.

    Zigzagoon: Hatch @8,669; Linoone @ Level 100: 8,829

    My VPP Stats! - My Prism Stats! - My URPG Stats!
    BEHOLD THEM AND DESPAIR!!

    GUITAR WARROIR! medeleymedeleymedeleyMOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

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  6. #5
    taking flight! VeloJello's Avatar
    URPG Staff

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    Moira Magro
    Sylath Outskirts
    ARP’ers: None


    “Turn the ship around!”

    My paws skidded across the smooth main deck of the Black Braviary, unable to get a grip with my haste. A few eyes turned toward me, but quickly looked away; every hand on the deck was busy maintaining the rigging during our descent into Jansen. Besides, only one of them really knew about my Indigo Seer’s visions, or the gravity of them.

    I slid to a halt in front of Captain Pike, who looked calm as usual, if a bit curious. “Moira,” the Nidoqueen said. “What’s the problem?”

    “We need to turn the Black Braviary around,” I grunted. “Jansen is swimming in Abyssal energy. If we go below the cloud cover, the ship will be spotted by hostile forces and then torn to shreds.”

    Captain Pike remained at ease. “They’ve been having issues with that for months,” she said calmly. “Frankly, I would be surprised if there weren’t a few of the pests hanging about.”

    My agitation was getting worse every second - the captain never did anything except at her own pace, and her pace was about equal with a Shuckle’s. “You don’t understand; this was a vision. I saw Jansen burning. There is nothing there but rubble and death.”

    I watched as Captain Pike’s expression soured. I couldn’t blame her for that; we were, all of us, low on sleep and funds and high on stress and problems. “Gunner Magro, this is an important shipment. Without the pay from this job, we’re not going to have money to buy fuel at whatever port we next rest in. If you’re wrong, it’s the end of the Black Braviary

    “I am not wrong, I swear on Dialga’s bones. Pawn the guns in Sylath or Brachta Beach or Scarwell. If we go to Jansen, then it will definitely be the end of the Braviary

    After what felt like an eternity, the captain raised her head and boomed out in a voice that I knew from experience was loud enough to be heard anywhere on the ship. “Helmsman Abelard!” she cried. “Change in plans! Turn to port on the double. We’re now bound for Sylath.”

    Then, abruptly, the entire main deck of the Braviary vanished.

    “No!” I screamed as the Braviary dipped below the clouds. “Pull up! They’ll see us; Arceus da -”

    And then there was nothing between our ship and the burned ruin that had once been the city of Jansen.

    For several seconds, there was nothing but silence from the crew as they stared at the ruin. Just over a month ago, at our departure, Jansen had been prosperous, bustling, and beautiful. Now it looked like a skeleton, with scaffolding bones and gravel flesh.

    Something in the city screamed.

    Movement rippled on the ground below. The ship’s alarm began to blare as winged shapes, indistinct in the distance, rose up to meet the Braviary. Mumbling under my breath about fire and condemnation, I turned to man my station at the main guns. However, Captain Pike barred my way with a meaty arm. “Don’t go down to the guns; this isn’t a sky pirate skirmish. Those targets are too small for even you to hit with what we have.”

    I grunted my acknowledgement and walked to the railing. With each passing second, the flying shapes were getting closer, and there were quite a few of them. I frowned. Fighting Flying-types wasn’t my forte, but I was sure I’d be able to at least do some good damage.

    My breathing slowed, my eyes closed, my crown rose up from behind my ears. Time seemed to slow as I stretched my arms. I couldn’t see them, of course, but I could sense them. Bright power, rusty red, pulsed through my body. It only took a slight effort of will to direct the energy to the space between my paw pads, until an Aura Sphere formed there.

    My senses cast outward, searching for a target. The first auras I registered were the ones closest to me, but the Braviary’s crew was irrelevant. I needed to look further, past the ship, and try to find the -

    It hit me like a sucker punch. The shape was hazy, indistinct, pulsing red but layered with black like someone had dipped it in hot oil. There was something fundamentally wrong with it, something that put fear and rage in my stomach and filled my lungs with ice.

    Later on, I would sort through the memory and realize that the Pokemon that I had taken aim at was a Gliscor. Somehow, in that moment, it didn’t really seem to matter. It felt like I was looking directly into the Abyss.

    And it scared me.

    …

    The flare of sickening red light and oily black energy pulsed in the distance. It was like I was back in the moment of the crash. I was choking on the smoke of the crash, deafened by the crew’s screams of panic, splattered with the red blood of the fallen and the black blood of the Abyss. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear someone whimpering.

    A pressure rested on my shoulder, someone’s heavy hand pulling me back to reality. I turned around to look into Captain Pike’s keen gaze. “Are they coming for us?” the captain asked.

    I shook my head and drew in a deep breath, trying hard to relax. “No,”
    I replied. “I only spotted one aura signature, and it was growing fainter by the second. Probably some manner of aerial scout on patrol. Nothing for us to worry about.”

