[PKMN FULL] Crimson Dawn: A Tale of Conquest (IC)

[Ray Maverick]

The Exalted

Garland's face was ice. He ordered Ambrose to make the preparations for dinner; when the Shiftry opened his mouth to protest, the Floatzel's stony, blue gaze stopped him. Evidently, he'd never seen his leader like this.

"Humph, anything wrong?" Ambrose asked indifferently. "No, don't answer. I can figure it out myself."

The Floatzel felt a tightness in his chest, and that made him curt with his manners. "The brothers and sisters are starving. This is no time for chit chat. Jacob," he said, as the Shiftry shrugged and left. The Meowstic had followed him through the main path of the garden with his sister. "Come close. I have a task for you."

Jacob approached warily. "What's up, leader."

"You are to leave town as soon as you can. Tomorrow morning would be best."

"But--" Sophia tried to protest, a worried look on her face. Garland raised a hand for silence.

"Take a score of men with you to the Obelisk of Stars and secure a foothold for us outside; forge a psychic link and maintain contact with the town. Have them carry you if you're too weary."

Jacob rubbed his neck's fur. "Protect the Nexus, okay. Any particular reason you're worried about it? Nearest enemies to us are in the Crystal Palace. We'll see them if they move out. The rest are behind mountains."

"Get there," Garland ordered curtly.

"Shouldn't we discuss this with the others?" Sophia objected, but the leader would have none of it.

"There is nothing to discuss. Those who leave can still attend our meetings through the link, while protecting the Nexus."

"Oh," Sophia said. "Umm... Garland?"

The Floatzel was turning away, but he stopped. "Yes?"

"What's gotten into you?"

She looked away when he fixed his cold eyes upon her. He seemed angry for a moment, but then he shook his head, turned and left.
​

 

[Greiger]

Food Fight! Featuring the Schmucks: Alphus, Gerrick, Ambrose, and Noah! And the man himself: Garland!​

The next day...


Dean looked over at the plates and just sighed and he slumped over. There were all sorts of treats and delights at the table, and because he didn't have a stupid mouth anymore he couldn't taste any of it! Oh yeah, have a mouth as a Poliwag and then lose it immediately! What kind of s**t based evolution was that!? "Woah! Alphus! Over here!" Sneaker shouted out, the Sableye waving his hands as the Blaziken made his way over to the table. There was quite the stir amid the tables now as Alphus set his sketch book down and Dean wasted no time in swiping it and quickly flipping through it.

"Our man has his muse back!" He chuckled as he moved another page and stared at it, before he burst into gut wrenching laughter. The Poliwhirl cracked up as he gripped his sides, "Oh... oh this is so good!" He cried out. Sneaker leaped over and landed on Dean's head as he stared at the picture and began snickering, "Hehe, I never got to see it, but look at that expression! It's like he didn't know it would happen!"

Alphus glanced up from his bowl to see several familiar mon making their way over. Some saw that this was clearly NOT going to end well if Ambrose heard of it, others burst up giggling, and others were a bit confused. Dean set the sketch down on the table that showed Alphus' very fond memory of his fist smacking right into Ambrose's face, even capturing the detail of the blood that had spurted out from his nose. "Heh, man! Just look at that expression!" Dean complimented. "I mean, honest to Arceus I have to say, this is your best work YET!" The Poliwhirl said eagerly. "Man, imagine if this gets to hang up in a museum, right?"

Noah sat down after several other mom. His meal consisted of a berry salad, and a glass of water. Looking around, he noticed that the other Gold Tribe and resident 'mon were gravitating to the other side of the room. It struck him as both weird and awkward to be somewhat isolated so he took his plates in both arms and ventured to where all the commotion was occurring. Recognizing Alphus and Dean at the center of it all, he noticed that the Blaziken had produced a new work, and set it on the table for display.

The snickers, laughter and confused looks were no longer a mystery once Noah himself gazed upon the sketch. Impressed and horrified at the same time, the paper captured Alphus socking Ambrose right in the face. While he did want to edge his way past the bundle of Pokemon to observe it closer, he didn't want to be seen gawking at it once Ambrose himself joins the dinner. Noah has heard many rumors of the Shiftry's temper and did not want to be on the receiving end. He gathered his things and promptly returned to his original seat.

Gerrick sat at the very end of the table where the action was going on. His feet were planted on top and he leaned back on a pile of rocks he formed to get more comfortable. In his left paw was a ridiculously large mug, definitely not standard size from the ones they would hand out here at dinner. This was his own mug he brought along everywhere he went. He had relaxed a bit on trying to act the part of the stonewall "Shadowrend" ever since the debacle with Yveltal. He expected most of them would somewhat trust him now ever since he helped save the Emperor's life, so he hoped he was in the clear. Besides that, it didn't seem like any of the usuals were around. Yet.

"Lemme see that!" He said, standing up off of his leaning chair and heading over with his large mug to observe the picture. He looked down at it, taking a large swig of his drink, and quickly proceeded to spit it out. Gerrick was laughing uncontrollably now, the mug swishing and spilling across the table and onto the other 'mon with the Krookodile apparently not giving a damn. "This is great! Who is this loser?" He asked, pointing at the 'mon in the picture.

Dean actually blinked a bit in surprise as Shadowrend himself came over and everyone suddenly fell silent as he took the picture, but once he broke out into laughter the other GT around them visibly relaxed. "That's Ambrose, er, sir." Dean said as he puffed out his chest, "He just drove Alphus here too hard and he got punched! Bam right in the face!" He said. "Just straight out knocked him to the ground! Of course it was what he wanted, and he deserved it too!"

Alphus glanced over from his plate and gave a small nod as he resumed stuffing food into his mouth.

"Well, good for you," Gerrick replied back, stuffing his face with a large piece of bread off one of the others' plates. "Fhoo Fhon't Hake Fit Fof Efeyhuhy!" He declared, barely audibly trying to encourage them not to take crap from anyone, but unable to form the words with a full mouth.

Just then, a group of Pokemon entered the Dining Hall. It was Ambrose, the smirking and cheroot-chewing Shiftry and a few of his friends, Stonetouch, Stinger and; they seemed to have heard Gerrick babbling gibberish. Ambrose arched an eyebrow at the company of people. Half of them were looking at Alphus's drawing fascinated, the rest were staring at Gerrick who had spit his drink all over them.

"Who is this blabbering fool?" Ambrose shouted at them, staring down at Gerrick, until he noticed his golden insignia. "Shadowrend, is it?" he asked, seemingly crossly for no reason, "well, that's a miracle you don't see everyday. Came back from the dead, or so I've heard, eh."

"Yeah looks that way," Gerrick answered, taking another huge swig of his mug. He eyed the new group of 'mon that entered, seeing that they were also Gold Tribe. "But then again, it's kinda funny to come back only to see the end times." Gerrick began using his large nail on his paw to pick his stood, a piece of meat having been stuck in there from an earlier dish he ate. He finally picked the thing out, before spitting it right below Ambrose's feet. "What is that, your posse?" He asked, pointing behind Ambrose at the other Pokemon. "And who're you?"

The Rhyperior called Stonetouch stepped forward saying, "Stonetouch an' Stinger. But we ain't no one's posse."

"We're all one big posse, right, brothers?" Stinger, an Ariados said, although his tone wasn't at all friendly.

Dean got off of his seat and crossed his arms, "Hey, one big posse then?" He asked, "Well... I think if Shadowrend is back he should be allowed his old position. And by that, I mean the weakest link has to go." He stared right at Ambrose, "I mean, he worked hard for his second position and Jacob likewise worked hard to succeed him right? It only makes sense in my eyes." He gave a meek shrug.

The room went silent when the bomb was dropped. Ambrose stared at Dean, smirking like always; it was hard to tell if he was angry, because he always looked angry. Even some Gold Tribe of Alphus's group glanced awkwardly at the third-in-command, disbelieving Dean's words. The Gold Tribe may have questioned Ambrose's moves in the past, but he had already proven himself as an able and strong leader. And Ambrose knew that.

He averted his eyes from the company and went over to the table to sit. He grabbed a mug, poured ale from a bottle underneath the table and drank it all in one shot, his cigarette always in his mouth. Stonetouch and Stinger had seated themselves beside him and they grabbed food and started to gobble it down. The Shiftry chewed on a piece of well done meat and his cheroot, he poured himself another ale and drank it, and then slammed the mug on the table and shot himself up from the bench. He pointed at the Poliwhirl. "How dare you insult me like that! Why don't you's just fight me one on one like a real man instead of letting that poophole you call mouth do all the talkin'!"

Dean's hands tightened into fists, "You know what? I'm very very tired of how you treat everyone like... like something you can step on! Yes, you're a leader, yes you worked hard for it, but a leader isn't just some hard ass who sprouts out orders and rages about! Hell look at Garland's reputation! Someone who is strong but also someone who actually shows that he cares about how those under his command actually feel?"

He stepped out from the table and narrowed his eyes, "So fine, let's go. Type advantages be damned."

Alphus however had a different idea. He reached out and pulled back the Poliwhirl as he shook his head, making a few symbols in the air as Dean huffed, "No fair! You got ta punch him why can-" Before the water type could say anything else Alphus tossed him onto his shoulder as he squirmed about, "Hey! No fair Alphus!"

"Well, look at that," Gerrick said with a chuckle. He took another gulp of the contents within his enormous mug. His eyes were glued on Dean and Alphus, before returning to Ambrose. "But ya know, he does have a point. Leaders gotta have the respect of the people they command, or else are they really leaders? Girlfriend has that," He added, referring to the leader of the Gold Tribe. "Not really sure you do. Hey, maybe I should take over your spot!" He added, bursting out into laughter and taking another large drink of his ale.

"Take over my spot! How're you planning to do that, friend? You're gonna roll over me with that fat belly of yours?" Ambrose retorted and Stonetouch slapped his knee and burst into howling laughter.

Gerrick continued to howl with laughter up until he was insulted by Ambrose. He looked down at his stomach and cocked an eyebrow. Up until now, he was joking around about the leadership position, but now the 'mon actually did piss him off a bit. He placed down his mug onto the table with a large slam, and picked up a piece of meat off of another plate. "I ain't your friend, buddy," He growled, biting through the meat with his sharp teeth for effect.

Alphus slowly rose up and stared right at Ambrose as he grabbed something off of the table and made his way over to Gerrick's side, and by forfeit, Dean also ran over. The Blaziken silently held up the picture he had drawn and let it drop to the ground. As it fell it happened to float over to Ambrose to land in front of him. The rest of the Gold Tribe fell silent, many staring on anxiously as a few scooted forward to see what would happen.

Ambrose stared at the drawing on the ground before him like wide eyed. The smirk had intensified so much, he looked like a tiny monster with a huge white mane. His teeth were showing, gritted so much that they cut through his cheroot, which fell to the floor. He'd normally replace it right away, and the fact that he didn't was unsettling. The Shiftry raised his scary gaze to the smug Blaziken. "It seems our 'artist' here enjoys punching his brothers," he said through gritted teeth. "Though even that is more acceptable than his art."

It didn't look like he was going to attack, but Stonetouch looked more sensitive about it. He stood up abruptly, his mouth trembling, staring at Alphus with a sad expression, as if he had just killed Ambrose. He grabbed a plate with pie from the table and walked slowly over to Alphus, then planted the pie on his face.

"For Arceus's sake, Stonetouch, that was uncalled for," Ambrose muttered what he would in other circumstances yell as loud as he could, but his smile of amusement betrayed his thoughts about the Rhyperior and his pie.

Gerrick began to burst into a spurt of laughter. "You're not gonna take that from him, are ya?" He asked Alphus.

"Hey!" Dean said angrily, "You aggravated him last time! Everyone there KNEW that you were only making him angry just so he would punch you!" The Poliwhirl accused, "Just so you could keep him out of the mark!"

At Shadowrend's words Alphus didn't hesitate. It was a blur of motion as the fires around his wrists billowed to life and it only took a second before his right fist flew out and slammed right into Stonetouch's face. As that punch was thrown, as the sound of flesh meeting rock rang out all hell broke loose.

Those who were allied with Alphus at the moment fired out ranged attacks as some ran up to join him in melee combat. The rest started attacking them to defend Ambrose as all sorts of attacks flew across the dining hall. Along with those attacks various food items such as berries and pies were tossed about. A Dewott even held up a Sandwich as a makeshift sword and began to smack those around him with it.

Soon enough, the whole hall had fallen into a chaotic mess.

Ambrose covered his forehead and sighed, being in the center of the chaos. He tried raising his hand and opened his mouth to shout for them to stop, but a pie struck him, bullseye. The small Shiftry fell backwards with his face still stuck in the plate. He jerked it off of him, jumped on his feet nimbly, wiped the cream off his eyes and looked wildly around him. "AAALPHUS!" He shouted, spotting the Blaziken who had thrown the pie. He grabbed an empty plate from the table next to him and threw it like a frisbee.

Alphus quickly sidestepped as the flames on his wrists grew brighter as he jumped up and aimed fight for Ambrose as the flurry of food kept on being thrown about along with attacks.

Still eating his food, Noah eagerly watched the brawl unfold as if he was watching a movie. Once done, he began to navigate around the dining hall, dodging attacks and charging Pokemon while scavenging abandoned plates. Eventually he came across a large apple pie. Seizing it in his paws and about to dig in, he failed to notice a Vigoroth rushing at him in blind rage. With a solid Headbutt, the normal type bashed face-first into the Typhlosion knocking the pie right out of his grasp. Reeling back in both pain and anger, Noah's flame vents ignited violently and involuntarily flamethrowers shot across the the dinning hall. A stray blast eventually struck Gerrick right in the muzzle, interrupting his howling laughter and sending him tumbling right into the thick of the chaos.

Gerrick stood up, standing on top of the head of a Hitmonchan whom he had knocked over. He looked around angrily, trying to find the 'mon who had hit him before. "Who the hell did that?!" He roared, looking around for his target. There were multiple fire types in the room however, all hitting each other. "Aww, f*ck it!" He yelled, running right in the center of the bunch and jumping right at a group of brawlers and crashing the entire group along with him onto the floor. He then picked up a bottle of ale, slamming it into the head of a Dewott. Fisticuffs ensued around.


***


Meanwhile, outside...

Thrasher grumbled as he dragged his leg behind him, grunting as he made his way along the path and gasped as he saw the next hurdle. "Stairs... oh joy." He muttered, "No... no, think happy. This is... this is going to be okay." He gritted his teeth as he began to sloooowly rise up the stairs, gritting his teeth all the while. As he made his way ever so slowly up he glanced off and saw some figures making their way over to the hall as well, "Ah, Garland! How goes it?" He asked as he had to bit down on his tongue to keep a cry of pain from escaping as he made his way up another step.

Garland ignored his question, walking up the stairs with another member of the Gold Tribe; a female Granbull. "Help him walk, Faery," the Floatzel commanded, and the Granbull immediately helped Thrasher walk by grabbing his shoulder.

Thrasher frowned and looked at Faery, "Uh... is everything alright?" He asked warily.

Garland nodded no, then perked up his ears. Pokemon were shouting from the dining hall of his house. He quickened his pace to the top of the stairs.

Thrasher blinked and looked at Faery, "Carry me up there! Pronto! Did anyone get through our defenses!?"

Garland somehow knew what was going on before he kicked the doors open. The moment he burst into the room, everyone stopped. It was dead silent! His cold, penetrating gaze traveled from one corner of the room to the other, staring at the food that was thrown on the floor, the broken plates, the Pokemon that had stopped fighting with each other. "Who is responsible for this?" he said softly, his effort to restrain himself too obvious on his tightened mouth. Out of shame, perhaps, no one spoke, or out of fear. "Who is responsible for this?" Garland repeated, more intensely this time.

The Rhyperior stood up; he'd somehow crashed into the wall and his face was covered in mustard, but that probably was before the fight. "These guys!" he pointed at Dean and Alphus, "they taunted Ambrose!"

Garland looked over to the mute Pokemon and his telltale, then back to the Rhyperior. "... and is that a reason to start... this?" he asked, putting emphasis in the last word to show a mild disgust for the mess that had been made of the dining hall.

"F-forgive us," Stonetouch pleaded, stooping his head, his mouth angling into sadness; he looked as if he was about to cry. "It was fun, though..."

"Quiet!" Ambrose nudged the Rhyperior and stepped in the front. "Garland! Good to see ya, heh," he chuckled. Oddly enough he was clean from head to toe, as if he hadn't been attacked with a pie. There was not even a single sign of the food fight on him.

"You too, Ambrose?" Garland demanded to know, "didn't you try to stop them?"

"I did try," Ambrose protested in a whiny tone.

Garland ignored him. "And you, Shadowrend?" he turned to the Krookodile, who looked to have been involved thoroughly in the fight.

Gerrick was smack in the middle of a pile of bodies, tangled between them, though they quickly dispersed when Garland had showed up. Nonetheless, he was covered in food, spilled alcohol, and had a small cut on his cheek. He was about to speak, but noticed at some point something was lodged in his mouth, something he didn't know was there. Spitting it out, he realized at one point a bit of food must have been lodged in, which he threw out and accidentally next to another 'mon's feet. "Not really, no," Gerrick replied casually, looking Garland straight in the eye. He looked around for his large mug, seeing it spill over on the table, and walked up to it with a sigh. He sat facing Garland along the long table and simply held the mug in his hand, each of his arms outstretched as they rested along the table.

"It was just letting off steam, sir....brother," He declared, licking his teeth to clean them out with his tongue. "After everything that's happened, I don't think that's too bad of a thing." Gerrick surprised himself with the way he was talking. He hadn't expected to get too caught up in everything, but he was actually speaking as if he were getting attached to the Gold Tribe a bit. That, and he was slowly dropping his ruse more and more. Then, he said something else he didn't expect. "Just let 'em be. I'll pay for the damages." Wait, what the hell did I just say?

Alphus likewise didn't keep his head down. Instead, as Ambrose's gang accused them of starting this, he kept his head held up high. Dean however was cowering behind him, shuddering merely at the look that Garland gave them. He gulped and whispered to Alphus, "I-I've never seen him s-so angry."

Noah pulled himself up from a bundle of 'mon who stood motionless since the moment Garland entered. The whole time he had been bombarded by food and attacks only managing to defend himself by fighting back. Now that Garland had made himself known and all was still, the Typhlosion slowly dropped to all fours and began to stealthily sleek away from behind the crowd.

Alphus just took in a deep breath of air to calm himself. Meanwhile Thrasher looked about in amazement, "Dear Arceus." He muttered, "This... isn't good."

Garland stared coldly at Gerrick, who offered to pay the damages. "You do that," he said, then turned to everyone. "The Gold Tribe does not dawdle like this. You all should be ashamed." He turned and took the stairs for the second roof, saying, "there will be an early drill tomorrow. Get some sleep, and don't let the Emperor know about what happened here. We cannot afford anot"

 

[GastlyGibus]

Lifting Spirits
|Tavhir "Restless" Eldren, Prince Cyrus Aurelius.|
11/10/1059​

Tavhir idly walked around the city of Amoon, taking in the sights of the village. He had kept to himself for their brief time in the village, hardly interacting with his fellow Gold Tribe siblings at all. The Pokemon of Amoon recognized his gold tribe badge pinned on his scarf, flashing friendly smiles and waves. They all looked so... peaceful. Content, in a sense, despite the overwhelming reasons why they shouldn't be. Tavhir wished he could reciprocate those feelings, but he couldn't. He weakly waved back at them, but did not stop to chat or say hello. As he walked the road, a small path in the grass opened up to the side, leading to a small clearing near the riverbank. It was some ways off from the main village, but he could see it from the road. He diverged from the stony path onto the cool grass, making his way towards the flowing water.

Some moments of walking, and he was near the river itself, far away from any other person. Here, he was alone, with only his thoughts to occupy him. Behind him, a large stone protruded from the ground, much larger than himself. He eased himself onto the ground, resting against the boulder. The Pawniard sat by the river, motionless, thoughts from their mission in Stoneyard running through his head faster than he could process them. The mission at the Summit, his foray into the Nexus... and subsequent failure.

"Only one attack, and already you are weakened? And you call yourself Gold Tribe?"

""You... do not deserve to be in the Gold Tribe."

Tavhir sighed. He reached around his neck, untying his scarf and holding it in his hands. He stared at the insignia... two blades, crossed in an X inside of a circle, painted a brilliant gold, like the tribe he was a part of. A brilliance that he himself couldn't match.

"Do you swear to honor the customs and traditions of the Gold Tribe? Do you swear to respect your fellow Pokemon? Do you swear on your honor, on your life, on your heart to protect those who can't be protected, and those who asked to be protected? Do you swear to defend the freedom and liberty of the Pokemon of this Realm and its leader, the First Man of Union and Alliance, Emperor Dareon Aurelius?"

When he took those vows, he was so sure of himself, so sure of his devotion to the cause. Three years at the ECUL, and he had passed. He stumbled here and there, but in the end, he was a fully fledged member of the tribe - title, emblem, and all. He believed himself to be a capable 'mon; not a brilliant leader, or a cunning strategist, but at the very least, capable.

That was only a few months ago, before his stationing in Alamanga. Before this... catastrophe. Catastrophe was the best way to describe it. The longer they fought, the more disastrous and bleak the situation. Tavhir frowned, his head falling back against the rock he reclined against, looking to the sky. What had he done since he joined? Backed into a corner by some mercs in a cave, captured while scouting the monastery, failing spectacularly in the Nexus, and letting both Atris and Rax escape with the Dark Star.

"What am I even doing here?"

