[PKMN FULL] The Age of Heroes [IC]

[Ray Maverick]

Tsulong

The Arcanine was standing on a hill, looking over to the battlefield. He saw Captain Vallckran, finishing off Lord Zeke. Tsulong was no vain person, he knew Zeke's time would come eventually; that the Brotherhood would lose this battle... yet he couldn't help but feel a pinch of sadness, seeing the Zangoose die again. He didn't expect anything less from Captain Vallckran; when he himself served his time in the Crimson Company, as a youngster, he foolishly looked up to the battle hardened Garchomp warlord, as he looked up to King Aion. Skill, and raw power, that's what he was taught mattered, for they brought influence. These figures all seemed so brilliant and flawless when he was younger. It was a similar fire than the one of the Forest's Heart that snapped him out of it.

The battle was lost. No member of the Brotherhood was standing to fight; scattered, they abandoned the field, running from the slaughter the battle had become. The rogues and thieves of the Brotherhood hoped to match the Cyalan strength in the dense cover of the trees. In a vast valley with the sun and sky above, like the Forest's Heart, they couldn't possibly stand up to toughened killers who had taken part in open battles of this kind more than twice at least.Their discipline had failed them against the superior might and numbers of the Crimson Company, it seemed, though perhaps Tsulong always knew that. He had hoped that the coming of the Paragon of the Forest would do more than heal Duskwood... but now he realized that these hopes were in vain. Even Celebi could not wipe a valley clean of half a thousand Pokemon. With that thought in mind, he recognized it was time to retreat; his efforts were wasted, and he could only hope his choice to help the Brotherhood instead of take their Plate and leave would still allow them to claim it.

The King's Justice had won; the outlaws of Duskwood were no more. Pokemon of the Kingdom would be able to traverse through the forest freely for the first time in a hundred years. The Trade Prince Januario would be most pleased, Tsulong thought, his gaze becoming darker from spite.

He rushed through the battle in an ExtremeSpeed, barely seen by enemy or ally alike, headed for the barrier. The Murkrows had all disappeared, the fog all sucked up inside the cave. His feet left the ground in a leap as he climbed the small hills, his heart thumping in his chest and his tongue hanging from his mouth with every breath he took. By the end of the run, he was grunting, his breathing ragged as he limped to the cave where they had first met Grandmother Cybella.

And there was Loria, the Frozen Witch, just outside the cave. "Loria," he called out, but he said no more, for he was too tired. When he took another step further, he saw it: the lush Grass Plate, floating in midair, and next to it a green, neon-like barrier with Roscoe, Howland and... Celebi.

"Stranger!" Howland shouted, raising his fist up in the air, "coward!" then he turned to Roscoe, saying, "that scum want the Plate, don't they?"

There weren't Murkrows or black fog inside the cave; nor any sign of the Stranger. There was a deafening silence that brought you the feel like someone was staring down at you from above your head. Where is he? Tsulong was about to shout, but he was out of breath. I thought I'd seen the barrier full of that fog, just moments ago...

The wounds he had suffered were taking a toll on his energy, too. Perhaps he had a fever that made him see things. He stopped on his tracks, unable to move his feet further, looking into the cave like a famished wolf. Celebi's neon barrier dropped, then Howland yelled, "get th' Plate!" and started running to the green, rad artifact.

A bright flash ensued, the familiar sound of a teleport cracking in the area; Durand had appeared in the cave, in front of them. The instant when he leaped towards it to catch it, the Xatu croaked, "No! Stay away from it!" But Howland's feet had just left the ground.

The chilly whisper returned, sweeping through the area like a cold wave. Time seemed like it had frozen in place. "Go on... touch, hero of the forest..."

Howland was in mid-flight. His hands, extended to the Plate, he hugged it and took it down to the ground with him. Tsulong had rushed in the cave to get a better view of what was happening; all hell had broken loose. With a buzzing noise, a vortex of darkness was being released from the Grass Plate, the black fog filling the cave once again. By the Paragons, what's going on? He saw Celebi diving right into the vortex, and Durand lifting his wing; the Xatu was glowing with pink power, casting a psychic spell that pulled Howland and the Plate to him, along with Roscoe and Tsulong.

The black fog engulfed them quickly. It felt like a rain of death, pain and despair... breathing had become impossible in this thick dark. Tsulong felt horribly dizzy, on the brink of losing his senses, before everything suddenly stopped.

Durand

Night had fallen in Duskwood, but the screams hadn't yet ceased; the Cyalans had started a manhunt for the Brotherhood now; Durand could see from the top of the hill where he had launched that psychic blast at the barrier with Reginard. He had teleported all the heroes from the cave with the morbid fog to safety. The fog was now visibly storming out of the cave at the base of the Giant Tree, darker than the night but silent. The Stranger was silent... and the Paragon of the Forest was nowhere to be seen.

The Grass Plate was floating peacefully in front of them all, above the wet grass.

"That is it," Faolan announced in pure disbelief, "that is the Grass Plate." He turned to look at the fog that was rising to the sky, away from the Forest's Heart and to the north, headed to Cyala. "I refuse to believe the Stranger gave up on the Plate..."

"The Stranger knows well when he has lost," Durand declared calmly, although he was not sure himself. It was true, that the Stranger had all means to destroy the Paragon of the Forest, along with the two heroes that stood in his way. I am well aware of what this is, he thought to himself, this is his goodbye riddle, to give me something to ponder on the next few months; until the next riddle...

Tsulong let out a sound that was between a grunt and a laugh. "For a moment, I didn't think we had a chance."

Elder Durand looked around him, his eyes still glowing with the remnants of the power he used earlier. "Heroes! You have done well, quite so. Your strength is indeed worthy of a legend. But now you must leave this place at once, lest these meddlesome Cyalans capture you," the Xatu said, "head for Skyhaven. The Sky Plate lies in the Pinnacle, waiting... the road there will be harsh, treacherous and full of traps. Beware of your allies, is my advice to you. Remain restless and faithful to your cause. When our world is faltering with evil, you should be standing up, with the unbreakable determination of steel. I fear this is naught but the start of this journey... this day marks the start of an odyssey." For I believe powers beyond everyone's grasp have been set in motion here, in Duskwood. The future... is certainly not a bright one. The future is obscure with that fog...
​

 

[Greiger]

Reginard Asphos​

As the barrier fell Reginard had to fall onto a knee and regain his energy. He wiped his forehead free of the sweat that had gathered there. Durand had disappeared, no doubt teleported to aid those inside. Chaos were erupting all around them. The brotherhood was quick to run from the soldiers who attacked them from all sides. Although the forest was now healed up, the brotherhood was still out there, attacking those that lived here. Even though Reginard had no lover for the brotherhood, he couldn't help but feel a bit of sadness as they were killed in their own home while they ran screaming away from an enemy they never had a chance against.

Then Reginard saw a sort of smoke quickly filtering out of the cave. Reginard couldn't help but turn his head away as the thicks smoke billowed out. He quickly ported back a bit and watched as the blackness funneled out. He shook his head in disbelief, but then the elder reappeared. Those that had gone inside were with him now and he breathed a sigh of relief. Most of them were out and once they regrouped with Faolan, it was only a waiting game as well as a hiding one.

As the others spoke around him, Reginard thought, and at Durand's praise he slowly stood up, "No... we failed elder."

He glanced around, "Faolan... you say that we got the plate, but what did we lose in its place?"

He sighed, "Elder, I know you wish to rekindle our spirits and soothe our souls, but the truth must be told. I... I am sure now the Stranger was not after the plate." His eyes narrowed, "The paragon is gone. Howland, I have an itch in the back of my mind that tells me the Stranger knew you would summon Celebi... he wanted you to. Let me pose a question on you all. What kind of pokmeon is so powerful, that he is able to snatch a legendary out of her own environment? How powerful is a pokemon that he did not once care about the grass plate... but instead wanted Celebi."

He closed his eyes again and sat back down on the grass, "He claimed what he wanted. He won in the end." He shook his head and rubbed his staff nervously, "It is also a taunt. With this capture, he has spit in our eye. He has shown how powerful he is, but did not kill us. He was toying with us this entire time. He knew we could not prevent Celebi from being stolen away, and he reveled in it. He knew we could stop the forest fire, and he didn't care. He knows he's better than us, he knows he will always win against us with some agenda he has, an agenda we won't see until it's too late. He is putting all of these failures of ours in front of our eyes... and he is waiting for us to realize just how hopeless it is."

Reginard was silent for a while, "That is what he wants. But we cannot give him that. We know that he thinks of himself as high and mighty. We must think around the box this time. We must take everything into account when we encounter him, for he has done so as well. If we put our minds together, we can beat whatever he throws at us. Skyheaven has a vast library. I've only seen it once. Once there I can research and see if I can find any explanation as to how a non legendary can steal away a legendary. Once you all are rested enough, we'll move out. No excuses."

 

[Ray Maverick]

Januario

In the play-room of a great palace, the Trade Prince Januario lay on a large, red silken cushion with golden lining. On a table nearby, under the window, Pierce was floating midair, scribbling down some letters on parchment with a Braviary feather quill. Januario's gaze passed him often as not, pestered by the sound of the quill, but every time he was about to snap, Pierce ceased writing and looked patiently outside the window at the cloudy Skyhaven night sky, ignoring the eyes on his back. The ghost seemed to know Januario better than himself! It wasn't the first time Januario had wondered if the Cunning Shadow had gotten over the Light Ball fiasco. That brought a slick grin on the stumpy Pikachu's face. He had commissioned Pierce to bring him a load of Light Balls, once, knowing how rare they were in Altica. Pierce was successful, and he was paid good money... not near enough money as Januario made by selling those Light Balls. Had Pierce so easily forgotten Januario's victory over him in the business field?

"Watch it," Alysanne snapped; she was sitting on a cushion next to the Trade Prince, with a Chansey over her, doing her best to sew and heal the wound on her head. "I'm not pretty with this thing on my head," the Mienshao snapped, but she kept the bandage on it. The wound beneath it was a reminder of the wall of the Mistwatch Keep that had come down. Sigmund liked pouring salt on that wound.

The bodyguard's massive silhouette was half hidden in the shadows of the play room, always subtle, always vigilant; for a Reuniclus, he had the blackest sense of humor and a deathwish, things which Januario valued most along with his superb intelligence. Sigmund was the only one, besides Pierce, to beat Januario in chess. When Pierce had beat him, the Trade Prince had thrown off the game, the pawns cast off on the rich dark green carpet of the play-room. Right now, the Reuniclus was floating closer to the candle's light, his pale face and drawn, alien feature showing. "Bested by Faolan the Wicked," he reminded Alysanne, his whisper slightly distorted with his immense psychic powers. The Mienshao jerked back at him to lock him in a death stare. Sigmund didn't flinch. He kept going. "Was he handsome? You'd love it if he had the coin to pay you, I know. Bet he found you pretty... but hey, if you two meet again, he's gonna beat you up so bad, you won't be pretty anymore." He showed her his teeth in a malicious half smile, returning her own furious red stare.

"I never make the same mistake twice," she hissed at him, knocking over the Chansey who was trying to apply medicine on the side of her chest. Sigmund let out an unnatural laugh that reeked of psychic energy.

"Sure, you do it five or six times, just to be sure."

Januario utterly ignored what was going on with his associates; he usually let them have their fights. A little competitive spirit was always good for their profitability. Plus, the little Pikachu was in a thinking state, and his nerves were destroyed after the news of the Ambassador's death had surfaced. The authorities weren't able to conceal the happenings from the public; there was an uproar in the city, and the Skyhaven Council was sitting on burning coals. They had caught somebody. A poor fool who'd just happen to pass by the Embassy. A nobody, really, not even a trained assassin by the looks of it. King Aion will want an explanation for this national f*ck-up, the Pikachu mused, twirling his cheek's hair, his black, marble-like eyes wide open and staring at nothing. There will be war, indeed. This King of ours can't afford to suffer any slights, imagined or not. I never wanted this... not so soon. The Trade Prince jerked his head to Sigmund, who had gone silent.

"Sig! Who in the holy skies of Acanthus is behind this despicable murder?"

The mercenary shrugged his massive gel shoulders, adopting the serious expression he always had on when talking about business. "The evidence is scarce and insufficient to provide us with an idea. However, Zeal appears to be some sort of name."

Januario shook his head in disbelief. Even Sigmund couldn't find any clues, when he had gone off to investigate in his stead, to point them in the right direction. That silly murderer destroyed my plans, Januario thought, his features drawn in annoyance. "Tell me again, what else did you find there?"

"Signs on the floor indicate that the Ambassador was repeatedly smashed against the ground. Additionally, Franklin was burned by a fire-type move, which makes me think there could be two assailants. The... bits of his employees may hint that it was the work of a psychic, most probably a mercenary. Nobody who wants so many people dead does the deed himself."

Januario stared at the Reuniclus, his eyebrow raised. "And I suppose you're not aware of any psychic types in your field who can pull off this type of job?" His eyes narrowed. Truly, there weren't many psychis in Altica who could invade an Embassy and massacre it. Sigmund was surely on the list, now that he was thinking about it; hell, Sigmund was up for even heavier jobs. But Sigmund was no user of fire. He couldn't possibly burn the Ambassador to death. Why would he, anyway?

Sigmund had remained silent. Then, after a moment, he replied, "negative. Durand could do it, I've seen how he works with his powers. But even Durand isn't able to conjure fire, and he's too soft and lacks motive for this massacre."

"Hang on, gentlemen," Pierce interrupted. He'd finally put his quill down and turned his bright, white smile to them. "From this point, it's safe to assume speculation will get us nowhere. Let's not work with what we have, but rather get new stuff to work with."

"I like that guy's drift," Januario laughed. "Sig, go get us something fresh. I don't know what it is, just go."

Sigmund gritted his teeth and stared at Pierce, who met his gaze only momentarily, before he returned to the letters or whatever he was writing. The Reuniclus left the room with a frown on his face.