    Captain Pike nodded sagely. “Good, good. I apologize if I startled you, but you were shaking and whimpering like you were having some sort of nightmare.”

    If it were anyone else, I would’ve been mad, but the captain was like a mother to me, and her presence was incredibly reassuring. She was large, even for a Nidoqueen, standing over a whole head higher than I and laden with the heavy muscle to match. On the plate of armor on her right shoulder, two black wings stretched wide - the mark of the Black Braviary’s crew. Scars criscrossed the Nidoqueen’s body; her left ear was missing a chunk, and what appeared to be a burn scar marred her stomach. Her smile was wrinkled, and worn by time, but it was familiar and friendly, and it dulled the impact of the memories somewhat.

    “What’s the word, ladies?” called a voice. I stifled a grunt of frustration as Declan Downey, a smallish Excadrill with well-kept, coppery claws, walked up. Beside him was Helmsman Abelard; the slender Haxorus looked timid, as she had every second since the crash the day before. “Do we continue on, or do we futilely beg the mercy of Arceus, knowing that salvation will never come for our poor wretched souls?” There was a grin on his pale face that Moira didn’t like. It was too greasy, too fake.

    “Cool your heels, Downey,” grunted Captain Pike. “It was a false alarm. Let’s keep walking.”

    The Excadrill gave a sardonic half-bow. “Yes, ma’am.” Once more, I followed a step behind Pike’s lead. Behind me, Downey shuffled through the sand, with Abelard bringing up the rear.

    The badlands of Synamax were a horrible place to be stranded, I decided, irrespective of Abyssals. The ground, where it was anything but hot sand, was baked dirt that scraped even the toughest of paw pads until they bled. Shade, water, and landmarks of any kind were rarer than precious stones. Unwary travellers could easily find themselves attacked by all manner of predator Pokemon.

    So basically, the desert was hot and dangerous, and yet it somehow managed to be downright monotonous in the worst way.

    After hours of travel, filled with Downey’s endless commentary and sideways insults, our ragtag band sat down to rest. The sun was starting to set, which helped me feel less like I was going to spontaneously combust, and sitting down felt good for sore pads. I did a cursory check for auras, but I could see nothing but a few desert predators and the signatures of Sylath’s residents in the distance.

    “Still say we could’ve gotten to Sylath,” grunted Downey. “It’d be simpler that way. We could sleep in actual beds instead of in shifts

    “You’ll quit bellyaching if you don’t want first watch,” Captain Pike said amiably, picking gravel out from between the plates of her armor. “Not everyone can go as long without water as Ground-types like you and I. Abelard and Moira should probably take a break if they don’t want to lie down to die of dehydration, and I frankly don’t mind the chance to get off of my sore feet. We have to stick together.”

    I could hear the edge in Downey’s voice, “It seems to me like we’ve got less and less to gain by traveling together as the time goes by, Cap.”

    Abelard scooted a few inches away from our little group as the tension rose. I watched carefully; Captain Pike knew how to manage her crew fairly well, but she had some trouble bringing down discipline when necessary. Which it was looking like it might be with the Braviary’s former cook. “Downey, if you have something on your mind, say it.”

    “Alright,” Downey said entirely too gleefully. “Here it is. First of all, Cap, you’re acting like you’re still in charge. But you’re the captain of a ship that no longer exists, and we’re free Pokemon. You’re trying to force us together with this ‘stick together’ business, but enough is enough with the boss act.”

    Whether or not Downey heard the warning growl rumbling in my throat, he continued. “And one thing that’s been bothering me without end,” he said, “since the minute we saw those Abyssals. How did she -” he pointed at me with one claw, “know that it was going to be overrun? And why didn’t she tell us? It looks like -”

    “She,” I snap, “is right over here. If you have a problem with me, say it to my face.”

    He looked surprised, but he turned toward me. “Alright, fine. Why didn’t you tell us about Jansen? To me, it looks like you held back information that could’ve saved lives. If you’d gotten to Abelard sooner, and if Abelard had pulled up in time, then maybe the other crew members would still be alive. This whole thing has been one screwup after another. Our helmsman couldn't steer, our gunsmith is suddenly having useless future visions, our captain can't lead -”

    “N-now hold on,” Abelard stammered as I rose to my paws. “This isn’t going to solve -”

    Downey was about half my height, but his head rose far above mine when I picked him up by the neck and hoisted him high. “Listen up, Downey,” I snarled. “I don’t mind you badmouthing me. But I’m not going to sit here and listen to you blame the deaths of the crew on Mary. And I am certainly not going to sit here and listen to you insult the captain. You haven’t shut your lousy mouth all day, and you’re only making a horrible situation that much worse. If you don’t like the way that Captain Pike is leading, then fine. Leave. But I’m not going to listen to you blaming everyone else for your problems and bragging about how you can handle yourself for another second. Do not insult my captain or my crewmate again and I will knock every tooth out of your idiot mouth.”