Tavhir looked back down at his badge, before tossing the scarf to the side, the brown fabric landing softly in the grass. He stared at the expanse of water before him, listening to the flowing of water as it poured down in it's uniform path. He didn't feel sad... nor did he feel happy. Not anger, nor joy; hope, nor dread. He simply felt... empty. Emptiness, indifference, and apathy.

He heard heavy footsteps muffled in the grass behind the rock he was sitting on. A hulking Beartic showed his face from above the rock, looking down upon the Pawniard. A few rays of the sun coming from the openings in the leaves above the Beartic's face lit the grassy clearing. The Prince exclaimed lightly when he saw Tavhir in his gloom. Somehow, the Beartic's cold grey eyes seemed sympathetic. As if he knew. No, he knew. "Do you feel it, too? The emptiness?" Prince Cyrus asked.

He walked around the rock and came to sit with his back to it, next to Tavhir. He looked onto the riverbank, frowning faintly. "Eighteen years I've spent secluded in the palace, as per my father's wishes. It was for my own protection, he said. I felt like my life had lost its meaning long ago."

Tavhir looked up upon Cyrus' arrival. At first, he was slightly nervous. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to act in front of royalty, and surely being in this state wasn't proper. But when the Beartic spoke, he demonstrated that he meant no ill. Tavhir calmed himself, sighing before turning back to the river. He simply nodded at the Beartic's words. Emptiness was all he felt now. "Doing what you did because you felt like you should... not because you wanted to. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, you would find answers... was that how you felt, too?"

"That's how I felt," the Prince admitted, "but I now realize that life is not a straight path, and answers, you don't just find, but you reach out for them by yourself." He stood up, towering above Tavhir. In all the calmness of his person, young Prince Cyrus had a quiet strength to him and a look that bent steel. "I intend to do what my father fears. I intend to rule in his stead. What do you intend?" he asked deeply, slightly arching an eyebrow.

Tavhir turned his gaze down to the grass. He felt he couldn't look Cyrus in the eye in his current state. The prince had conviction - a purpose - something he lacked in himself. "I wish I knew the answer to that question."

The Prince was quiet for a moment. He seemed to be measuring Tavhir. "What is your title?"

Tavhir paused, as if he needed to think of the answer. "Restless. It's what my sister always called me growing up. I could never really settle down... always after something." He grinned for a second, thinking back to when he lived with the Eldrens. His frown quickly returned. "I picked that title because... well, it feels the same way now as it did then. Always looking for something. Always... restless."

Cyrus nodded grimly. "Do you know how you will find whatever it is you're looking for? There are many ways, but the most important of them all..." Cyrus tightened his fist, suddenly resembling his father when he gestured like that. Even as a Beartic, he looked like another image of Dareon. "Power. Having nothing else to do, I used my spare time to train. Garland taught me how to fight, and to kill if need be, Keeper taught me letters and history and Achilles taught me about politics and business. I was not idle up until the time of need - right now - arrived. I bettered myself in every way possible... something you, too, should consider doing."

Under normal circumstances, the Pawniard would have been inclined to believe Cyrus' words. Bettering oneself; it was something he had done when he was younger. Hell, he had even joined an underground fighting ring in Skyhaven in order to hone his combat skills. He was never one for academics, but he considered himself, at the very least, competent in fields of knowledge.

But now, as much as Tavhir wanted to take the advice, he felt he couldn't. He cursed himself mentally for this moment of weakness - of hopelessness - that he had found himself in. He remained silent, keeping his gaze fixed on the river in front of him. Cyrus stared at him, arms crossed. It looked like he understood Tavhir. "You're Eshir, Restless," he said keenly. "I, myself, am part Eshir. I can tell by the way you handle yourself - no, not by the way you fight. By everything else. There are certain things that set us apart from other Stygians. Our race was known to work with the hardest steel, tristanite... we all have that kind of steel in us. The steel that doesn't bend, nor break."

Tavhir glanced towards Cyrus, momentarily confused. He didn't expect the Beartic would know of his heritage... considering he had nearly forgotten about it himself. He sat still in pensive thought, turning towards the river once more. He had only spent a short of amount of his life amongst the Eshir. Did he still possess that steel that Cyrus spoke of? "I... I don't know if I still have that..." his voice quiet; he spoke with uncertainty.

Cyrus chuckled somewhat wryly. "It is a matter of heritage, not personal choice. You have it, it's in there, whether you're aware of it or not. You think the hundreds of years the Eshir spent improving their ways can be undone in the face of some difficulties? On the contrary. This is the time when your true steel will show."

The Pawniard looked at Cyrus quizzically. "What do you mean? I honestly feel lower than dirt right now... hardly becoming of an Eshirian, even one that has been away for so long."

"And what of me?" The Prince asked critically, his arms still crossed. "I've never even been in Ascanfell. I was never surrounded by Eshir. It doesn't matter. I was taught all I needed to know. Come, Restless, I'll help you out. Spar with me." He slammed his fist into his open palm, slipped into a stance and gestured for Tavhir to come; the corners of his mouth were bent in a subtle grin.

Tavhir chuckled slightly at Cyrus' offer, shaking his head. "I'm not really in the sparring mood right now."

But when your Prince wanted to spar with you, you had to spar. "Spar with me," Cyrus chuckled, "this is a command. No excuses."

Tavhir laughed weakly. Apparently this was an order, now. He begrudgingly stood up, putting some distance between himself and the Beartic. He wasn't sure how he would fare against the prince, but he would soon find out. He mirrored Cyrus' stance, readying his blades for attack. "Very well... whenever you're ready."

The Beartic bared his fangs and roared, sending Pidgeys fleeing from the trees around them; he charged, bringing down his arm for the Brick Break. The blow would be strong, but Cyrus didn't deliver it at a particularly alarming speed. Tavhir brought his arms above his head, catching the attack and holding his ground.

"Show me the fury of us Eshir!" The Prince shouted; his breath became icy powder and he took a step back, letting it sweep past the Pawniard, then brought his arm down again, letting out a throaty bear-like roar.

Tavhir braced himself against the icy attack, protecting his eyes with his arms. Just when his arms came down, the Beartic launched forward into another Brick Break. He leapt backwards narrowly avoiding the attack as it slammed into the grass. Tavhir took his chance, hands flying backwards and glowing as he rushed forward to meet Cyrus. He closed the distance, thrusting his arms in a forward cross with a Metal Claw. The Prince raised his arms in defense, letting the Metal Claw strike his fur; the two fighters took steps backwards after the blow. "Don't hold back just because I'm royalty," Cyrus prompted the Pawniard, "come on!" he roared the last words and they clashed again. "Will you let the rebels defeat you?" he questioned.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Tavhir responded, breaking free from the clash and readying himself for another charge. His body became enveloped in shadows, his claws shifting into a violet hue, and he rushed forward in a Night Slash. He swung diagonally at Cyrus' chest, a trail of darkness highlighting his arc. The Prince let the blow past his defenses; when he was struck, he took a step back and laughed. No blood was drawn.

"Well done, I say. Again!"

Tavhir smirked; perhaps Cyrus was right? He was beginning to feel his vigor returning, delivering blow after blow towards the Beartic and dodging in turn. Tavhir jumped to the side, weaving around another Brick Break. His heart was racing from the exercise. Tavhir wiped his brow, casting a grin towards the prince. "You fight like a magikarp!" he teased, readying himself for another attack.

But then the prince roared youthfully, "even so, I fight twice as good as you!" His breath became icy powder that swept over Tavhir, freezing him into place. The next blow the Prince unleashed found his defenses open. It was not delivered in full power, though it was enough to swing Tavhir off his feet and throw him off the riverbank and into the water.

With a body made of steel and knives for hands, swimming was an impossible task for Tavhir. Perhaps if he ever evolved... The Prince laughed for a moment, before seeing Tavhir was sinking like a rock. "You can't swim, can you?" he asked somewhat worriedly, looking inside the crystal clear water, as if Tavhir could hear him. "I suppose he can't..." the Beartic muttered and jumped into the water.

Moments later, they emerged and Cyrus carried the Pawniard between his arm and his ribs to a rock. They lay with their backs against it, panting with the effort of battle and swimming.

Tavhir coughed slightly, still recovering from the near drowning. His coughing then turned... to laughter? The Pawniard started laughing in between hacking. "You're crazy!" he said jokingly. "You almost killed me!" He wasn't sure why this was funny; if anything, he should have been angry. However, after their sparring, he felt as if his negative emotions had been expended in the combat. Maybe he should spar more often?

"Nothing to worry about," Cyrus uttered between his breaths, scratching the back of his head. "Besides..." he glanced to his side, "Thresh is watching us." The Aegislash appeared in front of them; instead of his shield, he was holding a plate with fruit.

"You have a keen eye, your Highness," Thresh commented, "it is for your own safety, of course." He offered the plate with the fruit to Cyrus and Tavhir. "The Otori believe this is an ideal time for supper: fresh fruit after battle."

"Always thoughtful," Cyrus joked, grabbing a large sitrus and cracking it in two. Tavhir nodded his approval at the Aegislash, taking a slice of Watmel for himself.

The Pawniard took a bite of his fruit, the sweet taste even more enjoyable in the sunny weather. "Hey, uh... thanks." Tavhir rubbed the back of his head. He wasn't very good at showing gratitude, considering how rarely he ever showed it. "You didn't have to waste your time with me."

The way Cyrus was munching on the fruit, nobody would've been able to tell he was a prince, but he still maintained an imposing image even then. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rested with his eyes shut. "What my father fails to see is that the ruler of this land should be one with the Gold Tribe, not a different entity. I want to be a member of the Gold Tribe, although I can never, given my heritage, call you brother. Still, you are the powerful allies that have carried the leadership of Exathor thus far. And any time I spend with my allies, I do not consider wasted."

Tavhir looked down at the ground, thinking on Cyrus' words. After his experiences with the Emperor, and other politicians and members of royalty, he hadn't expected someone like the Prince to be as amiable as he was. It was comforting to know that, should everything pass in their favor, Exathor would be in good hands in terms of leadership. He grabbed a large Aspear berry, slicing it and enjoying its juices. For the time being, the Pawniard and Beartic sat and ate in relative silence, taking this opportunity to simply relax and be content.

 

[Ray Maverick]

Skysaber

11/10/1059

There wasn't a morning in Zack's entire life when he felt more wretched than the morning of the eleventh day. He felt useless, weak, beaten thoroughly. Yesterday, Thrace had awakened. They'd lost the fight at Stoneyard, having arrived unprepared. Someone had set them up... it was a disturbing feeling to Zack's mind. He had the nagging hunch that it was all planned out, step by step, and they just played their parts as tools. I need to figure this out, he reflected, this Caretaker... the vivid image of Mr. Kagemusha was brought to his mind; the Pangoro, holding the black crystal, facing off against Zack and Petrina. Is it really that guy? Another memory was brought to his mind, from the time he spent studying in the ECUL, four years ago. Mr. Kagemusha was lecturing on the Illinkar Invasions and Zack's best friend, Frank, asked him about the reason to why General Ingvar was so destructive in nature, fighting with a vengeance, even though Exathor had done nothing to him. Their teacher would look dumbly at them with that bored gaze of his and would give a convoluted answer to a completely different question. Zack would've sworn that man was as stupid as a gogoat. But he also happened to be the Caretaker? The mastermind behind the Stygian Rebellions and the only mortal Pokemon able to command Thrace?

It was hard to believe.

The Electabuzz, still laying in bed, ran his palm across his sleepy face and proceeded yawning for the next thirty seconds. He jumped off from the bed and waddled over to the kitchen, half-heartedly. "Moo moo milk," he kept mumbling, like a zombie. "Here I come..." When he found the carton box in the fridge, he plunged his mouth in the opening and drank the heavenly drink. He fell backwards next to the plant-ridden walls and breathed heavily. His belly gurgled very loudly and he let out an equally loud burp that must've roused the entire house.

"Urghh... must... keep... going..."

***


​

At the end of the town, the river flowed, crushing down into a small lake from a steep cliff above. The lake was surrounded by the huge, perennial trees of the Otori woodlands, but there was a clearing small enough near the riverbank, at the base of the great cliff, where citizens of Amoon had joined forces with goldtribesmen. A tristanite skeleton was set besides the river on its coast and lumber had been arranged nearby; Zack watched them work from the top of the cliff, where the constructor's table had been set, next to the peaceful river before it became a fierce waterfall. It was a damp place, but the air here was refreshing; a welcome change from the thick stench the Gold Tribe had faced inside the Spirit Summit.

From their vantage point, Zack and the constructor could oversee the progress being made by the workers below. The constructor was no other than the Trade Prince, Achilles Proudmoore, a lithe, graceful Medicham with eccentric, ridiculously long fake eyelashes that curved in circles next to his red hat-like head. He had pale blue eyes like a pair of crystals and strong and slender limbs; his signature item was a plain rock with a mouth-like crack on it that hung from his neck with the help of a silver chain he had tied around it. The Trade Prince was the richest man in the known world to some, and perhaps a ruthless criminal to those who envied him. To others, he was an enigmatic genius, a tycoon with a knack for politics and generally a good helper in the matters of Exathor.

To Zack, Achilles was the brilliant example that he sought to follow. Achilles was the benefactor who had hired him as a full-time engineer in his company, Flogistron Co when he dropped out of ECUL. Little did he know that, aside from Flogistron's CEO, Achilles had also been an engineer there. He didn't just own the company, he knew how it ran. Zack was surprised to see Achilles had designed the blueprints of a new airship that would aid the Gold Tribe. He'd even convinced the conservative Otori to build it!

The Medicham was sitting on the chair cross-legged, exactly like when he would sit on the ground. He rested his face on his hand, leaning on his elbow, stooping over the edge of the cliff to observe what was going on beneath. The Otori had no idea how to built an airship. They were religious people, faithful to Arceus's image of nature and distrusting of anything Pokemon-made. But with the guidance of specially trained engineers and carpenters from the Gold Tribe, they were able to get the physical work done. It was all running like clockwork.

"How'd you get all these people to work together?" Zack asked the Trade Prince. "The Otori hate machines."

"They do," Achilles said calmly, smiling subtly, "but they love their Lord Kymotonian even more. And when their lord wants to build an airship, they conform."

"Next thing, you'll convince them machines are holy," Zack joked.

"That will never happen." The Medicham flipped the coin he was holding in the air and put it on the table when it fell back down. He pulled an object from his bag with his psychic powers and handed it to Zack.

It was a square and metallic thing with two sockets.

"Wow! That's the Electrizer I asked for!" Zack exclaimed. He immediately attached it to his belt, thrusting a few strands of hair from his belly into the sockets; it immediately begun charging. This extremely rare item was the key to his evolution! "Thanks, man."

"It's no problem," Achilles laughed, his gaze falling northwards, where a storm of black clouds was brewing. He looked to be troubled and lost in thought for a few moments. "Facing the Deathbringer... that is quite a feat."

"Yeeaah," Zack muttered, still fiddling with his electrizer. "Haven't met her in battle yet myself, thank god. I hear Noah did though, and he lived too. Poor guy must be traumatized, but hey, he was strong, I'll give him that. Say... why'd you think she's so angry?"

Achilles shrugged, rather indifferently. "Legendaries always find very insignificant reasons to be angry. They are prideful like that, and are easily offended for all the power at their disposal. It does seem... counterproductive..." he muttered thoughtfully, almost absent-minded, squeezing on the rock he was holding. "It must have been quite a mess in Stoneyard. I was surprised the Prince returned in one piece; I would have imagined the rebels would have not let him go so easily... and the leaders do not let on details that might enlighten how exactly his escape was made possible."

"Apparently, the Prince had help from the inside," Zack said, "I was surprised too. Help? From the inside? That's a shocker. Who'd want to help us?" He laughed.

Achilles rubbed his chin thoughtfully, still sitting cross-legged on the chair with his slender back straightened. "Indeed, who?"
​

 

[CourageHound]

Thrasher, Ambrose, and Xavier
Field Trip
​

11/10/1059

Thrasher sighed as he dragged his bad leg behind him. He was told to refrain from using his leg too much, given that he didn't want to twist any muscles or risk causing the time for his limb to heal to actually increase. Three days of resting his leg was already bad enough, he didn't want to make it a week at that! That dinner had been something else, that was for sure. Thrasher had just watched as the combatants simply streamed out out of the door, but he did catch sight of Alphus.

Thrasher knew what Ambrose said was true, that Blaziken had somehow managed to stir everyone in the hall to start some sort of food battle, and of course Ambrose had probably done his best to stop it too. It seemed wherever he looked now all he saw was more evidence that convinced him that leaving was the best thing. Facing off against a death god was one thing, but having his own brothers and sisters now turning on each other? That was something far worse.

He made his way up the steps once more, the pain in his leg not as pronounced as last time thankfully and he pushed open the door to the dining hall. The mess from last night had been cleared up and some mon were sitting at the tables. Most of them weren't speaking or chatting and Thrasher couldn't blame them. Last night had been a disaster of epic proportions, but at least he had food to eat this time and he didn't have to fear slipping on anything. The wooden tiles felt refreshing after having to climb those stone steps and the vines that decorated the walls helped to give off a peaceful atmosphere. At least there weren't many bugs that would bother him in here, he had to swat quite a bit when he had tried to sleep last night.

He gathered his plate and placed a few berries on it and managed to hobble to the nearest wooden table and sat on down. He munched on his food quietly as he did what he had been doing for the past few days. Think.

Ambrose and Xavier entered the dining hall and took their seats against Thrasher. The Shiftry smirked at the Primeape, by way of greeting, grabbed a bread and munched on it. He grinned at Thrasher, chewing with his mouth open, rather impolitely. "How goes it, Demetrus? Never seen this bad a fiasco ever before in your life, ehh?"

Thrasher sighed and swallowed the food in his mouth, "Hey Ambrose." He said with a weak smile, "You could say." He looked away for a moment, a frown creeping on his face. He turned back and forced himself to put on another smile.

Xavier took his seat across from Thrasher and Ambrose to make conversation at the table easier. "Hello Demetrus. It has been quite the while." He took a moment to observe Thrasher's leg. "Life seems to be taking quite the toll, hmm? If it's quite alright with you, I do have some medical knowledge of my own that can relieve some of the pain in your leg."

Thrasher looked down at his leg and frowned, "It's simply growing in age." He said, "Nine years ago I could have easily walked this off, have it heal in a week's time. Time makes everything slower." He shook his head, "You need not waste energy on me Xavier. The medics have been tending to me quite well. Last night... wasn't the most pleasant night I imagine. Still, today you two will have to partake in a drill, correct? I wish you two the best of luck in that matter. I would join... but any missteps and I can look forward to another week of trying to heal my leg."

"No drill for us friend," Ambrose said, shaking his head. "We're doin' some field work, as per Garland's wishes - try and find out what's going on in the Crystal Palace. Might be you can help us out. You've got the brains, unlike some of our brothers," he said snidely, putting sarcastic emphasis on brothers.

Thrasher chuckled at that as he drank some water, "I could, couldn't I?" He thought for a moment, "Well... I have nothing better to do. I imagine getting out of the med tent might be good. Gives me a change of scenery. As long as you two don't mind if I slow up the pace. I'm still working out the kinks in my leg."

Xavier laughed. "Don't worry. Ambrose has gotten used to my sluggish pace over the years. You won't be a bother at all." The Slowking yawned and scratched his crown.

"It's settled!" Ambrose shouted, standing up from the bench suddenly. "Let's go, Demetrus you're comin' with us. Grab some food, it may be a long time before we get back." The Shiftry glanced at the plates besides his on the table; they were full of food and waiting ready for others to wake up and find them full. He grabbed their contents and filled his bag.

The others followed him outside in the chill of the morning. "Why's it that it's gotten so cold out of a sudden?" Ambrose whined, walking through the garden. Many of the plants had already let go of their autumn leaves.

As they walked down the path, they greeted some Otori hunters who were setting out. "Good day," they waved.

"This what you call a 'good day'?" Ambrose shouted, "I'm freezing!"

"For a grass type maybe," Xavier jokingly pointed out.

Little farther down the road to the north, they parted ways in a crossroad. There were no rebels here yet, but Ambrose figured they should take a detour through the forest to avoid any contact at all. So they walked through the forest. The Shiftry preferred climbing on trees and often moved fast, so the others were in danger of being left behind.

"Ehh Ambrose. What are we investigating over there again? Not sure if I was paying attention."

Ambrose slowed down when he heard Xavier speak. "Crystal Palace," he reminded him curtly, "we're gonna find a good hill to make our vantage point, and good coverage from eyes as well, and we're to spy on them." They continued their way slowly through the forest, with Ambrose scouting ahead. Half an hour later, they came upon hills. Up and down, they went, until they reached a suitable location with a good view of the northern mountain range. They found shelter in a small opening inside the hill that would make for sufficient coverage.

At the base of the mountains with the icy peaks, there was an even larger chunk of ice - shaped as a palace; two spears as towers in the middle and four towers at the corners of the walls. That was the Crystal Palace, the seat of Achilles Proudmoore; a stronghold he built with his massive wealth over the years. It was beautiful, Ambrose couldn't deny that, but lavish too. Or not? It was plain... hardened ice. Who would want to live inside walls of ice that were ten feet thick?

Xavier observed the gleaming castle has they reached to peak of the hill. "Ahh what a wonderful establishment. Shame we don't have the luxury of enjoying it."

"What news has been around?" Thrasher suddenly asked. He had been silent on the way up, but now he seemed to brim with curiosity. "I have been in the med tents and the doctors seem to be of the belief if they say nothing, then it will help us rest easier. Has it all been bad news Ambrose?"

