Pokémon OPEN Pokémon Spear [M] [IC] Page 5

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Sephear

Believe in the you that believes in cheese

Age 26
Male
Alabammer
Seen 3 Hours Ago
Posted 3 Hours Ago
1,313 posts
9.6 Years






















Wintry Wanderlust? Psyduck that it's cold.


A single solitary figure marched through the snow around Lake Axewell, shaking from exhaustion as well as the cold. There were plenty of layers of warm clothes keeping this figure otherwise safe from the cold...but fatigue weakens the constitution and - “I’m...Gonna...Make it through...This shirty...daft...barmy…shambolic weather!” Well then, so much for ‘less brooding’. Jasper’s so done he’s reached the point of grumbling and shouting Galarian terms. “It really is Arceus-damned monkeys out here for christ sake!”

Normally he tried to avoid Galar-isms, too uncomfortable with his lack of an accent and how easily it pointed him out as a foreigner when he didn’t want any attention. Yet…”Well you can bugger off, snow! Donkey’s Years of this muk, yeah? I’m going Full Monty on this one!” That’s definitely a lot of them in a row, and not really strung together with much wit or grace. At this point, however, one must remember Jasper had been in the snow for more than two weeks. He was as tapped for creative ways to curse the weather at this point as he was energy and patience. At this point he was running on spite. He had only seen two things since leaving Bede behind: snow and wild pokémon, both of which seemed determined to fight him every step of the way.

Jasper felt like he could never complain about Dispo’s girth or lethargy anymore at this point. Having a Munchlax in a tent that was sheltering you from the cold really was a lifesaver. As reliable and ready to weather the cold as Faust was, one thing he wasn’t a bit of use for was keeping anybody or anything warm. At least dealing with the Avalugg and Darmanitan had smoothed things down from a raging blizzard to mere snow with some frosty wind. Once he could see more than ten feet in front of him, the frustrated and half-frozen young man had been able to find some rest stops here and there to resupply and rest by a fire for a time.

Sometimes people take antisocial behavior beyond most logic and Jasper just so happened to have only ever spent any time at the stops when it felt absolutely necessary. Otherwise that angry, tired voice in his head simply told him ‘There are people in there, and more are guaranteed to show. What’s worse? The cold, or gormless tourists caught in the snow and other tired, pissed off travelers?’ It was rare for Jasper to ever deem something worse than other people, so he’d stayed mostly in his own tent, but he was pretty close to deeming the weather of the Wild Area “A bigger todger than any psyducking person!”

It was upon contemplation of moving people down the totem pole of ‘things wrong with the world’ that Jasper heard the cry of a Wingull. All at once the trainer came back to life and ran after the sound as if it meant immediate release from his torment. He saw his quarry by a tree that was standing strong in the face of the snow, even if half of its berries were dead and the other half were frozen. The Wingull was thawing berries with Water Gun and snapping them up, one at a time. Jasper crept closer and closer, slowly sliding the pokédex out of his pocket and waking it up, then holding it up towards the sea bird as he approached.

“Wingull rides updrafts rising from the sea by extending its long and narrow wings to glide.” No sooner did the pokédex begin speaking than did the Wingull squawk in surprise and spray Jasper off of his feet with another Water Gun before flying away, but he didn’t care. He had eyes only for the fantastic little device in his hand, even falling back into the snow with a smile on his face as he stared at it and it continued. “This Pokémon's long beak is useful for catching prey, which is why it has the habit of carrying prey and valuables in its beak and hiding them in all sorts of locations. This Pokémon rides the winds and flies as if it were skating across the sky.”

Jasper smiled like a basket case, no longer feeling the cold as he backed up a screen and navigated his pokédex to the local map. “That’s all of’em...psyduck yeah.” Wingull, Minccino, Snover, Snorunt, Snom, Swinub, Bergmite, Darumaka, even Avalugg and Darmanitan! He’d recorded so many pokémon along the way despite the terrible conditions. Because of the terrible conditions, in the case of the two evolved and much rarer entries he’d catalogued. What’s more: upon standing back up and dusting himself off, Jasper saw Motostoke in the distance! Even if it was still a day or two’s walk away from him...it was there!

“Ha! Psyduck you, weather! Psyduck you, Wild Area! You can’t stop me! Here I come, ceremony! Here I come, Pokémon League! Here I come!...Whatever else I decide to do!”

"Ever looking forward, ever thinking back. Everywhere you've been, everyone you've met was another step on your path, shaping your future even as they become part of your past. One must never discount the pieces that have made up your journey until now but to lose yourself in them would be equally great folly, instead let them hoist you up, carry you on until you find the strength to walk for yourself. So it is that I continue towards that endless horizon. Ever thinking back, ever marching forward, inexorable as the history that brought me down this road. This Lonesome Road."

