[PKMN OPEN] Into the Great Open Blue: Take Off (IC)

Nick Goes Looking Around And Finds Cook In The Kitchen Who Could Have Guessed He'd Be In There Wow​

The ship had begun to sail away, heading southwards for now. As the ship had already been primed beforehand, and needing no repairs or maintenance at present, Nick decided to do a little inspection of his own of the crew.

Maybe you're just being paranoid, Nick thought to himself. Jon picked out all these guys, and you trust Jon, don't ya?

Still, he had to at least gauge for himself whether they were good enough or not. Even though he trusted Jon, he wasn't too keen on trusting pirates... or at least people who joined up with pirates. Of course, he himself technically fell into that category...

Shaking his head, the Scrafty decided to take a peek in the kitchen. At the very least, if he was going to be flying on a ship for most of his days now, he had to make sure the food was edible, if not palatable. Inside, Nick spotted the Hydreigon with little effort - Cook was leaning over the hob, humming a tune as he bombarded a tray with several gouts of purple flame. Whatever the tray contained couldn't be seen through the raging inferno of draconic fire, but the smoke rising from it and the smell it was generating made it clear that whatever substance it might once have been had probably been simmering for a little too long.

Nick leaned against the wooden doorframe, tapping loudly on the wall to get the dragon's attention. "Oi, mate."

"Ah! Ahoy," replied the Hydreigon, blasting the poor tray with fire for another moment before, at last, relenting. He turned to the Scrafty with an excited grin. "I think it's almost done! Anyhow, to what do I owe the pleasure, young master Nick? Care for some tea?"

Nick idly stepped inside, glancing at the now-incinerated mass of what was once food in the pan. "I'm just doin' a little... inspection," he said with a grimace. "Think you cooked that a lil' too hard, mate."

"Too hard?" Cook raised one eyebrow worriedly, but as he turned to the pile of soot and prodded it gently with one of his hands he chuckled. "Ah, no, it's fine! Soft as silk!" With that problem sorted, the dragon ventured to another counter to fetch some teacups. "Say, did you want some tea? I didn't catch an answer, and I'm certainly beginning to crave a cup myself..."

"Er, sure, I guess," Nick said plainly. He wasn't one for tea, usually, preferring drinks with a little more kick to them. Moreover he was concerned that somehow the Hydreigon would burn the tea, as if that were even possible. At the very least he'd give it a try.

"Ah, splendid," the Hydreigon hummed, beginning to pour the hot beverage. "So, my boy, how has your day been?"

Nick shrugged. "Well, I'm doin' something I never in my lifetime thought I'd end up doing, nor did I want to do, so there's that," he said finally.

"Indeed, new experiences are often daunting," Cook concurred. "But then, where would we be without them? Safe to say that a cook of all people knows of the greatness that can be found trying things that you suspect won't work. I wonder who first conceived the idea of putting a leaf in hot water? Doesn't immediately strike me as a stroke of brilliance, but here we are today. Speaking of which," the dragon turned with a flourish, bringing forth two full cups of tea and escorting them to the small table in the room's centre. "Come, have a seat."

"Eh," Nick replied. As strange a fellow as Cook seemed, he definitely was erudite for a pirate, and polite, too. Nick glanced at the steaming tea cup in the Hydreigon's grip. "... is it safe?" he asked. He'd never had tea before.

"Safe?" the dragon chuckled. "I should hope so. The water came off the boil a fair while ago, so it should be down to around sipping temperature for 'mon of less heat-resistant capacity. Have you not had tea before?"

"Er, no, I haven't," Nick admitted, taking an inquisitive whiff of the steaming cup. It actually smelled quite nice he admitted. Certainly better than the stench of ale he'd grown so accustomed to.

"Ahhh, you've been missing out, Nicholas!" The Hydreigon jokingly berated him, taking a long sip of his tea and letting out a satisfied sigh. "Many say it's an acquired taste, but I've been drinking the stuff for years and I still don't really taste anything. Still, the pleasant aroma is undeniably comforting. Nothing quite like a warm cup of tea on a cold night."