Ambrose sighed, rubbing his forehead thoughtfully. "I suppose it's bad news," he said, "Vektor went and helped Alamagna when it was in need, but what of the Palace? He left Teneth in the mountains with nothing to do, so that pesky Umbreon thought, why not conquer the nearer and most important ♥♥♥♥ing location on the map?!" he shouted, breathing heavily. "And Teneth brought his entire host with him, too. Ten thousand within the walls, ten thousand camped in the mountains. They're a wall that blocks the north completely, and I fear the day they move out in strength."

The Slowking put a hand to his chin. "Are you sure their activity in and out of the Palace alone will be sufficient information? No way to get...closer? As dangerous as that sounds."

Thrasher sighed, "I say no. We can't risk showing ourselves anymore than possible." He glanced over, "So... we just wait?"

"I suppose so. My build isn't one for stealth anyway."

Thrasher looked down at the ground, "You know... I haven't told anyone else what I found out in the nexus." He sighed, "When Thrace was released... we went to the Nexus. There was this girl... Vendra. Apparently... she's a mon with quite the longevity. She said she knew Thrace. Said... that we had betrayed Thrace in some way, and that Thrace would kill everyone eagerly in essence." He sighed, "I... why would someone eagerly awaken someone like that and bring them to power? Sure, you stomp out the emperor, but then you are immediately killed. It's like asking some exterminators to rid your house of feral bug types, but if you accept then they'll immediately kill you." He shook his head, "I can understand rebellion to put someone better on the throne... but wanting to eagerly die too?"

"Well I wasn't present at the operation in the Nexus, but I have seen reports," Xavier replied. "That, I cannot answer.

"There's wisdom in everythin', son," Ambrose said. He crouched close to the ground, his eyes fixed on the palace. "I don't think anyone wants to die. But they're fools if they think someone like Thrace'll let them live afterwards."

Thrasher chuckled, "So many rally around her... but they really aren't thinking are they?" He leaned against a rock and sighed, "Ambrose... can we have some... solitude." He looked over at Xavier, "Not meaning to be disrespectful... but I need to talk to Ambrose alone for a while."

Calm Tide raised an eyebrow in surprise. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped as Ambrose interjected. The Shiftry shook his head. "What you can tell me, you can tell Xavier here too. No need for secrecy. Although if it's a secret you want well kept, you can trust him as well as you trust me."

"Just a reminder, we are at an important surveillance checkpoint," Xavier pointed out. "A prolonged discussion should be reserved for a more appropriate location. However, I do not discourage you from explaining if it's that important to you."

Demetrus chuckled softly as he leaned back. He fell silent for a moment as he stared out at the Palace. "You know..." He began. "When... when she first woke up. When that crystal shattered... she killed Champion. It... It wasn't... it was like something I had never seen." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, "I can still see it in my dreams. Champion disintegrated... completely became dust. His soul... I think it was. It was red and an orb, it just flew out and into Thrace. She absorbed his soul, and as that cave crashed around me, I knew that I was going to die. I knew it, but I was alright. Oddly enough I was alright."

He chuckled, "Our brothers fight among each other, the whole world eagerly follows Thrace and I'm at that point. I... I wonder if I should... if I should just leave." He rubbed at his forehead, "We are outnumbered, have a death god high above us that can absorb our souls, and I have so many things I have left to do. We are but what? Two hundred men at most? Sure we have some troops too, but they are not Gold Tribe. They don't have our training. We are all in one place and if the army surrounds us, that will be the end. That's it in all honesty, I have lost my passion, and I fear death."

"So, we all ought to just leave, is that what you're saying?" Ambrose smirked, staring at Thrasher angrily. "Just 'cause we lost a battle, doesn't mean we lost the war. Odds may be against us... but I've faith. I won't let anyone trample over us, just 'cause they're stronger, just 'cause they've got the bigger numbers. If I - if you - if the good men of the realm don't fight, then who will?" He stood up and paced up and down, visibly upset from Thrasher's words. When he turned to the Primeape again, he threw his arms up questioningly. "And where do you think it'll be the best place for yours truly to go? Ehh? Go north, hundreds're waiting for you to show your face and kill you, go south and they'll reach you eventually." He sighed, his rage coming to the end of the cycle; he wiped his forehead, sticking his tongue out from all the sweat. "Still... I shouldn't keep you. If you want to go, then go. But I can't guarantee I'll ever let you back to the Tribe if you come running back."

Xavier frowned, staring at the sky in deep thought. "Times are changing, yes. The tide of the battle does not sway in our favor, not by a long shot. However we are Gold Tribe. We are the only hope that remains." He gestured to the fatigued Shiftry. "Like my brother said, there is no running from this. It is understandable to be afraid of what's to come. Only someone who has lost their mind wouldn't be afraid after what you've been through. However, we must have the courage to pull through despite such weakness." He glanced at the Primape. "It would be unfair of us to make you stay, but I plead of you not to loose hope. Without hope in such times, it's not worth being alive in the first place. That's how I see it anyway. Whatever the case...I will fight." With that, he turned away to a nearby tree and plucked an apple to snack on.

Demetrus was silent for a moment, "Clavis..." He murmured under his breath as he closed his eyes, "I think this talk will occur many times in the future. Not necessarily from me. Thrace... is something else. When we met her in combat there was this aura of fear that gripped me, probably the others too. Then there is the fact that she is very powerful. If... If we can find some way to take her down, then we could raise many spirits. That is the conundrum, finding a way to take her out before she can cause too much damage." He sighed and leaned back, "Thank you. Both of you. I have someone I need to protect as well out there."​

 

[Xilfer]

Punisher, Poonsher, Pendro, Faery, Lenora, and the Swagikarp
Swag Night Out

Moonlight fell upon the village of Amoon, with most denizens having retired for the night. The dim lunar light shone across the expanse of the city, giving the faintest trace of color to the sleeping city and casting a brilliant reflection in the flowing streams. Here, near the edge of the river, Lenora stood, simply admiring the view. She was not sleepy. The Xatu felt as if the necessity of sleep had left her some time ago. She relished these moments - moments of silence and peace - away from the bustle of activity present in the daytime.

There would soon be the loud sound of footsteps as Punisher made his way along to the nearby river and sat on down. He had woken up in a sweat from his nightmare and his cry had been enough to get some of the others to shout for him to keep quiet, so he came here. He didn't know if this would be a good place to sleep, but maybe... maybe it would help? He let out a soft sigh and rubbed at his eyes. This was not going to be good at all. He had to get his rest for this drill thing tomorrow, and here he was staying up! "I'm so f**ked." He muttered to himself.

Meanwhile, a small school of Magikarp swam downstream, minding their merry business. All of a sudden, a lone Magikarp appeared and swam a few feet away from them, a smug expression on his face. The leader of the school noticed a small golden badge on the loner's left fin. The odd Magikarp appeared to be humming a tune to himself, despite being underwater. He soon noticed the school watching him curiously, and grinned.

"Yo, what you lookin' at?" he asked with a condescending tone. "You like my bling?" The Magikarp proceeded to stick out his fin. The other Magikarp were in a state of awe.

"Dat's what I thought," said the lone Magikarp, winking once at them before taking off with incredible speed.

That Magikarp continued to swim along, his amazing speed wooing a school of female Feebas that had been swimming by. Yet, he felt no strain; it was all too easy for the best Magikarp alive.

It was difficult to make out what was beyond the surface of the water, especially with such little light, but he thought he could see a figure at the edge of the water. Only, the figure wasn't looking down at him, but at the scenery. Unacceptable! He was the best Magikarp alive; everyone had to notice him. Without any hesitation, the Magikarp proceeded to leap out of the water at full force, Splashing in mid-air so that his side would impact with the Xatu's face.

Lenora didn't even move, catching the Magikarp in mid-air and psychically holding him in place. She bore what looked like a very faint smile, though in the darkness of the night it was hard to tell. "Well then... what have we here?" Her voice was calm - playful, almost - as she simply stared the Magikarp in the eyes.

The Magikarp suddenly found himself unable to move. Figures. But this wouldn't stop the best Magikarp in the world, oh no. It was difficult to tell in the dark, but the Xatu definitely sounded like a female. Nice.

"Ay gurl," the best Magikarp said, winking at the Xatu. "Th'name's Swagikarp. The Swagikarp. Don't wear it out." He finished with a goofy, yet confident smile.

Punisher just stared on, blinking in surprise at the events happening. "Did... did Jacob hit me with cola berries again?" He asked out loud, "Uh... is this some hallucination? Am I sleep deprived?" He asked warily, "Well... not sure if you two will actually tell me the truth given you might be hallucinations." He set his head in his hands and sighed, "Just my luck."

"Well," Lenora said, only now turning her attention to the Machamp on the ground. "I am fairly certain I am not an illusion. However..." she turned her gaze back to the 'Swagikarp' in her psychic grasp. "I'm not so sure about our fishy friend, here."

From a little ways West of the river, a stuttering voice faded in through the foliage, followed by another decidedly calmer one. As if the situation hadn't already been strange (and swag-filled) enough, the addition of yet more arrivals could serve only to enhance the strangeness. And, erm, swag.

"... -can't do this, I swear! This is kidnapping, it must be! There's law in place that is meant to prevent-"

"You'll be back at Amoon later, and I'm not holding you for ransom-"

"Yes- yes, I know, bu- you can't just- I don't- honestly! I don't know how you're breaking the law right now, but you're doing it! This isn't right, if I weren't immobilised, I'd, um- well, I'd probably just avoid you, but I'd probably also say something quite thoroughly unpleasant! Yes, quite, um, thoroughly indeed! I simply refuse to be manhandled in such an aggressive manner!"

"Erm... you know I'm a woman, don't you?"

"You're a- oh, fantastic, as if this situation couldn't be any more awkward!"

"Just shush, will you? Stop whining, it'll do you some good."

"Good!? I- there's not a single thing good about this! I'm immobilised! You're starving me of my rest! Surely- I'll have to have a word with Garland, I'm not sure what I could have done, but this is certainly some form of cruel and unusual punishment and- oh, um... is that...? Okay, now you definitely have to take me back. I'm so delirious I'm hallucinating. You'll never believe what I'm seeing..."

Since waking up, Pendro had been having an astoundingly awkward day. He'd dozed off while recovering from his Dark Pulse injuries - probably the tea, which was quite soothing, if difficult to drink in his condition - and had been having a decent time, happy in his sleep. When he woke up, however, things were a little different. Being carried on a cushion by the Drifloons was all well and good, but frankly the only people who even so much as touched Pendro were his parents. A stranger picking him up and carrying him about the place wasn't exactly high on his to-do list, even if activity had been what he had wanted, and if the places he'd been going were places he actually wanted to go to. And now he'd gone and confused the stranger's gender, to go even further - he'd heard that 'mon tended not to like that.

The culprit was a certain Granbull, title 'Faery', who had seen it fit that being active was the solution to Pendro's immobility. How it would help, Pendro didn't know. In fact, he knew that it wouldn't; it wasn't like he was actually moving, Faery was doing all the work for him on that front. The only point the Granbull had was that of 'fresh air', which Reaching Mind was inclined to believe was a load of nonsense.

"What are you seeing?" Faery asked. "A Xatu holding a crass Magikarp and some Machamp with his head in his hands?"

"You-" Pendro almost moved in shock. "Lucky guess! Take me back, now! Erm... please..."

"Yooo, I ain't no 'llusion brah," the Swagikarp continued. "But dayum, you fine. Plenty'a fish in the sea, but the best ones are in the sky, y'know what ah'm sayin'?"

"Yo, how 'bout we get outta this joint, yeah? This Machloser's crampin' mah style. I know some coral reefs we can hit up, y'know?" He finished off again with a goofy laugh.

"My-" Pendro almost flinched. "What in every deity's name did that Magikarp just say? No, it's not a hallucination, is it? I don't think I could come up with that if I tried..."

Punisher slowly got up and made his way over to Lenore and the Swagikarp, "Cramping YOUR style?" He asked as he stared at the fish, "Sorry, but even 'I' know I could take you on. How does four hands constantly punching into your gut sound?" He asked as he flexed his lower arms, "I ain't scared of no fish."

"Now now, friend," Lenora said to Punisher, not taking her inquisitive eyes off the fish still hanging in the air. Whereas most people might have found the Swagikarp's remarks rude or insulting, Lenora was completely unfazed. "Well, you may not be an 'illusion,' in the technical sense of the word, but something is definitely amiss here." She shot the Swagikarp a sly grin. "Now, I am usually against using my psychic abilities to invade the minds of others, but I am willing to make an exception in this case. Unless you want to tell us who you truly are?"

Faery cocked her head to the side. "Why is this a thing that's happening? Not sure I've seen anything so bizarre in my life."

Pendro also seemed somewhat mystified. "I still don't like you because you're kidnapping me," The Granbull ignored the accusation. "but I can't help but agree. Ditto, if you will."

"Yo, Machloser, I ain't talkin' to ya," the Swagikarp spat, before turning his attention back to the Xatu. His smile only grew wider as she spoke.

"Playin' hard t'get, eh gurl? A'ight, a'ight, I getcha," the best Magikarp spoke. "This'll convince ya; check out mah bling, y'all. Ain't gon' be long before you be wantin' some'a dis."

"THAT'S IT!" Punisher snapped as he cracked his knuckles, "YOU ARE SO GOING DOWN FISH! ANYONE LOOKING FOR SOME SUSHI!?" He reached out to grab the Swagikarp, "Cause I am SO hungry right now!"

Lenora held out a wing to Punisher's chest to stop him. She smirked at the Swagikarp again. "Believe me, you don't need me to make finding a partner more difficult for you." When the Magikarp flashed what appeared to be a Gold Tribe insignia, she eyed the badge critically, as if verifying it's authenticity. "Unless the Gold Tribe has significantly lowered their standards since I applied, then am I correct in assuming you are not who you appear to be?"

Faery laughed lightly. "Now this is interesting."

"No it isn't!" Pendro snapped, as quietly as he could bear, his annoyance overcoming his interest. "A good book is interesting! From somewhere inside, in the village and, most importantly, stationary! Also, not in the arms of a kidnapper!"

The Swagikarp sighed. "D'aww, c'mon, why you gotta be like dat, gurl? I'm the Swagikarp, yo, I'm the best guy you ever gon' meet," he boasted. "Fine, fine, I'm the Swagikarp, I got plenty'a other ladies linin' up to get dis."

His gaze shifted over to a Granbull carrying a Metang. What an odd sight; though, not as odd as the one they were gazing at. It wasn't immediately obvious, but as the best Magikarp in the world, he could spy a girl miles away, even in this darkness.

"Yo there gurl!" he greeted, raising his voice so that the Granbull could here. "What you say you drop the baggage and we split, a'ight?"

Faery paused for a moment. "You know, it's almost like it just addressed me."

Pendro desperately tried to regain his carrier's attention. "Yes, perhaps it did- in that case, perhaps it's time to make a hasty retreat, right? Right?"

Lenora's smile didn't fade. Upon hearing the Metang's comment, she almost chuckled. "Fine. Be that way." She then dropped the Swagikarp on the cool grass, turning her attention to Punisher. "He's all yours."

"D'aww, she done'n got jealous," the Swagikarp commented.

Punisher eagerly picked up the fish with a nasty smile, "You know... even IF you were someone they liked they would never choose you." He flexed two of his arms, "Now if you had muscles like I did, maybe you would stand a chance." He glanced at the insignia he wore and chuckled, "You... you're in the Gold Tribe? Heh, I think we have a liar here." He bounced the fish up and down in his hand, "Hm... yo!" He called to Faery, "How far do you think I can throw him? No worries! He'll land in the water!"

"Hmm... I bet you couldn't even throw me an inch!" Punisher called. But wait, Punisher...?

Where the Magikarp had once been, a burly hand now grasped Punisher's wrist in a tight grip. Another Machamp, exactly identical to the first, owned that hand. "Not unless you have muscles like me, the mighty Poonsher! Yeah!" he said in an exaggeratedly deep voice, puffing out his chest and flexing his arms as he did.

"Huh, a Ditto." Pendro murmured, assuming the transforming Pokémon wasn't a Zoroark. The Xatu's Psychic demonstration before had proven that much. "I hear they change back to normal if they laugh."

"Hey!" Faery called without hesitation. "Swagikarp! Why couldn't the Hitmonlee use Hi Jump Kick?"

Punisher surprisingly answered, "Uh... because it didn't have enough leg power?" He asked with a frown, "I... don't get it." He shrugged and looked back at his double, "Hm... laughing huh?" He frowned and pulled his hand out of his copy's grip and narrowed his eyes, "Right... a fight is on!" His hands reached forward, though instead of punching they began to... tickle?

"Well, if I know anything from textbooks... and that was really one page, I know if you laugh you change back!!" Wow, who knew Punisher knew anything from a textbook!?

Lenora had taken a few steps away, keeping her eye on the former Magikarp. She hadn't intended for him to be seriously harmed. She suspected some kind of shapeshifting was taking place, and her suspicions proved to be correct. "Now this certainly interesting."

"Tickling doesn't work." Pendro murmured again to his captor. "Someone should probably tell him that. Or, you know, you could leave. Just on the chance you've reconsidered."

Faery sighed. "Tickling doesn't work!"

Punisher paused in his attack and turned about, "Then what does!?" He asked angrily, "Cause I have no idea what else to do! I suck at jokes!" Unfortunately, he had turned his back to his copycat as he chatted with Pendro, more than certain he could out punch that stupid Ditto any day.

"Then let me finish mine, you big clod! Swagikarp! I asked you a question!"

The entire time that Punisher had been trying to tickle him, Poonsher had been doing nothing but posing as if he were a model, flexing his muscles and changing positions with a smug smile on his face. "Ahh, look at moi! I am magnificent!" he said in a falsetto voice, as he moved into a sumo position.

Just then, a voice caught his ear. Poonsher turned to look at the Metang who was being ferried by Faery. "Hmmm!" he put his chin to his hand thoughtfully. "Because only I can use that move to its fullest capacity!" he boasted.

Punisher stared over at Faery and Pendro, shaking his head. "Dude... that joke sucked."

Faery slumped slightly, and Pendro feared for a moment she'd drop him. "Are you serious?" The Granbull said, miffed. "You're just meant to ask what the answer is, don't you know how jokes work? You guys are awful."

"You know what else is awful?" The Metang moaned. "This."

Poonsher saw Punisher turn his head, and seized the opportunity. Grinning widely, he proceeded to began waggling about his fingers, reaching out and tickling the other Machamp all over. Having the same body, he knew where all of Punisher's weak spots would be.

Punisher at first yelped in surprise, but soon couldn't help but burst into laughter as he tried to twist away and push the arms away, "Quhihihit that!" He giggled out. It was in that moment when he realized that he was just being tickled by his clone no less and he could feel the embarrassment suddenly rising. W-what if any of his brothers heard of this!? He would never live it down!

Faery couldn't help but let out a laugh. Pendro just glanced up at her hopefully, though he knew there was no real chance she'd actually listen to him. "You know, you could still go back to the village. Now would be a good time. Not too late."

The Granbull shook her head. "Seems like this ordeal just turned into a show. All we need are a few snacks. Maybe you should watch, you could lighten up a bit and stop babbling about kidnappings."

"This is a kidnapping." Pendro muttered. "I'm well within my rights to babble about the truth. Stupid immobility. Stupid Yveltal. Wish that Dark Pulse had killed me... a little bit. Not that much. Not exactly suicidal. Not that I'd be able to kill myself even if I wanted, stupid immobility and all..."

Poonsher just kept on tickling Punisher, and slowly they both rolled towards... the river! Before long, Poonsher braced himself as he grabbed onto Punisher and both tumbled into it.

Poonsher grinned as the two were carried downstream. He was suddenly replaced by a Tentacool. The Tentacool reached for the gold band that Punisher had around his wrist, and used its slippery tentacles to get the thing off. As soon as he had appeared, the Tentacool disappeared, and Poonsher made his return. The Machamp put the bracelet on his own wrist, and grabbed Punisher, heaving him up and out of the water as he struggled.

A ways away from where everyone else was, two Machamp emerged from the stream, breathing heavily. Poonsher, now bearing a gold band on his wrist, stood up.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you stupid Ditto?!" he shouted at Punisher.

Punisher gasped, struggling to grab for his bracelet as he also gasped and panted. "DITTO!? Me!?" He snapped, "Give me my bracelet back!" He shouted at his copy. "This is SO not fair! First tickling me and then stealing my insignia!?" He flexed his arms, "You looking for a bruising? Cause I am SO going to punch your whole face in!"

Poonsher managed to grab Punisher's arm, pulling him closer and expertly placing his own Gold Tribe badge on the 'mon's shoulder. When that was done, the Machamp pushed him aside.

"Stealing my insignia?! What are you talking about-? Look, there! Your stupid little 'bling' is right there!" Poonsher exclaimed, pointing at where he had placed his own insignia.

Punisher stared silently at the insignia and then looked back at his copy. "You can't keep this up." He said angrily as his four hands balled up into fists. "Once I don't laugh, then guess what? You're going to be found out." He smirked evilly, "Imagine what Garland will say."

Lenora sighed in partial annoyance. This imposter was insistent on maintaining his illusion, much to the chagrin of both herself and her contemporaries. It was almost enough to make her angry at the actions of them all, but specifically, their 'brother' who was playing the tricks. Lenora's midnight stroll had already been interrupted, and it was clear it was not returning to peace any time soon.

"Enough!" she shouted, grasping both Punisher and Poonsher in a psychic grip, forcing them to remain still. "You two are behaving like children! If this is what the Gold Tribe is like, then we must be desperate indeed!" She eyed the doppleganger intensively, almost as a disappointed parent, then looked over them both, before sighing again. She relinquished her grip on the 'mon. "I grow tired of this game. I came out here for peace, and that has now been thoroughly interrupted. You two may continue your baseless tomfoolery on your own."

