First off, I want to thank all who voted for me in Hack of the Month; and even those who didn't (for giving me good competition, and inspiring me to do a better job :D ). True, I didn't win, but there's always other months where I can get a shot, and hopefully I'll have a better product to show for myself then ^__^
And now, a big apology :( I know I've been really inactive recently, but my laptop (that had all my ROM hacking resources on it; not to mention SRT itself!) has died :( It's been in the shop for over a week now, getting repairs, and I should have it back tomorrow, though I'm not expecting a miracle (I gotta get it from the repair place it's at now and take it to a second place for an additional repair, and pay two hundred more dollars >.> But at least I might get same-day service there, so it would be worth it :) ). I feel really bad about this whole situation since you guys have been waiting so patiently, and if I had any screenshots or cool stuff from the game to show you, I would...but I can't until my lappy's up and running again :( Still, I wanted to give all you guys SOMETHING, and so...I wrote up a little scene to introduce you to a few of the game's characters and mysteries. It'll have to do to sate your appetites until I can actually work on the game again ^^'
-Aspen's Awakening-
Crumbletown was a hopeless shamble; a place where memories died. Dust-encrusted chunks of concrete and brick, spattered with the stains of blood and sweat, littered much of the ground; stiff stalks of water-starved timothy oscillating lightly around them with the breeze. An occasional small shadow shuffled carefully through the darkened rubble, and small paws scratched at the cracked earth; their soft pants and the dull thud of their claws through the dirt the only sounds. Occasionally a recognizable form would step into view - a zigzagoon or a rattata dragging a disintegrating piece of metal towards the northern reaches; or a nidoran struggling to hop with a plastic soda bottle clenched between its teeth. It was a pathetic and mindless hunt - these small, lost souls who never spoke, carrying the remains of the Old Ones' civilization to their clueless slavedrivers - and if Ozymandias was the sort to feel pity for those helpless and stupid enough to get themselves into such a situation, he would shake his head at what lay before him.
The kadabra huffed lightly; scrambling up unto the cold remains of a Crumble's wall to survey the horizon. To the south of him rose the stiff inscrutability of a massive structure, known by the slaves as Crumble Tower - its size daunting, and its chilling alienness even more so. The twisted, brittle remains of long-dead trees flocked along it like an entourage; their branches like black ink against the faded whiteness of the building's surface. It was almost like the oaks had recognized the strange, stony Tower as a king, or perhaps even a god - attempting to envelop its sacredness from the eyes of the unworwthy.
Ozymandias did not like to admit that there were things in the world that he did not understand. He was certainly cleverer than the small People he had been observing; with their superstitious ignorance and futile worship of anything that exceeded the grasp of their minds. Magicians, they called the Old Ones; imbuing their very essence with godliness! Simpletons and fools; the whole lot of People were! Yet the Tower filled him with a sense of uneasiness and quiet dread; a disconcerting reminder that perhaps he was not as knowing as he thought he was. Larger than he thought anything could be outside of a mountain; with all memory of its purpose lost to time...
He fluffed his fur lightly to keep from shivering; the additional illusion of looking larger than he actually was soothing to his mind on an instinctive, animal level. It was just a Crumble like any other; and if Lord Chronos thought the answer to his visions lay there, than go he must.
Ozymandias flexed his legs slightly and leapt down from the wall; landing lightly on all four feet, but quickly scrambling back into a standing position. Like many other People who shared his innate powers of perception; visions were matters of great import; and never to be disregarded or taken lightly. They were haunting images of the past or glimpses of the future; scenes played out across the canvas of the mind's eye in order to let one better gauge their own course of events. It was visions that had led him beyond the World's End; to where frigid water lapped at the frozen shore, and where glaceon packs howled into the chill air of night with misty breath. It was visions that had taken him across the sea, passing by massive icebergs that had made his fur stiffen with cold, and to the foreboding Crumble of ice and stone that almost seemed to revel in its lack of warmth and kindness. And it was visions still that had driven him to enter the dark castle and walk its slick floors; to confront - and eventually serve - the calculating being that was as emotionless as it was powerful in its knowledge and might.
The kadabra walked along the beaten earth; small clouds of dust surrounding his feet. Indeed, it was his fate to serve Lord Chronos; and as fates go, it wasn't one he had many complaints about. His strange Lord's knowledge was as vast as the world itself; and his ideals! Yes, there was much good to say about his ideals; the world as it was now certainly wasn't worth preserving. Run down, ruined, dominated by imbeciles; who bowed down to every bit of Old One rubbish as if it were Arceus himself descending from the heavens! He certainly wouldn't mourn them; any more than he would mourn tossing leftover bones and berry pips into the sea to be washed away like the trash they were.