"I see..." Nick said. Well, only one way to find out if this stuff was any good. With a bit of hesitation the Scrafty took the cup, taking a sip. He wasn't used to hot beverages before, but the taste was definitely... soothing. Ale was comforting, in a way, but not in this same manner. This was much more soothing. ".... not bad," Nick said finally, a bit surprised, taking another, larger sip. "Not bad at all, actually..."

"I'm glad," Cook smiled.

"...huh," Nick said. Cook was right, he definitely had been missing out. While he wouldn't drink tea all the time, it definitely was something he'd have to have more often. "Not at all what I expected..."

The dragon chuckled again, "Back to the whole 'putting a leaf in hot water' deal, no? Perhaps a sign this new experience you didn't want to do won't turn out so badly. Though, of course," he hesitated for a moment. "I never specifically asked what the subject of your new experience was - I suppose it could, for all I know, be something entirely unexpected. Wearing your pants inside-out. Consuming only liquids. Being in a kitchen? Sitting down? Er... where was I?"

Nick cocked an eyebrow. "Come again?" he said. "You lost me there, mate."

"So did I, I'm afraid," Cook admitted, clearing his throat. "Ah, well. Perhaps that's enough philosophy for me."

"Well, at least the tea is good," Nick admitted. "Food could use a little work, though."

"Ooooooh, might I be in the presence of a cunning connosieur of the culinary arts?" The Hydreigon waggled his eyebrows. "Well, I aim to please; anything you need, I will do my utmost to provide to you! As long as it is within my power and/or exists in storage somewhere, consider the effort made to grant your wish. What tips have you to share with me, young master Nicholas?"

Nick chuckled lightly, taking another sip of his tea. "Well, for starters, if it's black, you cooked it too much," he said with a grin.

The dragon chuckled hesitantly. "Er... too much?"

"Yeah, too much," he repeated. "I ain't lookin' to eat charcoal for dinner, mate. I wanna taste something, you know? Like this tea, this stuff is great."

"Aghem, er- certainly! Consider your request fulfilled; I shall keep my experimentation with charcoal restrained to my own, er, dishes!"

Nick seemed surprised by his attitude. For someone who had joined a pirate crew he seemed too... polite. Too refined. He thought he might actually get along with this fellow. "So tell me somethin'," he asked. "How's a guy like you end up joinin' a pirate crew, huh? You don't seem the type to me."

"Hm?" Cook seemed confused by the question, tilting all three heads at the Scrafty. "I thought you were there for my recruitment?"

"I know, but I never expected you to agree to it," Nick said. "Doesn't seem like your line of work."

"Cooking?"

"Piracy, mate," he clarified.

"Piracy?" Cook waved a hand dismissively. "In this climate, I'm afraid to say, a pirate is no more likely to be a bad 'mon than an apparent hero of the ANF is. Terrible amounts of corruption going around. Nasty business. I find it's a lot easier to judge 'mon as they come regardless of profession - and our captain, Jonathan... he seems like a good 'mon, and from three different angles, no less!"

"Corruption is right," Nick said, almost spitting at the mere thought. "I dunno. Never met a decent pirate in my life. Almost makes my skin crawl thinking about..." he began, before stopping, simply taking another sip. "Eh, nevermind."

"I should hope you've met a few decent pirates, seeing as you're now part of a crew of them, my boy," the Hydreigon chuckled.

"I need the money," Nick said, almost defensively. "Tried making a honest livin'. Since I'm here now, bet you can tell how well that turned out."

"Now now, Nicholas," Cook warned. "The times are harsh, and life can indeed be harsher, but you do seem awfully comfortable with Jonathan for a 'mon who simply needs the money. Why, that charming young lad seems to treat you like family, I dare say."

Nick shrugged again. "He kind of talked me into it," he said plainly. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see how things go, eh?"

"Ah, I'm sure all will be fine. Even if there are a few bumps along the road, as long as there's a cup of tea ready to help wind down afterwards, then- XAVIER!" From a puddle of tea beneath Cook's mug - which was now more than half empty - the Hydreigon's right hand stared up at the middle head blankly.

"Me? That was Francis," claimed the hand. "Francis did this."