    Having spoken my mind, I dropped Declan and surveyed the others. Abelard looked nervous; Declan looked stunned; Captain Pike’s expression was inscrutable. I crossed my arms, took a few steps back, and tried to get my crown and tail to stop puffing up.

    “I’m going hunting,” I grunted. “Be back later. Bye.”

    And then I tromped out, alone, into the desert.


    Button by K'sariya!

    URPG Stats!

    Paired with noob dummy crazy kid rad friend Nar.

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  8. #6
    ERROR! DOES NOT EXIST! The Nonexistent Tazz's Avatar
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    Professor Talahass von McYarglefargle The Ninth
    Western Syn City, Synamax
    Affected RPers: None that I know of


    -> Professor McYarglefargle: Examine surroundings.

    Ignoring the now-skeletal corpse you have left from an ABYSMAL ASSASSIN, pun COMPLETELY INTENDED...And ignoring that it doesn't have an ENDOSKELETON, merely hardened shell at this point...

    You are outside of your LABORATORY. There is a relatively quick path to WESTERN SYN CITY that you could quickly take. WESTERN SYN CITY is where people actually live these days, while EASTERN SYN CITY is devoted to commerce (and it's where you need to go). CENTRAL and SOUTHERN SYN CITY are mostly home to the main part of town, and in the case of the CENTRAL area, it's also where the government is housed. NORTHERN SYN CITY was initially a relatively small army base, which is where the town sprung up around and was, for the most part, forgotten in exchange for trade. Now, this is no longer the case, as the Many armed forces of SYNAMAX are now using it to the full capacity it was initially intended for, and are now making a stand here. You managed to dodge the Drafting by way of being FOURTY-NINE. Only Pokemon EIGHTEEN to THIRTY-FIVE are drafted in SYNAMAX.

    Let it be stated clear and prominently: That you are not eligible for being drafted into the armed forces is not saying you are a weak combatant. Indeed, your species and secondary occupation alone make you frightening to fight, but you have not specifically trained outside of some mandatory exercise classes in high school/college all those years ago.

    -> Professor McYarglefargle: Move to the actual City already.

    You honestly agree, it is altogether MUCH TOO HORRIBLE that you have not already gotten your hind quarters rooted firmly in the city. You follow the path, which isn't too far off, and find yourself within WESTERN SYN CITY in no time flat. You often come here, or close to here, in an attempt to show off some of your inventions, or just walk about in relative peace. The Police in Syn City are pretty high-standard for the relatively small population, so rare is the news that anyone was jumped, least of all a GOODRA like yourself with such a tall and intimidating appearance.

    You don't really consider yourself a socialite, but you do know the people around here to an extent. Most noteworthy to you are only few: There is ROXXIA and CUMULA, two extraordinarily tall Lucario (well, extraordinarily tall for their species); YONCHA, a relatively 'normal' street merchant if he wasn't a Shiny Pangoro; HINTONIA, a Froslass with hoarding issues and a fascination with all things supernatural; and HASTUR, an unfortunately named Octillery who's job was tour-guidance in the CANALS, and not at all related to certain figures in LOVECRAFTIAN LITERATURE.

    SYN CITY was relatively small, but it wasn't unknown. It was semi-famous for its mostly-unique CANAL SYSTEM. The city was mostly built by water types, intended as a naval base and later a naval seaport, so naturally they got to decide on that. Half of the property, and property you usually do not visit, is actually underwater. It's often rumored that the underwater half of the city itself is littered with secrets that not even its denizens are aware of, including tales of twin dragons and a hidden garden.

    POPPYCOCK, YOU SAY! Or, rather, would have said, as you would have said similar from an invasion from hell. Oh, wait, guess what's happening RIGHT NOW, ALL OVER TALANDRA? You do have a somewhat more open mind to the supernatural at this stage. Still, no physical proof of either dragon exists at all. If they do exist, their ability to hide is second-to-none, as people more dedicated than you are to finding them have not even found a hint of their existence at all, and this is with some good time to research. Certainly not dedicated, poke-your-nose-into-everything research like your more pragmatic endeavors are bound to be like, but by all means it was still thorough. Plus, there really haven't been any incidents that would reason such a thing. No odd occurrences at all. A myth founded entirely by rumor. HINTONIA is of a different mind than you, but you would like to think that HINTONIA has a few screws loose. She believes in SANTA CLAUS for pete's sake. She thought YOU were SANTA CLAUS once, in fact, but the story behind that one is pretty big.

    -> Professor McYarglefargle: Investigate possible recruits on this fantastic voyage of yours.

    You honestly do not want to raise more ruckus than you already do regarding this. In any case, the people who want to fight off the legions of the Abyss have already joined the army, and you are not getting assistance from them even if you are a credited INDIGO SEER. The rest in the city have managed to dodge the draft for some reason or another.