Sigmund didn't seem content with Pierce's presence, Januario had noted, but he cared little. He turned to Alysanne and the Chansey with the bandages, frowning upon them. "Get on with this thing already. What do I pay you for, to loll about?"
​

 

[Garet]

Roscoe the Leech
Duskwood
~~~~~

From the moment they'd been pulled out of the cave, from the moment that he saw the battle end in a manhunt, Roscoe had remained in gloomy silence. The Sceptile was sitting on the ground with his knees drawn up, eyes dull as they looked out over the battlefield. He could tell where the Grass Plate floated without turning; it gave the surrounding area a certain...freshness.

Despite everything they'd done, they had lost. The Brotherhood was scattered, no longer able to call the Forest's Heart their home while the Cyalans were on the hunt. From what Tsulong had said, Lord Zeke had died. Even though they did get the Grass Plate in the end, Celebi had disappeared. Captured by the Stranger, if Reginard's words turned out to be true.

Roscoe finally shook head, moving for the first time in a while as he pushed himself up and turned to the others. "I can't just assume that Celebi was captured. I mean, what proof do ye have that she was snatched away, hm? Might be that she got away an' just returned to doin' what she does."

A part of him was refusing to give up on the whole situation. Turning to the other Sceptile, Roscoe asked, "What happens with th' Brotherhood now, Howland? I've been away for a while, and this is th' first time they've been beaten outta here."

 

[Manska]

Gaius the Disciple, Scorpius & Sigmund
​

Right now, Gaius was regretting his decision many years ago to not spend more time with the tribe of Lucario that had taught him how to use Aura. He had seen one of their masters sit still for days at a time in meditation, a skill that he could sorely use right now. After living for years just wandering about with no limits on him except those he took onto himself, Gaius found the boredom of being locked into a prison cell like this unbearable. "So, when do you think they're going to take us up to the council?" he questioned Scorpius, the task of counting the stones in his cell having gotten too boring to continue much longer.

The voice came from somewhere in the other cell. "You think I'm some sort of fortune teller? I don't know when these oafs decide to summon us." Just as Scorpius finished her sentence, the hinges of an iron door at the far end of the corridor screeched. In came light; a big Pokemon was floating on the doorstep, moments before he headed to the cells. Gaius followed the pokemon's path with his eyes curiously, wondering what it had come down here for.

"Maybe that's our lift," Scorpius whispered.

"I'm no lift," the other Pokemon replied in a voice made of steel, distorted with energy; apparently, he had heard her. It was a Reuniclus, who was now standing in front of Gaius's cell. "Hello, there." The keys to his cell flew to the lock, busting it open. The psychic type squeezed his heavy gel body through the bars.

"Hello." Gaius replied cautiously as the pokemon entered his cell, trying to rise to his feet and cursing as his limbs - numb from hours of sitting - only half responded. "To who do I owe the pleasure?" he asked sarcastically, lacking the patience to even pretend to be polite after spending so long cooped up. He finally managed to rise to his feet, albeit with teetering legs and his arms supporting him against the wall, hoping that he didn't look as weak as he felt right now.

"Sit down," the Reuniclus ordered him, putting his strong gel hand on his shoulder and dragging him down on the cell's dirty floor. Losing his gravitational float, he landed next to the Lucario. He licked his lips, his dark green eyes wide open. His face was a creepy impression. "Name's Sigmund, not that it matters any. Listen here. This can go two ways. You either tell me everything you know about the case at hand, and when I say everything, you know what I mean, don't you?" He titled his head, his pointy gel ears falling to the side, eyeing Gaius dangerously. "Or you stay put as I make my way into your brain and procure that information. With not so conventional means, if you catch my drift. That means you may experience anything ranging from discomfort, to slight pain, to mild pain, to intense pain, to you're in hell pain, to 'oh-Arceus-kill-me-now' pain and ultimately to death while screaming. Which one is it? I'd rather you went with the second option. I could do it all day." He patted his shoulder heartily with a friendly grin that hinted something strange and wrong. Perhaps Sigmund's mental health wasn't all too well.

Gaius grunted as he was forced down to the cell floor, his legs still half asleep and unable to resist the strange pokemon's surprisingly strong hand. Something felt wrong about Sigmund and pinned against the wall like this Gaius felt the beginnings of a twinge of panic that he tried desperately not to show. "If you want me to confess then you'll be disappointed. I had nothing to do with what happened, other than making the poor choice of trying to help." he shot back, voice more bluster and bravado than actual confidence.

"Second option it is," Sigmund grinned at him, his hands suddenly flying up to grab the Lucario's head. Gaius flinched away from the motion and raised one hand, trying to bat Sigmund's away. With no avenue for him to flee there was but one instinct for Gaius to fall back on. "**** you." he snarled, swinging one hand up towards the reuniclus to use the only move he knew that would work against a psychic. Unfortunately, dark pulse was a complex move for a fighting type to use, requiring concentration and a significant charging period, two things that Gaius lacked. The attack flew from his hand half formed, the usually deadly attack manifesting as little more than a small blob of darkness and a shower of black sparks.

The psychic flinched for a second as the consuming attack hit his gel, vaporizing it into a gaseous steam. Sigmund was gritting his teeth from the sting, his body glowing dark green with energy. "Not so smart, are you?" He raised a hand, catching the Lucario into a phantom grip that lifted him in the air and crashed him against the wall. Like a puppet, Gaius remained midair; the Reuniclus floated into the same eye level with him, as his gel regenerated quickly and visibly. He stared him deeply in the eyes, ready to dive into his mind. "That was uncalled for," he said, a bit sarcastically.

He found nothing in Gaius's mind. Except that he was a hero of the fighting mastery, who had been sent to the city by Elder Durand to keep an eye on the Plate. Since Area 52 and the Trade Prince were allies, Sigmund ought to have been allies with this man... but truly, Sigmund wasn't one for allegiances. The Reuniclus figured he could bring some pain while he was here, as payback for the Dark Pulse. "We're starting with mild pain," Sigmund announced and tightened his mental grip. "This was nothing personal, till you decided to play rough. Can't blame me for some retaliation, can you?" he snickered.

Gaius gritten his teeth as he felt the presence within his might suddenly tighten, as though someone was tightening a strap around the inside of his head. Dignity forgotten, he tried to struggle and fight back in any way he could but the psychic grip on him held him in place against the wall. Gaius truly hated psychics for the very reason that they could do this to him; there had been plenty of thinking behind his reasoning to learn the dark type move he had used earlier.

The pain seemed to keep on getting worse and worse but Gaius kept his teeth grit together in a snarl, determined to not give Sigmund the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

"We're slipping to intense pain," Sigmund informed him as he suddenly tightened the grip, squeezing down Gaius's head. "Don't faint just yet, partner. Wouldn't want to be missing your own trial, would you?" Gaius threw the psychic a venomous glare that quickly turned into a grimace as the pain in his mind somehow increased even further. Somehow, rage gave Gaius the strength to open his eyes and mouth once more, his words mixed with pained silences "If you are truly... reading my thoughts, you know... I need no trail. I. Am. Innocent." The last three words came out as a snarl, spraying Sigmund with flecks of blood where sharp teeth had nicked Gaius' tongue.

Sigmund stared at him with a strange glow in his eyes, his face overtaken by what seemed to be contained fury. "I know you're innocent," he said, before shooting Gaius at the wall, releasing him from his grip. The wall almost came down with the Lucario. "I was just having fun. A word of advice, don't cross me again. I know how to fry brains." With that, he left the cage, locking up behind him.

There weren't many moments where Gaius really even thought about him being part steel type, let along being thankful for it, but this was one of them; without his reinforced bones that last blow would have reduced him to a fine paste spread on the fall. Even with this blessing, all that the lucario could do with his newly gained freedom was move his hands out of the way in an effort not to impale himself as he fell limply to the floor. He tried to push himself up and follow the reuniclus but between the blinding headache in his head and the physical pain from being thrown against the wall, just moving his arms was almost beyond him and all Gaius could do was watch Sigmund go.

 

[Sir Bastian]

Vincent 'Vince' The Wanderer & Loria The Frozen Witch - On the road to Skyhaven

The night was completely silent around the small makeshift encampment the heroes had put up on their way to Skyhaven. They were a ways through the forest and almost out of it, but were forced to stop for the night in a small clearing near the outskirts to the southeast. Loria had volounteered to keep an eye out the first half of the night, not that many of the heroes slept all that heavily as it was.

Vincent's eyes slowly opened, staring straight up into the midnight-black sky above the trees, dotted with little lights all over. He lay there, staring upwards without a thought crossing through his mind until a few minutes later. ... I'm not dead...

He continued to lay still, taking in the sight of the expansive heaven above, the stars twinkling softly down at him, with his mind still completely blank from any thinking or emotion, until the same thought echoed through his head. I'm not dead.

This time, it seemed to register with him, as he jerked, trying to sit up, but the pain suddenly shooting through his body caused him to shut his eyes tightly, wincing in pain for a few moments, pressing his hands against the ground beneath him and slowly pushing himself up to a sit. His body felt like it was made of iron and he could barely lift himself, with a throbbing pain dully shooting through him at random intervals.

"Vince, you shouldn't be moving. You'll hurt yourself even worse." Loria commented, hearing the Dewott rise from behind where she sat. "A man must know limitations, especially those of his body. Are you trying to tear apart your infastructure already?"

Vincent turned his head to look over his shoulder at Loria, who was keeping a watch out on the forest, from what he could see. He took another moment to look around himself at the small encampment and the sleeping Pokémon around him. A sudden surge of panic struck him as he raised a hand to his neck, quickly calming down as his hand grasped the colourful scarf still hanging around his neck, albeit a bit singed now.

"... What happened? Did we lose?"

"Hmmm, I guess you could call it that." She replied. "We got the Grass Plate, yes, but only at the cost of most of the Brotherhood's forces. That includes Grandmother Cybella; the Stranger destroyed her, sad as it may be. And the Paragon disappeared, and Duskwood was taken over. So, for us, it is indeed a victory. For the others, well... it could have come out better, heehee." She adjusted her bow and tightened it. "But that is life. We must live it and handle it accordingly."

Taking in the facts that Loria had just laid down on him regarding the aftermath of his fight with Vallckran, Vincent turned his head forwards again, lowering his gaze, resting a hand on his thigh on top of the small leather strap where his shell used to sit. He remembered one of them cracking and the other flying off into the woods. The fact that he didn't have it now must've meant that Vallckran had taken it, or that it was lost in the forest now.

They had gotten the plate, but the cost had been too high, in his opinion. Several hundred Pokémon had lost their home, hundreds more their lives, including a near-ancient Torterra. Vincent's eyes fell shut as he took in a deep breath of air. Despite all of the losses they had suffered, the one he felt the worst about, was his personal loss against Vallckran. By no means had he hoped to defeat the dragon, and he knew he wasn't strong enough to hold him off for more than a few minutes... but somewhere inside of him, he had wished that he'd been able to do... more. For his master.

Placing a hand on his knee, the Dewott slowly pushed himself to a stand with a little grunt of pain, staggering for a moment, but being careful of not waking up the others, he stepped over next to Loria, where he sat himself down, crossing his legs and leaning over, placing his arms on his knees and staring ahead, into the dark of the forest.

"Do you believe it was worth it? All of those lives, on both sides, lost, for just one of the plates? An huge family, a tribe of Pokémon losing their home?" He glanced over to Loria with a knowing, but still somewhat comforting look in his eyes.

She paused for a moment, contemplating how she would put this without sounding like a complete, well, *****. "In a way... yes. Indeed, it was wrong of us to use the Brotherhood in such a way when we were claiming to help them, but it's the natural flow of life. People are used. That is how things work. It's heartbreaking that such a family like the Brotherhood was destroyed, even more that pitiful Grandmother Cybella was killed in the process, but we cannot let emotions cloud our judgement. Our duty was solely to retrieve the Plate. If it had to end this way, well... there is nothing we can do about it except move on."

She turned her head, looking at Vincent. "I understand your pain, and I understand the Brotherhood's pain. Losing..." She took a deep breath. "Losing your family, and your home; both are terrible things that I would not wish on even my most vile enemies. It destroys people, literally and figuratively. It's a toll that should be bared by no one. And while I regret that our group was unable to prevent this from happening to the Brotherhood, it is not our business. We were merely drug into the conflict by chance. That is all. It is not our fault for the outcome of the battle; it was too far out of our control to prevent it. I could see it almost from the start that this would happen."

She faced the dark of the forest once again. "They were a rather unorganized group, honestly. The plan was brilliant, and at the beginning of the battle I almost changed my mind. But I could see it, feel it even; they felt doubt. They knew from the start that they were doomed to fail. They still fought vigilantly, but even I could see that they would never win. The Cyalans are far too strong for a group of forest-dwelling bandits too defeat. But that is just fact?"

She rested her head in her hands. "Why do you ask? Do you feel like there could have possibly been a different outcome?"

The Dewott turned his gaze to the forest as well, his arms still resting on his legs with a quietly thoughtful, mellow look on his face. "... No, I don't. Nor am I going to hit myself over the head because of what could, what might have been. We did the best we could, so did the Brotherhood. We tried our best to help them, and when they fell, we simply salvaged what we could. Sometimes..." He paused, his memories shifting back to a tall figure standing in front of him, lecturing him, which caused him to close his eyes and take a deep breath to calm himself. "... Sometimes you need to cut your losses and run. There's nothing dishonorable in that, with a few exceptions."

He opened his eyes again, tilting his head back to look up into the skies. "I still feel I could... should have done something different. The other crimson captain showed up, if you didn't notice. Vallckran is his name, an enormous Garchomp. I knew that if we wanted to have a chance at winning, I had to lure him away from the fight, which I did. But I didn't keep running. I fought him. I fought him, and I lost. I managed to stall him for a few minutes... but was it worth it, when we lost in the end? Not us, as the Heroes, but us... as Pokémon, as living beings."

"I would say that it's definitely worth it." Loria giggled somewhat. "From the looks of him, Vallckran looked, well... powerful. If you had let him stay, he probably would've came after the rest of us. That wouldn't have been pretty. You made a very reasonable and worthwhile sacrifice, Vincent. Although it cost heavily, it could have been worse."

Vincent looked to his thighs again, where the shells were missing. It gave him an uneasy feeling of not being properly protected. He could still fight, he'd been brought up to be able to use more than just shells as weapons, but it still left him feeling... vulnerable. "Sometimes I wonder how you're supposed to be able to measure loss and what you've 'won'." He shook his head, raising a hand to rub the side of his head, wincing a little in pain as his sore body protested against him.

"Where are we going now?"

"Skyhaven, I believe. A Plate is claimed to lie there." She looked down to Vincent's thighs. "Your shells... did you lose them in the battle?"

He gave a small nod, lifting his head again to stare out into the darkness of the forest. "I did. One of them... broke. I suppose it was its time. The other... I'm not sure. Vallckran disarmed me, and I passed out before I knew what had happened to it." He clenched his hands softly into fists, shaking his head. "I feel... powerless without them. I was brought up with them, my master tutored me in the art of swordsmanship... it's what I'm best at. What am I going to do now? I don't feel like I can help out the heroes any longer." He raised his hand and looked to her with his brows furrowed, his usually neutral and straight-to-the-point expression replaced by a look of worry and loss.

"Hmmm..." Loria looked around. "Well... I could make you some temporary ones. Out of ice."

Vincent shook his head, sending her a thankful little smile. "No, it wouldn't work. When you wield a weapon, you have to... know it. It has to be an extension of yourself. If you made me a pair of shells or another weapon out of ice, I could fight with it, sure. But... it wouldn't... feel right. Thank you for the offer, but I think I'll rely on my martial arts for the time being."

"Vincent, I think we both know that our enemies will be much too difficult to defeat with simple martial arts." Loria giggled. "You couldn't even beat me with just martial arts."

He raised a brow slightly, watching her for a few moments before breaking into a wry little smile. "Maybe we should find out, sometime 'white witch'. I'm curious as to just how strong you are without all of your powers."

"It's Frozen Witch, deary." She laughed. "I don't usually fight hand to hand. Not to say I haven't, though."

"But you are white. So it's not too bad of a slip-up." He replied with a little chuckle, followed by him wincing and placing a hand against his ribs. "Ngh, ow. I need a drink. I hope we'll get to a town of some sort soon." He lowered his arms onto his legs again before letting out a little huff. "So... Skyhaven's next. Something tells me that place'll be just as troublesome as Duskwood... but in another way."

"It's a rather large city, from what I've heard. Since we all probably want some time away from each other, we'll probably split up and something bad will happen. That's a pretty common scenario for people like us." She looked up at the sky. "I myself am not totally sure what I'm going to do once I get there. Perhaps an antique shop..."

"I'm headed straight for the tavern as soon as we arrive. I've gone long enough without a drink and even more so without any good food. You can't expect to fight a war on an empty belly." He raised a hand and gave his stomach a little pat. "But the antique shop sounds like a good idea. Are you hoping to find anything specific there?"

"... Not really. I just like ancient things. Once you become one like myself, you tend to want to be around them more." She chuckled slightly at her joke, Vincent also letting off a light chuckle. "I just enjoy looking. Very rarely do I find things that I would want to keep, mostly because I have nowhere to store them."

"Mmh. Perhaps you'll find a place to do so, sometime. There's always a place to rest, for all of us, sooner or later." Vincent sent her another little smile before laying back down in the grass, moving his arms behind his head and staring up into the sky once again. "Thank you, Loria. I like just sitting and talking to someone. I haven't really had the chance to do so lately. I appreciate it." He yawned and shut his eyes, a small sigh escaping his nose.

"For now though, I'll get some rest. Hopefully I'll be able to walk without having to be carried in the morning."

"You're welcome." She smiled as well. "Sleep well."

​

 

[Ray Maverick]

Howland

​

Howland had tagged along with the heroes, having nowhere else to go. As the group moved away from the Forest's Heart, further into the dense forest, they occasionally came across scattered members of the Brotherhood who were frantically running for their lives or hiding in the trees. Some even attempted to attack, but once they saw Howland, they recognized him as one of the Brotherhood's respected members of the inner circle, even though he didn't really belong to them. Lord Zeke had simply decided to keep Howland close to him, feeling he was an honorable warrior. Lesser members who had not even seen Lord Zeke until the battle for the Forest Heart showed utmost respect to Howland now. But it was all gone now, the Brotherhood... there was no hope for them anymore.

They settled down in a camp, but sleep didn't come easy to Howland. And when it did, he came face to face with the tall figure that started all this: the King's agent, the Stranger. In his dream, Howland had plunged his dirk inside his chest again. The green eye beckoned him simply, then a cold, bone chilling laughter echoed... Howland shot himself up from the grass patch he lay, realizing he had left his dirk when the Stranger knocked it out.

He went for a frenzied run atop the trees. When he snapped out of it, it was morning; he found the heroes as they were starting to leave, landed and walked next to them with a heavy heart full of uncertainty of the future.

He held his head down, staring steadily at the wet, cold ground in a sullen silence. After a while, he heard Roscoe's voice, "What happens with th' Brotherhood now, Howland? I've been away for a while, and this is th' first time they've been beaten outta here."

"Those who run know how to hide," Howland replied quietly. "Some will try to leave, others will hide. Those Cyalans will chase, true, but they're gonna get lost. The Plate is removed, but that don't mean the forest changed a bit. I don't see it changed, do you?"

After a long day of walking, they settled down again for the night, sitting around a fire Tsulong had made and eating a few of the berries and dried meat from Guardian's bag. Game on the forest wasn't scarce anymore; so Tsulong had left early to go hunting. Howland remained staring at the massive bag Guardian had left behind, where he knew he kept the Grass Plate. As a Sceptile, he could feel a certain power that agreed with him radiating from it. He remembered the moment when he touched it, he felt unbelievable power running through his hands... then that fog coming out of it. After that fog, the Plate seemed to leave a bitter 'aftertaste' in his fingers. Wonder why that villain didn't just take it from me?

When Howland went to sleep, he had the same dream again. He'd plunged the dirk inside the Stranger's body, dark dripping from it instead of blood. The laughter ensued again, making him thrash and wake up, jumping out of his grass bed. Blinking wildly, he realized someone was standing over him in the dark.

"You alright, Howland?" a concerned voice said. Once Howland sat up, he recognized Tsulong, who was watching him curiously. "You were thrashing in your sleep."

Howland nodded, rubbing his eyes. The night was fresh, but there were no stars to speak of. Clouds had taken over the sky, and he could feel rain was coming. 'Least these are natural clouds, he thought, recalling how the myriads of Murkrows had covered the sun, bringing dark upon the Forest's Heart. He was still in denial of what had happened there, too bound to the Brotherhood.

"Tsulong," he said, "I plunged my dirk right through that fiend's chest. Pretty sure all Pokemon on this earth would've died. Aye, it was a dire hit. Fought many Pokemon, never met a single one who didn't die from a hit in the chest. Yet he lives."

"The Stranger?" the Arcanine asked, sounding startled.

"Aye, him. He said, "No mortal weapon may harm me", 'fore he just took that dirk and cast it 'way like twas naught but a stick. I thought, he's wearin' some of that steel garments Cyalan fashion for themselves ofttimes, but no, that can't be right." The Sceptile looked at him right in the eye. "No blood was drawn. Only darkness. Tell me what kind o' Pokemon bleeds darkness."

"No holy Pokemon, that's for sure," Tsulong replied grimly. "I don't know what he is, or what he wants. I'm troubled by what Reginard said. Did we truly lose, as he said?"

They both remained silent for what seemed to be a long while; neither had the answer to the questions Reginard's statements had raised. Then, Tsulong continued. "The Stranger called you to him, didn't he? I never knew you were a hero, Howland."

"Don't know what this hero thing is," Howland retorted.

"It means having mastery over one of the sixteen elements. That gift is coming from your ancestors. You may not know it, but they were the ones who helped in the Seal, standing by the side of Celebi, Paragon of the Forest."

Howland rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking at the other Sceptile of the group, Roscoe, as he was sleeping. "Yer a group of heroes on a quest, aren't you? If so, Roscoe's a hero too. What you say... that doesn't make me and him much different."

Tsulong smiled thinly, glancing at Roscoe. "I guess not."

There was another long-drawn silence between them. After a while of pondering, the Arcanine asked politely, "why did the Stranger call you Exile?"

There ain't much point in hidin' it anymore, Howland thought, suddenly feeling his emotions charging and rising, painting his voice. "I'm an exile from my homeland, Hoolefar island. Been like this ever since I was 18. You know, Hoolefar is ruled by us Sceptiles, or Jungle Alphas as they call us. I was to become an Alpha officially," he continued, when his eyes watered, "but I fell in love, with our Overlord's daughter. When my enemies found out I could become the next Overlord, they framed me... they framed me for murder and cast me off the island. Got me these scars, too," he showed him his legs; two deep, black vertical scars adorned each thigh. That characteristic of Howland's was enough to make him recognizable from a mile. That's what the Jungle Alphas of Hoolefar island did to the exiled, so they knew it was them if they ever came back.

He stopped talking, taking a moment to compose himself. "I traveled 'cross the world, havin' nothin' else t'do. I've served families, caravans, merchants and even Lords as a mercenary, tryin' to make a livin'. I had no home, till I came across the Brotherhood. They attacked me at first, but they took me in, offered me meat 'nd mead, offered me a home. They became my family, and I their new but faithful son. And now..." his voice cracked, sobs rising from his long throat, "now my family is gone."

Tsulong remained staring at him for a few moments, as if choosing his words. Howland was wiping his tears with the back of his hand, taking in deep breaths, when the Arcanine finally said, "the Brotherhood isn't gone. Some are still alive, they run away! Howland, you can't give up on them yet. If they're your family, like you said, you shouldn't abandon them now. I'd much like it if you followed us... but it seems your place is here, in Duskwood." The Arcanine placed his large front leg on Howland's shoulder in a friendly gesture, then went off to bed.

Before dawn, when the night was darkest, Howland shook the sleeping Roscoe's shoulder, hoping to wake him up. He told him to be quiet, because he wouldn't want to rouse the small camp of the heroes. "Roscoe, son," Howland whispered, "sorry te wake you up. I know ye might've wanted t' find other members of our Brotherhood... but let me do that in your stead. That Durand fella made yer quest sound important. Ye tag 'long with these here heroes. I'll go with the Brotherhood. If it's a choice between me and that fiend haunting this forest, it's gonna be me." Grabbing the other Sceptile's wrist, he forced an item on his hand; his golden scythehook. "'nd take this, as a memento of our friendship."

 

[Garet]

Roscoe
On their way to Skyhaven...
~~~~~