"You are still sitting in the puddle, Xavier, and Francis is below the table. It could not be more obvious that you- FRANCIS!" Right before Cook's eyes, his left hand rose up from beneath the table and crashed into his mug of tea like an Arbok snatching a Ratatta in its jaws. The pottery shattered and crumbled in Francis' mouth, and tea splashed out from the wreckage and flowed pitifully out from the broken cup. Still chewing on shards of mug, the left hand met the disappointed stare of the Hydreigon's middle and, instead of offering some kind of feeble excuse or an attempt to deflect the blame like Xavier, simply screamed like an absolute mad'mon.

"Oh, for goodness' sake- both of you are on time-out for the rest of the day!" Cook announced, rising from his chair. "And no dessert!" The pained wails of the lesser two of the Hydreigon's heads were drowned out as the dragon donned his oven mitts, muffling what little noise they still made until they ceased. Cook took a deep breath and, once he was sure the hands were quiet for good, said, "Goodness, I'm ever so sorry, Nicholas. Those two can be terribly unruly."

Nick looked on in a mixture of confusion and amusement. "I can see that," he said, stifling a laugh. With that, he finished his tea and rose to his feet. "Er, you need some help cleanin' up?"

"No, no, do not trouble yourself, my friend. I'll just... eat it, or something like that..." Cook murmured.

"... okay, then," Nick said finally, taking his cup and stowing it away with the other dishes in the kitchen. "Then I guess this, er... inspection is done with, yeah?" He turned and began to walk out, stopping at the door frame and looking back. "Oh, and thanks for the tea. That's good stuff. Keep some a' that stocked, would ya?"

"Oh, certainly! It would be my pleasure, Nick - I must try not to drink it all too quickly. Have a good day, my boy."

"Same," Nick said. Well, at least Cook was nice. Maybe he was being paranoid. No way of knowing until he 'inspected' the rest of the crew though, and he had every intention of getting around to that eventually.

Tensions Rise​

Three days after the Evening Star, Jonathan was sitting on the prow, his feet hugging the lance-like beak of the Skarmory figurehead of his ship. A few feet below him was the sea, torn in waves as the Safe Journey blew past the surface in great speed. He had left the wheel to Cook, who seemed able to pilot an airship, and instructed him to fly very low, to avoid detection from marine vessels. He was free to enjoy his day, the breeze, the smell of brine... at least until captain's duty called.

Using the spyglass he had found in the captain's quarters, he scanned the horizon for any ships luckily (or unluckily) passing by. They were flying in a high traffic area; during this season, Skyways from the east to the west appeared directly above them, and merchants and transportation ships took advantage of them to head west... and usually became prey for pirates. But he wasn't keen on running onto any trouble right now, even if it would be just him that was causing it. His first priority was getting to the coordinates Pan had given him. From the maps he had looked at in the captain's quarters, those coordinates were leading them to the southernmost point of Carajol... in the middle of blue. There was nothing there. But Jon wasn't afraid. Because southern Carajol was very sparsely populated, with small islands that were far between each other, and no great natural resources on them, cartographers hadn't yet been interested or attentive when mapping it - there were numerous uncharted islands and cays, where civilization had not reached yet. Jon theorized that the coordinates led to such an island, which would be more than ideal for their hideout.

The seas around them were empty. They had seen the lights of something yesterday night, but now it was all quiet.

Jon heard light footsteps behind him and turned to see Frag approach. The Chespin had a small, mallet-shaped bottle in his hand. "Hey hey, captain monkey man!" he called, leaning forward on the railing near the prow. "Pretty skies, yes? What is you looking for?"

"Oy!" Jon said excitedly, glancing at his mate. "Looking for any ships. Trying to stay out of their way."

"Hah!" Frag chuckled. "Yeah, so.... about that." he began hesitantly. "Captain monkey ship nice and cozy, yes, but is there chance we get to land sooner than later? Frag need dose of solid ground. And also, you know, paymenting." he added casually. "Want some? Is cider. Cooker man found in kitchen."

"You offering me a drink?" Jon said, "Hell yeah I want a drink!" He jumped back on the deck, grabbed the bottle out of the Chespin's hand, took a few great gulps. The cider left a warm feel in his throat, just how a fire-type like him liked it; and it tasted of apple, one of Jon's favorites!

