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Pokémon FULL Chains: A Johto Story [M][IC]

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Old June 3rd, 2018 (2:34 AM).
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Chains: A Johto Story

Chapter One - Starting Point
Converged upon Cherrygrove, a meeting point for people and nature alike, the group make their final preparations before finally setting off on their Pokemon Journey.


Chapter One: Starting Point
The tiny Cherrygrove City sits on a corner of the continent where the beach meets the forest, a picturesque location that barely qualifies as a city - some would call it a large town.

Rustic looking houses intermingle with more modern amenities such as shopping centres and the brand new Cherrygrove Pokemon Centre. Throughout the city, large patches of flowers can be seen, blending nature in with the contrasting human developments and surrounding the locale are thick woodlands and, to the west, the sea. There is often a pleasant natural aroma hanging in the air over Cherrygrove.

The beautiful scenic views and nature trails around Cherrygrove allow for pleasant outings surrounded by the wild without ever straying too far from the city itself and, despite Cherrygrove only being a day away from Violet City on foot and even less to Newbark Town, give it an isolated feel. Cherrygrove is typically an extremely peaceful place to live.

Notable Locations
None really unless you count one of several small nature trails or the beach.

Available Wild Pokemon

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Old June 4th, 2018 (6:41 PM). Edited June 5th, 2018 by MurkMire.
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Jack Siegal


"Alright son, today's the day! You gotta go out there, and show the world what ya made of!" An enthusiastic sailor of a man slammed his hand down on the table, laughing with great joy and pride. A younger looking woman, though equally proud, watched her husband so he wouldn't get too crazy.

This was a big day. After so many years of sailing, and finally coming back to see the state of his family, she felt he deserved a drink on this special day. His son was leaving, and he did his wife right after moving them from Olivine City.

A young man, dressed up in a white shirt and a coral red undershirt just hissed under his breath, and turned around. "Dad, c'mon! We both know this was gonna happen! Just... cool it, aight?" The young man replied with a spat. His mom sighed, and stood up. With the swiftness, she gave the hotheaded teen a big hug. "Don't worry, dear. After seeing you and your dad work, I know you'll be responsible and good."

"U-ungh, ma... ma, you're cru-" "Responsible. Right, dear?" She turned her head back to the clearly drunken sailor. He shrunk into his chair, and laughed nervously. "Ye-Yeah. O' course. My Jackie's no thug no more. Right?" Jackie nodded quietly, not looking back.

"Of course. Jackie... if you ever get in trouble... just know we're always here for you. Any other profession may be different, but being a Pokemon trainer is very difficult." She loosened her grip and spun him around. She had raven black hair that flowed down to her shoulders, and soft brown eyes.

Jackie nodded again, and said," I know, ma... I know. Thanks." With that, she returned with a smile, and patted him on the back. "Off you go, kiddo. I'm already proud of how you cleaned up your act. Good luck... and be careful."

"Yeah... bye." Jackie picked himself up, and patted the Pokeball that sat on his belt. His dad, sitting at the table, began to sob loudly, and drone about how he was a terrible father. Before he shut the door, he heard his mom bonk his dad's head.

"Tch... my parents, eh. Welp... time to go." Jackie slowly walked away from his house, his boots kicking up dirt as he walked. He looked around the calm city of Cherrygrove. All the times he snuck out and sat under the full moon, to the times he got in trouble with the locals.

Something in him felt wrong, like he needed to muscle up and face the day with bravado.

"Aight... alright... I'm okay. I can journey with others... whatever." He clenched his fists and shoved them into his pockets, mumbling a sort of introduction that didn't come off like he punched more strangers than he talked to them.

"Hey, name's Jack, but friends call me Jackie... Hey, name's Jack, but friends call me Jackie... tch, what friends?" He scoffed under his breath, and shook off the thought. He'd be tough and hard-boiled without going against the law.

Well, as much as he could stand.