Geras

Roleplayer

Age 24
Male
Everything's bigger here, apparently.
Seen 1 Hour Ago
Posted 1 Hour Ago
916 posts
9.7 Years


Isla Wright - Apprentice Chef Wild Area, Dappled Grove


It had been about a week since Isla entered the Wild Area. She’d spent that time combing through the land searching for pokemon, but unfortunately none of them had caught her eye. At least not in the way Om and Fuzz had. There was nothing for it but to press onward. Or she would have, if she hadn’t found herself short on food.

Isla had severely underestimated how long she’d take to travel through the Wild Area, having long since run out of supplies. The only reason she hadn’t died of hunger already was Fuzz’s diligence in picking up the berries she came across. But a person can’t live off a few berries a day, her grumbling stomach attesting to that fact.

Lucky for her she could smell… something. Food, probably, but unlike anything she’d smelled before. “Probably food” was good enough for her, so she sought out the source of this strange scent. Traversing the Dappled Grove she found a man in a dirty chef's outfit hunched over a pot, his Nuzleaf desperately fanning at the flames beneath it.

He noticed Isla approaching and his face lit up. “You, yes! Would you like to try the famous Chef Alvin’s world-renowned curry? I need no payment, the smiling faces of my customers are payment enough.”

Isla’s stomach answered for her with another groan. “Yes, please,” she said.

Alvin whipped up a plate of the pot’s contents for her in a flash. Contents she hesitated to call curry at all. It was white in color and had red tentacles sticking out of it, with waves of green and yellow strewn about. It was a gooey mass that resisted the pull of Isla’s spoon. Nondescript chunks of varying size and color dotted the dish. Alternatively, the rice was dark. She’d call it burnt, but clearly a famous chef would know better. It must just be done in a way she'd never seen.

Isla thought about how odd world-renowned curry seemed compared to the stuff she used to eat at home. Or perhaps her curry was just too tame? She wasn’t sure about that one considering the way Fuzz scrunched her face at the dish from beside her. But then again, she supposed Fuzz had lived in the wild all her life.

Odd or not, food was food and she wasn’t going to turn it down now. She raised the spoon to her mouth and took a bite.

The flavor was nigh indescribable. Bitter, yet sweet, yet incredibly salty… Fishy and fruity and spicy but also bland?... and the texture, oh the texture. Slimy, sticky, crunchy... It had a powerful flavor, if she dared call it a flavor, that forced its way down her throat, constantly shifting from taste to somehow worse taste as she struggled to keep it down.

Alvin looked at her expectantly, sparkles in his eyes. “Well? What do you think of my latest creation?”

Isla looked at him through watery eyes, the battle still raging in her mouth. She knew she wouldn’t last much longer so she opened her gullet and swallowed what remained, chewed or not. It made one last push as it threatened to come back up, but she was able to stay strong. She hoped her body could derive at least some nutrition from it, so that her efforts were not in vain.

Left drained from her struggle, she took a moment to catch her breath before answering the monstrosity’s creator. “It’s bad.”

His smile and optimism was gone in an instant. “Oh, I knew it... It seems we’ve hit another failure, Patta.”

“Nuz…” His partner’s fanning slowed as it joined in its master’s dejectedness.

“Can you tell me what went wrong?” Alvin asked. “What you think it’s missing? Take another bite if you need, please.”

“I…” Isla started to refuse when her stomach groaned again. She looked down at her plate, the majority of her… meal… still there. This might be her only chance in a while to fill her belly. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she was quick about it? She shoved another spoonful into her mouth.

Nope, it was just as bad. Worse, even.

She tried a spoonful of the rice. It was like sand doused in gasoline. Fuzz offered her a berry, like a savior descending from the heavens. Yet even the berry was tainted by the lingering aftertastes of her “food”.

“It’s too much.” Isla said. “I can’t figure out what it’s supposed to taste like. Do you have anything simpler?”

“Simple!?” Alvin seemed shocked, almost offended. “I can’t astound the masses, revolutionize the world with simple! I need something powerful that will overwhelm the senses. A culinary punch to the face if you will, something that will make sure my customers never forget my cooking!”

If that was his goal then he’d certainly achieved it. By the sound of it, though, he also wanted his cooking to be good. At least she was glad to hear this wasn’t the standard for high-end curry, by the sound of it.

He seemed to be getting riled up so she smiled at him apologetically. “Sorry, I don’t know enough about cooking to say more. Can you not figure out the issue yourself as a world-renowned chef?”