With that, she raised her wings, flapping once, then again, lifting herself into the air and flying away.

"Heey, someone is leaving." Pendro noted. "That's something we could have done a while ago. And still can now!"

Poonsher looked over at Punisher, a rather convincing look of irritation on his face. "Now look what you've done!" he groaned. "She's right, you know. Honestly, grow the f*** up, damn Ditto!"

"You know," Pendro half-mumbled. "I'm not sure who you're actually trying to convince any more, because I honestly just don't care."

Faery looked down at the Metang. "Aw, come on, kiddo, don't be such a grumpy boo- huh, no legs, erm. Grumpy. Don't be grumpy. Well-!" The Granbull looked up suddenly at the two Machamps, raising her voice slightly. "I guess, since the jokes didn't work, there's only one fair way to decide who's who. Eeny meeny!"

"HIM! HE'S THE DITTO!" Punisher said frantically as he pointed all the while at his copy, "Come on Pendro! I was there at Stoneyard! Okay... maybe we didn't travel together really that much and I didn't talk to you that much, but I was there!" He cried out.

Poonsher scowled. "What kind of method is eeny meeny?!" he exclaimed. "Isn't it obvious that he's the Ditto?!" He held his hand out. "Hell-o? Proof right here!" He pointed to his arm band. "He's the one with the Swagikarp's stupid little badge!"

Pendro rolled his eyes. "Please don't take me for an idiot... alright, um, Punisher, what did Cassandra use as a pillow in the flight over to Stoneyard...?" The Metang felt a pang of guilt for bringing that up again, but he supposed it was for a decent cause. Faery, meanwhile, was going through the eeny meeny motions between the two.

Punisher blinked, "Uh... " He thought for a moment, "Okay... she... well... I remember flying through a cloud..." He frowned, "Uh, pillow... pillow... wasn't it Dareon?" He thought for a moment longer, "Yeah it was him! Or maybe it was a cloud..."

By this point, Poonsher could be heard holding back a giggle.

"Dareon...?" he mumbled. "Dareon was used... as a pillow...?"

He took the armband off of his wrist, and threw it down on the ground, before breaking out into hysterical laughter.

"PFFFAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HUE!" he boomed, falling to the ground and rolling a few times.

"Haha! ...ha! That's just too funny!"

Before he knew it, he realized that he could no longer roll. Looking down at himself, he recognized his good old goopy purple body.

"Oh hey! You got me to laugh after all!" he said with glee. "Nice one!"

He looked over at Punisher, before transforming again, this time into a small Natu. With his psychic power, he reached out and gripped his own small badge, placing it snugly back onto his wing.

"You guys are a blast!" he chirped.

Punisher frowned and wasted no time at holding out a fist at the psychic bird, "Now get gone brother!" He snapped, "If I hear about another Machamp walking about I'll find ya and beat ya in!" He grabbed his own band and snapped it back around his wrist. "I think I firmly hate Dittos now."

"Yeah, there we go, problem solved. We're a blast, Punisher hates Dittos. Woop-de-do." Pendro muttered, before yawning. "Can you take me back now... please...?"

"No." Faery said happily. Pendro let out what could be interpreted as a wail of despair.

The Natu turned a bright white, transforming back into his original blobby form. He stood by the edge of the river, eyeing the three with a large grin.

"Find me, eh? G'luck with that, easier said than done. Never know which one of us is me," he said. "But I feel bad for ya. I'll give you a hint."

He turned around, facing the river. Glowing white, he began to transform once again.

"My name's Dave," he began. His form once again settled on that of the infamous Swagikarp. Just before Splashing back into the river, he spoke one last time that night.

"THE Dave."​

 

[GastlyGibus]

Idle Chatter
|Cassandra "Peacekeeper" Eldren.|
11/10/2014​

"This stuff smells something foul."

Cassandra held the glass to her face. Inside swished a strange, green liquid, with a smell that threatened to make the Lilligant gag. She recoiled in disgust, holding the glass away from her. "I appreciate the care... but is there any way to make this less revolting?"

On the bed beside Cassandra's, a Carnivine snickered to herself. "Heh, it may not be the most delicious thing you've ever had, but it certainly helps. That Starlight really knows her remedies."

Cassandra grimaced, looking once again at the contents of the glass. According to Starlight, the mixture was a combination of Lum, Aguav, and Salac berries, intended to heal damage done from poison, as well as provide general healing overall. She paused for a moment, before closing her eyes and downing the contents of the glass in one motion, gulping loudly and doing her best not to throw it back up. She finished, slamming the glass down on the nightstand nearby, her eyes shut tight as she held back the urge to retch.

"Here," the Carnivine reached over to her own nightstand, retrieving a glass of water. "Wash it down with some water."

Cassandra nodded in thanks, taking the cup and drinking it slowly. "Thanks," she said.

"Sister," a voice called out, when the door to the bedroom opened slowly. It was hard to see from her elevation on the bed, but she recognized the voice immediately as belonging to Tavhir. The Pawniard wandered in, glancing about the room. It appeared to be a guest room of sorts, redone with extra beds and furnishing for members of the Gold Tribe to recover from their injuries. "I need my journal. Is it still in your bag?"

"Hm? Oh," Cassandra reached down over the side of the bed for her satchel, pulling out a small notebook with a specially crafted pen. "Here you go."

"Thanks." Tavhir reached over, taking the notebook and pen and tucking them under his arm. "Feeling any better?"

"Much better, thank you for asking," Cassandra replied with a friendly grin. "Starlight says I should be good as new by the end of tomorrow."

Tavhir closed his eyes, sighing in relief. He still felt slightly guilty for separating them, but at least she was recovered now. "That's good. You just stay here and rest until you're better, okay?"

Cassandra laughed at the obvious advice. "Oh, of course. Thank you, Doctor Tavhir." She giggled at her own jab. Tavhir shook his head in annoyance, but you could see a small grin on his face as well, despite his efforts to conceal it. With that, and began to head out, bidding goodnight to his sister, and her returning the gesture.

The Carnivine laid back on her own bed, her vines sprawled across the bottom half, a warm smile on her face. "I take it you two know each other?"

Cassandra nodded. "He's my brother... well, adopted brother. He came into my family when he was only about six."

"Ah, I see," The Carnivine replied, still grinning. "It must be nice having family with you during times like these."

"It is," Cassandra replied. She thought over the implications of that. There was a lot of talk of conspiracy. Betrayers, traitors, and backstabbers, even amongst the Gold Tribe. Polo and Romulus were evidence of that. Cassandra trusted her fellow siblings in the Tribe, and she briefly wondered... would any of them turn as well? She pushed those thoughts out of her mind. After the recent events, she couldn't imagine any of them turning rogue. Thrasher, Noah, Pendro, Zack... she knew they wouldn't turn. But Tavhir was someone she could fully trust, and him in turn, no matter what.

"He seems to really care about you," the Carnivine said.

"Heh, maybe a little too much," Cassandra responded with a chuckle. "He can be a real worry-wart sometimes."

"Ah, yeah, I can see how that'd be irritating," the Carnivine replied, laughing herself. "But it's also endearing, in it's own way. It shows he cares for your well-being."

"That's true. It's funny... it's like the roles have been reversed." Cassandra grinned at the thought. "Growing up, I was the one who always took care of him. I was almost like his second mother!"

"Aww," the Carnivine said with a huge grin. "That's so sweet." She looked over at the Lilligant, before sitting up slightly in her bed. "I don't think we've met before. My name is Elena. Sentry is my title." Elena held her leafy hand out to Cassandra, the Lilligant taking her hand and shaking it.

"Cassandra, known as Peacekeeper," she responded.

"Heh, we're all peacekeepers here, aren't we?" Elena said with a giggle. "I like it. Hopefully, we can spend some time together in happier times."

"I'd like that," Cassandra said. Suddenly, the door burst open, the Floette Starlight floating in the room with a tray of remedies.

"I've brought your medicine!" Starlight chimed, beaming.

Both Elena and Cassandra glanced at one another, grimacing at the thought of more foul tasting medicine from the Floette, before laughing together in unison.

 

[Ray Maverick]

Skysaber
11th day, 10th month, 1059 AP​

Zack tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep. He opened his eyes to look outside the window, at the moonlit sky. It was cold. "I'll never be able to sleep," he whispered to himself. Thoughts of the war with Thrace kept him awake. "I need to... build this airship." He got up from his bed, slipped into the belt with his tools and ran downstairs. It was quiet in Garland's house, everyone was sleeping and some were even snoring, so they didn't notice him sneaking out. The air was surprisingly cold. Zack snapped his fingers as he walked down the road, generating heat that would keep his body warm; the electrizer on his belt was getting hot, gathering his electricity with his every movement.

It got very dark. Zack glanced behind him, at the moon - it was gone, hidden behind a maelstrom of dark clouds in the north. A storm was brewing. At least the stars shed enough light for him to continue to the construction site; the town was quiet, but the river was loud as always. Zack reached the edge of the cliff where Achilles usually put his table on - this was his vantage point. He looked beneath, at the iron skeleton of the airship that was still being worked on. "Beautiful," the Electabuzz drooled.

He took the rope down the face of the cliff, letting go when he was near enough the ground so he landed softly on the grass. "Heh heh," he chuckled, rubbing his hands as he walked towards the engine that had been set in place with the skeleton. "I'm gonna make you sing." But just then, his antennae picked up voices nearby. He perked up his body. He knew at least one of those voices. What were they doing here in the middle of the night? Zack warily sneaked towards the engine and hid behind it, listening to the voices converse. They were somewhere up ahead, in the Otori jungle. Curiosity overtook him and he patted the engine, saying, "I'll be back," as he left, following his antennae.

He prowled on his four feet, staying close to the thicket. Even though the ground was full of stones and roots to trip him up, he managed to go without a sound for the time being. The voices grew louder as he approached, veiled in the dark, but he couldn't quite make them out. He needed to get closer... he reached out with his paw, crushing a dry autumn leaf. That, of course, caused an explosion in the quiet forest, and the voices stopped.

"What was that?" one voice said.

Zack decided to play it more safe now. He used Magnet Rise, letting himself float in the air slowly. He grabbed on a thick branch, jumped onto another and rested there. He could see two shadows in the path up ahead, but he was afraid he would be seen if he took the chance and prowled closer. But he was sure he recognized the shape of one shadow. It was round, and with a long snout, and his voice... Shadowrend, Zack reflected.

"Probably just some 'mon out takin' a piss," Shadowrend said, his eyes darting toward the direction of the noise, before returning to the 'mon he was conversing with. "So you were saying...?" Shadowrend crossed his arms and waited for him to continue.

"Focus," the other voice said commandingly. It was a deep, alien-like voice. Psychic distortion? Zack wondered. Curious, he tried to get a better look at the man, but he was standing under the shadow of a giant leaf. "You found something in the Family Vault. A tablet of some sort, is it? Tell me now what it said."

"It was about the Great Sundering and how awesome and big it was, or something like that," Shadowrend replied, he shrugged his shoulders a bit and proceeded. "I don't really know whatta you care about it, but if I'm paid, doesn't matter to me. Got any plans for it?" Before the other voice could respond, Shadowrend chuckled and spoke again. "What am I saying, of course ya got plans for it. Ya always have plans."

The dark figure turned his back to Shadowrend and stepped further into the shadows. Dammit, Zack thought, trying to get a better look. "Indeed I do, always," the distorted voice said, "everything falls into place as we speak, apart from minor setbacks that I will correct soon. I suppose the contents of that tablet did not weigh as much as I had thought they would. I overestimated its value, I admit. I should have looked into that sooner... but that matters little now." The figure turned to Shadowrend again. "A small bird told me your brother Romulus recognized you. Beware. I have a hunch your identity is inches away from being compromised. You can stay here and continue your role as our agent among the golden tools, or I can arrange for you safe passage to Alamagna, where you can join Vektor's side and further aid us in our cause. The choice is up to you. Make it quick."

"Hmm," Shadowrend seemed to ponder the proposition, tapping his foot and bringing a claw to his chin and tapping it thoughtfully. A few more moments passed before he spoke again. "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't think a spot on the side of some lordling or whatever'll suit me right. Besides, I kinda like it here. Good food, nice beds. We never seem to stay around somewhere for too long. Do ya know how much niceness I stole from our last assignment? If I can get past the whole, 'Thrace is gonna destroy the world, oh Arceus Thrace will kill us all' bit, and all the dangerous assignments they keep pilin' on us, I could make a lotta money on the side. But we're all gonna die some day. If I'm around these strong, fighter-types, maybe I'll last a bit longer."

There was a pause between them. The seconds passed and Zack could feel his heart beat in his chest so loud, that he wondered how they could not hear him. "... do as you will," the dark figure said finally, "however, I warn you: if things do turn out against you, I may not feel... obligated to lift a finger to help you."

Shadowrend snorted and spat to his side, crossing his arms again. "If things turned out more favorably either way, would you really have helped me then?" He asked, but didn't wait long to get an answer. "I've lived through a lot in my life. I can get through this."

"Hmm?" the person Shadowrend was conversing with let out a soft, metallic laugh. "Getting emotional, are we?"

Shadowrend chuckled as well, and shrugged. "Yeah, maybe a bit," He replied, turning around and seeming to stare across the area, either in simple observation or perhaps ensuring no one else was watching. "We're 'mon. We're not wild, mindless nothings. 'Mon like you, like a few others I met across Exathor, 'specially ones in power, they all think alike. They think 'emotions are weakness, emotions get you killed'," Shadowrend turned back around and looked at the 'mon in the darkness. "That's bullsh*t," the Krookodile continued, "there's few things stronger in this world than emotion. When I'm angry, I fight like Arceus is right there next to me. When I'm scared, I run faster than lightning. I'm alive today because I don't hold anything back, ever. Give me a 'mon with a burning passion for revenge because their mommy and daddy got killed over a logical cold and calculating genius any day, and we'll burn the world a thousand times over."

Another moment of the grave's silence. The dark figure did not move. When he spoke next, his voice was soft and gentle like a cloak of cotton. "... you may have misunderstood me. I do not consider emotion a weakness. On the contrary. Take the brightest and most notable example. Thrace. Thrace will do as you say, take what she can from the world and leave it in ruins. She has enough hatred for all of us, and our children as well. Her agony will make the realm bleed. But that, precisely, is what will eventually lead to her downfall. For emotions bring qualities both good and bad, and it is the bad ones we should mind the most. The key is to master your emotions, restrain them, and make use of the good, while abolishing the bad. That is what I do."

"Well, we all got our ways, I guess."

To Zack's surprise, the figure in the shadows stepped towards Shadowrend. A faint streak of moonlight gently fell on his form, revealing a tall, slender figure, but nothing else. He had extended his hand to Shadowrend, but the shadows were merciless to Zack's eyes. "We part ways here... for now. Do not try to contact me."

Shadowrend approached the figure and extended his own hand, and shaking the other's. "Wouldn't dream of it. See ya when I see ya."

Zack panicked at that moment, watching the two 'mon leaving the scene. I've gotta get out of here, he thought frantically, looking back at the town. He started leaping from branch to branch as quietly as he could, running across them when they allowed it. Glancing behind him, he glimpsed the two shadows, moving at the casual pace that he could outrun. When he reached the riverbank, he dove to the grass, rolled and kept running towards the skeleton of the airship. He didn't care if he was seen, he only wanted to get out of there as fast as possible and sit and think of everything he'd just overheard.

 

[Greiger]

Look! It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's Thrace!
11/10/1059​

The Shiftry blinked, realizing Demetrus had changed his mind. He wouldn't leave. Ambrose chuckled, "well, can't protect him if you're dead, can you?" He approached and patted the Primeape on the shoulders. "We'll pull through... don't let anybody know I said this, but we're stronger than you think. Bring to mind the leaders of our side: Garland, Jacob, Cyrus, Kymotonian - every one of them is worthy, even Dareon," he said, then thought of it and added, "in a way."

The Slowking was out of earshot for a moment but did manage to catch that Thrasher was indeed staying. Plucking two more apple, he walked back over to where the others were stationed. "Good on you brother. It would've been saddening to see you go." He tossed Thrasher an apple and bit into the other. He then turned to Ambrose. "Even Dareon?" Xavier echoed.

Thrasher chuckled at that, "Yes, even Dareon." He bit into his apple and thought for a moment, "So... how about that Alphus?" He asked with laughter, "Seriously, that Blaziken screwed up so hard last night. I do wonder if Garland is forcing some sort of punishment on him now? That would be a sight I wouldn't want to miss."

Ambrose crossed his arms and shut his eyes, smirking. "The nerve of that guy! Slandering our name with his 'art'. He splashes the color red on paper and everyone loses their minds. And then he mocks me, on top of that."

The Slowking turned to Ambrose. "I assume he wouldn't do that if without reason. Do you two have some sort of history?"

Thrasher snorted, "Ambrose has told me about him for long enough. Personally, I was okay with it before. Sure, go ahead, draw a picture of some people on the street. Whatever. Personally I go more for the classic art of drawing all sorts of shapes, how real artists go about it. Alphus however pushed my limits. You did see that stupid mural he did right? That one that apparently is so 'awe inspiring'?" He asked as he made some air quotes. "Man, that was a sh*t storm. Not as bad as it could have been, but he showed no remorse! No guilt! Just smirking and bathing in that attention! He's a smug bird alright."

Ambrose snorted, looking off to the sky blankly. He had many things to say about this Alphus, but he didn't get a chance to say them. At that moment, he glimpsed a great shadow on the sky, flying above the mountains of the west. "Is this for real?" he whispered. He wanted to question Thrace's existence, but seeing her in the sky shredded his doubts like paper. The Yveltal existed, and she was enormous. It didn't look like she could spot them from where they were standing, so Ambrose didn't even bother hiding.

Thrasher looked up as his fear gripped him. Wasting no time he grabbed Ambrose and Xavier and pushed them down, "Get down!" He hissed angrily, "One dark pulse and we're dead!"

Ambrose smirked, "if we have trouble seeing her from where we are, she definitely can't see us from this distance."

"True, very true. So that's the legendary Pokemon?" Xavier stood up and dusted himself off. "Only a bird with Keen Eye, could spot us from here. Like say, a Braviary." He gave a small laugh. "Good thing that Yveltal isn't a Braviary hmm?"

Ambrose started laughing uncontrollably, grasping his back by the waist. "Ha! Good thing," he agreed in between his raspy laughter. "She wouldn't be that much of a challenge then, would she?"

"Hohoho!" Xavier laughed in unison. "Don't let a Braviary hear you say that-" He stopped talking as Thrasher seemed to begin talking angrily.

Thrasher gritted his teeth, "You two idiots!" He hissed angrily, "You have NO idea what she can do!" He looked up, "I know she has a lock on for the Emperor. Somehow, in those tunnels, she knew exactly where he was." He paused, "No wonder she's here... it's no secret that our allies are in the forests around here. She could be trying to find the Emperor himself! And he's smack dab in the middle of our small outpost!" He sighed, "Well... she hasn't found him yet. Let's hope it remains that way."

"We're teasing you," Ambrose said with a friendly smirk, which he dropped to look with concern at the great God, flying away towards the north. "Don't look like she's up to much to me," he said. Thrace did not seem interested in the Crystal Palace either. Ambrose found his spyglass inside his pouch and extended it; he would take a closer look at the Palace now. He noticed Lord Teneth's banners, Pyrgos painted on them, racing with the wind above the ice walls. There were patrols going to and fro atop them, just above the gate, never letting it unguarded. To reach the gate, attackers would have to take a relatively steep hill upwards. "The Palace's surrounded by mountain. Only way in is the front gate. See that hill over there?" Ambrose said to his comrades, pointing. Even without a spyglass, they would be able to see it. "That'll wear us down before we even get to the gate. Attackin' the place will be suicide, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise, ya hear?"

"Well that only highlights our primary objective up here; surveillance. With all the troops guarding such a stronghold, I'm sure we'll come upon something eventually." He looked up at the darkening sky. "Though I believe only Ambrose here would be able to do so in the dark. I suggest we head back soon?"

"True, 's getting late," Ambrose agreed, his head raised to the quickly darkening skies. A storm was coming from the north.