Jackie, when living in Olivine City, turned into a bit of a delinquent after being bullied for so long. After a while, he just snapped and one day gave the bully a solid right hook. After that, Jackie never felt the same. He'd become the bully of bullies, but he was never all that nice with other strangers. The only way he knew to interact (aside from his mom) was to grunt, or only give short replies.

But no, not today. Today, Jackie Siegal was gonna be a Pokemon trainer.

Tough guys can still be pretty upstandin' folks... can't they?

Jackie thought hard about this as he strolled down the road to the first road. The first route.

The first obstacle. Talking to people.

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Old June 11th, 2018 (12:20 PM).
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Cherrygrove: Preparation for Exodus
Current Party:


"Tent, check. Insulated water bottle, thermos and solid food containers...check. Backup clothes..." Kilian counted off every bit of supplies he'd prepared for his journey from mixed berry protein bars all the way to his favorite Bewear keychain ornament. "It's all here, good. One thing's certain, this journey will be great exercise. I could have nice pleasant strolls all the way from here to Blackthorne's Gym and still get a healthy workout with a backpack this full and heavy." Dratini shifted itself slightly around Kilian's neck and the slight friction of the smooth scales rubbing against his neck felt relaxing. He laid a hand warmly on its head and hoisted his backpack, feeling himself grow perceptibly heavier as the straps settled on his shoulders.

It may seem odd or even redundant to relax before a trip that will consist mostly of walking by going for a walk but that was exactly what Kilian did. For the most part, it was the only fun thing Kilian could do around Cherrygrove since he didn't have his old fishing rod anymore. A nice relaxing stroll through the woods was just what he needed. The dappled sunlight breaking through the canopy overhead was so pleasant it almost made him want to take a nap in a patch of soft grass. A quick-moving group of shadows passed by and pulled Kilian's view but the owners were gone, leaving him to look upon a Pinceo hanging from a nearby tree.




It had been a nice walk, but a short one. Kilian couldn’t get too far away from town, after all, he had to meet the other three trainers he’d been more or less told he would be traveling with. He wasn’t exactly sure why he needed any company aside from Dratini and the other three were all...well, the four of them seemed an odd group was all. Still, he had the distinct feeling he had little choice in the matter and the concern written all over his parents’ faces when they told him they had conferred with the professor on the matter and agreed wholeheartedly had him well and truly stuck.

Returning to the town found Kilian at the small little beach so close at hand that it always surprised him Cherrgrove wasn’t considered a maritime town. “It’s not the most amazing fishing spot, of course, there’s no chance of catching anything as special as you here.” Kilian said to his Dratini, scratching its chin as he spoke.

“Alola!” A voice rang out from the water, pulling Kilian out of his own head to look at a woman skiing across Cherrgrove’s little Cherrycove, being pulled by a very enthusiastic Sharpedo. “Hey there, cutie!” She shouted with an over-exaggerated wink she was too far away for Kilian to actually see. He waved for a moment before being distracted by a Staryu that was partially buried in the sand, only it’s core revealed to blink a red diluted and dimmed by the bright sunlight shining upon it. “You live here, right?” The woman continued while Kilian inched closer to the Staryu. “This little town is so cute and scenic! I think I’d love to have a vacation home here! Maybe a sweet young guy like you would care to show me around?.....Hey….HEY!”

This time her voice was so loud it shocked away Kilian’s concentration completely and he lost his balance, falling right on top of the Staryu. The sunbathing starfish pokémon took none too kindly to the surprise and burst out of the sand immediately, smacking Kilian’s face with one of its limbs in the process. “Don’t ignore me, you little turd!” The woman shouted as she scraped near the shore on her skis. She’s quick to bring the fire when the honey fails, isn’t she? The Staryu, which hadn’t spun too far away yet was apparently as bothered by her obnoxious yelling as having a young man fall on it because before she could make another pass a powerful jet of water blasted her right off her skis and into the drink. By the time she broke the surface Kilian had already disappeared over some house’s fence, he wasn’t in any hurry to get chewed out for ‘causing trouble’ again.