They were bound to the ground with vines, every single one of them. Front and center was the Stranger, unable to escape as thorns dug into his bloodied arms and legs. Surrounding them all were members of the Brotherhood, waiting for the order.

As for himself, he stood before the Stranger, with Celebi and the Grass Plate within reach. His claws held a dirk that he toyed with while glaring at the cloaked figure. "Lessee if you'll bleed this time..."


Roscoe's eyes wouldn't focus at first as someone shook him awake. His claws clenched, then relaxed as he realized it was Howland telling him to be quiet. The Sceptile pushed himself up into a sitting position as he listened; he was silent for a few moments after he was given the scythehook. Huh. Can't recall much o' that dream. It was the second night in a row, too. It still burned Roscoe that the Stranger had messed with them so easily.

"Heh. Wish I had somethin' to give in return," Roscoe whispered back, eyes running over the scythehook as he turned it over in his claws. He looked up at Howland and grinned. "I'd considered runnin' off to help th' Brotherhood. Nice to know you'll do that, instead. ...If ye do happen to run into him again, give him one from me, yeah?" Roscoe tapped Howland's shoulder with a fist.

 

[Ray Maverick]

Tsulong

The morning sun rose from the east, shedding light on the little clearing the heroes had settled. Tsulong was already up and watching the grass where Howland was sleeping a few hours ago with a content smile. Next to that spot, Guardian was standing, always on the lookout for enemies. When night arrived, nobody needed worry about staying awake to make sure nobody sneaked up to them; Guardian had no need of sleep, so he kept still and vigilant as a statue, scanning the area with his senses for enemies every so often. Elder Durand knew just how much Guardian would aid us in our quest for the Plates, else he would never have parted with him. "Ahoy, Guardian," the Arcanine called out, "can you find some of those old Skyhaven ghost radio stations? Play us some song!"

Guardian's eyes and runes shone red and he produced a strange, buzzing sound. When he did find the right frequency, music started coming off of his head. It was an old folk song of Skyhaven with a fast pace, violin and some sort of bagpipe sounding. It made Tsulong happy to hear this again after all these years - this was the epic tale of Skyhaven's national holiday, the Days of the Storm. The lyrics were talking about the fairest woman on earth whose beauty was truly ethereal, and two lads, big as mountains, fighting and laying their claim upon her.

Listening to the song, Tsulong walked over to where Faolan was sitting, with his feet crossed and his eyes shut tightly. He appeared to be meditating. "Faolan, good morning."

Faolan kept his eyes shut. "'Good' morning? You're stretching it. That cacophony has upset the whole forest."

Tsulong smirked his eyebrows, slightly disturbed. How can someone call this a cacophony? He found the melody to be beautiful. "Hey. I was wondering... what did you see? That day, when Elder Durand showed us the future in the Sanctum."

Now, the Mienshao opened his eyes, turning to look at him intensely, as if judging him. "Frankly, that is none of your concern," he replied coolly. Taking in a breath, he added, "whatever it was, you can be sure it has compelled me to stick with you."

Tsulong nodded, feeling the cold grass under his feet; he'd hoped of getting to know Faolan better, as he seemed the most distant member of their group. Unexpectedly, Faolan kept talking. "Are you aware of the Legend of the Midnight Sun?"

"No."

"It's a legend of my homeland. I remember word by word, as one of my relatives narrated it once. Allow me to recount it for you. 'In a different world, a land much farther away than you have ever traveled, the nights last months, and winter is eternal. The sun's rays reached not the shores of that land. None of our kind had lived there, not even during the Making, when the very foundations of our fragile world were set. Until our ancestors brought the Midnight Sun, which, with its light, replaced your generous 'sun' and thus made life possible. My ancestors built a lighthouse, and a mild temple around it, for they did not know of your grand cities with the pretty homes. They guarded and protected the Midnight Sun as if it were their own eyes, and revered it as a God...'" the Mienshao turned to look at him. "The Midnight Sun is a hundred years old... my homeland, birthed precisely after the Seal. Is that not... quite convenient?"