Demetrus was silent for a bit and he too looked over to the north, "Yeah... looks big." He muttered. He stood up and stretched, "We might as well head on back. Nothing is going on so we best report what we found."


~~~~

The way back to Garland's house wasn't that eventful. They remained quiet the whole time but it seemed that no patrols were out yet. That was quite the boon and as they made their way back into the village Thrasher chuckled a bit, "So Ambrose, what have you got planned this week? Just simply drills? We'll need to get this place well fortified if we are going to use it as a base of operations." The night air was quiet with only the light chirps of insects breaking the silence. "I'm glad you brought me along brother. I really needed those words of encouragement. May we always stand tall against our enemies."

"Indeed, friend, we shall," Ambrose said. "As for the drills, join us when your leg's better. I'm gonna go to bed now, I'm exhausted, god-dammit. You, Xavier, rest well. You too, Thrasher. Tomorrow's a big day..." he turned and headed upstairs. He added, "I guarantee it."

 

[Ray Maverick]

The Exalted​

12/10/1059

"Listen to me," Garland said to Dareon intently. He'd just barged into his chambers in Castletree to speak a few words to him. When he'd grabbed him by the shoulders to get his message across, the Doublades of the Emperor's Shield had moved in to prevent him from harming the Emperor, but he'd just waved them away and out of the room. "The People's Militia want you to remove the crown from your head, or they'll remove it with your head along with it. Do you understand the situation? You're running out of supporters. Half - no - most of the realm hates you. The only leaders to support your claim right now are me and Lord Kyle, who is not eager to help those he holds in contempt. It's true that you made him some... conveniences when he was elected to lead the Otori, but that does not mean he will return the favor. Trust me when I say, he is unpredictable, and you had best tread carefully and with respect, lest he decides he does not like us."

The Mega Ampharos's mouth formed a thin line of contempt. He exhaled through his nostrils and glanced outside the window of the castletree chambers. Garland continued. "Remember what you told me when we were children, listening to tales of the Gold Tribe? That we would both do our best to be like them?"

"Yes," Dareon nodded a few times, "I remember, alright."

"Good," Garland said, pointing at him so he would not forget, "then don't stray off that path. Now, enough talking. Come along and come quietly; it's time we present ourselves to Lord Kyle and decide on our next best course of action."

Tempest​

This was a special occasion. The hall of the castletree was full of gold: emblems, insignias, shining in the strong light of the lanterns. All the Gold Tribe left in Exathor had gathered in the hall. They'd formed lines like Ambrose had instructed them to do, leaving a single line in the middle for passage from the castletree's gate to the cinder throne, where a Trevennant with rich jewelry hanging from his branches was seated, with Ambrose, Lenora and Xavier by his side. The Shiftry chewed on his cheroot, glancing at Lord Kyle next to him. He didn't seem impatient, nor interested, nor anything - his face was unreadable.

Ambrose didn't much like him. Lord Kymotonian was a strange leader of the Otori, having bribed the other candidates of his tribe in the Otori Moot to elect him as a leader. He gave them riches he had claimed from Hesperia, when he had marched with Emperor Dareon twenty five or so years ago during the War of Succession; he'd plundered the lake and all the villages nearby, and Dareon had let him keep them and then supported his claim in the Moot and helped him establish his rule as the leader of the Otori, loyal to him. But the years had passed, and Ambrose wasn't so sure someone like Lord Kymotonian would be feeling any grateful.

He ruled with force, rather than love; much more a tyrant, than a leader. But the people chose to forgive his whims and behavior and honor his good deeds to the Otori. From a meek Stygian tribe, Lord Kymotonian brought them to their feet with discipline and reformed their ways so their military was competing the Eshirian military in strength and might. And he had proven himself an able commander during the First Stygian Rebellion, nine years ago, when he had sided with Dareon and helped him crush the rebels in a single, decisive battle in the Deathbringer's Mark.

Ambrose wasn't fond of his ways, but he was interested to know why he was so popular amongst his people, so he asked him of the secret of his success. Lord Kymotonian said, "righteousness. If you're on the right side - the people's side - if you satisfy them, then they'll serve you better than any ally." Ambrose had taken those words to heart.

Garland and the team from Stoneyard entered the hall of the castletree. The Floatzel was walking like a true commander, with one hand on his waist and the other going back and forth. He was halfway across the hall when the lord called out to him.

"Well well," Lord Kyle Kymotonian shouted from his cinder throne, "the Exalted One, the pride of Amoon, a true hero of our tribe!" he announced, "take notes, Otori in the Gold Tribe. That's how you all should be."

Garland raised his hand, his face a stone mask, "enough," he said and glanced to the lanterns on the wooden walls, which were giving off a suspiciously strong light. "What's in those lanterns, that they shine so strongly?"

"Bugs, sir," the Trevennant on the throne said sarcastically, putting emphasis on the last word, "nothing but bugs."

"Volbeat and Illumise," one of the Gold Tribe shouted to Garland, whose mouth twisted in disgust and he averted his eyes. He walked the rest of the way to the lord.

"Those who returned safely from Stoneyard are with me, as you requested," Garland said. Ambrose waved a finger to Thrasher and nodded to Jacob, who didn't say a word to acknowledge the gesture. Shadowrend was there too, and Ambrose shot him a venomous smirk. They all gathered around the lord of the Otori, who was inspecting him with his interest obvious.

"Where's Achilles?" Garland whispered to Ambrose intensely, who rubbed his forehead awkwardly. He suspected Achilles avoided Garland for some reason that was past him, but he never expected the Trade Prince would go as far as to miss this occasion to avoid seeing him. The Shiftry simply shrugged.

"He might've gone out, check on if the Ursarings are still ****ting in the woods."

Suddenly, Doublades appeared in the sides of the line the Tribe had formed in the hall, from the gate to the throne. The Aegislash, Thresh, captain of the Emperor's Shield, showed himself in front of the lord. "Our regards and respect, wise leader of the Otori." The Aegislash made a gesture as if he was offering the Trevennant his sword and the Doublades crossed together at once, creating a loud metallic sound. Lord Kymotonian seemed pleased. "Emperor Dareon Zhaolong and his son, the Crown Prince Cyrus, will be present now."

The Emperor and his son walked through the gates with two Doublades following them. Even though one was a Mega Ampharos and the other a Beartic, they looked very much alike, from their way of walking to their expression. Some of the Gold Tribe in the sidelines cheered, some bowed their heads slightly in respect, others waved, others looked the other way.

"There he is," the Trevennant gave Dareon an old man's grin.

"You fare well for your age," Dareon said to him and the lord laughed.

"I'll take that as a compliment. But I grow tired of introductions, your Highness, and my night's sleep cannot be put back for any reason. How about a nap?"

Ambrose covered his face with his palm as Dareon looked shocked at the man. "Time is pressing," Ambrose said, deciding to interrupt before a fight broke out. "... is what my lord's meant to say. 'fraid to admit, but the time for courtesies has passed. The future of Exathor is in our hands at the moment, so we all should agree on our a plan," the small Shiftry shouted as loudly as he could. "Before our enemies trample on us. Please."

Garland exhaled calmly, nodding at Ambrose to thank him for his intervention. "I apologize," he said to Lord Kyle and Emperor Dareon, "but as Ambrose said, time is pressing us. A host of a twenty thousand men or so has taken over the Crystal Palace; they're waiting a few miles from here, and they could be marching here at any moment. There is no time for quarrels among us. We must decide what to do next."

Ambrose waved to two of the Gold Tribe, Stonetouch and Stinger, who came forth with a massive map of Exathor and tossed it in the air, so it hung from the ceiling from a web. The map had markers showing the locations of each major host in the land. "As you can see," Garland continued, "Yvangarde Keep in the west is being sieged by the Fire Tribe of Hesperia, led by one Hissatsu Blaze, who styles himself a 'sage' of sorts. Lord Vennson is trapped inside the Keep with three hundred men at his command, but they managed to send a Pidgey, informing us that this Fire Tribe had been expecting the rise of Thrace and allied themselves with it immediately."

"Don't focus on Yvangarde," Lord Kyle said, "worst case scenario, it falls within a year. There is time, still."

"Not with the Fire Tribe sieging the place," Ambrose retorted, "they've devised ways to melt the rocks. It's only a matter of time before Vennson falls, if we don't send help."

"Moving on," Garland continued, "I am informed by our... hmm, our informants in Telmor that the remainder of the Stygian forces that sieged Alamagna a week ago have retreated there after they were defeated. They might be marching south soon."

"The Crystal Palace is taken over by Lord Teneth," he said, "and we can expect an attack soon, or they will be expecting ours. Or they will attack the Obelisk of Stars next."

"And Union City's occupied by the People's Militia. We're not welcome there, nor will they help us until we agree to their terms: for Dareon to step down from his office and hand the Thunder Crown to Thrace."

"Absolutely not," Emperor Dareon said, "that monster will not have the crown."

Garland nodded, "it seems Vektor would rather have it for his own. Communications have been cut off, I fear, and Lord Halford did not present himself in a friendly way, back in Stoneyard, so we can only assume they are hostile towards us. We can count their help out of this council. What do you propose we do, in this case? Out with it everyone, I would like to hear your opinions on this matter. This time, we do not go in blindly. We think for ourselves."



OOC: go on guys, if you want to keep this alive, you'll have to do some posting. Brainstorming is coming up ahead; feel free to do a JP to discuss the plan. I'll be checking a week's time from now to see your replies. Good luck!

 

[GastlyGibus]

Yes, Hitmontops have tails.
|Matthew "Punisher" Blaze and Cassandra "Peacekeeper" Eldren.|
11/10/1059​

Punisher ate his food slowly as he kept on thinking to last night. That stupid Ditto really riled him up and he doubted he could find this Dave guy on his own. He would need some brain power since his usual method of 'punching until it stops moving' really couldn't be used here... unless he wanted to be jailed or something. He sighed and left the rest of his food untouched on his plate as he got up and made his way further into the house. It wasn't that bad of a place to be sure, but he needed some advice. He peeked in through the door, "Uh... Peacekeeper? I need some help."

Cassandra had been sitting upright in her bed, writing some more in her journal, considering it was the only way for her to pass the time. She perked up slightly upon hearing her Title. She looked towards the door, smiling slightly once she saw whom it was. "Good morning, Punisher," she said happily. "What do you need help with?"

He closed the door behind him as he walked in, "Last night I saw this Ditto. Uh... do you know much about how to find a Ditto?" He asked, "It's really important I find him so I can smash his face in."

"Oh?" Cassandra placed her notebook down at the odd request. She thought for a moment; she had no personal experience with Dittos, but she knew enough about them to perhaps be of some assistance. "Well, I'm sure you already know the general stuff. How they can't maintain form when laughing, they can't mimic the physical strength of their target... hmm." She looked to the side, out the window, seemingly lost in thought, before turning back to Punisher. "May I ask why you want to 'smash his face in?' Did something happen last night?"

He quickly crossed his arms at her question, "N-Nothing happened." He said angrily, "Just... I just want to smash his face in is all. Nothing wrong with that all."

"I see," Cassandra said, slight disbelief in her tone. "In any case... Dittos are hard to find once they transformed. They usually try to pick something, or someone, that lets them easily blend in. But if you're observant, and you know what to look for, finding one can be simpler than you think. Is there a Ditto that we should be looking for here in the village?"

He nodded, "Yeah. He's just... he made me mad and then he just became a swagkarp and swam on off." He sighed, "What IS a swagkarp? Nah, that doesn't matter right now. Okay, what do I look for then? I mean if they can blend in then wouldn't it be hard to find one?"

"Well..." Cassandra started. She was slightly hesitant to offer her advice; with whom she was talking to, it was highly probably that his motives weren't entirely pure. But at the same time, she felt obligated to help the poor guy out. "Well, if there's a Ditto here in the village, you want to look for any Pokemon that look... out of the ordinary. It's not likely that he would transform into any one person he sees here, otherwise it would attract suspicion." She leaned her head on her hand, tapping her chin lightly. "Look for any inconsistencies in species you see. For example..." she paused for a moment, thinking of a good explanation.

Cassandra thought for a moment, before finally coming up with something. "Ah, here. Take me, for example." She pointed to herself, smiling lightly. "If a Ditto were to transform into a Lilligant like me based on memory, it might not be able to get the exact details right. Like this," she then pointed to the large, red flower resting on her head. "Most Lilligants have five petals on these. But a Ditto going by memory might add a sixth or seventh petal, or maybe they'd forget, and only have three or four petals."

She looked around the room. Elena, the Carnivine on the bed next to hers, was quietly snoring as she slept. "A Ditto might forget that Carnivines usually have seven sharp teeth. An imposter Carnivine might have eight or nine, or more." She then turned back towards Punisher, grinning. "It's the little inconsistencies that give them away. A Grumpig with an extra pearl, a Hitmontop missing his tail... little things like that."

Punisher nodded, "Right right... wait. Hitmontop have tails?" He asked as he tilted his head. It seemed that Punisher wasn't as knowledgable of pokemon anatomy as Cassandra was. "Uh... Oh I see. Yeah you DO have five petals! Heh, I thought you had four." He nodded, "Right, so then I just have to see those differences then. I got this!" He puffed out his chest, "I'll find that Ditto and kick him into next week!"

Cassandra couldn't help but giggle at Punisher's reaction. "Well, I wouldn't worry about that just yet. I hear Garland is putting you guys through a drill today." She sighed, looking down at the bandages wrapped around her chest. "I wish I could participate and help you guys... but I don't think that's the best idea at the moment."

He chuckled, "Hey, no worries. I mean, I don't get as injured as you guys do, given the amazingness that I am, but you'll be back on your feet soon enough. Anyways, I'm going to head out and get some grub. I hope this drill thing isn't too hard to do."

 

[Greiger]

A bit of breakfast chums?​

11/10/1059

Alphus glumly ate his meal, glancing over at Dean who was sitting on his seat and chatting with some of the Gold Tribe around them. "-so anyways that was when Ambrose got all high and mighty right? Even claimed that Alphus started it all! Well... he sort of did, but it's his fault too! I mean, you can only taunt a guy for a few years before he cracks and he should have known that! Ever since Alphus put up that mural Ambrose has been on his ass!"

"Maybe..." Sneaker muttered, "Still, tough luck on ya Alphus."

The Blaziken didn't bother to acknowledge the Sableye as he kept on eating.

"So... what will Garland do?" A Vileplume asked, "He seemed upset last night."

Dean waved it off, "No worries! I'll talk with him and explain everything away! When he sees how much Ambrose pushed Alphus then he'll have to see that it was a prophecy set in motion! I just have to catch him when he's not looking all enraged. I mean, last night hasn't put us in a favorable light, but we'll get through it!"

"-and I said 'Oatmeal? Are you crazy?' But I'll give Percy his due, it worked!" Petrina finished regaling her tale to a Golem who had clearly stopped caring a long time ago, and in accord with his mood, shuffled off wordlessly. That was a little rude... Petrina, for now keping her thoughts to herself, as she glanced around for any mon who would be willing to at least try to hold a conversation. "Urgh! I know we're facing complete and utter annihilation here, but does everyone here have to be so bloody rude?"

Dean looked on over and snorted, "Well maybe they wouldn't so rude if you weren't a hogger!" He shouted over, "Sooo, in any case guys." He turned back to his own little group, "I need ideas on how to smooth Garland over. Anything from flowers to maybe... uh... what does he like?"

"Obedience?" Sneaker asked.

"Hm... how do you make a gift out of obedience?"

"Never mind that, what in Arceus' name is a 'hogger'?" Petrina shouted back - only after she'd shouted back figuring that she'd be better off just going over to the mon shouting at her. Hell, even if it was just some friendly insult-slinging, Petrina needed the banter. She'd had some...funny dreams the night before and she felt like she might as well have not bothered with sleeping at all.

Dean looked over at the approaching Glaceon and sighed, "Hey, ice girl. Do you mind? We're in deep discussion here!"

Sneaker frowned, "Uh... not real-"

Dean pulled in the Sableye with his hand, "DEEP discussion, something you wouldn't understand at all! Probably wouldn't even contribute anyways." He muttered. "So... uh... be gone."

Petrina shook her head, muttering "so rude, everyone..." before again raising her voice so she could be heard again. "Of course, I'm just a prim and proper pussycat, nobody of note. I'm not the cunning creature that led six against Tenneth at my home, nor am I the killer kitty that's stared Thrace in the eyes twice and lived, although I will admit I am absolutely addicted to alliteration. No, with just one glance at me, you have figured I have no place in a deep discussion." Thinking back over what she'd just said, Petrina thought maybe she'd overdone it... just a little, but she still looked back with a smug smile.

Sneaker tilted his head, "Uh... that's quite a mouthful."

Dean just scratched his head, "Well... honestly I sort of blanked out through that all. As soon as you started talking... I don't know... I guess I fell into a light sleep."

The Sableye playfully punched Dean in his shoulder, "Hey cut her some slack. It's a lot, but I think we'll need some help. Yo Glacie, riddle us this. Know anything about how to get onto Garland's good side? These two need it."

Dean huffed and crossed his arms, "I need no help Sneaker. I am quite well to think on my own."

"Yeah... and that's why you asked for help huh?" The Sableye asked as his smile grew.

Dean just groaned, "Yeah, sure. What ideas you got?"

In an instant, the smug smile on Petrina's face evaporated. "Uh... that's a very good question... Maybe we should go out and kill Thrace!" She said, flashing a smile that looked a lot less forced than it actually was. "That'll cheer everyone up!"

"If... I punch you... will you stop talking?" Dean asked with a dead pan tone.

Petrina kept wearing a smile, but let a tiny bit of ice creep into her tone. "You try punching me, and you'll have about... three seconds before you're frozen solid."

"Heh, well that's a... icy response! Eh? Eh?" Sneaker asked as he playfully elbowed Dean, "Anyways, Dean's just joshing around. But hey, if you figure out how to kill her then by all means go for it."

"Well, we can give it a go later, can't we? For now I've got to think about this drill we gotta do. I'm more used to dishing out the drills than doing them." Petrina giggled a little. A place as small as Xeo, the one in charge did everything, but being in charge of the drills did at least mean she was immune to having to do them. "Hey, maybe I'll get the chance to meet Cyrus in person..."

Dean blinked at that, "Cyrus... really?" He stared point blank at her, "You want to meet Cyrus? What for? Besides, he'll be faaaar too busy to even go to our drill. I don't know what his family is doing right now, but I would be guessing he would be with his father all day to figure out how to, at the very least, get out of this mess and get a war plan together."

"Whatever this 'drill' is, we better not screw it up," Tavhir said coldly from across the table. He took a bite out of his bread loaf, glancing down at the table surface in pensive thought. "This is a chance to show our superiors that we're not totally useless." He glared at the others, not angrily, but rather sternly. "So don't do anything stupid, alright?"

Wandering down the leftmost row in the hall to find a seat, Noah happened to notice a familiar face in Tahvir. He sat himself and his plate down next to the Pawniard with a friendly smile and then waved to the other 'mon. "How's everyone doing, hmm? I imagine you guys are talking about the exercise Ambrose is going to be conducting soon?" He took a mouthful of his oatmeal and continued speaking eagerly without waiting for a response. "Chances are it might be preparation for our enemies that might be invading soon. That or prep for our own attack."

"Whatever it is, it's gonna be... something interesting, to say the least. I mean, I haven't had to actually do a drill in ages." Petrina beamed. "And let me tell you that being on the other side is a lot of fun..." The last sentence came with a snicker. "...especially when your blood-brother has to shut up and listen to you... Sorry, I'm going off-topic again aren't I?"

Dean just stared at Tavhir, "Hey, that wasn't our fault alright? Stupid Ambrose started it." He said as he angrily crossed his arms. "Not like you would know short stuff." He muttered under his breath. Tavhir stared at the Poliwhirl angrily after his jeer, only barely keeping himself in check.

Alphus glanced over at Petrina, quickly picking up his pen as he began to doodle something. "In any case, we're as far from stupid as possible. So far that we're the most intelligent guys in here! Right Alphus?" The Blaziken just kept on doodling as Dean puffed out his chest, "Yeah he agrees with me."

Petrina rolled her eyes. "Yeah and it shows so well..."

"Well we can all claim to have a suitable amount of intelligence, seeing as we all graduated from the ECUL. But what we need right now is the muscle to push Gold Tribe past what's waiting for us at that Palace. I'm sure a silly food fight isn't the extent what we all have to offer hmm?" He then coughed. "Well, in general of course. Not that I had anything to do with that."

"None of that matters anymore," Tavhir said, looking around at the others. "Point is, we've got a drill to do, and we're going to prove that we're still capable." His tone lowered considerably, taking a sip from his drink and exhaling slightly. "Let's just do our best, okay?"

"Too right!" Petrina stamped her front paw down. "Let's pound some posterior! Hehe.... sorry. Gonna stop the alliteration thing now. But come on, we're all bada*ses, so let's go prove it!"

Dean smirked, "Heh, well, we can handle it! Definitely! Right Alphus?" The Blaziken continued drawing as Dean crossed his arms, "He agrees with me."

"Alright ya pansies!" A loud voice rang out. Two large kettles were banged together as the Exploud shouted out again, "We're moving out! Not finished with breakfast? TOO BAD! I want to see those legs moving and getting out to the drill site pronto! Unless you have broken legs you should have been there five minutes ago! Move it!"

"Please." Petrina began. "We could all turn up five hours late and still top everymon else out there. So you've got no need to get your knickers in a twist, we'll come out and embarrass you all soon enough."

The Exploud marched up right to her and shouted at her at the same volume, "WELL HOW ABOUT YOU GET OUT THERE RIGHT NOW LITTLE MISSIE!?" The Exploud shouted down at the Glaceon. The shout was so powerful that Dean gripped his head in pain. "I WANT YOU OUT THERE WITH ALL THE OTHERS! And since you and your friend think so highly of themselves, I suppose you all won't mind if you do extra work then!?"

Petrina screeched as the Exploud approached her, curling up to back away from him, as her screech was drowned out by his bursting voice with the result, of what she believed, would soon become a pair of burst eardrums. When she talked again, in the name of her own comfort it was barely even a squeak. "Y-yes okay... I wouldn't have let my men talk back like that either... I'll... just go there now..."

Dean paled, "H-Hold up! We're not friends wi-"

The Exploud leaned in close and practically shouted into Dean's ear. "TADPOLE! GET OUT THERE AND HUSSLE! MOVE IT!"

Dean blinked a bit and rubbed at his head a bit more as the Exploud moved on to shout at the other gold Tribe scrambling to move out. "Uh... Alphus... I think my hearing's shot now." He said in a far louder voice than needed.

 

[GastlyGibus]

The Gold Tribe games
11/10/1059​

"You all are gathered here today because frankly you are all despicable!" The Exploud paced about before the gathered Gold Tribe as he suddenly paused, "You have caused disgrace to our name just last night alone! A food fight! Despicable!" He crossed his arms, "As Gold Tribe we must be prepared for anything at any time! This drill will be simple, you all will separate into two teams. The defenders are tasked with keeping the village safe! The invaders will do their best to get into the village! Defenders, you make damn sure that no invaders head in because if so much as one invader places one paw into that village you'll be faced with consequences! Invaders! If you're seen to be going too soft on the defenders you'll likewise be punished! Any questions!?"

From within the crowd, a Noivern scratched his nose nervously, complaining to his companion. "Why do we have to be here? We didn't do anything. I would never waste good food like that." He rubbed his paw over his face, twitching a bit. He was a nervous bat, to say the least.

"If one of us screws up, we all have to pay," his companion, a Sylveon, replied. "So let's just do our best, and we'll be fine. Besides, I know this town like the back of my ribbons." Her name was Lilith. She'd grown up as an Otori. The Noivern, Zeru, wasn't as familiar with the place, but he'd been in it long enough with Lilith to have a better idea of its layout than most of the other Gold Tribe members stationed here.

"Okay. Just promise me we'll get some Big Apples after this, okay? I'm hungry."

Lilith laughed. "It's a promise."

You've gotta be f*cking kiddin' me. Gerrick looked to his left and right at the other Gold Tribe members lined up next to him, wondering if any of them had similar feelings about this whole situation. He knew he should probably keep his mouth shut about it and keep his feelings to himself to avoid putting himself in the spotlight, but this was too ridiculous. He leaned over to the others around him and lowered his voice.

"So we got a big ol' Yveltal tearing up the place and we're getting punished for something as silly as a food fight?" Gerrick rolled his eyes. "I think they should be counting their blessings half of us didn't just up and leave."

"I think you should hold your tongue before I cut it out," Tavhir replied in a harsh whisper. The Pawniard was growing increasingly agitated by the Krookodile's presence, still trying to find some kind of validation in his mind as to how Shadowrend was once second-in-command. He had yet to find any solid justification for that. The dark-type was nothing but an imbecile and a fool.

The Exploud raised his voice, "FOR THOSE TALKING CURRENTLY, BE SILENT! YOU WON'T BE GETTING ANY BIG APPLES IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY BOUT IT!" He looked about with a harsh glare, "Now! Listen up! You'll be split up into your teams now! I suggest you all split down the middle! We have eyes on all of ya. If someone tries to slink away, if someone attempts to wuss out of the competition then there WILL be appropriate punishments! NOW GET MOVING AND FORM THOSE GROUPS! FIVE SECONDS! MOVE IT! MOVE IT!"