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Old June 21st, 2018 (1:33 PM).
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MurkMire MurkMire is offline
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Jack Siegal


Featuring:
Sephear as Killian
Dragon as Hugo


Jackie slowly strode towards the road that starts out his journey. Route 30. However, Jackie saw that no one was even there yet. A sigh of relief escaped from his mouth, and a feeling of ease rushed over him. He could at least have time to chill out and take stock. Still, people were gonna show. "Man... I still don't get this whole travellin' with others business," he grumbled.

Walking up to a tree, Jackie leaned his back against it, and fiddled with a pocket knife his dad gave him. Folding, unfolding... fold, unfold, fold unfold, over and over.

Then, he got an idea, and pocketed the knife, and plucked his Pokeball off his belt, and looked at it. "Corphish, huh? Come on out."

"Ccccc!" A happy Corphish popped out of the Pokeball, and hopped happily, taking in a big breath of fresh air. Then, it scuttled with speed up his trainer's leg and started clinging to his shoulder.

"AGH! 'Ey, you uh... you're clingin' a bit hard, buddy." "Cccc..." Corphish loosened his grip, though saddened by the comment.

A nearby tree shook and a young man dropped out of it, landing with practiced ease. He and Jackie hadn't spoken much but it was hard not to recognize 'the boy with the Dratini scarf' as some folk liked to call him.

"Ah, someone's finally here, hello." He said a bit more quietly than someone would expect in the outdoors. "If I recall, you're Jackie, right? The professor told me you were the one with a Corphish. It's nice to more properly meet you." Kilian greeted his fellow new trainer, oddly seeming to attempt eye contact with the pokémon instead of its trainer as he spoke.

What the hell was that? Was he just hangin' out in a tree until someone came by? He looked at the boy with confusion and reluctance. The Corphish waved at the Dratini scarf, as Jackie referred to him, but Jackie only replied with, "Tch. Name's Jack. Only friends call me Jackie." He could feel himself already not liking the kid, but was also trying not to be a dick.

His mom would tan his hide if she knew he was about to be rude, or worse, to new people. "But uh... yeah. Same." He grunted as he replied to the Dratini scarf. He then turned back around, and leaned against the tree again.

"Oh, I see, I'm sorry. Jackie is the name I always heard when others talked about you, I didn't know you went by anything else." Kilian looked around himself as he tried to think of better conversation to make but he wasn't having much luck, a bad start if ever there was one. "Nobody else was here yet when I arrived and I had...reasons not to want to wait in town any longer, so I was looking around for specimens to study to pass the time. I found a Pineco up in that tree that had wedged itself between two branches instead of hanging from one for some reason, so I was watching it." He explained, gesturing to the tree he had dropped out of when Jackie - no, he doesn't like that. Jack had shown up.

Kilian brightened up a little bit, however, when he looked back at the Corphish clinging to Jack. "Have you two been together long?"

Jackie didn't really turn around as Dratini Scarf talked. He wasn't really sure how to repond or react to a kid staring at a Pineco, so he just said nothing. However, when he asked about him and his Corphish, he muttered back with, "Vice and I have been partners for, uh... three years. Once we moved here, I mean."

He really felt uncomfortable, not really sure if he can trust talking to anybody casually, but he tried to keep it cool and not be (too much) of a dick. His Corphish sighed and looked downtrodden, knowing Jackie was holding back, and it tugged on his shirt a bit. "Hey, c'mon... leave it."

Kilian smiled at the bond they clearly had. "That's nice, you two seem close." He looked at Dratini warmly and began to scratch its chin, it raised its head to encourage him and hummed happily. "I've only had Dratini a few months. She was a very special gift."

"Uh... um... excuse me?" Someone meanwhile popped in, a tad meekly. They had a strange outfit on; like an outfit worn during ancient times by shrine maidens... The person greeted them with a bow. "Er... I... That's to say that I... uh..."