    As for your neighbors that you know enough about: HINTONIA (blind in an eye) has stated, quite clearly, that she wants NOTHING TO DO with ANY Abysmal Powers that exist, and most of her research into the subject right now is explicitly defense AGAINST them, though this might warrant a visit to her house; ROXXIA (PTSD, supposedly) and CUMULA (SIXTEEN) are an Aunt-Neice pair, and whist CUMULA would be all over the idea of adventures, ROXXIA would say no to any adventure taking them near ABYSMAL TERRITORY in a heartbeat, so neither would be going; YONCHA was suffering from SEVERE ASTHMA and wouldn't make for a good traveler, preferring to hear the stories from people who buy from him; and HASTUR (THIRTY-SIX), though very eager to leave the city and explore, is also a massive pacifist and wouldn't hurt a soul, even a soul tainted beyond salvation, which is not so good when your job explicitly calls for the deaths of the BROTHERS OF DESPAIR.

    You don't really think you can call upon a MERCENARY CREW, or at least one willing to go anywhere near ABYSMAL TERRITORY. The one within your price range demanded exorbitant fees for attempting to go anywhere near JANSEN.

    Any ALLY of yours would join by coincidental allegiance rather than any overt attempts, you think.

    -> Professor McYarglefargle: Make stop at HINTONIA's HOUSE.

    More like HINTONIA's HUT.

    You take a left and politely knock on the wooden shack five houses down from where you entered. After a few minutes, a gruff "Who is it?" came into your ears.

    "It's the Professor, Professor McYarglefarlge! Open up, I've got some business to make with you!"

    The door swung open extremely fast. The half-blind FROSLASS, wearing a CLEANSING TAG on her head and an eye-patch, almost immediately answered. Money was so sparse for her it was practically music to her hears to know of a customer. "Ah, so I take it your mystical sight has brought you here?" She said.

    She knew you were an INDIGO SEER, she's seen you more often than any other for her own asinine brand of experimentation. You don't want to really think about that, though.

    -> Professor McYarglefargle: Ask HINTONIA about wares.

    "I cannot believe I would ever ask this, but I need to see your, err, wares, concerning, you know...Protection from Abysmal things."

    "Hohohoho...I doubt it will help with the Abyss itself at Talandra's neck, but come in! I'm sure I can find something." She beckoned you inside. You ducked low and closed the door behind you with your ears, which fortunately serve as extra appendages.

    Inside was an old crackpot's occult shop, meant to dedicate itself to anything and everything that you initially believed would never be useful, ever. You still don't believe it, honestly, but she is a master on the subject of the ABYSS and practically predicted some of their strategies-including the presence of the Fallen as captains of the other main branches of the ABYSMAL ARMY, the INFERNAL SCOURGE and the COHORTS OF CHAOS.

    On the floor is a hatch meant for water-types. You don't have such a hatch, as your a bit too far from the canals for that, but that was made in case water-type customers who lived in the underwater districts showed up. There was a similar hatch on the ceiling for the postal service to do its thing. There were two windows: One facing the street and one facing behind it to some wilderness beyond.

    Within was every useless good luck charm you could care to name, every item meant to ward away evil spirits, and other such things that would otherwise be completely useless. The only thing that EVER caught your eye was the one thing that she would NEVER part with. It was supposedly an Artifact from Utopia itself, a small pendant to prevent illness, and indeed you never heard of HINTONIA ever getting ill, even during flu season, and this despite her unfortunately poor living conditions, so unlike every other item in here it may have some legitimate claim to supernatural powers. However, she refused to sell it, a family heirloom. Understandable...But it might be the only thing in this whole room of any legitimate value in your quest whatsoever.

    "Yes, yes...Now, Professor, first, tell me why you seek me now, of all times...And what's with the backpack?" HINTONIA asked, gesturing to your sack.

    "The visions...They have grown absolutely intolerable, I say! And they're begging me to go off and do various tasks that will supposedly suppress this whole invasion from the Abyss. Helpful and all, but I'm losing sleep over it, it's clouding my mind!"

    "Visions of the apocalypse are to be expected from an Indigo Seer at this-Wait, what about various tasks?"

    Oh great...

    -> Professor McYarglefargle: Tell HINTONIA about various tasks.

    You really don't want her getting wrapped up in you...But it might make her more leniant on prices, and money is a valuable resource.

    "Ugh...I've been, in that sense, told how I MAY be able to stop the Black Doom Prophecy. Namely, by murdering various Abysmal Captains, burning some parchment in their blood, and then going to burn an Altar in the single most heavily defended building in the single most contaminated city in all of Talandra." You say, rather impatient.

    She looks at you, quite deeply. HINTONIA is clearly interested in this...No, something more than interested but you can't make it out. "...Interesting...The odds are against you...But, an aversion of the Apocalypse? Our prayers to the higher powers answered, even? This is what you could...Guarantee?"

    "I'm not guaranteeing anything!" You say. "I barely believe this invasion myself, and I'm only doing it to make it stop-"

    "Ah, say no more...I would still want my little trinket, but I think...Yes, yes, I have something that may help the slightest bit...Where you're going, you will need the strongest I can provide, yes..." HINTONIA seems to have been persuaded into doing something. She reaches into a cabinet and takes out some kind of headband. You can tell it has been very deliberately made. She must have spent a lot of time on this. On the headband were various UNOWN SIGILS...Huh, you didn't know she knew that much. You thought she was limited to FOOTPRINT RUNES.