~~~~~​

Meanwhile, some distance away from the drill, those who were too wounded to participate were sitting. Although they would not be part of the exercise, they had been instructed to observe and take notes.

"This is not fair," Cassandra said, almost whining. "I should be down there helping, not sitting here like some useless cripple."

"Useless cripple?" A voice just to the left enquired. "Sounds a little like someone I know. Oh, yes, it's me, forgot about that..." The source of the voice, Pendro the Metang, was subsequently dropped to the ground beside the Lilligant. "Ow. That's probably dangerous. I don't know that it is, but it probably is."

Pendro's 'faithful kidnapper', the Granbull 'Faery', waved the accusation away like the least aggressive of flies. "Oh, boo-hoo, what kills you makes you stronger."

"What kills you makes you-? Ugh, never mind, erm- sorry, uh, Cassandra," Pendro glanced at Peacekeeper, then at Faery by means of gesture. "Hi, this is Faery. She keeps kidnapping me. Please help."

Cassandra chuckled, but with much less vigor than usual. She wasn't in the happiest of moods being excluded from the drill. "Well, you at least can agree with me that we should be down there with our brothers and sisters, right?" The Lilligant had wanted desperately to prove herself, considering she had nearly gotten herself killed twice. Now, she would be missing her chance.

Faery rubbed the back of her head and laughed. "Heheh, yeah, I suppose I should, shouldn't I? Just saying, I don't actually kidnap him, he's just overreacting."

"Am not." Pendro insisted.

"Are too, but anyway- nice meeting you, sister, you kids have fun. You know, as much as you can without being 'down there with our brothers and sisters', at any rate... toodles!" And with that, the Granbull left.

"I can only speak for myself," Reaching mind said, turning his eyes to the Lilligant. "But I don't think I'd be much help down there. Not being able to move and all. I'm a talking rock, essentially. So how've you been?"

"Not so good," Cassandra replied. "I feel like I haven't done much of anything to help. All I seem to do is get in the way and get myself horribly injured." She leaned back on her hands; at least she could enjoy the cool weather today. "How about you?"

"Well, my first action - after, of course, unwittingly aiding the release of Thrace because there was no other choice - was to immediately be knocked out and left almost entirely immobilised from there on out... from there, I've been kidnapped and dragged around by a weird Granbull who seems to want nothing more than to prevent me from resting, and of course there's the ever-present threat of the Yveltal and its massive armies... apart from that, I suppose everything's rather peachy."

"Well, I-" Suddenly, there was a sharp whistle heard down below as the Exploud began dividing the teams. "Oh, it looks like they're getting ready to start."

"I'd guess so." Pendro said, before giving a weak smile. "Well... if you feel the need for competition, I suppose we can at least take solace in the self-pity-off. I personally consider myself a champion of self-pity."

 

[GastlyGibus]

Spoiler:

Double posting because I can.

Deliberations
|The Eldren siblings - Restless and Peacekeeper.|
12/10/1059​

Cassandra kept her gaze focused on the hanging map, a look of dread in her eyes. Lord Vennson, her own father, was in dire straits, even with his secure position in Yvangarde. Part of her wanted to send help there as quickly as possible, to assist her father and push back this 'fire tribe' that desired to siege them. But would that be in the best interests of the Gold Tribe, or even the realm? Would a victory at Yvangarde be worth the risk, worth sacrificing any number of soldiers? Soldiers that could be used elsewhere, to achieve more strategic winnings?

Tavhir stood beside her, studying her expression. He could sense the worry on her mind. "You're worried about father." It was not a question, but a statement. He knew her well enough to know what was on her mind. Truthfully, it was on his mind as well.

Cassandra nodded solemnly, her eyes still fixed on the map in front of her. She wanted to tear her look away, to focus on something - anything - that could distract her from the cascade of thoughts flooding through her mind. But she couldn't drag her face away. Her eyes locked on the map, on one location only.

Yvangarde

Cassandra frowned. She needed to think logically; this was no time to get hung on on familial ties and relationships. "We need to help him... he cannot win on his own. But our forces are so little, so precious. We cannot afford to spend them haphazardly."

Tavhir grimaced, turning to the map as well. He, too, carried the burden of worry over their father's situation. Despite his own feelings however, Cassandra was correct about their situation. They could not be generous in the allocation of their forces, being so small compared to the legions of troops possessed by the enemy. Warriors that would die to see their own nation torn asunder... to worship a death god that only desired power. The insanity of them confused and angered Tavhir greatly.

They both kept silent, thinking deeply on the situation at hand. Tavhir looked around at their companions, the ones who had fought with them since Alamanga. He wanted to know of their opinions before adding any of his own... but they all kept quiet as he did. If somebody didn't speak up soon, then he'd do it himself.

 

[Greiger]

Thrasher, Punisher, Alphus: Testosterone be high in this place!​

Thrasher closed his own eyes as he thought as well. "True... if we manage to save Yvengarde then we may lose many men in the assault. We do not have the numbers to simply overwhelm them. However... the question is this. WHY attack Yvengarde? Barely any other cities are being attacked right now. Why not simply go and attack other Hesperian cities and cause more chaos? Yvengarde is heavily fortified, but what use is a fortified city if the walls are being melted? What if something is in there that they need?"

"Why don't we just go up to that Caretaker sone of a b**ch and punch his jaw off?" Punisher asked with a weak shrug, "I mean, hello, he's dark type. We just get a fighter to slam him into the ground and this all ends."

Out from a back a body stood up and a loud voice called out, "AND YOU EXPECT A GOD TO STOP? HAHAHAHA!" Dean then yelped as his footing gave way and his chair crashed back. "... I'M OKAY!"

Thrasher rubbed his forehead, "The point of the matter is that we have consequences no matter what we do. I do have an idea however." He pointed out at the map, "The obelisk of stars hasn't been explored yet, correct? What if we pull a reversal on the Caretaker there? We know that these towers have ancient artifacts in them, possibly. If the Obelisk has something that can aid us then we can head into it and find it. We can even set a trap as well. Take whatever is up there and set up a decoy. While Thrace is busy trying to get to the decoy that will be time we can spend focusing on other things. Maybe put up a token resistance with whoever stays here and simply keeping the god busy."

Thrasher looked up at the others, "Right now we're outnumbered. We can't focus on running straight up into combat. What we have to do is start thinking outside the box. A frontal assault will crush us, but if we set traps that catch our opponents off guard then that could work to our favor. Similar to the trap in Stoneyard with the dragons and exploding eggs. For this task... we're going to have to think like cheap ba**ards and think of every single unfair thing we can inflict on these other armies, else we won't survive for long."

 

[Ray Maverick]

Somewhere in the Montajo Peaks...

​

Vendra's voice rang through the lonely, frosty peaks, racing down below the steep mountain with the wind. The Meloetta was clinging tightly on a spike of his back with her eyes shut; her singing and the howling of the wind were the only things keeping company to the Haxorus's ears as he scaled the black rock. The dragon would expertly sink his claws, pulling himself up, leaping high from rock to rock occasionally, the dangerous gap beneath his feet reaching out for him, but never quite grasping him. There wasn't a single moment Vendra felt safe on his back; she could fly, but the height had made her forget that. And she had commanded him, not to cross the entire Montajo Range, but he went and did it anyway - and at this speed! The first few times Romulus had leaped she had yelped and protested, but Romulus in turn complained that his ears were corked at this altitude. Vendra pursed her face, suspicious that he was making fun of her.

She shuddered and shivered from the cold. His scales were cold beneath her soft skin. "It's cold," she whined in a shrill, girlish voice. "Can't we just s-stop?" her teeth chattered.

Romulus stopped, putting one hand on the rock to maintain his balance. They had covered a lot of miles for today - the Haxorus, in his crazed pace, took the Meloetta from the foothills of Hesperia to the borders of Stygia within three days, on foot. Now they were way up high, very close to the tallest peak of Exathor. In front of them, beyond the steep rock, unfolded a parade of agitated, changing grey clouds; they formed holes that let the two travelers peak through them, on the land below. Trees under the dark sky, and a city coated in white in the south, Union City, standing proud. From up there, they could see much of the sky island, and much of the horizon beyond its limits. Vendra's eyes wandered off the edge, where the sky meet the sea in a clash of a single, dark color. It went on and on, until you couldn't say which was which.

"We camp here," Romulus said heavily.

Vendra stared at him with a hint of the old fury and impatience that she showed before she'd fallen into the hands of this cruel brute. They couldn't stay here, on this narrow path where the footing was non existent. She was pretty sure only Romulus could "camp" in this position, as she had seen him sleep while standing up, and she was pretty sure one of his eyes were open throughout his rest. "Camp...? H-here?" Vendra stuttered, confused; she flew from his back to inspect the place. A narrow path. She couldn't see much more, as his hand came cracking across her face and she cried out.

"No questions," he reminded her as she rubbed her cheek, tears welling up in her eyes.

It turned out the Haxorus wasn't planning on staying on the narrow path. He bid her to stay back and watch as he smashed his heated by dragonfire head and hands into the rock repeatedly, ravaging it quickly with his massive strength. It was white hot by the time he was done, and forming a cavity right into the mountain. "In," he said curtly.

Vendra huffed and sat on the hot ground, enjoying warmth for once. She didn't quite understood why Romulus was treating her this way - they were on the same side, weren't they? Romulus was taking her back to Thrace, as he had told her repeatedly. Did he think he could get away with the way he treated her? She wasn't stupid, too, she had tried to run away by turning invisible, but Romulus always caught her, as if he had some sort of sixth sense. It hadn't occurred to her at the time that the perfumed baths she liked to take gave her a scent strong enough for the Haxorus to smell her from a distance.

Her mouth pouted as she stared at him with hostility, hating him and admiring him in some way. The tall, brawny Haxorus ignored her look, as per usual, coiled his body, laying down so his eyes were directed to the sky.

Vendra mimicked him and turned her restless gaze outside. She crawled to the edge of the rock, to see below. The clouds were clearing away, revealing the majestic Crystal Palace in all its glory; a huge crystal in the middle, and several others around it that served as towers. It looked like a crown of crystals. "Why not go there?" she asked him, pointing, but then she covered her mouth, realizing she'd asked a question. The Haxorus widened his eyes threateningly and bared his fangs, but he didn't move. Vendra continued, "Teneth's there. He's closer."

Romulus shook his head. "You're going straight to Thrace, little fairy."

"I know what's going on. You don't want to be blamed for your master's death, so you will 'save' me to preserve your place among us." The Haxorus blinked twice, looking at her for a few moments, calculating his answer.

"You're immortal, you don't need saving, everyone knows that," he said, his voice sharp with the edge of sarcasm.

"I am ageless," she corrected him, matter-of-factly and he laughed harshly.

"I've heard Zoruas tell of more believable lies. No one is timeless."

"I am," Vendra insisted angrily, pestered that he wouldn't believe her. "I have seen things," she said, her voice softer now, as if their remembrance terrified her. "Look! Look outside."

From their little cave they could see they rough, abrupt eastern edge of Exathor. Beyond and below the very sharp shore of the sky island, the sea unfolded, nearly black. "I've seen the island rise to the sky; I've seen the people responsible for its uprooting; I know why it floats and I know where it should be headed. I've seen the people who ruled the land, before and after its uprooting. You've seen nothing but a brief flash of the world in your short, miserable life. I have seen a thousand blazing suns!"

It was clear Romulus wasn't taking her seriously. There was a hint of amusement in his eyes, but apart from that, his expression was solid as a rock. "Prove it," he challenged her.

In her fury and passion, Vendra didn't think it through. Even though the memories of the past were scattered, mixed in the cauldron of her mind, a particular one stood out at that moment and she projected it to Romulus's mind. Weariness overcame the both of them within minutes and they passed out almost instantly from the dream that was forcibly plunged in the spectrum of their sight.

***

The memory was taking them to forgotten depths of Exathian history, before even the conception of Hesperia and Stygia, to a dull green, grey place. Two pale rays of light permeated through the holes of the ceiling of the cave, shrouding the moss-covered altar in front of them in a magical light. There was a thick fog around the altar, and a strong, distinct smell of incense that burnt Vendra's nostrils. Above it were floating three crystals, two of them jet black and non reflective of the light, and the other one transparent and barely visible, but all of them releasing this unusual, tense aura that the crystals of its kind had. On the pale grass around the altar with the crystals, white figures were standing tall or short, clad in robes and hoods, their hands joined in prayer. There was the heavy, low ringing of a bell, echoing ominously from somewhere outside the cave. Once. Twice. One of the hooded men was murmuring monotonously, praying, or casting a spell, looking up at the light in divine ecstasy.
​

"Oh, Seraph," he cried, "oh, Seraph. King of the Sky Island, servant of the Divine One, the Original One, the Father of All, Maker of the Universe. We seek an audience with Your Holiness."

The bell was ringing a higher sound now. The priests in the hoods turned to face towards Vendra, but they didn't quite look at her, rather at something beside her. She glanced to the side, to a mess of grey and silver fur amidst the rocks, then back to the priests around the altar. One of them spoke.

"Your Holiness, our King. I should formally inform you that Thrace, the Winged Terror has accepted your request and she shall receive the honor of the title of the Nexus Guardian - only if she is allowed to guard the Obelisk of Stars, which, we are happy to announce has been erected! The people rejoice! With Thrace on our side, we shall rebuilt the land, sow the next seed, foster our children and live through the disaster the evil clouds have wrought upon us. Praise be to Arceus!"

"Praise be to Arceus," all the priests said simultaneously.

"What does Your Holiness say?" the leader asked.

Vendra looked to her side, at the Seraph, for the first time. Huddled between the grey rocks of the cave was an even greyer entity: a sea of fur of a dog-like creature, long lost its shine, and from it, an old, tired face peered back at them with large blue eyes that were nearly lost under his thick brows; his facial fur was as long as the rest of his body and it joined the sea of hair. Vendra felt like a tiny speck of dust in front of that being's hugeness. He was an ancient, millennia old Arcanine that had outgrown any other of his kind, to the point where he stood over ten feet tall and could no longer walk, yet he was as beautiful as he was when he was young.

She had been at his side as a Nexus Guardian for quite some time - nearly through force. The paladins he commanded had sought her out, having learned somehow of her existence on the island, and they had found her eventually. She was brought in front of the ruler of this flying land, and she pretended not to know him at first. But how could she not? There wasn't a single mon on the Kingdom who wasn't aware of the tales that survived many, many centuries after the land's uprooting, nor did they forget who ruled the land where they were born, raised, lived and died, while he still lived. And she was there when his fur was still white and shiny!

And red. Two thousand years ago, four thousand years before the present times of the Crimson Dawn, the Arcanine's fur was red, during the Age of Heroes. His name wasn't forgotten, but it wasn't used either: Tsulong, the Exemplar of Fire. By what means a common Pokemon species like him had stayed alive for so long, Vendra could only hazzard a guess: perhaps it was the influence of those crystals he possessed. The priests and folk were more ignorant. They thought that Arceus himself had blessed him with immortality and the divine right to rule - something laughable, in Vendra's standards. Arceus spoke to no one, nor did he favor believers or condemned non believers, contrary to the teachings of the religion.

Tsulong was silent about this matter. He just went with the flow, letting the people believe what they wanted. That's what disturbed Vendra the most about him; in all his holiness, his wisdom and kindness, he did not let on the truth, nor shared much of the past. When she was brought in front of him, he seemed to acknowledge that she feigned ignorance of his existence. Intrigued with her particularly, he kept her close, watching her; he often told her he saw the seeds of evil behind her green gaze but she didn't know what he meant. She supposed at the time it was fine to serve him, because she was like a child to him. A spoiled child under the protection of the sole and ultimate sovereign of the island didn't exactly have a bad time, even as having as her duty to search for and guard the crystals as a Nexus Guardian.

The Seraph King was looking at the priest who addressed him with an intent and thoughtful eye. He spoke wearily after very long moments; his deep voice resonated in the walls of the cave. "I say, send Naestor to guard the Obelisk of Stars and test Thrace, before welcoming her as a Nexus Guardian. Dark beings are cunning beyond measure, and I am not about to trust our valued Obelisk to the dark."

The priests were murmured with each other for a moment, contemplating this new course of action Tsulong was suggesting. "Your Holiness, would that be wise?" the leader said reluctantly, "we have been waiting for her response for months, and she might be angered that you would not grant her the domain of the Obelisk. If she has a change of heart, the island may be in trouble."

"She will comply," Vendra spoke, "don't you worry about that. I'll talk to her."

The Seraph smiled faintly at them, but he shook his massive head at Vendra. "You'll do no such thing. She will accept on her own. There is no other choice for her but to accept. Alone, a being of the sky stands no chance outside our barrier, and she understands that. I believe she knows that finding what crystals remain upon our island and forging new Sky Nexuses with them is our... mutual interest... the Kingdom and Thrace shall coexist..." He was drifting to sleep. The Arcanine shut his eyes and put his head on his front legs, a sign that the priests must depart.

"Arceus has not yet abandoned us," the leader of the priests whispered, turning to the three crystals adorning the altar. They were bathed in this divine-like light, and the presence of God could almost be felt in the atmosphere. Vendra felt her hackles rise. She was never much of a believer in Arceus, although she had seen all sorts of Paragons walk the land. But at this moment in time, she felt like Arceus was truly on their side.


Romulus woke up with a headache early in the morning; it was still night outside, as they had slept very early. He let out a small groan as he got up, his mind empty and numb from the deep slumber. He hadn't slept so heavily in months. Only gradually his consciousness returned as he gathered the Meloetta from the ground, put her on his back and headed out of the cave; bits of what Vendra had showed him were returning to his mind. He never doubted her for being immortal, or ageless, rather, but it was a grand adventure to be shown something from the distant past. Romulus wasn't a historian, and he definitely didn't pay much attention to history class in the ECUL, but he knew for sure that there was never any mention of a Seraph King on Exathor, nor did anyone hope to have heard any tale of sorts. But along with what she had seen, Vendra seemed to have transpired knowledge and belief that she maintained during that time - and so, Romulus was almost certain that times long forgotten by mortal Pokemon lived on inside the minds of the ageless ones.

The Circle of Sages
​

In Telmor there was an ancient church for Arceus in the great yet barren gardens of the Lord's palace; it rose tall from the fog, amidst the thicket of naked trees, and it was once grand, made from admirable and rare granite rock bricks that had lost their color with the passing of time. Nearly five hundred years ago, when the Tocan people agreed to join the one Faith in Arceus, it was built by the royal house of the Grimsnauks, as a show of good loyalty to the unity of Exathor. It was the pride of Brynjolf Grimsnauk, who boasted of the archaic jewel in his garden the in the presence of every Stygian lord, even though he was never close to Arceus.

When Thrace arrived in Telmor, Lord Kagemusha offered her to make the palace of the Grimsnauks her home, but she ignored him completely and headed straight for the church in the garden. She knocked down the small figurine of Arceus that was embedded on the roof, then dove through the ceiling. The ancient building nearly collapsed from her abuse. After that brutality, Kagemusha thought it was best to leave her alone - even if she did not speak a word to him and he could not determine her mood in any way - so he had taken to Telmor. For the last few days, he preached in front of the gates of the palace in the murky tree city. As the sole harbinger of Thrace the Deathbringer, people who had seen the massive creature fly overhead gathered by the hundreds to hear him speak. "Do not forget who the Mark got its name from," Kagemusha reminded them, "your people have worshiped the right God for centuries, and she will forgive those who have strayed from the path, should you return back and take the right one - the one that leads to Thrace! Come with us, then, join the Crimson Crusade, conquer Union City and destroy its army of infidels! Leave the ever lasting mark of our colors in your wake! Avenge your Lord Brynjolf for what the Gold Tribe did to him and regain the glory, the power the tribe of the Tocan possessed in its primmest of times!"