"Hm? I recognize that style. What's someone from Ecruteak doing h - Oh!" He was really beginning to wish the professor had described each trainer on the journey in a bit more detail. "Are you one of the four trainers supposed to set out on their first journey today?"

"Y-Yes," the young trainer responded, glancing away at intervals. "H-Hugo. Hugo Colthearts."

Dratini raised its head and sniffed the air curiously before settling back around Kilian's shoulers and the trainer himself looked confused for a split second before replying. "What an interesting name...Colthearts...Ah! I've been to your shrine multiple times. It's always nice to see Ecruteak keeping it's traditions upheld. You might not have seen me, I tend to keep to myself when I travel, though I've been told Dratini is memorable even when I'm not."

Jackie stood idly by, not even batting an eye at the girl who was dressed like a shrine maiden. He was still being eaten away by the fact he was in range of people he doesn't know socializing. It's as iif he's never chatted with another human being before, aside from hitting them or stealing from them.

"Neat," was his only reply. Vice, however, gleefully waved at the dressed up individual. "CcccCccc!" If it could, it would be smiling at them.

"Cool it, Vice." Corphish lowered his wave, and look forlorn. "So, who else is keeping us from getting this show on the road, huh?" His right foot was beginning to tap, and he was starting to get irritated. He was just hoping this journey would get started soon.

"A Corphish and a Dratini?" Hugo recgonized. "T-Those look really powerful..."

"I'm afraid not." Kilian replied. "Dratini was given to me right after she was born. We've worked hard together, sure but she hasn't even been in a battle yet. What is your first pokémon, Hugo?"

Hugo glanced downward, in a sudden silence. "A Gastly. It was a part of my family for a good while now," Hugo finally responded. "That is, from the Colthearts' family clan of spiritualists."

"I see. Your family must be quite talented to keep ghost-types around and keep them from causing mischief around Ecruteak and the shrines at the same time." Kilian tried to sound warm and encourage Hugo to talk more about his heritage or his pokémon.

"Well..." Hugo started. "...For generations, my clan has the power to communicate with spirits, and with the land of the dead. However, that power is only with the females, or, spirit mediums in our clan. Basically, it's within blood."

Jackie's foot tapping became audible, getting frustrated by standing around and waiting.

"Hey, we gonna get moving or not? Who are we even waiting for?!" Vice shrunk for a moment, as Jackie almost reached yelling levels of anger.

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Old July 1st, 2018 (5:04 AM). Edited July 1st, 2018 by Junier.
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    . . . approaching Route 30: the burden of being a token 'best one'

    There was a scarcity of actualized people. People who could, and wanted to, rely on themselves, who had ambition of their own, and some dedication, just enough. When things slowed down, there weren’t enough people trying to pick things up again. They only circled the one or two others they perceived as 'higher' than them, hungrily, waiting for other people to do the heavy lifting.

    —a scarcity of actualized Pokémon. But she didn’t mean 'Pokémon' — it wasn’t a word she had recognized, or even today, casually used. She even hesitated to call it the 'correct' word, just the human one to describe… what she herself could only describe as the miscellaneous 'others' of this society. The bizarre and the eccentrically outlandish with a whimsical biology to them that seemed to fit squarely in the round peg of humane mundanity. And yet 'Pokémon' were the foundation to the everyday. What would a person be without a Pokémon?

    Girafarig considered herself a very smart ‘other,’ — ‘person,’ ‘’Pokémon,’ what-have-you — but when it came to existential stuff like this, she was in the dark, her brain caving in on itself; all this was just impossible to figure out on her own. What was she even vying to know? Perhaps some founding understanding of how the world around her worked. She couldn’t wrap her head around what the people of Johto actually ‘talked’ about when they stood about, meandering. She couldn’t even comprehend the problems they might face in the everyday. In the end, everything came down to ‘Training,’ and even then, Girafarig couldn’t recall anyone who returned from the general act as a bettered and enriched persona, only the handful of familiar names of kids who would become so ‘eventually’ if they left.