Handing back the bottle and casting his gaze upon the sea, he said, "How long it's been since we left Modistra? Three days? 'Fraid we've more than that ahead of us till we reach our destination." He looked at the Chespin, suddenly suspicious. "What'd you mean "paymenting"?"

Frag took a swig from the bottle and wiped his mouth after letting out a loud burp. "You know, salary, money, compensating, yadda yadda. Frag wanted to ask, so not forget later, yes?" His tone was nonchalant, but Jon could tell it had a hint of antsy behind it.

"Salaries?" Jon smiled at the notion, shaking his hands, "No, no, we're not doing salaries. We divide our loot."

The Chespin laughed hesitantly, unsure whether Jon was joking or not. "Heheh, yes, yes. But for serious though, no more joking." the amused expression faded from his face. "Exploding ship was fun and everything, but Frag not come here for free. Got service fee, outside of loot. You number sixty four, should know that."

"Woah, partner," the Monferno said, frowning as he realized Frag meant what he was saying. "For real, we don't do salaries. Everybody just gets a share of the loot. That's how it's always been."

"Bullshit, not for Frag. Is how we do it in Osenia. Frag not care what pirate people do in Crapajol. You got problem?" he growled, stepping up to the Monferno and looking him in the eye defiantly.

The Monferno in turn threw him an furious look. "Yeah we got problem," he shouted, "I ain't giving nobody a damn salary! You'll get paid in loot like everyone else!"

"Oh yeah?" Frag shouted back, emptying his bottle before smashing on the ground. "Frag make you learn Osenian rule, one way or other." He gave Jon a powerful shove, stumbling forward a little in his drunken state. "Fight me, bitch!"

Jon staggered backwards and fell into a set of barrels, nearly knocking them over. "Oh you wanna fight?!" Jon shouted, jumping up, seemingly unharmed, and raising his fists. The Mach Punch he threw was aimed at the Chespin's jaw. Frag barely had any time to react to the blow, which hit much harder than he had expected. The drunk, diminutive grass-type was thrown backwards by the punch, landing painfully on his back a couple feet away. The ruckus had attracted the attention of the other crew members now, and heads were turned towards the fallen Chespin.

Frag took a moment to get back up, still stunned from the blow. "Ha... haha, you hit good, captain. You do Osenian way after all, eh?" he wiped his mouth and charged back at Jon. "But Frag not let-"

Jon barred his teeth at Frag, a vein pulsing on his forehead. Being much more of a physical fighter, he easily countered the charge by sidestepping, grabbing his arm and twisting it. The Chespin found himself with his back on the deck and the Monferno standing over him.

"You go looking for a fight on my ship, you're gonna get your ass beat, pal!" Jon shouted angrily at him.

Frag let out a noise that was somewhere in between a curse, a cough and a wheeze, raising his arm weakly before letting it drop back down on the ship. "D-da, captain..." he croaked, rolling sideways in pain. He couldn't fight back, and Jon had beaten him fair and square. He didn't have the right to speak up anymore, the winner of the fight was the one with the last word - that was the Osenian way.

Jon, seeing that he conceded, offered a hand to help Frag up. The Chespin painfully agreed, hoisting himself up and grunting in pain.

"Just what I'm the bloody hell is going on here?" Nick called out as he arrived on the deck. "I'm down tryin' to fix shit and I hear... this." The Scrafty cast both of them an irritated glare, arms crossed and waiting for an explanation. "Well?"

Frag opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly closed it again as he motioned for the Scrafty to wait and ran over to the side of the deck. His stomach gave a violent lurch and he proceeded to empty its contents all over the side of the airship, charred-goldeen and bad-drink included. He hobbled back to the captain and his first mate. "Euugh... Frag not handle drink well." he moaned and clutched his stomach. "Is -hic- no big problem."

"Frag boy's just drunk," Jon said, his anger having dissipated quickly. It was like he'd already forgotten any animosity towards the Chespin. "We just had a small disagreement over paymenting!"

Knew this was a bad idea. .. Nick grumbled. "Try not to break anything else, then," he said finally, groaning in annoyance. "This ship's worth more than you are."