"Hmh."

"I had seen it, as a child, I will have you know. The constant, never ending flames of a star so bright that could light an entire region by midnight. It was fascinating, how something can burn... forever. As a young adult, when I arrived in Altica, my perception of the world widened. In my further training, I realized that no fire-type Pokemon is possibly powerful enough to be capable of producing a never ending fire, not even if they combined powers with the psychics. No. It had to be something else... I heard the whole tale a few years ago, and put the pieces together. I am now convinced the Midnight Sun... is the Flame Plate."

"That theory sounds intriguing. We should look into it while in Skyhaven..."

"That is exactly what I plan on doing."

***

They were walking for a few days now, following the main road; the forest had ended at a point, and they crossed a bridge above the river that flowed through the lush grasslands. The scent the flowers shed there was tickling Tsulong's nostrils. The epic tale-song kept playing from Guardian's head as they walked. "This one hates to inquire," Guardian spoke with a strange tone, probably because his own head was playing the music, "but does this song not end at all?"

"It's around forty thousand words long," Tsulong told him cheerfully, "I think it ends by the time of the week."

Guardian lowered his head in silence. Obey. Serve. Protect. Those were the words carved on his chest, and he would do nothing less.

After a bit of walking and more chorus from Guardian's head, Tsulong announced, "we're nearing Skyhaven, lads."
​

In the distance, two massive statues could be seen, rising high like towers. Two lonely statues in the middle of the grasslands. Grey clouds had gathered in the sky, but at one time, they parted, some rays of light falling onto the statues. As they approached, their features started to differentiate only a bit; otherwise, they seemed to be the same Pokemon. They were Pokemon, for sure. Enormous Pokemon. They had two arms, and a cloud made of stained marble covering the bottom of their body; in popular culture, these Pokemon were called Thundurus and Tornadus.

"Look, Guardian! Two of your relatives," Tsulong laughed.

"This one observes, they do not resemble Golurks."

"They're statues, though."

Some Pokemon were gathered at the base of these statues, waving light blue flags with the symbol of a wing on them - Skyhaven's flags. They looked to be dancing to a melody, the same melody coming off of Guardian's head... one of the Pokemon, a Siglyph, flew towards them, frantically beating his wings. From a light blue band he was wearing, Tsulong could tell he was a priest. "Welcome, welcome outsiders! Isn't the sky beautiful?"

"Not right now," Tsulong replied cheekily, glancing up at the threatening, grey clouds. The priest laugh briefly.

"Oh, I think it is most beautiful at this time. The Days of the Storm are upon us, my friends! And you decided to pay homage to the Feuding Giants, have you not?"

"The Feuding Giants?" Tsulong asked, smirking his face in his usual way to convey his curiosity. "You mean the same giants with the Legend of the Feuding Giants?"
​

 

[Greiger]

Reginard Asphos​

The others were in denial, that much Reginard knew. How could they have lost when they still had the plate with them, right? Nah, she got away! She's just gone back to the timeline she left is all! Even though Roscoe was shaken up over it, Reginard doubted that he would see to reason. He doubted any of them truly believed that they had lost... and that made him a bit more angry. Why deny when the truth was there!? Surely the Paragon would have gotten and at least SHOWN she got away.

Truth be told, he was sick of the matter already. He remained a bit quiet the rest of the days. He mostly meditated during the night to recover from the barrier break in and surprisingly he was able to tune out the voices around him and just busy himself with focusing on his own well-being. He knew that while troubles plagued the others, he had to focus on himself first if he was to make the trip to Skyhaven

Eventually the group headed out with Durand once more heading back home. In a way Reginard wanted to tell him about what he had been feeling lately... and yet he dreaded to, so much so that he didn't inform the elder about any of his going ons for the past few days. He couldn't bear the shame of informing him how he had snapped over simplly not knowing the Paragon's powers. He truly wished he could go back in time and erase that moment, but for the most part he would not remind anyone of it and in turn pray that they forgot it as well.

As they walked the Guardian managed to pick up a radio station of all things and began playing a tune. Tsulong quickly got into the music as did Reginard. "Ah yes, I remember this piece. Quite a tale about a holiday in Skyhaven. You know back a long time ago there was a tale that floated around the land, a tale where two large giants that lived in the skies battled due to love. You see, back then written communication wasn't very common. Pokemon communicated with rituals as well as orally. Traditions were passed down by word of mouth but when paper was discovered traditions were instead written on it. In fact the first paper ever written was about one reigning king that ruled the area now known as Skyhaven. It talks about...."

And.... Reginard wouldn't stop talking. As the week passed he went on and on about the various instruments in use of the old days, other words that would be written until finally they were where they were now. "... of course those papers were long since burned away, but if you all were listening to the lecture yesterday you would already know that those were the precursors to the words written in the constitution today. Of course with standards around libraries being more strict it has been far harder to light anything on fire, what with water types abound and psychic types also aiding to half fires. You know one of the first librarians was actually a Kadabra that used his psychic powers to protect the books in his town? His name was Libranus. Libraries are now named after him for that very honor."

He paused as he caught sight of the festival. "Oh yes, that reminds me, I never talked about the tale did I?" He chuckled. "The tale of the Feuding Giants was first told as a story about two giants in the sky that battled for the sky itself. Most of that tale is lost to time unfortunately, and instead we have this tale. This tale has ben transformed into one about two sky giants that battle for a beautiful woman. It is a symbol of the power of Thundurus and Tornadus." He was quiet for a moment. "So... we were on the first few hundred years on the history of the paper, right?"

 

[Ray Maverick]

The city looked grand, even from a distance. It was built on the foot of what seemed to be a mountain, at first sight. Tsulong knew better; the stone castle that rose to the sky was the Pinnacle, an imposing edifice that is known to hold the Sky Plate and also serve as the home of the Paragon of the Skies, Rayquaza, even though the great green dragon hadn't been seen near Skyhaven the past fifty years. As this legendary protector is said to watch over the cities, Skyhaven gained such fame an influence that it became one of the most powerful city states of Altica; its foundations were set when tribe of the Fenju colonized the eastern grasslands. The Pinnacle existed for thousands of years before the Seal and it's long forgotten who had built it and for what reason; the Fenju colony decided it would be symbolic if they built their city underneath it, to resemble the Fenju city that had Mount Aegis towering over it.

Although before the Seal, Skyhaven was using the power of the Sky Plate to run an entire fleet of ships that could sail the skies. This fleet was the main reason Skyhaven was a feared enemy as a city state; the Lords commanding them used treacherous tactics in battle, such as fly above the clouds and suddenly dive into surprise attacks with elemental cannons that could overwhelm an army of thousands, or attack the city said armies had left unguarded. The most notable victory of Skyhaven's over the years was in the war Acanthus declared upon them, a good three hundred years ago, when they refused to ally with them against the First King Dareon's conquest in Altica. Skyhaven's air fleet had almost destroyed the citadel of the dragons, who were found unprepared for this type of combat.

The Seal marked the Sky Plate as useless, so there was no way for the fleet to operate again. Skyhaven's fleet lay dormant on the docks inside the city, a heirloom of the great era when Arceus's power was free for all to use. The city's might as a singular state dropped significantly when it yielded, close to fifty years ago, unable to counter the hideous tactics the (then) Prince Aion and his lieutenants, most notable of all Vallckran Vor'lero, used. Their choice to yield rather than fight was taken as an insult to the Altican pride by the other cities, but it seemed like the best choice at the time; the Lords were spared the gallows when Prince Aion walked proudly into the city, being the second King of Altica in three centuries to conquer it. Sparing the Lords of Skyhaven proved to be a mistake that later taught the King to be cruel, for Skyhaven rose in a bloody rebellion a good thirty years ago, which ended abruptly when the King tricked them and made his way into the city, sacking it savagely and killing all of the Lords himself. Their heirs were killed too and stripped of all titles and privileges; the King ordered the construction of a Council made of Cyalan lords that would rule in their stead. That seemed to work towards peace... the Council of Skyhaven has served Cyala faithfully, and there have been no wars with Skyhaven ever since.

"This should be fun," Tsulong said as they walked down the Golden Road, the road which connected Cyala and Skyhaven directly. "Guardian, I hope our gold is in its place?"

"Right in this one's bag," the Golurk answered, shaking the large bag that hung over his shoulder.

"Good, because this city isn't cheap."

In front of one of the city's gates, merchants had set up stands that sold all sorts of items - from garments, to lucky chants and enchanted items. The Golden Road passed right through them, so the heroes had to walk among the merchants and the people looking over their stuff... Tsulong spotted many Pokemon who threw them looks as if to say they weren't welcome here. He saw an Azumarill merchant staring them down and an Ursaring covering the eyes of her baby, pulling it away from sight. Tsulong couldn't help but wonder if these people hated them for some reason. The last time he had been in Skyhaven, they all seemed so cheerful and hospitable... then again, that was when he was six years old.

Suddenly, among the crowd, he thought he saw two glowing red eyes and a shining smile that were too familiar. "Pierce," Tsulong shouted, trying to get a good look through the crowd. Once it cleared, the ghost was visibly waiting for them by a stand.

"Greetings," he said, showing them his shady smile, "I must apologize beforehand, for my absence in Duskwood... I won't ask of how your endeavors fared, since it's..." he glanced around, never losing his smile, then back at them, "dangerous to talk of such things around here. You'll want to come with me. There's a private inn waiting for all of us inside the city. There, we may freely discuss our plan of action."

The ghost turned around and fazed through the crowd, walking to the gate. A dozen Sigilyph soldiers had their post there, asking for clearance. Tsulong glanced behind him at the others worriedly. They wouldn't be allowed into the city... would they? They would, it turned out. Pierce floated in front of one of the soldiers, whispering something into his ear confidentially. The Sigilyph nodded and gestured to Tsulong to pass through.

"Aw-right," Tsulong shouted, dashing through the crowd and into Skyhaven, with Pierce in front of him. "How did you do that?"

"You know when an old door's hinges screech as you try to open it? You then pour some oil on them and they're fine as brand new."

"I'm not sure I understand that," Tsulong replied, though Pierce might not have heard him.

The Arcanine took a moment to look around; the buildings were mostly made of white marble. Some houses were made of wood... some looked like huts, some looked rich. The main street of Skyhaven seemed to have this colorful diversity. Not a single merchant was to be seen here; Tsulong had heard somewhere that it was against the law to sell items in the main street, as there were other streets especially for that, in the east section of the city. Pierce took a turn to the west.

Walking through rich neighborhoods, the heroes finally arrived in front of a gate around a small forest-like area. Pierce glanced quickly around, saying, "alright, I don't think we were followed." Inside the small forest was a smaller house, that turned out to be their inn; Guardian hurried inside, saying he had to hide his bag well enough. "Make sure nobody sees you enter or leave... I imagine heroes like us won't be welcome in Skyhaven real soon," Pierce said darkly.
​

 

[Greiger]

Reginard Asphos​

Ah yes, gold. It was a language in Skyhaven. Reginard had heard tales of such commerce being done in this city, but when he had first arrived he had quickly realized how ill prepared he had been. Most of the items in this town had cost well over what he had brought, but at the same time he hadn't minded. He had met very good friends here, and it was due to their charity that he was at least not jailed for stealing items. Still... back then he had neglected to read certain books at their library. He had been young in spirit back then, still so young in his journey and eager to try out many things. He had reasoned that the library would still be here when he returned, and he hoped that much was true.

Then they came upon a old friend. It was Pierce and Reginard had to focus his mind a bit. The way Pierce talked and how everyone acted... it was rather strange. When he had last come here he had been welcomed, but now... it was like he was some sort of plague bringer. What had happened during those few years that had upset the citizens so? If they were afraid of random strangers, then he could be sure that it was something caused by the king's meddling.

What dangers could be encountered of talking about things in Duskwood? For a ghost, he was being more shady then usual. Still, it was up to him to lead them to where they needed to go. As they went along Reginard just frowned at all of the distrust in the air. Something big had happened... something had turned celebration into fear. He gripped his staff harder and once they got to the soldier he knew something was up. Last time soldiers hadn't been here... and the few that moved around were friendly enough. Not enough to break out into dance mind you, but friendly in pointing visitors to important sights or just having a calm presence.

He watched as Pierce whispered into one of the soldier's ears and they were let inside. It didn't seem to bother Tsulong... but Reginard immediately knew what he had witnessed. Corruption. He had seen such things in other cities where crime ran rampant. Simply go up to a guard, put a few coins in his hand or whisper about a bribe in his ear and he would turn away and walk from the area even if someone screamed for help. He gripped his staff even tighter as he followed the others inside. Pierce... Pierce had left them to come here. He had to have been here before then if he could get in so easily without them. It was possible... but such a thought caused Reginard to frown. Was Pierce caught up in the corruption in this city? It made sense the more he thought of it. A private inn? Getting them past guards? Knowing where to talk? He had to have some sort of illicit connection here.

Reginard suddenly found himself putting a reassuring grip on his scroll case as he glanced around. Were they being followed now? Why lead them away from the public to this inn? Without others around them, then they would be easily heard by others too... or perhaps that was what was meant to happen?

As the other heroes went along with Pierce Reginard began to slow down. Instead he sent a brief message to Tsulong, I have to depart with you all for now, just something I have to do right now With that thought he cut off the communication and quickly scanned around him as well as inside his own mind. Ensuring no one had tagged him with a link as he had passed into the city, he quickly teleported to a place he knew keenly enough.

As he reappeared in front of a house he could still see several citizens around him, but he was quick to approach the door and lightly tapped on it. "Emil... it is I, Reginard. Could you open up?" He called out. Ah yes, his friend Emil had actually shown him around the city last time he had been present. They had toured around the important places and he even shared some of his scrolls with the Rhydon. Who had thought a rock type could have been so intelligent? Still, if anyone would be able to tell him what was going on, it would be him. It was not meant to be an insult toward Pierce... but he couldn't trust him. Not quite yet.