A small form stepped unto the path directly in front of him, and Ozymandias stiffened; flexing the toes of his forepaws to flash his hook-like claws. A minun, with ragged fur dried into stiff spikes of congealed blood and waste, struggled to walk with a toilet seat about his neck; the slick white plastic sides dragging along the ground and impeding his progress. Seemingly unaware of the kadabra's presence, the little animal tried to continue foreward; but the weight and effort proved too high an obstacle to surmount, and he collapsed among the dirt; the toilet seat falling forward and encircling his head like a garish wreath.
Ozymandias snorted; poking the fallen creature with his toe. "Fool." The disdain in the kadabra's voice was undisguised; and the minun's ears drooped slightly at his stinging rebuke. "If you were deserving of any respect; you never would have let yourself get captured by the idiots who enslave you."
The tiny Person's body stiffened; the fur along his hackles rising. His paws, wrapped with remains of an Old One's cloth, twitched with anger; and his flews drew back slightly, revealing a flash of white. The minun did not speak or turn to face Ozymandias; and the kadabra felt his bushy tail lash with annoyance. "What do you call yourself?"
The spiteful lagomorph still wouldn't look at him. "My name is Vann." He spoke with a quiet dignity; an understated strength that conveyed both great suffering and vast spirit. "Not many people visit Crumbletown willingly."
Ozymandias scoffed at the minun; mildly amused at the notion that such a weak and pathetic being could speak and act in such a way; as if it deserved any respect. "I'm not exactly here because I want to be," he hissed; stooping down so he could hook a claw under the little Person's throat. "I had a vision. My Lord thinks the answer to all that troubles us lies in the Tower. All that troubles you, too." The kadabra chuckled darkly; feeling the pulse of the minun's jugular against his toe-tip. "I seek a Person who doesn't know his name. I told my Lord of my vision; and he said I was describing the Tower - and that I would find this Person there."
The minun slowly turned to face Ozymandias; his eyes unfocused and dripping fluid. "Why are you looking?"
It took all of Ozymandias' self-control to keep from ripping the pathetic creature's throat out then and there. "You have no right to ask questions of a superior! Count yourself lucky I'm speaking to you at all!" Fur fluffed and tail lashing; the kadabra snatched the minun's ears with his other paw; pulling his head back and stretching his throat taunt. "Now, if you want me to spare your pathetic life so you can experience many more enjoyable days as a slave, you'll help me with something else on my mind. There...was another part of my vision; beyond finding the one with no name. That some interloper calling himself the Lord of Thunder was "choosing a Champion" to help him fight against my Lord and I's will! You're an electric type, you little rat! Who is the Lord of Thunder?" Ozymandias tried not to show any weakness to the minun; but he knew it must be clear to the miserable runt from the overzealous fury in his voice. His lack of knowledge was disconcerting, and not knowing who he and Lord Chronos had to face brought a sense of anxiety to his being that he did not like to accept.
Vann blinked; milky fluid dripping down unto his muzzle. "The Lord of Thunder is Raikou." It was obvious from his tone that he knew that he was defeated; the kadabra clearly had the upper hand, and to not answer him would be sure to cause a swift cessation of his existence.
Ozymandias kicked the minun aside; watching with slight disinterest as it fell amid some scattered weeds at the path's edge. Raikou....well, that was one mystery solved. But it still left a question up in the air; one that some pathetic slave - if indeed, anyone - couldn't answer. Raikou might be the Lord of Thunder, but who was his Champion? He stared down at the toilet seat that still lay in the middle of the road; a slight instinctive shudder running down his spine. He didn't know what that glistening white thing was, either. And not knowing things....nothing was worse.
With a huff, he started off down the path once more; the mustache-like fur about his muzzle twitching with anxiety. Finding the nameless one would take a great weight off his shoulders - and finding his name would mean he would never have to worry about Raikou or his unknown Champion ever again.
---
Up close, Crumble Tower was even more intimidating than it had been from afar. Stiff and unshakable, it stretched taller than any of the Old Ones' things had a right to; the broken spire upon its peaked roof threatening to scrape the sky wide open. Although its thick stone sides had withstood the test of time more than most Crumbles Ozymandias had seen; even its godlike might had not been immune to weather and the endless march of the ages. A few large cracks ran down its surface, and the wind whistled through them; a low, mournful sound that sounded unsettlingly like a voice, calling out over some injustice. And while the kadabra held such superstitious beliefs in contempt, even he had to admit it felt almost like the Old Ones were calling out to him across the eons; deploring the state of the world and reaching out to him as a kindred soul. Come to me, the Tower seemed to say, the soiled white of its surface almost seeming to gleam like the moon. You will find your answers here.
Ozymandias stood up, his ears pricked with a strange excitement. With a reverent silence, he walked across the path towards the rotted maw of the Tower; flickering visions of tall but undefinable shapes - Old Ones? - tickling at the edges of his mind. Yes, they wanted him here...