By the end of the sixth day on their journey in south Carajol, they had passed by many islands, all of them uninhabited. They had seen a couple of sails on the horizon, but they never got too close, and a skyway did nearly push them off course, but in the end the right track was found again. The start of the seventh day found Jon anxious to reach his destination. He had retreated to his quarters and was studying all the maps of the region he had found. He knew the Safe Journey was closing in on the coordinates Pan had given him; at the pace and direction they were going, he expected to find the uncharted island the day that was dawning.

There was a knock at the door with a voice calling out, "Captain, a moment of your time?"

Jon looked up from the maps he had unfolded on the table. "Yeah, come in."

The Furret opened the door and quickly stepped in, closing it behind him, "... So." He said. "Who is Rochetto?" He asked, "And the Governor seemed to be on a first name basis too, Duncan." He remarked.

Jon chuckled in the easy way he had, leaning back on his velvet chair. "Rochetto, as in Adrian Rochetto, the pirate who's in charge of Modistra," he said, confident that Adrian would have dealt with the Poison Vipers - there was no way he would lose to such rookies! "He was in cahoots with the Governor who was running the island. You could say he's like family to me. Governor knew we were close, so he probably thought I was there to do Adrian's business of stepping in and sending those marines packing - as part of the deal those two had. And as for the name Duncan... that's what Adrian calls me, and it's the name I went by on Modistra, to hide from my reputation as Furious Jonathan."

Sam nodded, "Right now you're the head of your own crew. It's not as bad as I imagined, but I do need a promise from you. You seem to know a few faces around in the pirate business, faces who could end up clashing against us. As pirates I imagine we'll have to push into other territory. I doubt any other crew would be fine with us swooping and snatching up any treasure. When that time comes, and if any friends of yours show up to ruin our day, let me know. It's one thing to attack a third neutral party, it's another to go against a friend in combat. You won't show hesitation at all during our journey... right? Cause that hesitation means someone's head gets chopped off."

The Monferno shrugged. "A fight is a fight. I don't hesitate there, partner. And I put my crew above everyone else. If somebody feels like messing with us, no matter who it is, they'll get sunk." He toyed with a cotton ball he had on his hands as he looked at Sam somewhat inquisitively. "You're not from around these parts, are ya? Listen," he said, leaning over the table and his maps with a confidential look, "We're a pirate crew now, and pirate crews in Carajol don't just barge into other crew's space." He raised a finger, as if to draw attention to his next statement, "Doesn't mean we never will. We'll just have to pick our battles. All I'm gonna say."

"I AM from here, and I know how it works. But I know men like you. You won't be content with just exploring Carajol. You'll head out to other areas too. I see that glimmer in your eyes whenever you talk about this crew. You have high hopes for us. And high hopes don't stay in one single place." Sam replied. "When we head into other areas, then that's more up to grabs."

"Ahh," Jon let out, a big smile overtaking his face. He sensed he and Sam were on the same page. "Everything outside the Pirate Alliance's reach is fair game."

"Of course." Sam closed his eyes, "Onto my second point. I do know some locals and some places. I know the cities well enough to sneak around and get us to some good places. Point of the matter is I can get us around. I know hiding spots, friendly faces, the like. You want a big payout? Let me get to one of those spots and we'll start off smoothly."

Jon sized him up quickly. "What kinda jobs are you talking about?"

Sam said nothing, but judging by how the muscles along his face moved, he was clearly smiling under his bandanna, "Trust me, you don't want to know. Just know I offer my services to very wealthy clientele."

Jon put his palms together in front of his face and looked to the side, kind of preoccupied. It took him a few moments of pause before he spoke again. "When the time comes, I'll need to know," he said decisively. "The crew has a right to know what they've set out to do." Jon had other concerns as well, which he didn't speak of at the moment. Judging from the way he had heard Sam talk and how he'd seen him move, quietly sneaking around, he could tell he was an assassin, and the jobs with the big payout he was proposing must've been assassinations. Crews that were part of the Pirate Alliance had to be careful if they were to undertake assassination contracts - if the victim of the contract favored the politics of the Big Five of the Alliance, it would be like shooting themselves in the foot.