    Her tail maintained vigil behind her, so veering from her tangent, she was alerted to Mihra’s stunning lack of self-preservation come alive again. The girl was all sunshine, skipping and smiling beside the slow-moving pickup steered by their ‘aides.’ Caleb Goodman — Goodman-sama — a portly man whose edges spread greasily across his forehead, manned the wheel in his long-sleeved Alolan shirt. Next to him sat a younger man of somber disposition, slouching stark against the vibrant colors and laissez-faire, 'psyduck it' disposition of the driver. Yoshi-sama wore a dark hoodie and was busy lighting a cigarette.

    They were only important for Mihra’s insistence to strike a conversation. She was asking about the Pokémon here, and if 'Killian' was a name you could trust, because she didn’t really think so.

    When her tail gnashed its teeth, the girl listened, albeit with unneeded hesitance, eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment, but she shrugged it off and took a brisker pace, falling more into line with Girafarig. The ‘aides,’ she anticipated, were relieved at that. Order was stored, for a moment, before they united with the group.

    So she returned to her tangent, which had soon become a rant against ‘Pokémon’ as a whole, those like the Murkrow who relucted to rely on humanity like humanity so relied on them; she didn’t understand why they clung to fragile primalities like this 'food chain' where the bigger man, who was always human, was the anchor for everything in their life. Ultimately, they relied on humans to give them meaning, but they ignored the aspects of being human that were objectively better than being a ‘Pokémon.’

    It wasn’t cathartic being a self-proclaimed genius, because she was isolated with the understanding that no one else wanted to improve themselves. She was an exception — that stung badly, because it also compelled her to believe she was and would the best at everything she set her mind unto, now and hereafter; it was false self-aggrandizement. Any ‘other’ that could outmaneuver her would destroy her in a fight. She was strictly talented in the department of thought, and in this world, it wouldn’t help her one bit.

    She thought the journey would give her a sense of escape, or at least of empowerment. Or maybe she was naive as these kids they were going to meet. Alternatively, they just hadn’t gotten far enough, if there was a true sense of progression to be felt at all.

    Earlier that morning, a beginning Trainer and her partner stopped to make a purchase before their journey.

    It’s only posing as a Pokémart.
    ------She knows the moment she halts in front the double doors and they fail to open for her. But, unfaltered, despite the incessant tug of a Girafarig’s teeth on the hem of her skirt, she pushes through into the convenience store.
    ------Immediately, the place smells cynical and chemical to her — a hospital smell, and she would know. The nefariousness is as palpable here as the irony of the peeling, Clefairy-print wallpaper; she recalls all those efforts to reverse the “Big R” days, and what aspects of prior criminality went unaccounted in the process. It’s apocalyptic, the floor and shelves swathed in disarray. Amidst the snap and crackle of the sound system, a man belts from a time past:

    ------Are you happy? / In the warmth of last night / I softly whispered as I held you tight.

    ------Though there isn’t any use in studying — everything else is all just first impression — and she is very much sick of sightseeing in this town, so she strides to the countertop at the face of the room. And the cashier just watches her. Respiration mask on his face, yet a lit cigarette in his fingers, the butt red-hot. A reminiscent round scar, a perverse bindi of a burn mark on his forehead. Besides that, he is tensed figure of gauntness and steady black eyes.
    ------A Murkrow partner peers imperiously overhead. Silent — even as the music croons, this place is silent. And the way Lana-Noon forces through to stand beside her, she anticipates any attempt to leave will be more so them being let out of this place.
    ------And yet, there is very little for her to fear. Oetsu Mihra smiles and says to the shopkeeper, “Good morning.”
    ------No response.
    ------Nothing lost.
    ------“Let’s cut the crap, yeah? I have the money for ten Pokéballs. But I know the system.”
    ------Lala-Noon strangles a cry of resistance; Mihra makes her offering in clattering, flattering coins, falling over one another from the girl’s hands onto the countertop. The cashier considers it with little more than the metallic reflection in his eyes; he’s staring at her.
    ------“So,” Mihra continues. “Let’s barter. 2000 Poké, exactly, for one Premium Ball.” She leans over her hoard, supported on freckled arms, with the same crooked, cocky smile. “I don’t need to explain how that’s the perfect deal, you know.”
    ------But she was going to, anyway, until the cashier interrupted.

