A Pokémon Journey: The Road to Victory [OOC]
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October 7th, 2011 (12:18 PM). Edited October 8th, 2011 by Discordant Harmony.
Join Date: Jun 2011
As it so happens, I can get the first draft up right now. If there's anything that requires fixing, I will do my best to fix it.
I'm not used to coloring speech, but if it helps organize things, it's easy enough to start doing.
Place of Birth:
William looks less like someone you would expect to be asked to help with anything, and more like the type of person who made you want to stay on the other side of the street. A ragged mop of filthy, curled black hair, probably infested with lice- maybe even fleas- sits above his gaunt face. A slightly pointed left ear makes him appear lopsided, when it isn’t hidden in said mop. The boy’s dark blue eyes have bags under them due to lack of sleep, and constantly dart about, watching everything with paranoid attention. Under the young man’s small, skinny nose, a crooked yellow smile displays Will’s poor dental hygiene. The canine tooth is missing from the upper left side, further contributing to his lopsided appearance. His face bears unshaved stubble.
Standing at 6’4’’, William Garret is little more than bone and muscle (muscle simply meaning lean, rather than a build like a weight lifter. The potential is there, but a lack of proper nutrition has stunted that potential strength). For clothing, William wears a pair of blue jeans, held up by an average looking belt, so worn and bleached from sun exposure that they look almost white. His thin frame is covered by a slightly ripped spring jacket, blue and white, under which he wears a grey sleeveless shirt. Clashing, pristine black and red runners cover his feet, newly ‘acquired’. To carry his few personal items, William has a light satchel he carries at his side.
Being raised as he was, Will is independent and, in most cases, cold. A stone heart and underdeveloped conscience ensure no regrets get in the way of survival. The young man has a fiery temper on him, inherited from his mother’s side, but has learned to keep his emotions under control. By which I of course mean he bottles it all up to take out somewhere else later. From his father’s side, William learned that the best solution is to weasel your way out of your problems, rather than face them head on.
By this point, it is probably obvious William’s past hasn’t been flowers and rainbows. He was born as the result of a one-night stand between a ruthless Silph Co. businesswoman, and a ‘procurer of wares’ she had had dealings with. At the age of three, William’s father came into the woman’s home and kidnapped his illegitimate son. From that point on, William was raised to be a thief. He was taught to take care of himself, how to pick locks, how to avoid detection, and how to case a location for burglary. During Will’s free time he was allowed to do whatever he wanted, be it drinking, gambling, or watching old movies on a busted up VHS player.
When Will was thirteen, some men came into the safehouse to collect on his father’s gambling debt. Unable to pay, Mr. Garret was shot to death. The men took Will with them, and forced him to work off his father’s debt by stealing things for them. For the past four years, that debt has remained stubbornly unpaid, and William has begun to get restless. During his most recent break-in, a small suburban home on the edge of the city, he found what he believed was the chance to finally get out of his servitude, a mysterious letter from a man named Bastion.
Digits isn’t exactly the
recipient of his letter.
Standing before the kitchen window, Archie looked out while eating a granola bar. Parents were out at a concert out of town, which meant he had the house to himself. Not that there was much to do. The house was too small to throw a party, and the wind was so strong it would be hell to go anywhere. It had even knocked over one of the garden ornaments outside. As he watched out the window, though, the wind seemed to calm a bit. The swaying trees were no longer bending over, straining against the wind. He saw something on the lawn and squinted a bit, seeing that he had left his baseball bat lying on the lawn in plain view. "That's just asking for someone to steal it."
Opening the door, the young man stepped out into the night. The heavy wind had now calmed to a light breeze, and it felt kind of nice. Stepping out into the backyard, Archie picked up the bat and turned to return to the house, but stopped when he saw something dart behind a trash can. Holding his bat threateningly, he called out to it, "Hey, who's there?"
There was no answer but a meow, as a little black cat stepped out from behind the trash can. It was nothing but Archie's cat, Felix. He knew he was forgetting something outside... besides his bat. Returning the cat to the house, he sat on the step in front of the door, admiring the night sky. The city lights prevented seeing any real stars, unfortunately, but there was one bright one in the sky. And what ever it was was getting brighter. Standing up on the step, he moved to reenter the house, but was forced to hold a hand over his eyes from the bright light, as something crashed down in his yard. Opening them, he beheld... a little green fairy and an egg. What the hell?
The fairy quickly flew up to Archie, much to his surprise, and he ducked into the house. Before he could close the door though, the fairy got in and landed on the kitchen counter. It was holding up a piece of paper, waving it in the air. Slowly walking towards it, still carrying his baseball bat in one hand, he plucked the paper out of its hand with the other and unrolled it.
"I write these letters... in hopes that anyone can answer my plea. My world... it is dying. The sky has forgotten sunrise. The inhabitants are falling, falling to this strange song and slipping into the most bloodstained of madness. My world is tearing itself apart. If this goes on... both our worlds will die. I can not stop her any longer. By the time you read this I am certain she will have captured or killed me. The creature who carried this to you is a Pokemon. In that egg with it is also a Pokemon. Please, with these two, please fight to protect our worlds. Please... end my sister's life before the Gods raise her up to immortality.
Child of Wishes, Aiko"
"Holy... what is this, Final Fantasy?" Archie asked to himself, shocked when he received a reply.
"Nope, this is actually happening~" chirped the fairy, hopping off the counter and flying towards Archie. In honesty, Archie wasn't sure whether it had spoken to him, or thought to him. Ducking away from it, Archie reflexively held up the baseball bat to defend himself, only to find it yanked out of his hands by some unseen force, "No need for that, I'm not here to hurt you. Now, we should go get that egg before it gets cold..."
The fairy opened the door without even touching it, going out to retrieve the egg. Archie quickly locked the door behind it, reaching for the phone. Wait, who was he gonna call? Fairybusters? Instead, he grabbed the bug spray out of the cabinet, looking out the window. There was a click as, once again, the fairy opened the locked door without any contact and entered with the egg, his baseball bat floating in the air beside it. Archie held up the bug spray, "Look, fairy thing, I don't want anything to do with your little adventure. Back off, or I will spray you. No clue what this does to fairies but, it can't be healthy."
"I am not a fairy," and then Archie's only weapon was yanked out of his hands again, landing in the trashcan. The fairy set the egg on the floor, and floated over, slapping him in the face, "I'm a Pokemon. A Celebi. Didn't you read the note?"
"I said, I don't want any part of your magical Never Neverland adventure, okay?" Archie held up his hands in a defeated fashion, "But it seems I'm not being given a choice, am I?"
"Now you get it~!" the Celebi said in a singsong voice as it handed the bat back, before placing the little golden-brown egg in Archie's arms. He could already tell he had a long,
day ahead of him. This suspicion became true as the clock in the living room chimed twelve.
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