Sam shrugged, "I'll run it by you, then. This is a good way to a start though. For a crew, we either plunder and raid, or we get paid handsomely. And one way tends to be more secretive. And we need to build up some wealth before we reveal ourselves to potential threats, no?"

Jon assumed he meant wealth with which to buy guns and gear with. He glanced at the clock on the wall, and then got up from his chair. "Agreed," he said simply. "I've to head out. We're nearing our destination. We'll talk more in-depth about all that shite when the time's right."




Nick was standing on the updeck, leaning lazily on the railing and peering out idly over the horizon. The sun had just started its ascent, beginning to cast a bright, orange light across the water. Through half-open eyes, Nick spotted another grouping of islands, right in their path. "Ey, Jon," Nick called out. "More islands. What's it look like?"

Jon snapped awake. He had dozed off huddled up inside the cup of the Crow's Nest, where he'd climbed to be on the lookout for any islands. He took a peek at the sea in front of them. The wind from up there ruffled his hair. When he saw the string of islands, he perked up and looked at them through his spyglass, then checked a map he had pinned under his weight. There was no sign of such a formation of islands near the location where they were supposed to be. "I dunno," he shouted back, "These aren't even on the map!"

Once Jon got behind the wheel, the airship started to lose height as it headed straight for one of the islands. Jon decided he would go for the smallest one first; they were quite far from each other.

The moment he saw that there was a beach where they could make a landing on, Jon tolled the bell tolled twice, calling everyone on the deck. "This is it!" The Monferno shouted, "We're at our place!"

The island got closer and closer, and the beach Jon had set his sights on larger and larger. It looked like there was a mountain on the island, whose flat part was thick with a jungle of palm trees. From the altitude they were flying at, they could see the islands from above easily; there was no sign of civilization like a harbor or a town anywhere on them.

In a few minutes, the Safe Journey was flying in line with the beach and quickly losing height and speed; Jon was checking for reefs in the shallow waters, but the beach looked to be made of the golden kind of sand everyone wants to spend their summers on. Awesome, Jon thought with a huge smile and pushed the lever as far in as it would go. The vessel came to a stop, landing with a splash. When the ship landed, it got stuck on the sand of the shallow waters of the beach.

The island greeted them with the sound of waves that washed the golden shore and the distant cry of a Mankey.

"Anchor!" Jon shouted, and he jumped in the middle of the deck. "Listen up, Blue Bands! This island and whatever's on it belongs to us now. It's off every chart I found in my quarters, and it doesn't look like there's anybody here but birds. We're good to call this a safe haven from the law. This is where I want to build our hideout. But before we do that, we oughta have a look around. We'll form three groups and head out there. Someone should stay behind and guard the ship. Let's all agree to be back here on this beach by midnight." Jon's eyes swept across the crew. "I'll go with Cook. Sam, you're with Frag, and Kayri's with Nick. Good?"

Samuel nodded, glancing at the Chespin, "Sure, why not?"

"Da, captain!" Frag saluted enthusiastically. "Frag and Fur Man make sure any trouble on island stops being trouble!" he slammed his fists together. "If find. Hopefully not." he added.

"Nick," Jon said, "I'll trust your group to find us a place to stay the night. Throw something together if you have to, as long as it doesn't fall over with the first breeze, and make sure it's got a good place to land the ship nearby."

Nick nodded an affirmative, his expression changing to one of slight... excitement, perhaps? "A hideout, eh? I'll go have a peep around, then."

Jon raised both his fists in the air and shouted excitedly, "Alright, let's do this!" He motioned towards the Hydreigon. "C'mon, mate, off to the jungle we go."

He jumped off the extended plank, landing on the beach lightly. The sand was soft beneath his toes, and cold from the night's chill. The Monferno glanced behind him. "I'll head east with Cook. Nick and Kayri, go north, and Frag and Samboy go south, see if you can reach the top of that mountain. See ya!"

The captain, full of energy, ran across the beach at full speed towards the thick jungle, expecting the Hydreigon to follow after him. The dragon paused momentarily, glancing from Jonathan to the rest of the crew hesitantly.