    ------“Kid. You know the Professor?”
    ------Her Girafarig swallowed hard. And Mihra, she dialed back, confused. “Uhmm.” Not knowing how to answer, and sufficing, in a mumble: “I guess.”

    ------In that instant, it wasn’t a matter or question of “whether she did” as he rasps next, ”Do you know them.” There is something in the man’s hand as his arms hang unfolded, and as he slides his thumb across it, Lala-Noon recognizes before she can even rephrase - a blade juts to life between the shopkeeper’s fingers: a box cutter.
    ------The girl is stricken with a sense of mortality that she hasn’t in a long time. Physically, she freezes, but the words come flying: “You can pull a weapon on me if you want, doesn’t matter, if you know me, you know I don’t have that long anyway, so you’re just loading even more charges on you then you’d reasonably need already, what with being a retired gang lord.”

    ------Lala-Noon moves first. She is between Mihra, the counter, and the cashier as the cashier vaults the latter. One arm is poised with the box cutter, the other acts as leverage, just as Mihra had propped herself. Seconds before. With it pressed against the counter top, she perceives the bulge of lean muscle, once subtle. The man is pale, not with sickness but an apparent hunger that brings color to his dark eyes. He has dropped his cigarette in the space behind him.
    ------They can’t break for the door, though Lala-Noon glimpses back anyway with a longing. The Murkrow adds a low croon to tune of Yukata Ozaki1, a putrid, black reminder of its presence like the subtle insignia of a cigarette burn. There are close to a thousand scenarios of what it could do, many of which involve uninhibited Pursuit, none of which they are in sufficient position to counter.
    ------The cashier rasps,“Don’t care. And not retired. Do you know them.”

    ------Mihra doesn’t dare to breathe, but at least knows exactly what to say. “I don’t have contact information, but I have a location. I’m meeting three other Trainers at the base of Route 30: Jack Siegal, Kilian Warren, and Hugo Colthearts. I can give you contact information for any of them, at least one of them probably knows more than I do, and I don’t know much. But we’re inevitably going to meet them either on the way or at Violet.”
    ------“So you don’t know where they are.”
    ------“No, and I don’t know anything about who they are or what they do. I’m just like everyone else there.”

    ------The more she speaks the more breath she loses, like running, running for her life on automatic, nothing going to her head. The cashier is strangely cool throughout it all, and she manages to channel that survival instinct so arbitrary to her into a loathing, having her spill and continuing to stand there, blade in one hand, brow heavy with disgruntlement, like he’s the one at a loss.
    ------Begrudgingly, he does retract the box cutter to his side, behind the countertop. “Nhh, psyduck.” Set back a bit, he dips into the store depths to recuperate, leaving Mihra and her partner under the gaze of the Murkrow.

    ------He appears shortly after with a package, plunks it on the counter, tears it open with the cutter, still in his hand. Everything in and about this place lingers. When he opens the box, he takes out a little white sphere and hands it to Mihra.
    ------“Seriously?”
    ------“You paid for it. Overpriced rinky piece of muk.”
    ------“This is seriously supposed to pacify me.”
    ------“Dumb kid. I’m not letting you go.”
    ------She shuts up.

    ------The man turns to vanish again, behind the curtains. To busy herself, she turns the Premium Ball over and over as it grows to fill the cup of her hands. Lala-Noon nuzzles her shoulder in the current span of peace— a CRACK echoing from the back sends her taut again, as the cashier CRACKs and CRACKs again, barking, “HUH!? That’s psyducking right, punk!That’s psyducking right! You won’t say MUK—!”