    "Yes, this will do nicely. This is, admittently, hardly protection where you seem destined to go, but it should serve to lessen the blow of the Abysmal Energies...Be wary, though, the way the world is this is not much protection at all. The way things are going, I would be seeking Utopian Artifacts for a much more palpable protection..." HINTONIA said. "...It's the least I can do for that time with the Purrloin."

    Oh Arceus. That time. You are still mad at her for it.

    You reluctantly accept the RUNIC HEADBAND. It is highly unlikely to help you in any tangible sense whatsoever, but it MIGHT.

    "Thank you, I suppose." You say.

    "Oh, anything for one of our potential salvations...I would go myself, but I do not want to look at anything Abysmal...A crippling Phobia, you understand." She says. "Best of luck, Professor, and may the Legends Bless you."

    "Uh-huh." You say, hastily leaving.

    You privately hope you do not have to visit HINTONIA ever again.

    -> Professor McYarglefargle: Check time.

    You don't have a watch! There's a clock tower in the middle of town to check for that, though, but you really should be going to EASTERN SYN CITY as soon as possible.

    -> Professor McYarglefargle: Go to CENTRAL SYN CITY.

    You head over several bridges and make your way into the center of town...

    ...

    INVENTORY:
    • GRENADE LAUNCHER (LOADED)
    • GRENADES X50
    • STEAMGUN-100%
    • PRESSURIZED STEAM CANISTERS-FILLED (STEAM)-X30
    • PROVISIONS-TWO WEEKS.
    • PRESSURIZED STEAM CONTAINERS-EMPTY-X5
    • LABCOAT (EQUIPPED)
    • LABORATORY GOGGLES (EQUIPPED)
    • LABORATORY KEY
    • ZEPPELIN TICKET-FROM SYN CITY, TO OASIS
    • 30,000 POKE
    • RUNIC HEADBAND

    Avatar by the incredibly awesome Neo Emolga.

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  9. #7
    Not insanity. Supersanity. Death's Spook's Avatar
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    Death's Spook
    Shiro Minamoto the Aegislash
    The Hole Tavern, Scarwell, Azmarax
    Affected RPers: Neo Emolga


    Personally, I do not think anyone has witnessed the depths of drunken shamefulness until one observes a Pangoro attempt a dainty pirouette on a table while screeching out a filthy ditty only to surprisingly fall off.

    I carefully reach out from under my cloak to touch the driest part of him (no mean feat, considering that the man is a spectrum of urine and vomit), and extract the barest hint of his life energy. I figure some part of him, no matter how infinitesimal, should go towards being productive to the world in which he lives.

    Mind, he does not precisely stand out in The Hole. The walls are black with rot where they did not simply crumble into nothingness, with puddles of liquid of dubious origins splattered across the floor. I do not smell or taste in a typical fashion, but I do not find difficult to be thankful for that particular flaw right now. Several customers are toppled over in a stupor and are not conscious enough to resist when I feed from them the same way I did the Pangoro.

    Although I have not fed enough to cause anyone harm (or expose my species), I have nibbled from enough people at this point that I can consider myself to have had a full meal. I cannot say it makes me feel that much better, and under most circumstances, I would consider it improper to be in this place: the crowds are a plus when I am hungry, but there are so many more refined places I could have fed as well. But I am not here for my own edification. The sight of Jansen, burning and blackened while its lugal stood completely incapable of doing a thing because a creature thought to bring his dark reflection as it burned the place down made be want to walk into the nearest Abyss controlled place and massacre every creature in the reach of my blade until I either wiped this scourge off of the earth or died in the process.

    Unfortunately, if I do that, the latter outcome is infinitely more probable. And it would most likely happen that I would not slay the one I hate most. Even more regrettably, my grudge is with Undax of the Burning Rot: given that most people turn pale and terrified when I so much as imply this, it precludes most allies.

    Which brought me to my purpose here. I had foreseen that a certain bounty hunter would most probably be here. Peeking into the likely futures where he engaged in combat left me cautiously optimistic that was a Seer just as I was; he had a tendency to be slightly too lucky with his dodging for me to chalk it up to chance and skill. If it panned out, he would be the first Seer I discovered who did not get killed by the Abyss before I could get to him, and that is not a resource I intend to surrender.

    So of course, just as I am about to approach him, a squad of three idiots makes an unlikely decision, walk through the front door and starts accosting him.

    I go through my options. One, I can just leave. Few could blame me; few would care, in fact. Certainly not in this place, where anyone not marinating comatose in their own urine is doing their absolute best to get there. But I did not come here so close to my goal just to allow it to slip through my fingers.

    Ideally, I would resolve this without violence. I can almost certainly buy off the ruffians, but it irks me to think about. I do not want to simply fritter away my main method of leverage frivolously. Not only that, such a move would only identify me as a person from Jansen, which would help any idiot narrow down my identity considerably. But they are unlikely to leave Kaxo alone without interference.