After a while the door opened and a Rhydon looked out, "Reginard?" He asked as he looked about, "What are you doing here?"

As he spoke Reginard noticed an odd tone in his voice. It seemed to be that just talking to him was making him scared?

"... Is everything al-"

"Of course everything isn't alright!" Snapped the rock type. Reginard quickly fell silent at that and Emil sighed, "J-Just get in here alright? Not really alright to talk outside you know?" He grabbed onto Reginard's forearm and tugged him and quickly closed the door behind him. He pulled the psychic into the larger living room where a bag was half filled with contents from around his house.

"Moving?"

"You could say preparing." Emil grunted. "After the embassy deaths no one is being calm right now."

Reginard frowned, "Deaths? What are you talking about?"

The Rhydon paused and looked at him more intently, "You... you didn't hear about it!?" He rubbed at his face, "The Cyalan embassy is gone Reginard. Everyone was slaughtered there. They caught someone, not sure who. But I ain't sticking around for much longer. The war is coming here, I'm sure of it! Someone must have wanted to cause chaos in Skyhaven, I'm sure of it! I won't be around to get killed ya know! But what are you doing here? I mean, you couldn't have come at a worse time!"

Reginard sighed, "Information. Is the library still accessible?"

The Rhydon absently nodded, "Yeah. Just... you have gold right?"

Reginard smiled weakly, "I remember from last time. I have some in this case of mine, tightly packed to keep it from shaking around."

"Good then. Get that info you need and get out! Everything is tense, like a bomb I would say. One small slip... one little flinch and everything goes to hell!"

Reginard sighed, "Friend, you must have more faith than that! I have to investigate some things, but today can I just help you to calm down? Don't you think you are being overly dramatic?"

"Eh, you can talk once you help me get my stuff in these bags."

Reginard thus helped to pack the rest of the bags and with that down he sat down with his friend to talk about what he had been doing lately.

"Stranger eh? Heard a story or two about him. I say you take off and get far away from him."

Reginard sighed, "I owe it to Durand. I won't leave the others."

The rock type shook his head, "Fine. You go after him then. Just... be careful. Trust no one in this city. Something is starting up, and I want to get out before everything explodes. You staying with someone?"

He frowned, "Hoping I can stay with you tonight. I was meeting a friend in here... but I don't like how he's acting... I think there is something happening with him, something far from good."

The Rhydon sighed, "Fine, you can stay this one night. But tomorrow I'm moving out. It's never hit Skyhaven this close before. Look... come with me. We could find some place else to hang out you know? And I don't want you staying in this city past today. It's not safe. Call it my sixth sense if you will."

Reginard frowned, "I'll see about that then. But thank you."

Emil nodded, "Anytime. Hey, you seen my rock collection? I though I had it around here somewhere..."

 

[Garet]

Roscoe
The Road to SkyHaven
~~~~~

Soon after they'd continued on, Roscoe had returned to his usual friendly self. It still nagged him that they didn't actually know for sure what had happened to the Paragon of the Forest, but the way he saw it, they couldn't do anything about it for now. Unless the matter came up again, Roscoe would focus on moving on.

Well, for the most part. The Sceptile kept his distance from Reginard as much as possible; it was clear that Roscoe held a grudge against him for holding him back from the battle of the Forest's Heart. Roscoe found the music that Guardian had tapped into to be great. Other than the Alakazam's extensive commentary. At other times, mostly when the heroes were camping for the night, Roscoe began practicing with the scythehook that Howland had left him. No point in carrying around a weapon if he wasn't going to use it, right?

And always, throughout the entire trip, Roscoe felt the aura of the Grass Plate.

~~~~~

As Reginard launched into more dialogue about the Feuding Giants, Roscoe rolled his eyes up at the gloomy sky. He has t' shut up sooner or later, don't he? The Sceptile kept an eye on the wares the heroes passed on their way along the Golden Road. His scythehook lied inside his sack, waiting for a belt that Roscoe could clip it onto.

He actually slowed for a moment as one stand caught his eye, showing a variety of accessories and garments, but the hostile glare that the vendor gave him was enough for Roscoe to move on. For that matter, now that he looked for it, there were plenty of Pokemon whose faces didn't look welcoming. What, were the heroes too intimidating or something?

When Pierce showed up, Roscoe's tongue flicked out as he cocked his head. "Yeah, where were y-- " The Sceptile cut himself off; the Gengar wasn't interested in talking just yet, it seemed. Roscoe shrugged as he met Tsulong's glance. Personally, he was curious as to what in the world was making the citizens jumpy.

 

[Sir Bastian]

Vincent 'Vince' The Wanderer, Roscoe & Tsulong - Skyhaven Inn

Minutes later, when they had come to the inn inside the small forest, Roscoe paused as Pierce made a final statement. This situation was sketchy... "Pardon me," Roscoe said, without a hint of apology, "but what exactly d'ya mean by that? I'd say we're already unwelcome, judgin' by the looks we got."

Vincent, having been oddly quiet since the group arrived in Skyhaven, was just about to ask exactly the same question. He'd never disliked Pierce, but he'd definitely been wary of the trickster, and now was definitely not an exception.

The Gengar scratched his head, looking at Roscoe sideways in an awkward manner. "Truth is, things here have become tense. The natives are wary of outsiders at times such as these... look, how about we meet up here, by midnight? I'll explain every bit of my plan to you, so that we may all work merrily together."

Roscoe blew a sigh, rubbing his neck with one claw. "You won't say why they're tense yet, will you, Pierce." It wouldn't be too surprising, especially as the Gengar had left them in Duskwood.

Vincent climbed down from Guardian's shoulder and softly landed on the ground, folding his arms across his chest while looking up at the ghost. Most of the bruises and shallow injuries he attained after the battle with Vallckran had gone away, as had the pain he'd felt. "Sounds like we don't have much of a choice." He shrugged, putting on a smile. "At least that gives us enough time to get some food and something to drink." He glanced over at the inn in anticipation, a small grin spreading on his lips. "Who's with me?"

"Me!" Tsulong roared, pounding his foot on the ground once, "I'm starving! Let's go get our bellies full. This inn's serving meat and mead, don't they? Or, we could go someplace else."

After getting his vague answer from Pierce, Roscoe had moved on and stepped through the door of the inn, getting his first good look at what he presumed to be their living quarters for the next while. It was simple a two story building made of wood, a chimney with smoke billowing out of it.

The Sceptile turned back to Vincent and Tsulong. "Why not here?" he asked, raising his claws to indicate the room with a small smirk. One reason immediately popped into mind: this could be a set-up. They would be isolated well enough in here that only someone who came looking would know if anything happened to them. Tsulong didn't share Roscoe's doubts; he marched confidently into the house and demanded to see the innkeeper.

They were greeted by a cheerful female Azumarill wearing a white apron and a chef's hat. "Welcome, strangers. Have a seat." She showed them to the tables near the entrance. "I'm the innkeeper... the only other Pokemon in the house. My guests have all the privacy they require," she spoke proudly.

Tsulong glanced at Roscoe and Vincent with a slick grin. "Makes me think Pierce knew what he was doing when he chose this place," he whispered.

"Oh, he probably did. For better or for worse." Vincent muttered back before turning to the Azumarill, offering her a smile, bowing his head lightly to her. "It's a lovely little place you have here. I think the three of us will be more than happy to try out both a meal and a drink of yours." With that, he turned to the table offered to them, climbing into one of the chairs at the wall to give Tsulong and Roscoe the space he needed due to their sizes, glancing to the innkeep again. "I'll have a glass of rum, and... give me a surprise dish. Something that'll fill me up though."

The Azumarill innkeeper nodded happily and turned to the others for their order. "One flask of Flame Quiver would be nice," Tsulong said. "As for food, I'll have me some steak."

"How do you like your steak, sir?"

"Alive." Tsulong snarled, then started laughing, Vincent and Roscoe chuckling along as well. "Just kidding. Leave some blood on it."

"That rare?" Roscoe quipped, raising an eyebrow. "Like cooking your own steak, do you?"

"Hm...you have fried bird of some sort, don't you? An' a glass of..." After a moment of consideration, he surprised himself by saying, "A glass of water. Plain, straight water."

The innkeeper rubbed her hands and left with a smile. Tsulong leaned his snout over the table to watch the other two, his expression getting rather serious. "I want to hear you out. Do you think Pierce is up to something? I don't want to suspect him, but..."

Roscoe let out a "Pfft" a moment before the Dewott spoke. "Honestly?" Vincent rested his arms on the table, glancing over at Tsulong, furrowing his brows. "I'm not sure. But he's helped us, and the Brotherhood out more than enough for me to give him the benefit of the doubt. If it turns out he's done... something to set us up, we'll deal with that as it comes. First thing's first though, I need a new weapon. I don't know if you noticed, but my shells are... missing."

"He's a ghost," Roscoe said bluntly. "They have a tendency t' be unexpected, far as I'm concerned. Yah, he's up t' something. Question's whether he's doin' it for us, an' Vince here has a point about that." After a moment, he turned fully to face the Dewott. "I've been wonderin' about that, actually. What happened back there?"

Taking a little breath of air, Vincent leaned back in his seat, glancing between Tsulong and Roscoe, the cheery disposition from their trip to Skyhaven seeming to have taken a backseat. "I don't know if you noticed, but another Crimson Captain showed up. A monster of a Garchomp named Vallckran." Roscoe let out a quiet whistle at the name. "We have... history. I tried luring him off, away from the fight, to prevent the Brotherhood and you lot from being hurt. I thought I could get away from him in the thick of the forest, but he forced me into a duel. He destroyed one of my shells and disarmed me from the other. I don't know what happened to it." He frowned a little, raising a hand to rub his chest where the wound Vallckran had delivered to him had been. "... I've had those shells since I was little."

He shook his head to try and rid himself of the gloom starting to settle over him, sending them both a wry little smile. "Bad judgement call on my side, but hey, kept you guys out of the frying pan for a while, right?"

"Right," Tsulong agreed, "at least the loss of your shells wasn't in vain. I know of Vallckran, I've worked with him, he's no pushover." The air was filled with smells, suddenly, as their plates arrived one by one, along with their drinks. Tsulong leaned over his bowl to sip a little of his fiery red wine that was the Flame Quiver, then he fell on his bloodied steak like an animal feasting, without caring too much for manners. After he had taken a great chunk of meat and chewed on it, he washed it down with a large sip of the Flame Quiver, which got him feeling hot, as if he'd been set on fire. "Another," he said to the innkeeper, who came running with another bowl of his drink, which he downed in one go.

Talk of Vallckran and Vincent's current lack of weapons was put on hold. Roscoe edged away an inch in jest at Tsulong's display of 'manners' before turning his attention to his own plate. He didn't dig in so ravenously, but the Sceptile disregarded eating utensils when it came to eating his fried bird, using his claws instead. Roscoe had already drained his glass of water by the time Tsulong asked for another. "More, please," he requested, taking another drink of water once the innkeeper returned with it.

Vincent smiled and shook his head at Tsulong's clear thirst and hunger, though it was hard for him to deny that he felt the way Tsulong looked right now. Licking his lips, he looked over the large potato-and-meat stew put out in front of him, along with his glass, happily digging into his meal, taking a good swig of his drink every so often, though he still kept his manners as he ate, despite his hunger. The entire conversation between the three was put on hold as they all seemed too hungry and thirsty to focus on more than eating and drinking right now, which was a-okay with Vincent at the moment.

Then, someone came through the door with heavy steps; the size of his figure was enough to draw Tsulong's drunken attention. He turned his head to see someone standing tall just past the doorstep, just looking at them. It was a mighty, large Charizard with unusual eyes, deep blue with yellow cores. They were meaningful eyes that seemed to penetrate right through you; his facial features were strong but rather gentle, surprisingly. His muscles were obvious in his arms and thighs, his tail heavy and burning with a whitish blue flame at the tip, instead of a red one. Even though he was just staring at them, Tsulong could tell that Pokemon was powerful, and dangerous. Tsulong realized he wasn't looking at them, rather than him specifically, and that brought a puzzled and wary expression on his snout. He tried to understand, what this look meant, but he seemed to be lacking something. Finally, after a moment that seemed to last forever, the large Charizard walked over to one of the tables near them and sat down on the ground quietly, without uttering a single word.

The innkeeper came along happily, greeting the Charizard the same way she had greeted the heroes before. "Ser Raleigh," she called out, "I was worried you might not come back." The Charizard was a knight, namely Ser Raleigh, then. Tsulong was ashamed to say he had never heard of him... which was strange, because Pokemon like this Charizard would be famous in Altica.

Ser Raleigh let out a sound that seemed to be something between a snort and a laugh. "The sessions have been rather tiring, yes... as for my well being, you need not concern yourself with that. My concern alone suffices." Tsulong was surprised to hear his voice. He spoke eloquently, with a soft and gentle tone. Looking at him again, he got the impression that Ser Raleigh had every quality of a Pokemon worthy of a crown. Regardless, he told the innkeeper off.

"I thought we'd be alone," he said to her, gesturing at the Charizard with his head.

"You are," the innkeeper replied, rather seriously. Ser Raleigh turned to them.

"I was never here," he said, fixing his intense, blue gaze on them. Then, he turned to the innkeeper casually. "The usual." She nodded and headed off.

Having only looked up once since Raleigh entered the inn, Vincent was focusing on his meal, waving his hand dismissively while swallowing a bite of his food. "It's fine either way. We're only enjoying our meal and a good conversation with one another, no?"

Roscoe raised an eyebrow. "Never here, hm?" he muttered to himself, giving the Charizard a good look once Raleigh had turned away. He felt fine, himself, so the three of them couldn't be hallucinating about the Charizard's presence. Taking another bite, Roscoe glanced down at the bird that was already two-thirds gone. He hadn't attacked the side of salad so much, but he was eating it.

"I s'pose we are. Either of ya see where th' big guy went?" Roscoe meant Guardian, of course.