All the while, Thrace had nested herself inside the church inside a dark hole on the floor between rubble. She hadn't moved for days. Her aura had settled down in the area, making the air thick and the trees around the church miserable and dried. The battle with the Nexus had tired her sorely, even though she did not show it. Doing battle so early after her awakening cost more energy than she had thought, but she was satisfied with the outcome. The Nexus was destroyed. Yes, the crystal inside was taken... by a puny mercenary and his pathetic Lord Halford, no less. It was almost ironic. Those petty thieves had no notion of what to do with what rightfully belonged to the Gods. But it made no matter. There wasn't anyone on this island who could resist her power. Lord Halford and the rest of the pretenders would be destroyed; she intended to pick the crystal from their ashes, after she had transformed their grassy homeland into another Mark - a big pile of grey waste.

Moonlight crept from the holes of the ceiling and the walls. Soon, the three Sages entered the pale inside of the church, among the rubble; they'd teleported with their psychic crystals just outside the church, as not to disturb her. They didn't greet her, as she pretended to be asleep, but when they were all there, she opened her turquoise eyes that burned like fire, and blood was poured through the extent of her crimson body, lighting the church in the glittering blood that pulsed through her veins. It made a low, murmuring sound as it flowed, as if someone was chanting in a low voice, far away. The crimson light, albeit weak now, was reflected upon their faces: an Umbreon with glowing green circles of power and a bone necklace he had started wearing as of late, Lord Teneth was looking at Thrace with his green eyes widened, a sardonic half smile of vicious satisfaction that showed half his fangs coming to light. It was the first time he was getting to see her from up close.

Thrace was disinterested in Teneth's slimy gaze, so she looked at the figure she was most familiar with: the Pangoro in the elder's robes with those ancient symbols on it that only she could read. The middle aged man was leaning on his short bamboo staff, his face pursed in seriousness and intent, much unlike Teneth's, and in his eyes he showed a childish stubbornness to please her; she was speaking with this one for years when he visited her in her grave in Stoneyard. She wouldn't have spoken to a mere mortal who happened to discover the ancient secret of the Chamber, of course, but he happened to be wielding one of the darkstars, and to be wielding it quite well. Even if she avoided to speak to him when he examined her crystal confines, he could sense her presence through the crystal, for she couldn't help but drink in its power and aura when it was close - the crystals were the keys to the cell of her death.

They had become friends with Kagemusha, or at least, some twisted, rotten kind of colleagues, because he felt the need to live to serve her and to be inferior to her. Regardless of their relation, he was the among the three people she could share things with while in her grave. The other two were Vendra and of course the Caretaker, with whom she did not have as many chances for interaction as she wished, as his role required him to be out of accessibility for long periods of time. She envied Vendra who could speak to him more freely and now that she was reborn, she was tempted to contact him. But Kagemusha would forbid that, and with reason, she knew; she knew what Kagemusha was thinking right now: what great joy it was to see her fully reborn and able to realize the plan that was concocted in the Family many, many years ago. The wait was bitter, but the sweetness of Thrace's awakening was worth to it to all.

She had peered long enough into him to know him full well. By this point, she could even predict the words he would use. Such was the insight Thrace possessed upon her subjects, or rather allies... and there was an addition to the Sages, an uninteresting man which she had not peered into just yet. The third member of the party was a foreign face to her. She knew little of him, only the basics Kagemusha had tried to explain to her. His name was... he had many names. Thrace didn't even bother keeping them to memory. She only remembered they called him Hissatsu 'Blaze' of the Fire Tribes of Hesperia; he was a short Magmortar who seemed to make up for his lack of height in body muscles. He had a big Hesperian sky-blue scarf tied around his neck that made a nice contrast with the color of his body; his eyes were protected by the black goggles pilots and captains use to wear. On his shoulder, above the thick blue scarf was a wooden Pidgey that tilted back and forth, pecking the air every time he moved. Despite the peculiar image this man offered, he had an emotionless and sturdy expression.

"Greetings, Deathbringer and Family. It is such a pity that our first meeting has to be held without the Caretaker... or Vendra," Kagemusha said, once they'd formed a circle, which Thrace was part of. There were missing links of the circle, which she didn't quite like; Vendra was missing. Her eyes blazed bright blue in disappointment and disturbance as she stared at the spot where her beloved minion should have been. Was she dead? That would be one of the countless losses she would blame the people of this island for.

"Greetings to the Deathbringer and Family," the others echoed.

Thrace wasn't one for formalities. Impatiently, she said in a low voice, "Materasu, have they any need for a new leader?" She meant the Tocan tribe which had been left leaderless after Lord Brynjolf was captured.

Kagemusha shook his dark, furry head. "No. They are convinced to follow you in battle instead. Just as we had planned."

"They did not seem to be entirely convinced when I strolled through town," Lord Teneth said with a soft smile. "Confusion is their master at the moment. Those who saw our dear Deathbringer cry out, but the others are disbelieving."

"They did seem convinced," Kagemusha argued.

"Words are weak when compared to actions... or perhaps a show with fireworks," the Umbreon said, chuckling.

"What's that?" Kagemusha asked with hostility, narrowing his eyes; he was wondering if this was one of Teneth's jokes that he never managed to understand.

"Put up a show, if you please, and let us watch them all truly follow the Deathbringer."

"I shall see to it... later," Kagemusha said in a serious manner. Meanwhile, Thrace was staring at Hissatsu, who appeared to ignore the other two; he had his eyes on the ground, perhaps daunted by the Yveltal's gaze.

"Hissatsu," she called out, "I take it you are useful in some way that I do not know of yet." Lord Teneth chuckled at her sarcasm, and the Magmortar glared at him wildly, as if he would choke him.

"I siege Yvangarde," Sage Hissatsu said, "unlike Lord Slick here who sits in his crystal place, waiting for the enemies to come at him, I take steps to actively further our conquest."

"Yvangarde is not much useful," Lord Kagemusha pointed out, "let the Deathbringer take care of it. What you would struggle to achieve in months with a siege, she would achieve in a few minutes."

The Yveltal shook her head, ruffling her massive black mane while exhaling strongly, disapprovingly; the others stepped back, suddenly afraid. "I shall not travel to Yvangarde to do a minion's work. I do not care for the crumbles you strategists struggle to earn; I care only for the big prize, and I will go after it. All else matters little."

"By all means," Kagemusha agreed, "and we all shall help you and the Caretaker in your endeavor. That is what we have been doing." That was why they were called Sages, anyway. Thrace exhaled again, baring her fangs as some way of showing satisfaction.

Thrace could feel a pair of mon approaching the church, as they had entered the range of her aura. She recognized their familiar life forces and raised her head to stare outside a hole in the wall. The small Meloetta was carried by a tall rugged Haxorus; she had passed out, sleeping peacefully on his arms. The others turned around, startled, when he stepped through the doorstep, across the rubble. They weren't expecting any visitors.

"How did you get in here?" Lord Kagemusha hissed, his hand going to an inner pocket of his cloak, obviously grasping for his crystal. Hissatsu the Magmortar was pointing a cannon at the Haxorus; Teneth had withdrawn quietly to the shadows, but his glowing green rings gave him out.

Romulus raised Vendra like a doll, the claws of his hand closing around her torso. Her mouth was half open, and she was sleeping so heavily, you'd think Romulus had sedated her. "You left her for dead," he said, "so I brought her back."

Thrace felt what you would call a twisted, rotten emotion that could once be called happiness; she was definitely satisfied to see the Meloetta again. Her eyes flashed and Vendra's limp body start giving off a blue light. She was wrenched off Romulus's hand and floated gently, still asleep, towards her rightful place in the circle. Her eyes were fixed back on the Haxorus when this was done; she felt he was a mightier warrior than any of her Sages, yet she could still not quite determine his inner thoughts. His mind was shut to her completely. His grey eyes gave nothing away, only a sense of iron loyalty.

Kagemusha was staring suspiciously at the Haxorus. "You're Romulus Errias, are you not? Member of the Gold Tribe, Guardian of Lord Chantalai, who died in battle. What do you have to say about that?"

Romulus shook his head as the Pangoro was saying "who died in battle", putting his hands on his waist, as if he was wondering how to handle the situation. "I say there's no cure for being a fool," he said. The Sages and Thrace were taken aback - he was downright insulting his previous master. He continued, "he thought it wise to challenge Dareon and his Shield in a duel."

Lord Kagemusha tugged on his beard, looking at Romulus haughtily, measuring him. "One does not simply challenge Dareon, that has to be said," he reflected, "Chantalai should've waited for us."

"I told him to," Romulus said firmly.

"You do realize that we have no use for you now?" Lord Kagemusha said, his mouth forming a square frown.

Thrace's let out a ragged breath when those words were spoken. "He saved Vendra. He shall live. Find a use for him."

Lord Kagemusha was uncertain, still wary of the Haxorus. He was part of the Gold Tribe, after all - now that his Lord had died, he might have a change of heart. In the end, he said, "very well. But I need to know. What is it you wish for?"

"I wish to serve the Deathbringer and the little fairy," Romulus said steely, with no trace of emotion, pointing at the sleeping Meloetta. It almost sounded offensive, the way he said little fairy. Kagemusha ignored him.

"Is it riches? Is it glory? Is it hate that drives you? Is it out of fear, that you ask to serve us?" Thrace observed the Haxorus closely, seeking for an opening in his aura that would let her know the answers to all these questions without him speaking a word. She found none.

Romulus barred his fangs in what resembled an emotionless smile and licked his lips quickly, contemplating as if. "Gold is always nice."

Lord Teneth laughed loudly, having revealed himself from the shadows. "My, that's a bold one!" he mused softly. "Such intent, such courage, coming here, you would make for a fine weapon." To the others, he said, "let him serve me, and I'll pay him adequately."

The Yveltal shook her head again, this time scaling out of her hole; the edge of her beak touched a beam of moonlight. She observed Romulus more closely, until she decided, "his proficiency is scarce in our ranks. I shall have him by Vendra's side. Allow him now his first rate for retaining Vendra."

Romulus bowed his head slightly as thanks to Thrace; he went over to where Vendra lay and stood beside her. Thrace was satisfied to see that.

Lord Kagemusha fingered his beard, grinning for some reason. "Speaking of gold, as luck would have it, we seem to have lots at our dispense. It appears that, while we are looking out for our Caretaker, he is looking out for us as well!"

He clapped his hands and one of the rings on his finger glowed; it was psychic vessel that he used as a makeshift Magic Room. A huge pile of golden bars, as tall as Thrace, appeared suddenly in the center of the circle, where the Caretaker should have been standing. It was a lot of gold, clean and pure and within it, lots of sparkling jewels, golden crowns and precious, colorful rocks, sapphires and rubies and emeralds. The crimson light was reflected upon the generous glow of the little mountain of gold. These treasures, amassed like this, had to be one of the greatest fortunes in the whole Exathor.

Teneth and Hissatsu were breathless. None of them had seen so much gold in one place in their lives. The jewels were royal, fit only for a King or a Prince to wear. A treasure of this magnitude was only held in the deepest chambers in the Vaults of Reflection; the Exathian bankers put visible red, rune-like psychic marks on each piece of the treasure indicating the cell's serial number where they had been stolen and the level of security around it, so if it was stolen and the thieves tried to sell it, the buyers would know that it belonged to a vault and that it would be sought after by the authorities. In this case, the red marks with the serial numbers were wiped out, although the color was barely visible. The gold was still hot.

"Is this all stolen?" Lord Teneth inquired hastily.

"Not quite," Kagemusha replied, admiring the gift. "It seems to have been taken off a vault."

"So, our dear leader has access to such riches? Splendid," Lord Teneth purred, but Hissatsu Blaze crossed his arms, frowning at the glittering treasure.

"At the moment, gold is additional weight. It didn't need to travel all the way up here. Union City and everything in it falls very soon."

"Don't be a fool, Blaze," Kagemusha said victoriously. "Fear is not the only thing that will fund the Crimson Crusade."

 

[Ray Maverick]

The Exalted One
​

A snowflake fell on Garland's shoulder as he filled his wine cup from a passing servant. He sipped once and settled back on his cushion, watching his brothers and sisters of the Gold Tribe feast their hearts out under a cloudy, brooding night sky. The war had been forgotten the moment they were seated and dishes and bottles from the Otori winter storage were paraded in front of them by the servants. Tempest had crossed his arms and was refusing to be fed emphatically; the longtable was shaken with laughter when the two goldtribesmen next to him forced him down playfully and shoved his plate in his mouth. The hot wine had raised the spirits of all the company, who didn't even mind feasting in a winter night, even those who hated the cold.

A bard was singing a merry song with his band of musicians; Garland recognized the song as one of the favorites of his childhood. The gloom had been lifted from the Floatzel's face the more he drank and the more he heard the conversations of his colleagues spring up, and he even laughed at some of the jests that were said. Laying back on his pillows, with his mouth full of the sweet taste of the wine, a smile found its way on his lips. The Gold Tribe was a wonderful thing. Best thing that had happened to Exathor in a long time, he reckoned. All these people, drawn from different cultures, plunged into the brotherhood of peace and equality - they did not mind of their Stygian relatives back home, who fought for the Crimson Crusade, nor did the Hesperians judge them for it. They mingled with each other, despite what was happening to Exathor; they remained loyal to their slogans of peace.

Next to Garland, the Emperor Dareon Zhaolong Aurelius was sinking gracefully in a large, turquoise pillow, his golden cotton hair laid on one side, his Thunder Crown glimmering in the sweet red light of the lanterns. The Ampharos was red faced from the wine, laughing loudly at every joke, attacking every new plate of food and returning the lusty, naughty looks some of the girl servants gave him. Garland couldn't help but see his old friend in this new Dareon, outgoing and gregarious as he was, ages ago. It was as if the peace that was brought after the War of Succession had made him sulk into his palace of white marble and the boredom had twisted his nerves - but all that was gone, now. Dareon may have been pretending to hate the antagonists to the Thunder Crown, but this war might have secretly ignited the flames of his soul.

Behind Dareon, the Captain of the Emperor's Shield, Thresh the Aegislash was floating in the shadow. He tasted of the Emperor's wine cup every time it was refilled and took a bite out every dish that was served in front of him. The quiet vigilance of this man always offered an air of security to everyone; Thresh was doing their jobs as protectors of the First Man of Union and Alliance much easier.

The Trade Prince was there, too - Achilles's cheeks were rosy from the wine and a brimming smile wasn't far from his lip-less mouth. It was the first time Garland had seen the Medicham so unrestrained. He was usually grey and expressionless, but it was like Dareon's recent sociable demeanor was contagious. Either that, or Achilles had a reason to be ecstatic that Garland did not know of. Garland was quite sure he had never seen him like this - even when they were kids, partying with Dareon and other children of the Gold Tribe families in the royal palace of Union City, he was quiet, restrained, always burdened by something, as if.

"Aren't you at least a bit concerned that Teneth has taken over the Crystal Palace?" Garland asked him. Achilles only laughed carelessly, somewhat leaving behind his always carefully collected self who answered properly, finely and precisely.

"Let them have it," he said generously, "I shall built another. We are short in everything but gold."

The woozy Emperor burst into laughter at the inappropriate joke. "You have lost your mind. I never thought I would know of someone so eager to let the enemy into their home!"

Achilles's blue eyes were dazed as he stared at the Emperor. "A man such as myself keeps his home to his person," he said drunkenly, raising the simple rock that was hanging from his neck. Dareon turned to Garland, pointing at Achilles.

"He's lost his mind, Garry. The wine has gone and done it... it speaks!" They both chuckled, but Garland did wonder about this rock the Trade Prince was carrying around as if it was some sort of family heirloom. It might've been the wine, but for a moment, from the way Achilles was holding it, he thought he saw the cracks in the rock forming a mouth and eyes.

He quickly shrugged off the creepy feeling. He remembered his long deceased sister Ariadne, mocking Achilles for the rock he always had about him, but never let on why. As he was tipsy, though, that link in his memory drew up a chain of other painful and well buried memories. His sister, a Lopunny, was always a daredevil of a girl that had the flame of a sun in her, and her smile was as warm. She was always outgoing and naturally charming, and she hadn't failed to charm Achilles. Nor Dareon. The two competed for her for years, even though the Emperor wasn't allowed to court girls of lower birth than his; not that Dareon ever cared for that particular rule. The fight had been fierce and it left the three friends divided and angry at each other for a long time.

Garland suspected that it was nine years ago, during the first Stygian rebellion, that Ariadne had started to return her friend's feelings. When the two were hanging out the most, out of concern, then, his sister had told Garland some disturbing things about Achilles. In all the calmness and serenity of the Medicham's orderly mind, he sometimes behaved strangely; one day, he would tell her that he could not carry on like this, and the next he would take his airship to the highest altitude the invisible barrier allowed and stare at the sky, always toward the eastern edge of the island. Garland bitterly reminisced the time when Ariadne had come to him, crying; Achilles had been harsh to her. While one time they spend time happily together, the mutual feeling of love increasingly obvious, the next day Achilles told her that she could not possibly be part of his busy life and turned her down.

Garland looked at the Medicham apologetically, wondering what kind of problems the Trade Prince was facing, then and now, that he would have to turn down his love for them. He was a peculiar man, always so... plain, neutral, mild and unemotional. The exact opposite of Ariadne.

When at the top of their careers, the three childhood friends had set out in different paths to rule Exathor. The first Stygian rebellion had broken out, nine years ago, and they each handled it separately from their posts. He hadn't told his team back then, when they went to secure the Alamagnan aqueducts - Garland and Ariadne would sneak away from the Stygian troops to that very place, near the pond with the waterfall and the green-lit caves above them, to make strategic plans for the Deathbringer's Mark, where the first battle would take place; no one in the Gold Tribe, or even the whole world, knew that the genius plan to overtake the Stygian rebel lord's forces in the Mark was mainly Ariadne's idea. When Garland set out for the Mark, he, the rest of the Gold Tribe and their supporters crushed the opposition by striking precisely in an offensive opening; it was as if Ariadne had predicted things would turn out this way, and Garland was amazed, because he never had her for such a brilliant tactician. He returned to Alamagna a victor, decorated by the Wise Master as a war hero; his only concern was to meet with Ariadne, share his joy and ask her how she had come up with such a plan.

But the victory turned sour in his mouth when he returned to the caves, where Ariadne was waiting. He thought she was lying by the grass, sleeping, at first, but when he shook her, she wouldn't wake up. There was frost all around her, he had noticed, and her body was cold, as if she had been encased in ice. She was already dead. Just then, the leader of the Gold Tribe could perfectly remember the Lopunny's drawn, sad face as he held her, refusing to believe her. Tears welled in the Floatzel's eyes. He leaned forward on the table, covering his face, making sure no one could see; he accidentally knocked his glass to the grass.

"I will get that," Thresh the Aegislash said to him, not unkindly, picking up the glass with his psychic power and bringing it to the table. "Are you alright, leader?"

"Yes," Garland lied, sucking his running nose and wiping his eyes. Dareon noticed him in that stated and knocked his shoulder.

"Come, now," the Emperor said, "what good is drinking wine if it doesn't make you happy?"

At that time, Achilles drew Dareon's attention, urging him to tell everyone of how he had killed Lord Chantalai in the top floor of Stoneyard's Sky Nexus when the Zoroark engaged him in one-to-one combat.

The Emperor laughed harshly, reminiscing the event, before he started retelling it. The entire table had gone quiet.

"As I was headed for the top of the Nexus, the filth blocked my way," the tipsy Ampharos said loudly so all members of the Gold Tribe could hear him. "He said, 'you come, at last. That imbecile dared challenge me! I had him for a smarter person..." Dareon wiped his glazed eyes, grinning. "He had that deserter with him, Romulus; I went forth with Thresh, accepting the challenge. The rebel filth kept his distance, as if he could match me in ranged combat. He was far too weak... but he did manage to set me in a perilous position!" His tone was raised with the tension. Everyone was breathless. "But Alonsus here delivered the killing blow. Bravo!" He said, looking at the Krookodile far down the table and clapping his hands delicately. Brothers and sisters cheered.

"Here's to the peerless Dareon Zhaolong," some said, while some others remained unimpressed.

Dareon said, "here's to Shadowrend!"

"What an epic battle," a Rhyperior commented, "hey, we've got a drawer here. Why not ask Alphus to make a drawing!"

Alphus, meanwhile, had been seated far further down the table. He was drawing in his pads sights of the celebration. Right now he was busy sketching out a scene of a Gardevoir and a Gallade dancing out on the floor, completely unaware of the shouted commented. Dean rolled his eyes and shook Alphus' shoulder, "Dude, pay attention! Dareon wants a drawing!"

Alphus blinked in surprise and glanced up to see every mon at the table grinning at him expectantly. He looked back down at his pad, right back up at the Emperor's expectant stare, then he flipped to the next page. He glanced at Dean as the Poliwhirl let out a cough and stood up on his seat, pointing a finger up into the sky dramatically, "The greatest painter in the land, Alphus-"

"He's swine!" An offended voice called out from the crowd.

"... Thank you for that Davis. A Smeargle that can't even get local recognition really doesn't hold any weight here. ANYWAYS, the great Alphus shall commemorate such an event with a drawing of our glorious emperor defeating Chantalai in battle!"

Alphus looked down at his paper, his mind starting work as he lifted his pencil and began sketching. HIs pencil tip flew along the white sheet as he made line after line. His pencil actually began to smoke a bit as he started shading the image, getting the lighting right in numerous places. He bit down on his tongue while his hand moved about, adding a few final touches before he lifted it up.