    An attack, then.

    Any Ghost type attacks are immediately out: my tattoos would glow and, identified, I would be dead within the hour. Contact attacks will give away my shape, especially since the ruffians would most likely reply in kind, ripping my cloak and revealing my species and tattoos. Flash Cannon could light up the inside of my cloak, possibly revealing me as well. But…

    I cannot smile, but I imagine this is how it feels like.

    I do not act immediately, of course. In a fit of eloquence and civil discourse, the Darmanitan bellows in challenge while throwing a table. The sniveling Floatzel and the cowering Furret are not helping my employee to be, of course, but I want to wait until all three of their backs are turned to me before I attack.

    In the next moment, I am seizing the opportunity before I even consciously realize it is there. Portals open in the ceiling above the distracted ruffians as a veritable wall of rock falls on them, obscuring them from view. Underneath my cloak, I raise my shield once more to account for the likely event that one of them attacks me.

    Out loud, my voice is tinged with dry scorn, "I believe these fine gentlemen are about to show themselves out of here. Politely."
    Last edited by Death's Spook; 08-23-2015 at 06:44 PM.
    Avatar taken from Scarfgirl and TheOtherChosenOne of Deviantart. Two great tastes that go great together! You know, when they aren't trying to kill each other horribly.

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  10. #8
    Actually Prefers Popeyes Kentucky Fried Torchic's Avatar
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    OOC: Random encounter, time!

    Duke Stellar the Ledian
    Enroute to Scarwell, Azmarax
    Affected RPers: N/A


    The journey to Scarwell had started up well enough. Despite the oppressive heat of the midday Vectaken sun hanging overhead, the combination of shade provided by his hat and the rush of the wind whipping against his face kept Duke Stellar cool as he zipped west in search of another bar. The wastelands were mostly empty now. The first wave of infernal assaults had driven most families to the large city on the coast, hoping that there was safety in numbers. If the fall of Jansen was any indication though, there wasn’t, and these Pokémon, husbands and wives, fathers and daughters, mothers and sons, might have only saved the demonic forces the work of hunting them down one by one.

    Still, while the scattering of towns and rest stops west of Scarwell were mostly populated by roughnecks, ladies of the night, and other types who had nothing to lose, not everyone had been part of the exodus that had taken place after the first cities had fallen. This was evidenced by a lone covered wagon that Duke saw grow larger as he drew nearer. The rickety contraption was made out of wood and covered in a series of white tarps in an attempt to offer some protection from the elements. These ramshackle vehicles were all the rage after the well-to-do had purchased all of the decent forms of transportation; for a few weeks carpenters couldn’t fill all of the orders they got for even shoddy wagons like this one. The set-up was usually the same, a family of Pokémon would strike a deal with a larger quadruped who would pull the wagon for a fee. They tended to leave during midday under the assumption that trouble only happened to those traveling at night. The situation this wagon found itself in proved just how mistaken that belief was.

    The wagon was stopped, its pale canvas roof painted by the circling shadows of two flying Pokémon. Duke came to a stop as he saw the Bouffalant hitched to the wagon growling at the figures above while two Quagsire inside the vehicle hugged a Wooper close. The Ledian wanted to get plastered, but he also didn’t want to leave these Pokémon at the whims of these highway robbers. So, with the heavy sigh of someone resigned to doing the right thing, his wings slowly stopped their vibrations and he landed next to the Normal-type Pokémon. “Need a hand?”

    “Yeah, if your traveling companions are armed and willing, we’d appreciate it,” the large Pokémon said, not taking his eyes off of the circling Pokémon.

    Duke’s own blue eyes narrowed. “I’m all by my lonesome,” he said, purposefully dropping the tenor of his voice, “but I think that’ll be more than enough.”

    “Yeah? Those are Mandibuzz, fierce desert hunters, and no disrespect, but you’re just a bug in a funny coat.”

    The self-appointed protector of the weak ignored the slight, instead shouting up at the Pokémon overhead, “Hey, just because you’re Dark-types doesn’t mean you have to act like complete savages!”

    That seemed to get their attention and the two birds seemed to confer silently before one began to dive at the wagon. The red Pokémon was about to congratulate himself on his masterful use of psychology on these desert bandits when the diving Mandibuzz opened its mouth and let out an unearthly shriek. A flash of insight in the back of his mind told Duke to throw up two of his hands and concentrate, creating a blue rectangular barrier in front of the incoming Pokémon. The Mandibuzz hit the shield with a hard thump, its beak and talons crumbling against the wall of azure energy in a mess of feathers and claws. But the sight that attracted Duke’s attention were the eyes of the attacking Pokémon. There were two dark pools where the eyes should have been, with a small red light dully glowing from within. These Pokémon weren’t Pokémon, they were creatures of the Abyss.

    “Dammit,” Duke muttered.