"O-oh! Just a moment, captain!" Cook cried out to the energetic Monferno, hastily gathering together a collection of paper bags and rushing over to the others. "Hello, everyone! I thought we might get hungry if these trips take a while so, aghem; I made you all some packed lunches! Nothing too fancy, just a couple of sandwiches, but please, here! Take a break, have a picnic, enjoy, my friends! Must be off, so I'll leave these just here, lest I lose sight of our dear captain. Cheerio, my dears!" As carefully as he could, the Hydreigon left the brown bags on the ground and took off after Jon as fast as the phantom force that propelled him would take him.

Jon, meanwhile, had plunged into the jungle, jumping from branch to branch agilely and with the speed you would expect from a Monferno. It was most obvious that in the jungle, Jon felt like home. Cook was momentarily losing sight of him in the greenery for a few moments, before he saw him again, leaping to another branch ahead and again fading out of sight.

"You can fly, Cook?" he heard Jon shout somewhere ahead.

"Erm, yes- where are we going, captain?" The Hydreigon asked warily, for the most part ignoring the question. "You wanted to stick together, yes?"

"Yeah!" Jon shouted, "I dunno where we're going. I want to see what the island has to offer." Just as he said it, he leaped towards the thick trunk of a palm tree and climbed his way up. He stopped just before the top, his face close to some kind of fruit that looked like a coconut. "Hey! You know what this is?"

"Goodness gracious," Cook breathed, glad to have caught up to the Monferno. "I- er, oh! Yes, those are nice! Can't quite recall what they are called, though."

"I'm gonna take one for later!" Jon said, and tried plucking it out, but something poked him from above. "O!" he shouted angrily, almost letting go of the trunk. He protected his face with one hand while with the other he reached up. What he ended up grabbing was a Pikipek, who started chirping and thrashing in his grip; it was hiding in the crown of leaves of the palm tree. It tried pecking his arm, but the Monferno used his other arm to grab the beak.

Once the Pikipek realized it couldn't escape, it remained still, staring at Jon. It looked quite angry, for a wild Pikipek, but it didn't speak a word. "You're lucky I ain't hungry," Jon said to it, and released it.

As the bird flew away, the Monferno plucked the coconut-like berry. "Damn! It's hard as a basketball," he said.

"Ahh, but the prize inside is so flaky and refreshing!" The Hydreigon assured his captain, floating up to his level. "And the water inside - like a cool breeze, but to drink! Certainly, I should procure a few for the pantry..."

Jon held the berry under his arm and leaped to another tree. He and the dragon resumed their trip through the jungle, keeping as high from the ground as possible. They had to stop a couple of times, as Jon spotted a Rhyhorn and wanted to observe it. At the second stop, he remained staring at a cluster of palm trees. "We're being watched, my friend," he whispered to Cook.

"Oooh," the dragon chuckled, leaning in to Jonathan conspiratorially. "How so? Do you think someone is interested in our impending picnic?"

"Look at the palms over there. You see them?"

Concealed under the green, there were birds with red feathers standing still as statues. They were hardly visible, but their eyes followed Jon and Cook's every move; they never moved, not even when the two pirates looked directly at them. "Pikipeks," Jon whispered. "Like the one we saw earlier. I've seen lots of wilds in my life, they never stand still like this." He looked at Cook with a mischievous grin. "I don't like being watched. You wanna help me catch one of those? I want to see what this's about."

Cook tilted his head, squinting through the treeline until he spotted the spooky birds. "Catch one?" He repeated with a hint of scepticism. "I can't imagine why you'd want to catch a wild 'mon like that. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to investigate, though. Perhaps with a handful of breadcrumbs?"

Jon glanced at the birds quickly, and shook his head. "Nah, they won't be fooled that easily, if they're keeping their eye on us."

"Fooled? What's deceitful about feeding birds breadcrumbs?"

"These birds are smart," Jon said, "They're not here for food, they're here to watch us."

"Ah, but why not try regardless?" Cook smiled. "Then, at least, we shall have the moral high ground."

Jon looked to be considering it for a moment. He thought it would be a good test to see if what he had said was true. If the birds cared for more than food, they would probably be in trouble. "Go ahead."