He slumped onto the fallen log that served as his seat. “I think my cooking is incredible, exquisite even. So much so that I spent all my savings to open my restaurant right in the middle of Motostoke! But people hated my food so much that I went out of business in the first month… At first I thought my customers’ palates were simply too unrefined to appreciate my cuisine. It was only after losing everything that I realized that the problem… was me.”

He broke down in tears, sobbing into his sleeve. His Nuzleaf rushed to his side to comfort him, leaving the pot unattended as it began to spew smoke. Fuzz rolled her eyes at the sight before leaving to scavenge, while Isla tried to etch it into her mind. It was a powerful expression, though she wasn’t sure she could replicate its impact unless she could figure out how to cry on command.

Isla watched him in his misery, waiting to see if he had more to say. When he simply continued being miserable she decided to explore his camp. Despite the abomination he’d served her, he actually had a lot of decent ingredients tucked away.

“Can I use some of your ingredients to make something?” she asked him. He responded with unintelligible blubbering that she decided to take as a yes. After clearing out Alvin’s food she got to work on her own, preparing a perfectly-serviceable Combusken Tikka Masala.

She took a bite. It had been long enough that her mouth was beginning to recover, so despite her average cooking skills the meal tasted like heaven. She let out a sigh of relief, relief that she wasn’t forced to choose between starvation and eating Alvin’s food.

Speaking of Alvin, he finally raised his head and wiped the tears from his eyes. “Let me try that,” he commanded, gesturing toward Isla’s curry. Loath as she was to give it up, she did as she was told. He took a bite, and showed no reaction.

“So this bland schlock is what the people like?” he said, with palpable bitterness in his voice. “No, I want to be successful but I can’t lower myself to this level. I have standards, damn it!”

Isla looked at him as he insulted her food, only wondering when she’d be getting it back.

Alvin leapt to his feet. “That’s it, I’ve decided. You’re my assistant now, my sous-chef if you’d like! Actually no, Patta is my sous. Whatever, assistant then. I’ll use this thing you’ve made as a base, and together we’ll create something in between it and my artistry! Something you people will buy while also having my distinct signature upon it. Something that will be my ticket back into the culinary world!”

Isla quickly began looking for a way out of this. Searching for her lost Meowth? No, Fuzz was diligently marching up to her with another bunch of berries. Oh yeah, she was a gym challenger now, wasn’t she? Then she had to hurry to Motostoke before the ceremony, yeah. Or maybe she cou-

“What are you waiting for? We have a lot of work to do, chop chop!” He clapped to punctuate his words. “You did use my ingredients after all, just think of this as a way of paying me back for them.”

She supposed he was right about that.

Her stomach growled again. Perhaps this was an opportunity. Between the two of them, surely the food would be at least edible. And as the one who would undoubtedly be trying it she could eat her fill. And maybe she’d discover a passion for cooking while she was at it, who knows?

And so, Isla became chef Alvin’s assistant. Working with him was a gastronomical trial that would have made lesser men crumble, trying his dishes one after the other. They experimented with everything Alvin had on hand as well as the many things Fuzz scrounged up from the surrounding grove, toiling over that bubbling pot until the sun descended beneath the horizon. And even still, they slaved away until it rose right back up.

By the end of it, Isla was a changed woman. She emerged from her trial unshakeable (at least slightly more unshakeable than usual). Legends say her stomach could digest steel, and her tongue was so precise it could pick apart every flavor in a dish. She definitely didn’t begin lying to Alvin about what she tasted when her taste buds began to fail from the constant sensory assaults, absolutely not.

“Well, assistant, I appreciate your help but I believe it is time to part ways.” Alvin finished packing his things, ready to take the next step on his culinary journey. “I doubted you at first, but you’ve taught me much in our short time together. And I hope you can use what you’ve learned from me to become a world-renowned chef yourself. To make a name for yourself as Alvin’s star pupil.” He and his Nuzleaf both picked up their bags, Alvin leaving his Nuzleaf to carry the larger one.

Isla looked at them with a smile. Her mind was blank, unable to process anything except curry.

“As thanks, I’d like you to have this.” He handed her a grocery bag containing some pasta and mixed mushrooms. “The last remaining ingredients. I hope you can use them as the beginning of your rise to stardom. As for me, I’ll be returning to Motostoke to put my training to use. So long, assistant.”

Isla held on to her reward as she watched him leave, continuing to smile. Fuzz tugged at her pants in concern. “We’ll go in a bit, Fuzz. I think I just need a moment.”


I'll put something cool here eventually.