The picture was that of Dareon on the left side. Electricity flowed across his body as he held a stern expression on his face. His fist had been extended and looked to slam right into Chantalai's face, the Zoroark having a expression of pain on his face as it looked like even a few teeth were missing. The electricity from the punch was even spreading onto the Zoroark's body to boot.

The Emperor seemed pleased with the result. He nodded to the painter approvingly, and the Gold Tribe on the table cheered! Alphus couldn't help but blush as the praise as he quickly sat back on down.

 

[Greiger]

Thrasher and Achilles: You know. Chilling... killing.​

Thrasher leaned against the wall of Garland's house, watching as the others danced and sang and drank to their heart's content in the garden. Not that he wasn't against celebrating... he just didn't know WHAT they could celebrate at this point. They were at a heavy disadvantage and if their enemies suddenly barged in then he wanted to be in fighting spirits. He looked over to see a rather humorous sight. Punisher was drinking down a full keg of beer as a group surrounded him.

"CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!" They cheered out, letting out even louder cries of jubilation when he successfully drank it all down. The Primeape smiled weakly and made his way to a window, staring out at the night. He let out a weak sigh and rubbed his arms slowly, not being able to stop thinking about... well, him.

He shook his head. No, he couldn't think about him now. He was safe... he hoped. He was safe and he would, hopefully, remain safe. He made his way out to the garden, nodding to his brothers and sisters as he made his way to a table and began munching on some chips, silently glancing about at the celebrations. As he ate a chip he glanced down at it, a memory playing. It was a stupid time... but he remembered that one time. The way that Leafeon had smiled up at him when the food bowl had fallen upon his head. He closed his eyes tightly, taking in a few deep breaths as he fought back his surge of tears.

Clavis...

Dear Arceus now he knew it wasn't going to stop! He quickly rubbed at his eyes and made his way to the edge of the party, rubbing a bit more as he struggled to keep himself calm. As Thrasher rubbed again he almost jumped. Right there was the Trade Prince himself and Thrasher forcibly swallowed his emotions, "Oh, hello Achilles." He croaked out, having to cough to fix his voice a bit, "Uh... having fun?"

Achilles was sitting in a bench next to the moss covered wall, leaning forward with his hands cupping his face. He looked up once he heard Thrasher speak to him; his large, blue eyes were somewhat reddened, as if he hadn't had much sleep, and ridiculously curly eyebrows were somewhat tattered. "Oh yes, I am having fun," Achilles groaned with obvious sarcasm, "there is nothing better than sociable events with hundreds of people." He rubbed his hands, staring forward. "I suppose you feel the same? You are here after all."

Thrasher softly chuckled, "I wish I could say the same." He shook his head, "Sorry, just thinking about someone." His eyes glanced down over Achilles and he sighed, "So... lots of friends huh? I wish I could have people to watch my back. Would make things a thousand times easier."

Achilles stared at him with large eyes for long moments. He rubbed his forehead slightly as he laid back on the bench. "I don't know what you mean," he said.

"Little friends help a bit." He said again as he sighed, "You were lucky enough to find them, that's what astonishes me. I read history books and well, you can't find such things around Exathor anymore."

The Medicham gave him a lazy, drunken smile, holding the rock that hung from his neck. "I've got the only one on Exathor," he said.

"Lucky." Thrasher said with a nod, "I wish I had friends like that." He let out a weak sigh, "What treatment would you suggest for someone feeling rather lost at the moment? Drinking a lot?" Thrasher looked back out at the party, "Even though I want to drink... I feel like we haven't earned. ...That I haven't earned it."

Achilles scratched the side of his head, glancing quietly at the feast. "Even so, that might be your last," he reminded him.

Thrasher snorted, "I like to think I won't go down that easily." He said. "So... I'm interested." He looked over at Achilles, "You knew where we had to go." He stared silently at the Medicham, "... Did you know? Or... more precisely did they know?"

"I figured it out," Achilles said nonchalantly, shrugging. "I've looked around Exathor for Flogistron. Have to check the soil, the rocks, every chance I get. I came upon that kind of rocks on the northern grasslands," he chuckled, "it wasn't hard to recognize them again. Dry and yielding of no oil that I could use! Truly, a waste of time..."

"Perhaps." Thrasher sighed, "I am still confused by so many things. The prince is here... and he is fine." He shook his head, "So many questions. I feel if we cannot find the answers to those questions then the enemy will have an even stronger hold upon us." He rubbed his temples, "Do... Do you think we have a chance?" He asked the Medicham, "Can we truly defeat this force?"

Achilles seemed to be thinking about it. "To be sure," he said, "IF things are handled correctly. The odds may seem overwhelming. They are, truthfully."

"Yeah..." The Primeape rubbed his arm uncomfortably, "I know getting into such a toxic mindset is far from healthy, at this point anyway, but... I can't help but see those odds. It is like... I remember a piece of advice once from a dear old friend. You don't need man power nor great strength to overcome the odds, you just need a good plan and a rationale mind. Unfortunately, our enemies have been planning for what? The past few years now? And their plans have reaped them the rewards of a powerful army and no doubt countless ways to ensure that they win. It is... overwhelming, as you said before. Well... the death god intent on slaughtering everyone in Exathor helps them a pinch too." He said with a light chuckle.

The Trade Prince was slipping on his seat, obviously sleepy, but he snapped out of it, just to say, "I've a plan... for Thrace. She can be defeated. Perhaps, if we ever got our hands on those dark crystals..." he gave a huge yawn. "We could modify their power. That's what the Valkarian Pokemon did, correct? Created a prison for the Dark One. Might be, we could do the same." He got up from the bench. "Now, you will excuse me. I am tired and... uh," he chuckled awkwardly, "I'm not used to wine. I will go to bed now. What was your title, again?"

"Thrasher." He said with a nod as he got up too, "Well, I might as well make sure you don't fall asleep on the stairs. Though, I think your friends would be able to help with that as well." He gave a nod, "Friends are tough to find around here, keep them close."

"Always do," Achilles smiled drunkenly, stumbling on his feet and murmuring, "oh, what a mess... I'm a mess... never again..."

 

[GastlyGibus]

Enough of your quasi-mysticism!
|Tavhir "Restless" Eldren and Lenora "Seer" Tarikoss.|
14/10/1059​

Tavhir sat next to Cassandra, as usual. The older Lilligant held a bright smile, conversing with the Carnivine she had met days earlier, Elena. Tavhir's face was devoid of emotion, staring intently at the wine glass on the table in front of him. He hadn't even taken one sip; he couldn't imagine the thought process going on around him. Eating, drinking, having a feast in such a bleak situation. It was almost offensive to his better senses. They should have been planning their attack strategy, preparing for combat and the perils they faced, not getting drunk and having a party.

Cassandra, meanwhile, was laughing at a story Elena had shared, almost oblivious to her sulking brother beside her. Tavhir pouted, before standing up and excusing himself from the group.

"I'm going for a walk," he stated curtly, turning and leaving the table. Cassandra turned in confusion, seeing the Pawniard walking away. She raised a hand to object, but he was already gone. She frowned slightly at his departure, when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"I take it he's not the partying type?" Elena asked, partially joking until she saw Cassandra's disconcerted look. The Lilligant shook her head in reply.

"I know what he's thinking," she started. "He's upset that we're enjoying ourselves when there's a war going on."

"I see," Elena replied. The Carnivine took her wine glass in her hand, shaking it slightly, watching the liquid swish around. "I guess I can understand where he's coming from. But we've been fighting for so long without a break… even soldiers need a little time to relax."

Cassandra nodded in understanding. "Try telling him that. Let's just say there's a reason his title is Restless." She grimaced slightly, taking a sip from her own cup. "I swear, that boy is going to stress himself to death if he keeps this up."

Elena shrugged, before nudging the Lilligant's shoulder. "Well, at least let us enjoy ourselves while we can." Cassandra smiled faintly, giving one last look behind her to where Tavhir had walked off, before turning back to the table, conversing with the other Gold Tribe men and women once more.

***​

Tavhir wandered the grounds in a huff. Enjoyment and festivities at a time like this… how could the others be so callous? So indifferent to the reality of the situation around them. He looked down one way, seeing a Breloom lying in a drunken stupor, an equally intoxicated Jigglypuff girl sprawled over his chest, the two of them giggling nonchalantly in their daze.

"Not enjoying the feast, I presume?" Tavhir's thoughts were interrupted, turning and meeting the gaze of Lenora, the seer eyeing him inquisitively.

"We shouldn't be feasting at a time like this," Tavhir stated, almost angrily, though he kept his emotions in check. "We have the Goddess of death out there, along with her followers, and their cronies as well, planning our demise as we speak. Meanwhile, we sit here and blind ourselves to the situation, preferring to remain indifferent in our wines."

Lenora simply nodded in understanding. "I can see your point. Such a… lavish feast does seem somewhat inappropriate at a time like this. Tell me, Restless, what would you have us do?" Tavhir raised an eyebrow in annoyance, taking her question to be condescending. She raised a wing, shaking her head slightly. "I mean no offense. It's an honest question. I want to know what you feel we should do."

The Pawniard calmed slightly, turning to look at the people gathered around them. "We should be preparing, planning… working," he stated, furrowing his brow in near-disgust. "There's a war going on, and we should be doing our best to fight it!"

Lenora stood still, turning her head slightly and following Tavhir's gaze. The Gold Tribe gathered in merriment, drinking and laughing and having a good time. Even the Emperor, far from his usual self, was partaking in the festivities. "We are soldiers. We have pledged our lives to protect the realm from any threats that come our way. But are we not people, too?"

Tavhir turned back to Lenora, squinting in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"We are soldiers, that is true," she explained. "But we are also people. We become stressed and agitated when overworked. Soldiers need a bit of merriment in their lives too, don't you think?" She paused for a bit, looking down at the Pawniard. "We need a moment to reinvigorate ourselves. And sometimes…" she looked up at the pokemon as they drank and enjoyed themselves. "Sometimes, we need to remind ourselves why we fight, and for whom we are fighting."

Tavhir grunted. He understood her point well enough, but he still couldn't help but feel it was wrong. "It's insulting to the soldiers who don't have that chance."

Lenora nodded again, not taking her eyes off the feast. A Grotle was laughing heartily at his comrade's joke, as they leaned against one another and raised their glasses high. Other 'mon joined in and cheered. Throughout, Lenora remained expressionless. She simply watched, as if analyzing them critically. "You have a point. Perhaps both options are right. Perhaps neither… that's amusing to think about, isn't it?"

Tavhir raised an eyebrow. He was never one for mysticism. Never understood it, and never really saw a reason for it. "More like confusing, really."

"Life is confusing," Lenora replied with a slight chuckle.

Tavhir rolled his eyes, growing weary of the Xatu's cryptic sayings. For a moment, they both just stood there, watching as the other's enjoyed their leisure time. After a few minutes, Tavhir spoke up again. "You're a psychic, aren't you? I heard that Xatu are blessed with visions of the future. Can't you see some kind of solution or way to win this battle?"

Most psychics would have been annoyed at such a question, but Lenora simply giggled slightly. It was not the first time she had been asked such a question, and she doubted it would be the last. She looked at Tavhir with a knowing smile. "Well now, if I were able to do such things, I would think they would crown me empress, now wouldn't they?"

Tavhir looked at her curiously. "What can you see, then? What good are visions of the future if you can't predict it?"

"I do not get to choose my visions, unfortunately," Lenora stated plainly. "The divines choose for me. I am simply their humble messenger, relaying what I have seen and discerning their meaning."

"I mean no offense, but I have to ask... what is the point, then?"

Lenora chuckled again. "That is something I've been meditating on for as long as I can remember. One thing I have seen is that, in every vision, there is a kernel of truth to be found, no matter the outcome. I joined the Gold Tribe because I had seen visions of danger. In every vision, the outcome was different. Sometimes, Exathor as we know it had ceased to exist. Other times, the Gold Tribe had prevailed and the union was kept. But in every vision, the danger was still there. See what I mean?"

"That seems unnecessarily vague," Tavhir replied. He was glad he wasn't a psychic. He wasn't sure if he could deal with that kind of quasi-mysticism.

Lenora smiled. She could tell Tavhir was too straight-forward to truly understand, but it was more amusing than anything. She almost wished she could have that kind of direct attitude, but at the same time he was missing the point. "Let me give you another example… if I may?"

Tavhir at this point was sitting cross legged on the ground. He didn't quite understand, but chatting with Lenora was more entertaining than getting drunk in his mind. "Sure. Go ahead."

Lenora nodded. "When you and your friends first arrived into the city, I had a vision that night. It was of the siege in Ascanfell. I saw you and your friends: Prankster, Flash, and Thrasher, fighting Lord Brynjolf and his men. I saw you fighting against the Steelix, Shayla."

"You get visions of the past, too?" Tavhir asked.

"Sometimes, yes," the Xatu replied. "You want to know what I saw?"

"I should know what you saw. I was there," Tavhir said. Lenora kept grinning, and shook her head.

"I saw you, locked in battle with the Steelix as she towered over you. You fought bravely, and showed no mercy. And then, as you were caught in her thunder fang, you were left paralyzed. Unable to move, Shayla grabbed you in her iron grip, and slowly crushed your limp body… and you were no more."

Tavhir's expression turned sour, grimacing at the thought of being crushed to death. "But we won that battle… and I'm still here, obviously. How can you see something that did not happen?"

"That is the nature of my visions," Lenora explained. "The point is not what you see, but what you can learn from what is seen. Had you received that vision before the battle, you would know not to underestimate your foe." She turned her gaze down to the Pawniard, hoping that he would learn from her small lesson. "The future is a fickle thing. It is constantly shifting and bending, closing doors and opening others. I see many futures. In some, we are victorious. In others, we are not. What's important to fight for those futures in which we are the victor, and to learn from what we see in those futures where we are defeated. Do you understand?"

"I think I do…" Tavhir replied. He was starting to feel a bit dizzy, and he hadn't even had a drink yet. "I think I'll leave the deciphering up to you. This is all way over my head."

"Perhaps that is for the best," Lenora said with a laugh. She turned once more towards the feast. "Even though you have your withdrawals, you should still try to relax with what time we have left. I imagine, after this, we won't have many more opportunities for leisure."

Tavhir grumbled, before sighing in resignation. "I suppose you're right. Thanks for the chat. It was… interesting."

Lenora smiled at the Pawniard. "Go and enjoy yourself, Restless." With that said, the Pawniard went back to rejoin his sister, as Lenora remained standing and observing the feast with intrigue.

 

[Kikpanther]

Inside the Crystal Palace
... one week ago ...

Aria's claws clicked on the ice as she walked through the empty palace. Her eyes wandered around the Crystal Palace, curious as to exactly how the Trade Prince kept his home. Did he have good taste? Any trinkets not even his good friends could see? It was clear he had an affinity for ice. Ice so cold that it could build a sturdy home for the Prince. Ice so cold that Aria could feel the chill that resonated off of its walls even from the middle of the room. Or was that the floor? That wasn't exempted from the heat at all. The cold ice stung the pads of her feet and it took all the energy she could muster not to bounce around on her toes like a fool. What she needed was a rug of a warm pair of boots. Ones that she didn't have the foresight to bring. It didn't occur to her that the Palace wasn't warmer than it looked on the outside, but the Prince had simply gone numb years ago. A guess that isn't far-fetched after seeing him in person.

"The Trade Prince must be a bit of a masochist, hm?" The Espeon commented as she nosely pushed her way into one of the chambers. Seeing the room Aria found herself happily impressed. It wasn't as drab as she had thought it would be. In fact, even with the ice theme, the room was immaculately decorated. Other than its outside it was here that Aria could really see the mastery of the Crystal Palace's architecture. The room, other than the beautiful silks, the stunning tapestry, and the awesome fixtures, was decorated with outstanding sculpting. Pretty designs and even the most intricate depictions of mighty Pokemon adorned the walls and ceiling. Above their heads a fearsome battle between a Skarmory and two powerful Ursaring. Above the bed the calming scene of Pokemon relaxing by a stream. And the most satisfying piece of decor...! A rug! Perfect! Aria thought as she hopped onto her poor feet's rescuer. The rug was still cold, yes, but it was nothing compared to the icy floor. Able to focus now on more than her toes, Aria gave the room another check to see if it was worth her sleeping there. The bed, the rug, the tapestries, the art, etcetera, ecetera. There was a balcony and--Ah!--there it was! Aria looked closely at the ground, happy to have finally found the most beautiful piece in the chamber. Her! The ice-floor reflected her features perfectly and she took the time to reexamine her own beauty. On the surface, Aria could swear that her golden jewel sparkled and her polished golden collar and crest looked just as outstanding. She hovered her left leg over the surface to see the glow that came from her golden anklet. Beautiful as always... If only she was wearing a headpiece.

"No need to carry a mirror either," Aria said as she turned around to view her rear. "Smart." When she was finally finished looking at herself she spoke again. "Still, it's too cold and..." her eyes went to the ice walls, still surprised that they weren't see-through "not... flattering. You'd think he'd get out more." Aria looked at her uncle then. "I can see why someone would be so hum-drum if they had to look at this all day."

"Bland, isn't it?"

Lord Teneth was standing on the doorstep. The Umbreon's black fur was as smooth and well-groomed as hers. His snout was ordinary but not quite plain, and his fangs shone like diamonds in the light; although nearly forty, he had an agelessness about him. On Lord Teneth's face, rage and joy looked much the same, and the rings of his body always glowed green to match his cold, pale green eyes. "A palace made of ice, built so far away from the smallfolk..." he mused, then tilted his head slightly, examining his niece. "You do not like it better than our home, do you?"

"This place? Absolutely not! As much as I don't like seeing... Them,"--the word was said with a note of disgust. She could never find a word to adequately sum up the grossness of the peasantry--"I'm not made for the life of a hermit. This," she said, looking at herself in the ground once more, "was meant to be seen on a daily basis. I can always get that at home."

The Umbreon bared his fangs, mildly diverted by the Espeon's usual vanity. He did not hold it against her, of course. From a young Eevee pup, he would feed her with compliments that would inflate her self-image; playing around with her vanity was something he did often.

"Has the weather been too harsh on you?"

"No," she answered looking up. "Well, yes, it's dreadful outside, but I don't mind the cold too much. Especially in here away from the wind and snow." Aria shrugged. "It's not Pyrgos--far from it--but these coats are doing wonderfully." She smiled. "Knowing this isn't permanent helps a lot too."

Lord Teneth paced across the room to the window and jumped on a velvet stool. The sky was grey outside and the wind blew the snow that was falling non-stop. Standing on the balcony, outside the window, was out of the question. The Crystal Palace was engulfed in clouds this time of the year, so for a non-ice type, heading outside would be perilous. "We are but visitors, indeed. I do not count on staying here for any longer than it is needed, and neither should you. I have a quest for you. It just so happens that Union City needs to be dazzled by the brilliance of my little star." His snout curved a bit, forming the start of a smile.

"Do they?" Aria purred, turning to face Teneth. "I'd be happy to do them the service, Uncle. Am I going alone?"

"Alone? No, no," Teneth whispered; that would make her listen intently. "Our enthusiastic little fairy, Vendra, has sent a certain... prophet to Union City. You are to ensure he completes his mission, by any means necessary, as per usual. I suggest you play nice with him. He was a strange, whimsical lad. But all will be well if you listen to him..." he looked at her cautiously, his pale green eyes searching to assert her consent and cooperation. "Do I have your word, sweetling?"

"Absolutely," Aria gave her uncle a bow of her head. "It's a shame Marietta couldn't be here with us. The weather would have been a beast for her, but she would have loved Union City." Aria gazed out the balcony, imagining the Leafeon struggling not to be blown away in the wind, lips curling into a smile.

Lord Teneth's snout tightened only a bit, perhaps to show disapproval. Aria was pushing it some times, and he was of a mind to teach her a lesson. Marie, you see, was Teneth's daughter from an unofficial marriage, that he'd brought to the palace in Pyrgos. Not because he cared about her, or her mother, but because he was curious as to what kind of person he'd managed to... make. Marie and Aria would grow together in the palace, or so Teneth thought. In the beginning the two had been what seemed like the best of friends. Wherever Mariette went so would Aria and so the same the other way around. The two would chatter together constantly, either loudly or in hushed tones and in more ways than one they made by all appearances the perfect pair.

Marietta had been a quick an eager learner. Where Aria had been weak in combat, Marietta shined and where Marie struggled hitting distant targets, Aria could pick up the slack. Together they honed their weaknesses for the better, but if it had only been their beginnings Marie would have been in the room with them. Over time her enthusiasm failed her and smile was no more. The happier Aria became the more melancholy Marie was. Her strength turned to frailty and her skills suffered in training while Aria's only got better. Looking at them together now, it was as though Aria had sucked away all of Marie's finest qualities. Though still--as much sorrow as she carried--one could see deep in her eyes old determination still with her. It came as a bit of a surprise when--how had it been explained?--her sadness threw her off the highest tower in the palace.

"Too bad, it can't be helped," Aria said with a shrug.

Lord Teneth thought about scolding her. He knew it was her who had pushed Marie off the tower, but it never did make much of a difference. Aria was the legit blood, more fit for his daughter than any other children he had.

The Umbreon's unflinching, pale gaze was somehow empty. "Go," he only said, "do what you are asked to do, and who knows... you might be a Princess afterwards." That would be her reward for serving the Sages.

Aria could feel her heart rise at the sound of the word "princess". "Yes, Uncle. It will go off without a single issue."

"That is what I want to hear," Lord Teneth said with that whispery voice of his, neither smiling nor scowling at his niece.​