He stepped through what had once been the tower's doorway; a cloaking darkness wrapping about his body like a inky blanket. Dust motes flickered about what little light shone through; faintly illuminating the strange markings that ran up and down the walls of the structure. Some of the markings were straight; some were curly; some twisted and looped like tiny rivers captured upon stone. Was he the first to see this? Ozymandias tilted his head slightly to the side; puzzled by the marks, but not afraid of them. The Old Ones wanted him here, after all - why should he be frightened?
Claws clicking lightly upon the cold tile floor of the Tower, Ozymandias let his sixth sense guide him through the shadows; trusting in his psychic powers to let him avoid holes or trash that would otherwise impede his progress. It would, of course, be a easier matter if he could simply teleport from floor to floor in order to seek out his prize, but the Tower was unknown territory to him, and it was a tough prospect to teleport somewhere when you couldn't even visualize your destination. Besides, taking his task slowly and carefully was the path to success; he had to be alert, lest he miss the key to all of his and Lord Chronos' desires.
He came to the stairs and folded his hind legs into a lotus position; focusing his mind and levitating a few inches above the ground. The kadabra's future sight alerted him to the fact that the walk would be a long one; and he knew his body was made only to travel short distances under its own physical power. Sharpening his focus, Ozymandias followed the spiral contours of the staircase; his tail bumping lightly against the steps as he ascended. The strange markings - just like those he had observed in the main room - continued on the walls here; an inscrutable; humbling presence in the face of his mental might.
IN THE AGE OF SINNOH MYTHS
MEN AND POKEMON SAT AND ATE TOGETHER
THEY SPOKE TOGETHER, AND EVEN MARRIED
THERE WAS NO DIFFERENCE
NOW THE AGE IS HERE AGAIN
AN ERA OF PEACE AND UNDERSTANDING
THE TOGETHERNESS OF MAN AND POKEMON
NO MORE ARE WE SEPERATE
MAY THIS MONUMENT FOREVER STAND
AS DEDICATION TO OUR LOVE
THROUGH BLESSINGS OF SCIENCE
THE ERA OF A PERFECT WORLD HAS ARRIVED
Ozymandias stopped focusing on the strange scratches; closing his eyes and pulling all his energy to the task at hand. The symbols made no sense, and never would make any sense; though he had noticed that certain patterns seemed to repeat themselves. He wasn't sure he understood his own fascination - was it awe? Was he turning into yet another superstitious twit; enamored with anything the Old Ones did? Hmph. He certainly hoped not. Tucking his muzzle against his chest; Ozymandias let his thoughts drift away to the back of his mind as his body slowly continued to rise.
---
The top of the Tower was brighter than its base; the walls ringed all about with windows - though it was a rare one that was still intact. Shards of glass, feathers and bird droppings - and even the flattened and disintegrating remains of a few roosting pidgey - littered and stained the floor; a foul odor tickling along the kadabra's muzzle. Dust clung thick and heavy to the strange metal structures that lined the wall just under the windows; jagged, rusty holes exposing snarled masses of wiring in garish colors. A massive light fixture - though the only phrase Ozymandias could think of to describe it was "a big thing" - was fastened to the middle of the floor; running his paw across it brought faint visions to the kadabra's mind of a bright, shining beam extending from all sides of the Tower; spreading its light across the land as a testament of...what?
Chuffing; Ozymandias let his hind paws find the floor; standing up stiffly. He hadn't seen a single Person here other than the dead pidgey upon the floor; and even they were much more likely to be Flash-born than once-rational beings. The nameless one didn't even appear to be here - was all his searching for nothing? Could his Lord actually lead him astray?
No, it was impossible. Lord Chronos never, ever made mistakes. If Chronos said his vision implicated the Tower, than it did, and there was no questioning it. "I'll find him," Ozymandias whispered; clenching his forepaws together. "The key to victory will be ours..."
The kadabra looked about the room once more; trying to pick up on something - anything - he had missed in his first go-around. A pedestal stood to one side of the row of decaying computer towers; a small, round object resting in a slight depression upon its surface. Ozymandias approached it carefully; sniffing at the little ball and picking up a cold, metallic scent that tickled at him strangely; even more than the room's dust. This...what was this? He took the object up in his paws and studied its surface, noting its smooth contours against his paws, and its faded red-and-white coloration. Red and white...
A memory tickled at the back of Ozymandias' mind; an image of Lord Chronos showing him just such an object. What had he called it then? A pocky...pooky....pokéball. And it was a remarkable object indeed, his Lord had stated; for to find one "intact" was a miracle, and that by pushing down the button in its center, one could, indeed, reach out and touch the past in "a very real way..."
Ozymandias shook his head; acknowledging to himself that he hadn't really grasped what Lord Chronos had told him. Still, he had no other option, and it might even lead him to the nameless one...
Closing his eyes, he pressed his claw to the button.
To be continued...I hope I have whetted your appetite, and given you lots of things for you to speculate over and think about. :)