    ------“Oh, no” It hits like a spell. Mental tumult, and not enough time to register, and a certain self-hatred from failing to register in the first place. Dumb, dumb kid - it was true. But she didn’t deserve this. Psyduck, she just wanted to catch a Rattata or something in a fancy ball.

    ------The cashier reemerges, again, all too casual. “Don’t cry, kid. Don’t wanna scare the cops.”
    ------“Mm.” She’s heard that quip before. She hadn’t planned to, but wipes her eyes all the same.
    ------"What’re you gonna do…?”
    ------In response, the cashier jabs a finger towards whence she came. “In a few minutes, some ‘personal aides’ are gonna escort you through Route 30 with your gang: Siegal, Warren, Colthearts. They’re not gonna do anything to you.They’re just gonna follow you, and you get them through the route.”
    ------There was no successive, affirmatory, “Got that?” There was simply quiet, steady understanding. And regardless if he knew, the silent swear of revenge, that this was not over.

    ------Lala-Noon was wracked with anxiety, and she put a hand on the Girafarig’s shoulder in an effort to steady her as the Murkrow launched into motion, wheeling overhead like a bird of prey.
    1 A figure of whom history does not support having ever existed, but whose songs can still be conveniently remembered for the a e s t h e t i c.
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    Old July 8th, 2018 (4:48 AM).
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    gimmepie gimmepie is offline
     
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    Chapter Two: The Meeting Point
    Johto’s Routes 30 and 31 join together to form a long path to the next city along, Violet City. Not a particularly impressive road, these routes are a relatively simple journey over a dirt road with thick woodlands on either side as the salty sea breeze disappears behind you. That being said, it’s an uphill trek until route 31 begins and it’s easy to find yourself stuck climbing up a ledge if you stray too far from the beaten path.

    Every now and then travellers along this road will pass the homes of those who prefer solitude to living directly within either Cherrygrove or Violet City.

    Notable Locations
    Mr. Pokemon's House
    Mr. Pokemon’s House: This is a small home with a spacious backyard, the home of “Mr Pokemon”. Originally he was an extremely famous breeder, known for many noteworthy trainers achieving great success with Pokemon he bred. He is now semi-retired but still offers his servers to a select few lucky customers such as Professor Elm or other people of influence.

    Available Wild Pokemon

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    Old July 18th, 2018 (2:31 PM).
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    MurkMire MurkMire is offline
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    Jack Siegal


    "Tch, the hell with this. Let's go, Vice." Jackie stormed off, his patience breaking down. The Corphish meekly waved at the other trainers and their Pokemon, before fixing himself back to Jackie's shoulder.

    "What a waste of time... can't even get here quick enough. I knew this buddy system wasn't gonna work for me." Jackie mumbled and grumbled as he walked down the path. Vice frowned, and looked forlorn. However, even he was getting a little antsy. Deep down, he knew Jackie for what little time they had spent together. Since he couldn't really speak like a human, Jackie would always vent to him.

    He would tell him how much he could just stop being angry, and to be glad he had a friend and partner in his Pokemon.

    However, this was a one time thing. After that, Jackie and Vice trained hard so that his dad felt ready he was ready to go on a journey. Even if it was a group of people.

    Jackie, however, was still cursing and mumbling under his breath. They walked until they were halfway down the road, until the temperamental young man decided to sit underneath a tree. "Ugh... if my parents caught wind of this, hell would erupt. Prolly." "CCccc." Vice agreed, with a solid nod.

    "Tch...." Still, Jackie wasn't too thrilled, but he was able to sit by his lonesome for a bit longer. At least, before the entire group came along. Route 30 was quite a walk, but he passed by a sparkling pond and a lone house. Jackie brought out his map, looking over the area. "So... apparently, some Mr. Pokemon guy lives up the road. Then, we hit Route 31. Neat." He sighed, folded the map, and tucked it into his back pocket.

    "Vice, what do you think? Feel like doing some battling?" Jackie looked around as he asked his Pokemon aloud. The place was vibrant green, full of life and Pokemon living on this trail. Some Rattata, some Caterpie... Pokemon he really didn't care for. Still, he wanted to blow off steam, and see if some training would refresh his patience.

