PANDORA: A Journey of the Fallen [M]
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September 9th, 2012, 12:21 AM
Grif of Hearts
Queen of Hearts
Join Date: Jul 2011
Location: The British Heartlands
Six spindly legs crept across the dirt and through the undergrowth, the scratching and rustling of its skeletal toes doing nothing but taunt Martha in her helpless position. She continued to hack away at the material that bound her, and while a few of the thread snapped and gave Martha a little more room to wiggle her legs, the edge of the knife kept catching against the adhesive silk. It seemed impossible to slice through no matter how hard she tried, and while she doubted it was impossible the threading was certainly trying to trick Martha into thinking it was. Having lost sight of the Spinarak, only having the sounds of its movements to judge its position, Martha focused all of her efforts into sawing through her binds, careful not to catch her fingers on anything sharp. It didn't make much difference.
Calling out for Grete to assist, Martha was only met with an injured grunt just out of her line of sight. She called again, her tone changing to an order rather than a request. Another grunt, although this one sounded a little more determined to help. Martha saw no movement from the bushes though and could only assume that the Spoink was slumped down in the mud, struggling to help but desperately trying to trying to. Martha's pleas were answered but nothing was done to provide her with assistance, and that worried her.
Then it finally decided to rear its ugly, arachnoid head once more just out of the bushes, bearing its pincers. The Spinarak seemed to be keeping its distance though, as if waiting cautiously or analysing its prey. Martha might have guessed that it had spotted the knife in her hands if she wasn't so busy furiously trying to saw her way free. The Spinarak eyed her, keeping its movements slow and steady. It seemed to be acting territorially rather than actively aggressive she thought, seemingly trying to scare Martha off than tear her to pieces. She was sure that it wouldn't bat an eyelid at the latter plan though if it needed to.
The Spinarak opened its jaws wide, the two pincers glistening a deep, venomous purple. It moved a little closer, clearly readying itself for a strike. Martha pulled her legs up to her chest a little tighter, trying to keep some distance between the two of them. It only took her a moment to realise that she was in touching distance of the creature.
Her legs sprung forward, pushing them out with all her might and both feet colliding with the creature's face. It was not a powerful strike despite it was as much as Martha could muster. She was not a strong woman, but it was plenty. In recoil, the Spinarak was knocked back, its jaws slamming shut and a thin spray of needles were shot from its mouth. They veered off to the side, slicing through some thin branches and lodging themselves into bark. It had knocked the Pokemon's aim just enough to save Martha more than a few injuries.
But it only bought her a few seconds of time. Making sure to keep a firm distance between the explorer and itself, the Spinarak hissed, its fangs turning back to the same shade of purple. “Grete, where are you?!” Martha yelled, moving her arms to shield her unprotected face.
“Sppoooooooi!” she heard, followed by the sounds of a spring stretching and compressing.
There was a clang, almost like metal striking metal. Martha just caught sight of something glowing through the gaps between her two arms just as whatever it was shot straight into view and, more importantly, shot straight into the side of the Spinarak. Picking the bug type off of the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust as it did so, it was launched a few metres to Martha's left, disoriented and lightly wounded.
Martha moved her arms down, looking back and forth between where the Spinarak once stood and where it lay now. Grete bounded forward, positioning herself beside Martha and, once again, tugging at her clothing, pulling at the shoulder of her shirt. This time Martha didn't intend on shrugging the psychic type off though, just thankful that Grete had arrived to save her just in time. She glanced back towards the Spinarak, which had picked itself back up and was clearly just as angry as it had been before. Martha felt a little less helpless now that Grete could fight back with whatever she had done.
She watched the Spinarak for a moment, its beady eyes watching her in return. Then it fired another string shot. Martha was particularly happy to see that it was not aimed at her, but instead at Grete who was more than happy to hop to the side unscathed. Grete almost seemed to be teasing the bug type now.
“Grete, do whatever you just did again!” Martha ordered. She hadn't a clue what kind of move it was, only that it was enough to harm the Spinarak more than her boot was.
A determined but not aggressive look sprawled along her face, Grete moving to position bherself etween Martha and the Spinarak, forming a barrier of ashen flesh. The pearl that rested precariously upon Grete's skull began to glisten. Martha first thought it to be sunlight reflecting off of the surface, which came down from the treetops in thin beams, but a glistening pink aura soon formed around the crystalline ball. It was enough of a pause for the Spinarak to try again. It spat out half a dozen more needles, each one a luminescent purple. They shot through the air with pin-point precision aimed at the psychic type, and this time there was nothing to knock the Spinarak's concentration. In the time it took Grete to charge her move, and with too much focus spent on attacking to leap out of the way, they sunk into the creature's hide, shattering on impact but clearly being painful. Grete winced but kept her stance steady.
She grunted again, and the pearl seemed to grow as bright as it could. Bracing herself, a thick cloud of purple fog exploded from the gemstone, spewing towards the Spinarak. It moved like a thick bolt of lightning, fraying at the edges, but it appeared more like Grete was creating some kind of smokescreen. Or was it more like a gust of wind? Martha had few talents, and apparently constructing similes was not one of them. Not like one would have to be a master poet to win a Pokémon battle of course, only a tactical mind and quick thinking. Unfortunately, Martha wasn't sure she had them either, and the attack was still rather difficult to describe.
With enough force to lift the Spinarak off of the ground, the wave of energy propelled the Pokémon off into the distance, its back smashing into a nearby tree. It was eager to get back to its feet, but the Spinarak was quite clearly wounded now. Not enough to discourage it, however. “Go on. Fire another,” Martha said, finally slicing through the last strands that bound her legs. Like the Spinarak, she too pushed herself back onto her feet.
Grete remained silent this time (something else that Martha was thankful for), and as hard as Spinarak tried it just wasn't fast enough to fire another poison sting in tiem. Another attack from Grete spiralled towards the creature, fired a little faster this time. As expected, it was a move that did not miss its target. The bug type was spent spiralling off into the bushes out of sight. Martha kept her eyes locked on the slight dent in the bush where it had landed, but couldn't see the Spinarak clamber back into the open nor did she hear it moving around. All turned silent once again, and as far as Martha could tell the Pokémon had been completely knocked out...
She rolled her head back, relaxing her shoulders and generally loosing any sense of grace that had been left after the ordeal. Glad to put the knife back in its holder and just do nothing for a while, Martha held the position. It had more than an unpleasant experience, the battle. She didn't even bother shooing away Grete when she gripped the hem of Martha's trousers and tried to pull her forward, seemingly unaffected by the recent fight beyond a few scratches. She just pulled the shrunken Pokéball from her belt and pressed the button on the front, absorbing the Spoink and leaving Martha completely alone.
In a moment she would press forward, continuing through the forests of route one and getting on with her mission. Time was of the essence, after all. That would come soon though, because now she spent a moment just doing nothing, and it felt amazing. If Grete hadn't fought back when she had then that could have been much, much worse, and the very idea of slipping up worried Martha. It also made this mission a whole lot more exciting.
Six impossible things
Grif of Hearts
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