"Knowing him, he'll be evaluating our rooms," Tsulong said, a bit tipsy from the wine. "He'll want to check for their safety... I guess..." he drunk another bowl of Flame Quiver and chuckled as he finished his meal. "You know, I never thought I'd be... like this. A hero, on a quest." He chuckled again, oblivious to the Charizard who had stopped eating for just a second. He felt emotions rush through him, the same with every time he drank too much wine. "It feels funny, yeah? Agree? So much is at stake, and we're here... eating, drinking..." his voice trailed off as he stared outside the window. Night was falling quickly, dusk gathering on the apple trees outside. "I'm so incomplete," he confessed sadly to his partners. "Elder Durand always thought highly of me... but what does he know? He just found me washed up on a shore. That's... that's unfair. I've no parents. I wanted to meet my parents. To see what they're like."

Vincent patted his stomach after finishing his stew, pushing the plate further into the table and turning slightly to rest somewhat back against the wall to better be able to face his friends, a new glass of rum in hand, which he took a sip of, though he definitely did not seem as tipsy as Tsulong. "Not a single Pokémon alive can call themselves 'complete', Tsulong. That said, I know how you feel. I lost my parents when I was little, and... I don't honestly know if I would have preferred not knowing them at all. I try not to think too much about it though. It's in the past, mmh?" He raised his glass, taking another little sip.

Roscoe hardly paused in his own eating, but it seemed he was the only one who paid any more attention to the Charizard. Of course, he was the only one of the three who wasn't drinking any alcohol at the moment. Pushing his empty plate away, Roscoe's eyes flicked between Tsulong and Vincent. Parents...

"Eh, might as well, since you two have." Roscoe swirled the water in his glass for a second. "Grew up without knowing my father, myself. Granted, I did have a father-figure later in life, but I'd always wondered who my real father was. My mother wouldn't ever say."

"Heh, then I suppose we all have something in common," Tsulong muttered. Just then, the Charizard in the other table got up, having finished his meal, and walked over to the stairs, disappearing in the second floor. The wood cracked beneath his heavy feet, so he could still be heard when he went upstairs.

Tsulong burped, without noticing Pierce had joined them quietly. "Huh?" he let out, once he saw the Gengar smiling at him.

"Hello to you too," Pierce said, seemingly oblivious to whatever suspicion the heroes showed him. In fact, he seemed rather happy. "Pardon my absence, gents. I was off to the Council. I'll soon share my plans with you... but first, let us wait for everyone to gather round... I wouldn't like repeating myself."

​

 

[Ray Maverick]

Faolan

The east part of the city, the so called 'West Wind District', was where all the trade of Skyhaven happened. The district was full of stores, shops, stands, and no proper houses to speak of. The carnival of the Days of the Storm wasn't allowed here, by law. This place was made for dealings, not celebrations. However, the square was still full of merchants crying out their wares and ordering their assistants around. The assistants constantly erased and wrote on chalkboards raised next to the stands; the prices of the wares were all written there. Faolan had understood that they were changing constantly, depending how everything on the market went. It was a single struggle for all the merchants, who sold their merchandise based on rumors.

Nearby, a Swanna merchant who was selling feathers leaned over her stand to listen to a Pawniard whisper something into her ear. Faolan subtly slipped past them, overhearing a bit of their conversation. "... the King asks the Plate of the Council," the dark-type said, "you'd best pack your things and move to Cyala. I dunno if people here will need feathers any time soon."

The Swanna cried something to her assistant, a Smeargle, who sketched something on the chalkboard. Faolan glanced, seeing the price of feathers going up. He truly had no idea why this happened. The way business happened in Skyhaven always confused him. One thing he knew for sure, was that the Trade Prince had mastered this trade; he'd heard Januario came to Altica as a foreigner, a nobody with little more than a few coppers in his pouch, who begun his business right here in the West Wind District as a heirloom merchant. He bought and sold heirlooms, then somehow acquired sufficient money to buy an auction block. Then, he acted as an art critic and painting auctioneer. That's how Januario made millions of golden berries in a few years only, before he even expanded his cache to all types of businesses, outside Skyhaven. The previous Trade Prince of Altica was found butchered in the Scrapeyard, the city's dump.

Even though the Trade Prince is present in all trades of Altica, his base is in Skyhaven, as naturally it is the city where the gold flows better than water. Right into his pockets, that is... and knowing the Trade Prince, Faolan had deduced that he would be here at this hour, dominating the market. If somebody on Altica was aware of any news regarding the Midnight Sun, that would be Januario. Faolan intended to ask for that ship that would take him back to his homeland Januario had promised him back in Mistwatch Keep.

He walked through the various stands and stores on the square, his eyes open and his senses extended. He'd noticed a certain aura that was constantly close to him - somebody was following him, he could feel it. Suddenly turning right over a merchant who sold garments, the Mienshao was lost from sight. The garments were hanging from the ceiling, so they were his perfect cover. Whoever was following him would be peer in the lines of garment... he knew who she was.

Faolan grabbed her from her neck and pulled her inside the labyrinth of hanging clothes, slipping behind her and trapping her in a grip which she couldn't escape from. Alysanne. He could break half the bones of the gorgeous Mienshao right now.His heart started beating faster, his senses focusing on her enticing aura and smell, but he didn't release her from his grip.

"You should know better than to stalk me," he said sternly.

The female Mienshao had turned her head to look back at him, biting her underlip. Her face was driven with what seemed to be desire, her red eyes glowing with submission and defeat. Her entire person seemed to mess with Faolan's morals as their bodies pressed together. The need to satisfy this forbidden desire of his overwhelmed him for a second. Alysanne seemed to feel his doubts. "Is this your favorite position, Faolan?" the courtesan moaned. Faolan immediately released his grip of her, the moment gone; Alysanne had turned to face him. Now that there was some distance between them, Faolan could notice her wrists. Each had a golden bracelet with pretty gems on them; her belt was also golden, with a great ruby to match her red eyes. All gifts from the Trade Prince for her services, no doubt.

She had that naughty expression on that complimented all of her delicate features, making her look devilishly beautiful.

"You don't hate women after all," she giggled, "your body doesn't lie, Faolan."

"I detest women paid for being beautiful," Faolan stated solidly, then pointed at her, "and you are no exception."

"But being beautiful is not all I do... let me show you," Alysanne whispered, stepping towards him, ready to touch him. Faolan grabbed her wrist and twisted it enough to make her cry out and kneel; strangely, he found himself caring that he did not hurt her. His voice revealed nothing of his thoughts.

"Perhaps you do not understand," he said intensely, "but allow me to state it clearly. I will have no intercourse with your kind." He released her wrist, and she got up on her feet; she was hurt, obviously. After a pause, Faolan continued. "The Trade Prince promised me a ship. Has he made good on his promise?"

"Eager to leave us, aren't you?" Alysanne said, kind of bitterly. For a moment, Faolan was almost sure she wouldn't want to see him go. No, she is nothing but a courtesan, Faolan thought to himself. She is not allowed to have feelings. "No, Januario hasn't made good on his promise. There will be no ship for you."

Faolan's eyes flashed with fury. "And why is that?" he seethed. With no ship to take him there, the Midnight Sun would remain in his homeland. Alysanne seemed pleased with his show of anger, as if she liked it when he was angry.

"You're after the Midnight Sun... indeed, it is the Fire Plate as I am sure you have concluded yourself. But, the Midnight Sun is no more."

"What?!"

"It has been stolen. No use in sending you to a four month trip to the end of the world, only to return with empty hands."

Faolan grabbed her shoulders, his mouth tightened in fury and panic as he looked into her red eyes. "Who stole it? Who?"

She remained silent for a moment, examining him. "Master Zhao."
​

 

[Greiger]

Reginard Asphos​

Reginard had waited in Emil's house when the rock type had left with strict orders to stop any possible Cyalan soldiers from coming in and raising havoc. Of course Reginard had nodded his head here and there, but when Emil had come back he was more skittish than before. He was determined now to get out by tomorrow and after some pestering Emil finally told him.

"The king himself is coming Reginard!" He snapped. "He's coming with a full army! He's going to take the Sky Plate and line us all up and execute us for disobedience! I'm not sticking around to have my guts wrenched out and my head on a pike! In fact, the king ordered those murders in the embassy! If he could get someone in there without so much as raising an alarm, then soldiers could be in the city right now! They could be just waiting, then hit us while we're sleeping. Come to think of it, I should leave by tonight! Heard the assassin was some Lucario named Zeal, that he completely obliterated everyone and when he tried to escape the guards caught him and put him in the dungeon. It's too dangerous to stay, I know that much!"

Reginard sighed, "Emil, these sound only like rumors. Is it not possible a Lucario was marched past the embassy when he got arrested for some other crime? Or that this... Zeal is a name someone came up with?"

Emil grunted, "Prices are going up Reginard. Good thing I saw a thing like this coming a long while away! Food and stuff is already packed and I'm good to go!"

Reginard held up a hand, "Emil... think about this for a while. You're leaving your home. Why not see what happens?"

Emil frowned, "Look... it was bound to happen one day Regi. I know that. You do what you have to do, and I'll do my own thing."

Reginard nodded, "Of course. I have to go to the library now. I must find information there."

As he stepped out the Rhydon shouted out to him, "Hey! Be careful! Don't get gutted out there!"

Reginard pictured the library in his mind and in an instant was before it. He glanced at the guards around and went inside. To say it was large would be an understatement. The library had multiple levels, multiple rooms, and all sorts of books from all over housed in it. There were ladders leading up to high rooms and stairs all around. Reginard made his way down to a lower level and quickly made his way to the mythology section. He pulled out several books here and there, then went over to the ancient history sections and pulled out a bit more. With that he went to one of the more than plentiful empty tables and sat down. Thus he began his studying.

He was quickly able to discover which books were not needed at the moment, so he would put those back up and take some more out in their steed. From there it became a cycle, mainly looking upon the table of contents and seeing if it was worth it. He found a few books on the plates... but most of it was standard information, myths that contined to be circulated.

With every page turned his frustration only increased. He only saw stories he knew or stories he knew by now that were false entirely. By that point instead of putting the books back up he would start stacking them on the floor. It soon got to the point that he just dropped them on the ground and soon enough to the point of angrily throwing them across the room. Many books were scattered about now and the Alakazam rubbed at his forehead. The only lights down here were the candles that lined against the walls that cast his shadow against the table.

Reginard continued to take books down and only succeed in finding nothing more. Finally he had enough, he tossed one last book aside and laid his head against the table. He crossed his arms and let out a weary sigh. As he stared at one of the candles a memory came back to him. In his frustrated state it seemed easier to remember now... which Reginard at any other time would have considered odd but for now he didn't care. The Stranger's words came back to him and with them, that dream... well, he couldn't really say it was a dream, more like an illusion cast before his eyes. With what they discovered about the Mukrows later on in the forest Reginard was almost certain now that it had been another illusion.

That darkness... the walls... and the Mukrows. Oh the Mukrows. He shuddered as he remembered the scene around him, the pain his body seemingly had gone through, but what really stood out was the voice. He rubbed at his head as he remembered the deep demanding voice. It was painful to remember, but his memory was still there. He was asking for a disc... a disc that Reginard had no clue about. But... he was here at the library now... was there anything on discs here?

He made his way upstairs to the technology section, but already his weariness was catching up to him. He sat back on down and flipped through the books he got, throwing most of them away, but one stuck out to him. It was in the table of contents... something about disks. He quickly flipped though the pages and read line after line.

Mostly it was talking about old discs found in desert ruins or other places, and he quickly got frustrated as well. Still... they had to be something in here about that disc so he read on and on. Though as he read he came upon descriptions of other disks... disks that apparently could teach moves, disks that would hold words to a story, disks that held memories. By the end of it he was rubbing his aching head. So what? The Stranger was looking for a disk that could teach a move, had something written on it, or had a few memories on it? If that was the case... then what was he looking for exactly?

The only thing with disks for memory was that only psychics, ghosts, and dark types could use the disks, and anyone else would see what was implanted on the disk itself.

The information there confused him for a moment, but then he thought about it. His own memories had been missing, a small chunk but still missing. Was it possible... was it possible that he had not met Uxie... but he had found something out? He was a psychic... so could it have been possible he had learned something? Something so drastic that he had to hide his own memories on such a disk?

Reginard gripped the table a bit as he continued his train of thought. That meant the Stranger was after what was on the disk... and that must have meant whatever he had witnessed or knew was very important! He could have met a legendary or some other sort of being or even knew where a plate was, but wiped his memory clean so the Strander wouldn't find it! Maybe the Stranger had even been trying to find it and he had managed to relocate it to some other place or land!

The Alakazam chuckled to himself and leet out a weary yawn. Well, that mystery was taken care of, now it was only going out to find this disk and finding out what he knew. It was just another point of evidence to prove that they could beat the Stranger. The Alakazam let his head rest against the table, just for a while of course. He had to refresh his mind to get ready to find the other answers he sought. Though as soon as his eyes closed he fell into a deep sleep.

 

[Ray Maverick]

Pierce

The two Pidgeys were sitting peacefully on their nest, cuddling with each other for warmth. Pierce had fazed through the tree, using his gaseous body to become one with the branch; the birds were oblivious to his presence. He snickered quietly, unsettling them. They started looking around frantically for the source of the laughter. Then, he popped up between them, screaming "Boo," and sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes in a grimace that horrified the birds and sent them flying away in sheer terror. Pierce's cackling laughter echoed in the garden for a few seconds, until he was out of breath. The prankster sat on the branch, enjoying the fresh breeze, the moody sky that was gradually darkening.

He looked on the ground, realizing he had accidentally knocked the bird's nest down. It had fallen on a grass patch... in front of someone's feet.

"Faolan!" the Gengar exclaimed merrily, "I trust you had a good stroll around? Isn't Skyhaven lovely?"

The Mienshao didn't look particularly happy. In fact, something seemed to be troubling him; Pierce could tell by his face, because usually Faolan was focused. "Yes, lovely," Faolan muttered, picking up the nest in front of him. Pierce dropped from the branch he was sitting on to snatch it off his hands and rose to sit on the branch again, placing the nest next to him. His delicate fingers brushed on the inside, his wide smile waning, tortured by the weight of thought. Turning to Faolan, he said, "this nest is like Skyhaven."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"It's a comfortable place to be... and occupied by sweethearts. However, a certain somebody arrives without notice..." he raised his eyebrows in a pretended suspense, "and scares them away, then knocks it over."