    The Mandibuzz pushed itself off of the shield and took to the sky again. The Ledian drew his twin pistols and began taking shots at the retreating Pokémon, but despite the three holes he punched in the dark mockery of a Pokémon’s wings, it didn’t slow it down. Stowing the guns again, Duke turned to the Bouffalant whose mass of hair was now sleek with the sweat of the heat and of danger. “Keep them safe down here, I’m taking the fight to them.”

    Then, the Bug-type crouched and jumped off of the uneven wasteland to take flight once more. As he neared the two flying Pokémon, he opened his mind, tapping into what little Seer training he had received. His senses would be aided by glimpses of danger and potential openings, but this time it wasn’t a barroom brawl, it was a fight against forces of the Abyss, no matter how tangential. Duke had faced Pokémon ten times his size and virtual companies of belligerent drunks, but they didn’t scare him like these two Dark-types did.

    As he came closer, two things happened. One was that the overwhelming stench of decay and rot reached his nose, forcing the Ledian to suppress a gag. The other was that the two Pokémon took notice of him and began closing in for an attack. Duke halted his approach and waited for them to come to him, readying his fists. When the first came within range, it opened its beak to let out a harsh caw only to have its mouth shut by the Ledian’s uppercut. The bird went spiraling back to recover, but its counterpart took that opportunity to attack. This one was met by a heavy two-handed attack to its head knocking the bird down to the ground. Before it could finish scrambling up to get airborne, Duke let himself drop, landing on its misshapen form with sickening crack as his boots sunk into the writhing mass of dirty feathers, rotting flesh, and black blood. Its torso destroyed, the Mandibuzz could only cry out weakly as it died once again.

    Duke ignored it, focusing on the sky trying to find the other Abyss-born Pokémon. By the time he saw it, diving at the back of the wagon, he couldn’t make it there in time, only hear the screams of the helpless Wooper child and its parents. With a rush that could only be achieved by adrenaline and some kinds of narcotics, the Ledian took off again, rushing towards the wagon, but he was too late to get between the family and their assailant. So instead, Duke held out his hands and let out a groan of exertion as he projected another blue barrier in front of the diving Mandibuzz. It hit the shield, hard, but instead of relaxing, Duke tapped into some hidden reservoir of power and began to move his hands, shaping the simple rectangle into a sphere, enclosing the Abyss-spawn inside. Then, his four hands slowly came together, crushing the Mandibuzz within as the ball of blue energy shrunk. When he was satisfied that the Dark-type Pokémon was dead, the Ledian released his energy, dropping to the ground, huffing for breath.

    OOC: I’m not sure if Azure Seers can produce barriers at will, but for Duke there, that was a simple Reflect attack, later manipulated into a different form by virtue of his Seer abilities.
    Last edited by Kentucky Fried Torchic; 07-14-2015 at 09:50 PM.
    Dreams do come a size too big. It's so that we can grow into them.

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  11. #9
    Cheers and good times! Neo Emolga's Avatar
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    Kaxo Sychal the Lopunny
    The Hole Tavern, Scarwell, Azmarax
    Affected RPers: @Death's Spook


    I swore, as if Lude and his idiot friend couldn't have been more useless. Both of them backed off and cowered away like little, whiny Pichu stung by a Bedrill.

    I was ready to stuff my fist in Ergin's butt-ugly monkey face when someone attacked him first, dropping rocks on his head. I didn't know what the hell this was about, but I looked at who did it and all I saw was someone or something wearing a cloak. Who the hell was this guy now?

    Ergin and his two butt-buddies, Renk and Sankin were bruised and battered in their heads and shoulders from the fallen rocks that were now lying all over the wet, hardwood floor, but they still capable of fighting.

    "I believe these fine gentlemen are about to show themselves out of here," he told them. "Politely."

    "YOU!" Ergin snarled. "I'll twist you into a misshapen lump! How stupid can you be for angering me!?"

    While he was distracted, I grabbed the mug with the piss-sour Cinnabar Cider in it, and threw it at the back of his head. It exploded into shards on the back of the Darmanitan's head, spraying overpriced alcohol and clay pieces in all directions over the barroom floor. Sankin the Mawile jumped at me, attempting to attack me with his ugly black gator-mouth coming out of his head while I quickly side-stepped out of the way and then struck him from behind with a jump kick once he landed. It sent his slimy carcass flying into glass display case. All of the metal plates that the case was displaying were sent rolling everywhere after he crashed through the glass, causing the whole damn thing to fall apart into shards and splinters right on top of him, burying him in a pile of broken wood and glass.

    "I'll mangle your sniveling head, you-" Renk the Heliolisk snarled as the black and yellow electric lizard came charging after me.

    I quickly picked up one of the bar stools and swung it at his face before he made contact. It smashed the whole thing into splinters and bits when it struck his snout hard, sending Renk flying head over heels before he landed on his anus. He quickly tried to get back up, but I grabbed him by the neck with one paw, punched him hard in the gut with the other, winding the hell out of him, and then slammed his face into one of the hard, wooden tables once, twice, and then three times before I threw his mangy remains into the same pile of broken glass, wood, and metal plates as his clueless friend, Sankin. Both of them were out cold and I could bet they'd be feeling that for the next few weeks.