    "Cccc! Cccc!" Jackie snapped out of his stupor, and saw some Kakuna tucked in the tree above him, as well as some Weedle rearing to headbutt them both with the needle on their heads. "Gah, what the hell?!" He rolled to the side, avoiding three Weedle. "Alright, so you shrimpies want some, huh?! Vice, let's go. We can sweep away three little Weedle."

    Vice hopped forward, giving them a cold stare and held out his claws. "Now, Bubble attack!" Corphish opened up his claws, a delicate breeze blowing the attack just slightly off course. The attack hit two of them, while the third fired a Poison Sting, square in the face.

    "... Freaking. Hell. Alright then, use Harden!"

    Corphish froze, and it's shell shined as it became more rigid and tight. The other two Weedle attacked with a Tackle, but just bounced off, doing little damage. "Say... that third one is a little scrapper. I think we oughta catch that one. Let's take out the other two with a Double Hit!"

    Vice lunged forward, and smacked one Weedle on the head with it's claw. Knocked out. Then, the second one, bonked out of commission. "Sque... squeeeee!" The third Weedle fired another Poison Sting, hitting Vice right between the eyes, making it cry out. "Man, you're a good shot. I definitely am gonna catch you. Vice, try another Bubble attack!"

    Vice held out a claw, and fired off another delicate spray of bubbles. This time, however, it popped on Weedle. Now it just looked mad and tired, as it desperately tried to shield it's little friends. "Nah, not happening. Vice, hit it with an Aqua Jet!"

    ...

    Vice just stood there.

    "Hey, Vice, what's going on?" Vice turned with a frown, and pointed at the downed Weedle. "Oh, come... alright Zing, if I help your little buddies, then can we finish this battle?" The Weedle just glared at him. Jackie sighed, and pulled out a potion. "C'mon, I'm a guy of my word. Besides, it wouldn't be fun having to smack you around while your little friends watch, right?"

    The Weedle just lowered his head. It seemed to look like it was thinking.

    "Uh... I kinda wish I could speak Pokemon right now," he mumbled, waiting for an answer.

    Vice continued to be still, in case the Weedle tried to attack again. But, Weedle did not attack. It slinked to the side of it's friends, and wiggled at Jackie. "Squee, Squee." "So, you okay with me playing doctor now?" The Weedle nodded. "Alright... as much as it puts me down a couple potions... I hate to beat down anything already out.

    The two other Weedle just laid there, trusting their friend. One spritz, two spritzes, and there. "Squee!" "Squee!" They both hopped for joy, and nuzzled Jackie's leg. "Hey, uh, sorry about messing up your tree. I wasn't gonna trash your tree, y'know?" The two smaller Weedle nodded, and turned to their brother.

    "Squee... squee, squee?" "Squee...." Vice looked on in amazement, but Jackie was just confused. The two smaller Weedle gave a sort of wormy hug, and crawled back into their tree. Both of them squeeing at Jackie and Vice before they darted back into their nest. The remaining Weedle simply crawled forward, passing by Vice, and raised his head at the young man. It looked him in the eyes with his own beady pupils. "Squee, squeesqueesquee squee. Squee!"

    "Uh... what?" Jackie was just dumbfounded, but Vice jumped, and scuttled quickly to Jackie's side, and gestured at the Pokeballs on his belt. "What about them? Vice, what the heck has gotten into you? And you, Zing, what are you-"

    BZZZZZZZZZZZZ

    A rustle of several branches echoed through the Route, making Jackie shudder. "Oh, THAT'S what you mean! Hey, fine by me! Get in here!" Jackie frantically popped a Pokeball off of his belt, and bopped the Weedle on the nose, drawing it inside. Whether or not it broke out to mess with him, he scooped up Vice and ran like the wind to the end of Route 30.

    A swarm of Beedrill were about to pass by, and Jackie was not ready for a horde of angry Beedrill just yet.

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