Faolan raised his head to look at him with a lost look on his face. The ghost laughed again, suddenly understanding what was up with him. "I take it that you met Alysanne?"

Faolan tried to protest, but Pierce raised a hand, waving his finger in a gesture. "No, I know. Whatever else could shake the mighty Faolan?" he snickered teasingly. Faolan looked angry for just a moment, but then he settled down.

"She is messing with me. The Trade Prince has put her up to this."

Pierce shrugged in a fashion, chewing on his lip. "I wouldn't be so sure, if I were you..." he said, using a subtle, soft tone to get his message across. "I'd say she does this... voluntarily. Tread lightly, though. In terms of cunning, she's a Seviper."

He got a hard look from the Mienshao. "I once tied a Seviper's body a knot around a pole. Let her pull any dirty tricks on me, and I might do the same to her."

The ghost laughed playfully, jumping off of the branch. "So, you'll set her straight?"

"No, I'll steer clear of her." Faolan walked him to the path that led to the inn, where the heroes were going to spend the night.

"Good luck, I guess," Pierce snickered.

***

The Azumarill innkeeper greeted them happily, doing a curtsy when she saw Pierce. The Gengar nodded, shooting her an acknowledging smile that could come off as charming.

"Hello," she said, "will you two have a drink?"
​

"Water," Faolan said curtly and headed for the table where he was greeted by Tsulong.

Pierce rubbed his chin, glancing at the bar. "Something poisonous, perhaps... the Bat's Cocktail."

"Right away, sir," she said and left hurriedly.

"Poison?" Tsulong shouted drunkenly, "you sure you wanna be drinking that?"
​

"Look at me! I'm all poison," Pierce laughed, spreading his arms as he slipped quietly between the tables and chars to reach them. Once he had taken a seat in their table, the innkeeper came hurrying back with Faolan's water and Pierce's drink. It was colored a deep purple with a majestic orange hue, the touch of fruit Pierce liked.

"My gratitude," Pierce said, nodding.

"Do you require anything further?"

"Only privacy," he quickly responded, then turned the lights of his wide smile to the others at the table as the innkeeper left.

"Where is Reginard?

"Reginard... Reginard said he'll be gone, I think," Tsulong responded unsteadily. "Don't remember where, now..."

Pierce rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes focusing on his glass. Reginard likes books. I imagine he'll be at it all night... that is quite convenient. Taking a sip from his poisonous drink, he looked up at the others rather guiltily. "I guess I owe an explanation to all of you." He leaned in over the table, braiding his dark hands together. "I am an opportunist. I saw profit in a partnership with Januario, so I made it happen. Let me make this clear, though: I have no intention of abandoning our quest. Everything I do and will do is for furthering our cause and enhancing our chances for success." He looked at them with a strange glow in his eyes, studying each of them.

"All good, then. Now, I think an update on what's been going on in the city is in order. The main event is that the Cyalan Embassy has been massacred. Around thirty people dead, including the Ambassador."

"Aw," Tsulong let out, smirking his brows. "Who did it?"

"The Winged Hussars found somebody on the scene. A Lucario, namely Gaius. Get this, he's a hero, like us, sent here by Durand. This tells us a lot by itself. It tells us that he can't possibly be guilty. I took a trip to the Embassy and had a look-and-see; the place reeks of psychic energy, and the Ambassador burned and smashed to death. There was a word close by, apparently formed by his blood, 'Zeal'. The Council insists it's a name. Others say it is what the Ambassador was killed for: his zeal, whatever that might mean." Oddly, the Gengar didn't lose his smile as he was saying this. Pierce took a slow sip from his drink, remembering the nest...

He continued talking casually. "Lucarios are fight and steel-types. That being said, we can safely assume that our friend Gaius is innocent. And I say 'friend', because it is our best interest to recruit him to our cause. Before that, though, we'll have to save him from the Council trying to relieve him of his head. His trial is in two days... we should be there."

"What of the Sky Plate? When do we go after it?" Tsulong asked.

Pierce flashed him a cunning smile. "All in good time."

Ser Mantarys
​

The halls of Hellcrown were getting darker by the minute, shadows creeping its black walls. There were no candles, only this wan, distant, reddish light coming from the windows. The constant whirr coming from below the castle made you think the earth itself was humming. It was. Many castles and keeps had trenches filled with water; Hellcrown had lava - hot, molten fire that was ofttimes shot upwards in geysers, sometimes reaching the bridge and the castle's walls, leaving them more black than they were before. It wasn't always like this, though, no. Only recently did the mountain Hellcrown was built onto awoke and lava flooded the crater beneath it, after almost three hundred years of calm and cool. Residents of Altica saw it as a curse, claimed a demon was set loose, but the King saw it as a blessing. Mayhaps he was the demon. The King liked his seat to be warm. As for the armies he commanded... lava was a mighty element to compliment a fire-type King. Not only that, Hellcrown at last lived up to its name. If you were not able to aid the King anyhow and you found yourself in here, you were in hell. Either to be tortured or killed.

King Aion had no interest in justice as of late. He had ceased to hold Court for a while now, leaving the lords and their knights to deliver justice in Cyala as they saw fit. As such, the castle was almost empty, save for the finest of servants. You would think that an empty castle is a quiet castle... but even if he ignored the whirr of lava, it wasn't.

A group of hooded acolytes of all sizes scurried past the Krookodile, robes concealing the species. Bloody Hellcrown, where do they come from? Ser Mantarys almost cussed. He remembered what the Stranger had told him once, about Hellcrown. "You are never alone in here," he'd said. The silent acolytes were headed for the end of the corridor, where a flute was playing beautifully, accompanied with girly laughter and the sound of utensils. It seemed they were going to join the feast. Ser Mantarys welcomed a feast after a battle. Though, his legs had cramped up badly after the battle. His sable shadowskin cloak licked the dark ground as he paced slowly to the half open door. Inside, it was the well known enormous hall with the long but empty tables full of the choicest food in the Kingdom. Duck on the table, Mantarys noted, saliva dripping down his jaw at the sight of the roasted Swanna. The hooded acolytes had all taken seats but were staring at particularly nothing. He jerked his head to a servant, his eyes wide open and shining. The girls aren't bad either. When he looked back at the table, he glimpsed a Garchomp, Captain Vallckran, being seated a little farther away. He ignored him. King Aion was nowhere to be seen... that was strange, King Aion lived for feasts like these, even if the acolytes were boring company.

Next to the flute player, there was a Persian sitting on her hind legs patiently. "Ser," she called out once she saw him, but Mantarys caught her off.

"Yes, you," he motioned his claws at her, "come here, beauty. And you," he pointed at the flute player, a Combusken who looked at him horrified for a moment, afraid he had displeased him. Displeasure meant death in Hellcrown.

"If you play that stupid sky ballad, I'll cut off your hands and feed them to you," he threatened as his hand slipped on the Persian's back, lifting her off the air with ease. He kicked away a chair from the table and sat on the warm floor, placing her on his lap. She instantly started purring and touching his brawny, scarred chest with her paws; he scratched the back of her head in response, grinning as he reached for that roasted duck on the table. The hooded acolytes were carrying out that unintelligible prayer before dinner. Ser Mantarys clamped down on the whole duck, chewing wildly and staring at them intently for a long moment. He took off some rich meat from the duck's leg and fed it to the Persian, grinning down at her while stroking her fur. Ser Mantarys could be soft, too.

Once he grabbed the heavy tankard of ale, he poured it down his throat. Suddenly, he started to shake in a coughing crisis for a few seconds, spilling it everywhere.

"F*ck, a Mankey could piss better ale," the Krookodile roared angrily, slamming the tankard on the table. The Persian on his lap knew not to be afraid of him.

"And you'd drink it," one of the acolytes said scornfully, just as they had finished their prayer. Mantarys threw the Persian off his lap, stepped on the table and pounced on the acolyte with a speed that didn't agree with his size. He fell onto him like a train, slashing at him ferociously, without caring much for who was beneath it. Mantarys left him to die in his own blood while he took his seat once again.

The other acolytes ignored him. The flute player kept playing as if nothing had happened. "Funny guy, wasn't he?" Mantarys rasped to the Persian, making her slip on his lap again and giving her his hands to lick the blood off.

He grabbed his tankard and drank, then raised it to the air and started singing.

King Aion sits on the Trueborn Throne
King Aion sits to his feast alone--

A bird came through the window. A Murkrow. The acolytes turned their heads to stare at it as it landed on the table. "Ser Mantarys, Captain Vallckran" it screeched, "your King has requested an audience with you in the throne room."

I was like to forget what I was here for, Mantarys thought. He nodded and rose.

 

[Garet]

Roscoe
Skyhaven - Private Inn of Unmentioned Name
~~~~~

Good question, where had Reginard gone? "Likes books, don't he?" Roscoe said to no one in particular, voicing more or less what Pierce had thought. The Sceptile squashed the urge to edge away a bit from the Gengar and his poisonous drink.

As Pierce spoke, Roscoe didn't move much in his seat except to drink some more of his own water. It was good and all if Pierce had left in order to further their quest, but Roscoe would have liked it if they'd gotten a warning or something. All assuming Pierce hadn't turned traitor in his absence, or something of the sort.

"All good, then. Now, I think an update on what's been going on in the city is in order. The main event is that the Cyalan Embassy has been massacred. Around thirty people dead, including the Ambassador."

"Say what?" Roscoe said in surprise, ridden over by Tsulong's question.

A minute later, after Pierce answered the Arcanine's question about the Sky Plate, Roscoe frowned down at his cup. "Hm...burned and smashed, y'said? Interestin' combo, that an' psychic energy. So, I'm sure we're doin' more than just sittin' an watchin' this Gaius be tried, else why show up?"

~~~~~
Vallckran. And a flashback.
To Vallckran, it wasn't that big of a surprise when he saw that King Aion didn't appear at the feast. The Emboar had already been growing distant over a period of years. To most anyone else, it was more likely to be shrugged off as perhaps a quirk that could be excused, due to Aion's age. He was the king, after all, and not one to be questioned.

Vallckran took his seat at the table, pushing a chair to one side where a servant whisked it away. He had noticed Mantarys entering the enormous hall and likewise ignored him. Vallckran had a mind to confront the Krookodile sooner or later, though. That mindless beast in charge of the Crimson Company? No less because he had been around right after biting off Edward's head. The Umbreon's death mattered little to Vallckran in and of itself, but if anyone were to lead the Company, it ought to be someone with experience outside of butchery, and a mind to keep it afloat. Mantarys did not fit that bill. Vallckran would.

The Garchomp stabbed the wing of some roasted bird or another a little harder than necessary, pulling it to his plate. Yes, confront Mantarys. More like--

Vallckran pulled the roasted wing from his jaws as a commotion further down the table drew his attention. He chewed and took a moment to see that Mantarys was up to his antics again before dismissing the situation. This was exactly the kind of thing that made Vallckran despise the Krookodile in particular. The only upside to the change in power was that he would find it easier to make his own move.

"Ser Mantarys, Captain Vallckran, your King has requested an audience with you in the throne room."

The Garchomp smirked to himself, discarding the last of his roast bird on his plate as he stood. He had been looking somewhat forward to such an audience. His claws clicked against the floor as Vallckran strode away from the table and out the doors. Two soldiers who had been idling nearby hurried to follow him, dragging a dead Zangoose between them. As for his other trophy, Vallckran had had a servant string the Dewott-shell around his neck where it hung beside his other shell, long before he'd arrived in Cyala.

The only drawback to this would be a lack of Grass Plate, even though it irked Vallckran that the Stranger had likely acquired it. At least rooting out the Brotherhood as much as Vallckran had would only further cement his continuing service. He had a good idea of which Plate they would go after next: it was known that the Sky Plate had been enshrined in the Pinnacle, at Skyhaven.

As Vallckran saw it, it was less likely that they'd mount a full-scale invasion this time around. The last time they'd conquered Skyhaven, no Plate had been mentioned...


It was a windy day on a hot summer with the sun beating down on the grasslands. In the distance, beyond the meadows, Skyhaven's white walls stood proud and strong. The imposing Pinnacle of the city was lost in the clouds above the meadows... the flowery meadows, which should have been empty. Like a dark cloud, the hordes of King Varamyr the Second of his Name were halted, ten miles from the city. A host of forty thousand Pokemon waited in line for orders. Awaiting orders by whom? Orders by Prince Aion. Fifty years to the past, Aion was no King. He was still a princeling, sent out to conquer Skyhaven as if it was an easy task. The city of Skyhaven was a state by itself in the past, as it had been for hundreds of years; they were fierce fighters when it came to presering their freedom. King Varamyr of Altica had decided that it was time he brought conquest to the city...

Standing in a line behind Aion were his lieutenants, waiting to relay his orders. One in particular had dared to stand a half-step in front of the others, a Gabite who stood a little taller than usual. Vallckran had yet to gain the reputation of a Warlord, but his success during the war thus far had elevated him into a position above many others within the army. To his surprise, he had even been handpicked above the other lieutenants by Aion himself. Prince Aion was an Emboar, fully evolved despite his age. He was no more than seventeen, yet he had already left Cyala to further his father's conquest. This would be his first serious battle as a warlord, the chance to prove his might even as an adolescent that he had been looking for ever since he hatched from his egg.

The future King of Cyala turned to face his lieutenants; even for an Emboar, he stood out. He had broad shoulders, arms thick as tree trunks, the girth of a gargatuant already, and he was still growing. His tusks rose sharp above his fiery beard that was carried lightly to the side by the wind. Black, bushy eyebrows adorned his maroon colored eyes, which gave off the a serene, eternal impression. His skin was raw and shining youthfully as the sunlight bathed him. He was wearing bracelets with bells ringing as he moved and a golden belt was tied around his waist. His overall appearance fit the image of the warlord, rather than the charming prince. He could have a chance at being captivating, but his brother always took the credit for that... in Prince Aion's eyes, there was a burning passion for recognition and domination. One that was contageous; his mere presence inspired men to go to battle in his name.