    Meanwhile, the whole bar erupted into a brawl. These drunken idiots saw a fight break out and decided that after seeing us fight, it was a great idea to start punching and smacking each other for no real reason than to brawl, brag, and forget about any of it happening with the ensuring hangover that was coming their way and wonder why they were all cut up and bruised when they finally sobered up and woke up in a warm, stinking puddle of alcohol.

    I saw a idiot, drunken Pangoro with his black and white fur wet and matted with alcohol smack a Shiftry in the jaw, sending the brown and white tree Pokémon doubling back into another set of tables and chairs, causing everything to be knocked over as his butt snapped the legs of the chairs apart. A lanky Watchog got struck in the face with a glass bottle thrown at him by a dark blue Meowstic that was just laughing hysterically as the Watchog stumbled back and collided into the liquor cabinet, causing the brown and yellow weasel to have an avalanche of liquor bottles and glass rain on top of him. The whole bar had gone from a piss-poor tavern to a complete wrestling ring of idiocy and anarchy.

    I didn't know who or what this sword thing was or why he even had a bone to pick with Ergin in the first place. Knowing Ergin, though, I wouldn't be surprised if that monkey mongrel had been a pain in the crotch for quite a few Pokémon around here and this was just another Pokémon he had pissed off in his lifelong career of being a complete jackass.

    "Don't fight me!" Bretner pleaded, backing away as the cowardly Furret tried to create as much distance as he could from anyone that might attack him just for fun. "I don't want any trouble!"

    "Same here!" Lude the Floatzel whined, backing up against the wall from the fight, holding up his hands in surrender.

    What a bunch of idiots. I didn't know who the cloaked figure was, but I figured I didn't care. We could both beat the stuffing out of Egrin and I could call that a good day. Once he went down, I was getting out of this god-forsaken deranged zoo for rejected carnies.
    Last edited by Neo Emolga; 07-15-2015 at 01:54 AM.

  12. #10
    The Queen of Shaymin
    Noblejanobii's Avatar
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    OOC: And now, almost a day after this started, the Moonlight Writer makes her entrance.

    Raven Karan the Mightyena
    Streets outside the Azalea's Jewelry, Scarwell, Azmarax
    Affected rpers: none


    A dry breeze lifted the dust of the quiet town off the ground and into the air. Silence had filled the area, most citizens paying their daily patronage to the taverns at this hour. Of course, alcohol was something good, but jewelry was better.

    Silent as a shadow and swift as an eclipse, a figure slipped along the walls of the nearby establishments. She had one mission, and one mission only, retrieve the Lilligant emerald necklace. It was an easy task. It was child's play. She could not screw up.

    As the figure approached nearer the store, she noticed a sign on the door. It brought a smile to the girl's face. They were closed for a tavern visit, just as she had predicted. Claws extended, a quicker pace was made to approach the window where the Lilligant emerald necklace lay. Upon arrival to the desired destination, the thief lifted her right paw to the window and carefully cut into the glass. Upon finishing, she retracted her claws back into her paw, and pulled back the glass.

    She switched paws now, something specific for this job contained in her left paw. Dust. With a flick of her wrist, the thief released the dust into the hole. Trigger wires came into view. The thief only snickered, slipped her paw in, and began to pull out the necklace. Then, she heard footsteps.

    Her moment of panic caused the thief to move carelessly and hit one of the tripwires. Alarms began to ring out in the store. The thief panicked, the Lilligant emerald necklace landing on the ground. The thief scooped it up into her mouth and began to run, unsure if anyone would care to follow. The shouts that followed answered her point.

    "Eh! It's that dark type again!"

    "The quadrupled right?"

    "Yeah, that's the one!"

    The thief ducked out of the way as a flame burst nearly scorched her fur. A quick glance over the shoulder told the whole tale. It was those three dumb deputies again. What was with this town and dark type quadrupled pokeism?

    The thief turned down a nearby road, the jewelry still clenched tight in her jaws. It didn't occur to her that her tight grip might break the jewels, but that was not her main concern right now. Another flame burst hit the dirt path beside the thief and she stumbled a little in surprise.

    'No,' she thought, exasperation in every idea that floated through her head, 'not now! I can't shut down now! They'll catch me!' Despite the mental protests, the body of the thief did not listen. Pain began to rise in all her joints as she tried to force herself to continue at the speed she had been going. The thief ignored it, but the pain only rose in agony and hit harder than before with each step she took.

    Another flame burst hit the ground and the thief was forced into a dead end alleyway. Her legs shook as they could barely support her. She breathed hard, the effort it was taking to even remain standing right now exhausting her. It was shameful, truly, to go down like this.

    The thief scouted out a route for her escape, but was having no luck. What Raven Karan needed now, more than anything else, was a distraction.
    / / / / / / / /
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