His maroon gaze passed the lieutenants once, then it was fixed on one: a Floatzel. "Ajax," he spoke curtly, in a voice deeper than it should have been at his age, "speak."

"My lord," the Floatzel named Ajax obeyed swiftly, "they refuse to send soldiers to meet us in battle."

"Cowards," one of the other lieutenants spoke, "they'd rather hide behind those walls than face us!"

There was a general fuss in the group of the lieutenants, until Prince Aion raised his hand, his gaze becoming scary. He was known to dislike racket, and he was known for taking heads to stop it. The silence was prolonnged on purpose, with everyone awaiting his next words. Finally, Aion took a breath, filling his brawny chest with air. He turned his back to them to face the city. "Those behind the walls... they do not fear me. They will not bend. They will break, instead..." He waved his arm wide over the extent grasslands, as if showing them. Miles and miles of grass and crops, from the mountains of the north to the sea in the south. "Burn it all." His command was clear, yet they cowered in fear of carrying it out.

"My lord, that is a rash move," a Breloom protested, "as long as we're here, we can set up camp and begin a siege. If we burn the crops, our men will have nothing to eat. We will be forced to retreat."

Prince Aion turned to watch him, unblinking, allowing him to speak. When he was done, the Emboar's eyes were still unmoving. "I will have no siege. You give poor counsel. Remove yourself from my sight," he commanded. When the fool was gone, he looked at the others. "The fields burn," the Prince explained slowly, "and smoke rises. The smoke will take the city for us... they'll be forced to come out, I grant you. Come out to the burning fields, where we will be waiting."

"Brilliant, my lord! A tactical plan made by an excellent tactician," Ajax said, zealous to flatter his prince.

Prince Aion turned to the one who spoke, gesturing him to be quiet. "Enough. Lieutenants, you are dismissed. Except you, Vallckran." The Emboar motioned at the Gabite to come closer as the others left for their posts. He showed him Skyhaven's harbor. "Ragho warships aid Skyhaven. You are quick with claw and wit. Find a way to dispatch them, and I will see to it that you are rewarded."

Vallckran was already considering what to do once the word 'warships' was uttered. Made of wood, they would burn easily enough, so Pokemon with fire were needed. Considering that the warships were at sea, he would also need soldiers who could swim, fly, or teleport. The Gabite didn't have much experience with ships, but it seemed logical that floating wooden transports would be protected against such attacks.

"I will." Vallckran was still new enough to civilization after his relatively brief solo life; speaking much more still seemed like a wasted effort. He began to turn away, then stopped and remembered to wait until Aion dismissed him before leaving. The Prince nodded briefly, letting him go.

It took perhaps twenty minutes for the hundred or so soldiers under Vallckran's command to assemble as he directed, longer than he would have liked. He did have the necessary Pokemon, however. It didn't take long for the plan to go into effect.

 

[Ray Maverick]

Tsulong

​

Here I go, getting drunk again, Tsulong thought. His eyes were watered when Pierce arrived and begun explaining the situation on Skyhaven. Even when drunk, the whole thing reeked suspicion for Tsulong, who managed to speak a few words and pretend he is serious. Pierce ought to know something more than us, since it's his home and all... right? Business is his field, right? He stared at the ghost and his purple drink. The curve of the Gengar's smile had begun to flatten as time passed. He started checking the clock hanging from a golden chain on his belt more often, until he said, "sorry folks, I have to get going."

Tsulong stood up with him. "Where're you going? Thought you was gonna sleep here with us."

"Sleep? I don't think so, no. Business calls. Todaloo." With that, Pierce fazed through the wall of the inn. The last thing that disappeared was his cunning, red eyes.

"That settles it," Faolan said, staring at the wall with a smirk. "We ought to get some rest, people."

Tsulong nodded and bro-punched Vincent and Roscoe before heading upstairs. The Azumarill innkeeper was waiting for them holding a strange, tall black candle that burned white, lighting up the whole corridor. She wasn't wearing the chef's hat and the apron this time. "You've all got separate rooms," she said, showing them the multiple doors across the corridor. "Each with accommodations to fit your type."

"Sounds neat," Tsulong stumbled drunkenly towards his room, bashing the handle with his paw and bashing it open. Inside, there was a cozy fire burning hot in the fireplace, a mat with a flame on it, a bed made of furs and some drawers carved into the stone walls. Tsulong knew by first sight this was considered a room of luxury. Hard to find, and expensive beyond imagining. Who the bloody hell reserved rooms like this for us? Nevertheless, he stumbled straight up to his fur bed and started snoring the moment he settled down.

A Shadow
​

"According to my theory, dreams are mere mixtures of our recorded memories."

There was something queer about this dream, though.

Deep in the sleeping Reginard's mind, a shadow had appeared on the solid walls of a dimension unknown to the physical world. This was a dream... or was it? It didn't quite look like a dream. More like a nightmare. An infested bog, a swamp with tainted waters. The water flowing quietly around the shadow was thick and dark, the vines of the cursed trees black as coals, and cold as ice. There was a strange blue light coming off from somewhere ahead, past the walls. The walls had become trees as he slipped deeper into Reginard's mind, curious of what dwelt within... "How interesting," he commented out loud, his voice echoing in the phantasmal bog. "Something is seriously wrong with this place... keheh." His chuckle was awkward rather than happy. The area made him nervous, and he always chuckled like this when he was nervous.

He almost tripped over something right then. Looking down, he saw a book. It had something to do with disks. That was the book Reginard was reading before he passed out. "Disks... I'll have to give it a look, sometime. Might come useful." Far ahead, he could still see a blue light emanating from above. Stepping on the thick water, he splashed a little in it... before he crossed the stream. He was in front of what seemed to be a dark tree. There was no green on it, only purple, black and pale blue. He poked at its root, noticing a majestic, over-sized leaf that glowed purple. There was a bit of water in it.

He shook the leaf free of the water and suddenly, the swamp around him had gone dry. Completely parched. "Amusing. Now, time for a little infomercial on... me."

His notebooks appeared in front of him, just when he needed it most. He cleared his throat, the echo sounding monstrous in the swamp around him. He hated this part of the plan with all his heart: he had to read his lines out of a bloody notebook. "Reginard, hello," he spoke in a tainted, changed voice. He now sounded darker, deeper. If this was truly a dream Reginard was seeing, he would be hearing him right now... but he wouldn't be able to respond, for this was a dream made with his own rules. "I am Zeal. You know, the notorious killer. Emil told you all about me. Well, not, thankfully. And you are Reginard... hero of the psychic mastery and apprentice of Durand. Now that we're past the introductions, we can cut to the chase. You're looking for Plates. Well, I happen to have some information that might interest you. It appears you have managed to acquire the Grass Plate... bravo, I say. I was there, you know. When that happened, I mean. I saw that fiend try to steal it... I went with him. Into that barrier. I was with him. Keheh."

He started coughing and leaned on the tree until it stopped. The laugh had sounded entirely different. "Dammit, I can't get used to this laugh..." he muttered, laughing awkwardly again then gasping for air. When he recovered, he continued reading. "Like I was saying, I sneaked in his barrier. He didn't see me. He never truly left your barrier, you know. Remember the Murkrows in the cave... that was him, all along. There are no Murkrows, truly, only a black fog. But you already know that, keheh... what you don't know is the way, the way he killed Grandmother Cybella. I saw him move his claws in a circle, like that," he demonstrated with three shady, nightmarish claws his hand suddenly gained out of nowhere, "and boom, what do you know, heheh... fire. Fire, yes, fire, heheh." He stopped suddenly.

"Is this laughing necessary?" he muttered in his normal voice, smirking his face as he stared at the script.

"Anyway, she just evaporated. I'm sorry, I did nothing to stop him. You'll forgive me, later... right? How he could use fire, that's the question. Well here's the answer. He has the Fire Plate. I just know he has it. Did you see his eyes changing color? I did. Something's really wrong about that. As for the Grass Plate... he did something to it, I don't know what. I was afraid and kept my eyes closed. I ran away as soon as possible."

The shadow in front of the tree started pacing around that strange purple leaf. He tossed the first page of his notebook away. "Oh, not this... dammit!" he detached another page, "and I told you, not to... ugh."

His voice changed again. "I was the one who killed Edward, the Black Prince... the leader of the Company. You should be thanking me. Well, it wasn't me, per se... it was Mantarys. Let's say I tricked his wits. It wasn't hard, really..."

"Enough with this," he said to himself in his normal voice, detaching and tossing another page. "Listen here, Reginard. I suspect there will be another Ambassador in Skyhaven soon. That is precisely why I removed Franklin from the game, to provoke this chain of events. The King will not waste any time... and I know who the successor is. Master Zhao. And if my calculations are correct, he is the one who has the Fire Plate. Let's see if he's foolish enough to bring it here, in Skyhaven... keheh. I should warn you, though. Something is up with the Council. It smells like... ah. That would be inappropriate. But it's not me! I suspect the Lords are planning something. I wish to ally with you. Find out what they are up to. Anything will help. Alright? Don't worry about contacting me... I am behind your every step. Keheh..."

Tsulong

It wasn't the morning sun that woke Tsulong. No, this was the chill of the predawn, crawling up around him as he stood next to the fence, outside the lonely inn by the woods. Now he could see what woke him up. It was the massive Charizard with the blue flame on his tail, walking through the corridor with heavy steps. Ser Raleigh had woken up to go sit on the wet grass patch outside and watch the sunrise; Tsulong had joined him, unwillingly and with a headache.

"Never should've drank so much Flame Quiver," he mumbled to himself, still groggy. "Every time this happens, I keep remembering of the family I never had." It's embarrassing.

Ser Raleigh let out a snort, his head raised up to the sky. "When I drink, I do it to forget my family. The world works in odd ways, eh? One wants to meet his family, the other wants to..." his voice trailed off.

They remained in silence for a while, watching the sunrise, until Ser Raleigh spoke again. "You are Ser Tsulong of the Crimson Outriders, are you not? A knight of low birth, serving the King?"

"I was. I ran away, forsaken all my vows. I regret nothing. And you? You're a knight, too. Who are you in service to?"

The Charizard turned his head to watch him sideways. It was a superior, overwhelming gaze that made Tsulong abstract his eyes from the Pokemon. "My service is to the true King," he spoke.

"True King?" Tsulong questioned innocently. Then, his eyes widened. He stared at the fire-type, his head throbbing. He thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but there was this queer feeling that he knew who this Pokemon was. "How old are you, ser?" He couldn't just tell how old a Charizard was. He could be as young as thirty or as old as ninety.

Now Ser Raleigh was staring down at him in a searching look, as if evaluating the Arcanine. "Can I trust you with my secret, Ser Tsulong?"

Tsulong shrugged, never bothering to correct Raleigh about he could not be called 'Ser'. It seemed dangerous to correct him, somehow. "Free men tell tales. Smart men know that dead men tell no tales. I'm a smart man, I like to think. It's up to you, though, to decide if I'm honorable or not. If it's dangerous, this secret of yours, I say I can keep it better than any other man in this Kingdom." He met Raleigh's piercing, blue gaze, knowingly. He knew where this was going, but he couldn't be sure.

The Charizard nodded shortly. "I am sixty seven years old."
​

 

[Manska]

Gaius & Pierce
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Gaius' cell was bereft of motion and sound as he lay sprawled out on the floor in as comfy a position as he could find, only the slight movements of his breathing showing that he was alive. Earlier concerns about dignity had fled in the face of the pain that had he had taken, the first real beating he had been on the receiving end of in a long time. Laying on the floor with his limbs sprawled out at random was hardly dignified, but it lessened the pain in his back where he had been slammed against the wall and the cool stone helped his headache when he rest his head on it.

Being more comfortable far from meant that Gaius was happy. He had precious little patience for situations like that to begin with and the beating had sapped what he did have. Only the thought that, much as it had hurt him, that damned psychic knew he was innocent stopped him from trying to escape; that and he wasn't too sure on his ability to stand right now or even if the bones in his shoulders that had taken the brunt of his impact were totally intact still. So for now he remained still, stewing in fury silently. The only evidence of his frustration was a generously sized depression in the rock by Gaius' right arm, the product of several hours bored swinging his hand spike into the floor.

"Rise and shine," somebody said suddenly, somewhere inside his cell. Gaius jerked in surprise at the unexpected voice, trying to push himself up standing but only managing a sitting position, and just that had him hissing with pain. His eyes jittered wildly around the darkened shadows of his cell until he got control of himself and closed them, flooding the cell with a radar like burst of Aura. Backing up slightly Gaius opened his eyes once more and glared at the dark presence that he could now locate, teeth bared, "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

The Gengar grinned at him. "Now, be nice. I come in peace. We're friends, you and I." He was holding a suitcase, which he laid in front of him, opening it. All sorts of items came spilling out, notably a Gothitelle doll and two Sitrus Berries, which he grabbed. "They don't feed you here, do they? Here you go, then." He threw him the fruits. Gaius hadn't realised how hungry he was until it the Gengar had pointed it out; resisting hunger was one part of the failed meditation training that he had done well in, but he couldn't keep it up in the face of food like this and his stomach quikly growled it's assent to the ghost's words, following up with a pang of pain. Gaius gave the fruits a quick suspicious sniff before he started eating with a hefty bite that quickly grew into several more, the first berry being devoured. Not quite sure what felt better, the slight healing effect of the berry running along his bones as a wave of warmth or just the food in his belly, Gaius picked up the second and began to eat it more slowly, looking at the Gengar as he did so.

"Who are you?" he repeated between bites, his voice not hostile now, but still cautious, "You say we are friends, but I have never met you before; though-" Gaius took a pause to gulp down the last of the berry before he continued, his face easing into the closest thing to a smile it had in days, "-you have a convincing argument so far."

The Gengar returned the smile, though his was a bit mischievous, which was to be expected from a ghost. "I'm Pierce, an entrepreneur... also an ally of Durand's." He glanced at the corridor quickly, never losing his smile. "Listen here, Gaius... I don't have much time, as dawn is upon us. I won't help you escape this prison, but I will help you come clean on the trial. We're all interested in keeping you alive, wouldn't you agree?"​

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