The Hydreigon accepted the invitation with a nod of his main head, reaching into his sandwich bag and fiddling about with it to garner an assortment of crumbs. Once satisfied, the dragon cheerily approached the motionless animals, humming along the way and brandishing his crummy offerings.

"Hello, jungle-friends!" He greeted the Pikipeks, undeterred by their lack of ability to speak or, indeed, understand speech. "Fear not, I bring gifts!" Cook shook some of the crumbs out, a good distance away from himself so that his proximity wouldn't scare the birds away.

The attention of the Pikipeks turned to the crumbs, but they didn't make a move, like normal birds would when they saw bread. Their gaze turned to the two pirates... and then they flew away.

"Fuck!" Jon cursed. He quickly climbed up a tree and deployed the retractable spyglass he had on his belt. He followed the movement of the birds closely; they were flying east, further into the jungle. The same direction the first bird Jon had caught flew in, he noted.

"Gracious me, Jonathan," Cook chuckled, only mildly disappointed at the birds' disappearance. "You really should watch your language, my boy - the Pikipeks will think you improper!"

"They're the ones who could learn some manners! Spying on us like that. I'm gonna teach them a lesson. Come on," Jon shouted, and he pressed on through the jungle, following the direction the birds had escaped towards.

As soon as Kayri stepped down onto solid ground, a sense of relief immediately washed over her. Being a Ground type, she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable up in the air; a feeling only somewhat alleviated when she was in the engine room and listening to their low rumble. She'd spent the past week or so simply tinkering with the engines, streamlining some of its functions and performing some more maintenance work. Unfortunately, hiding out meant that she hadn't actually gotten the opportunity to speak with much of the crew, even the one person she was most interested in.

Kayri placed the brown bag that Cook had passed on to them into her own backpack before casting a thoughtful look at the Scrafty beside her. Well, lucky for her, this was a golden opportunity.

She cleared her throat and asked, feigning casualness, "So our orders are to find a place to build some kinda 'hideout', yeah?"

"Something like that," Nick replied with a shrug. For a 'mon setting out for construction, he packed awfully light, carrying only a small backpack which he'd thrown over one shoulder. With a crack of his neck he stepped forward, eyeing the trees surrounding them, as if making a mental note of their size and type. "Nothin' fancy, just a little shelter for now. Quick and easy, just gotta find a good spot."

Kayri continued to watch him from the corner of her eye. "Are you gonna use that metal wood of yours for the shelter then?" Her expression was as inscrutable as ever, but there was a definite undercurrent of eagerness to her voice.

Nick shook his head. "Ain't got none here," he said, a bit of disappointment in his tone. "All I've got is what you see here. These trees look usable... if only temporary." He continued to walk through the forest as he spoke, reaching into his pack and pulling out a machete, effortlessly cleaving a path through the flora in their way. "Depends on if our buddy Jon wants to make this a permanent hideout I s'pose. Don't think I can get any Wyron wood way out here, though..."

Kayri followed Nick's path, glancing at the trees around them. She couldn't tell what made them usable or not, but she trusted Nick's assessment. "So this Wyron wood... occurs naturally?" Kayri asked, surprised. She'd assumed that they'd somehow cured ordinary wood or otherwise manipulated it into what it was. "I've never heard of somethin' like that before. Then again, I don't normally deal much with wood myself. Engineerin' is more of a metals thing." She swung her spanner a bit as if to demonstrate. "Though... to my eye, you could pretty much say our ship's made from metal and be about as right."

"In a certain sense of the word 'natural,' I guess," Nick replied. "Ain't nothin' natural about it if you ask me, but I know what you mean, and there is a place where it grows. Very secret, very secluded, and nobody knows it but me," he added, seeming a bit proud of the last bit. "Sounds like superstition, I know. Most people still think so, but it's as real as it gets."

"How come you're the only one that knows where it is? Somethin' like that has gotta be plenty sought after. Wouldn't people be followin' you out to wherever the wood comes from?" She kept staring at the trees around them as though she could turn them all into the elusive Wyron wood through the sheer power of her gaze. Another thought occurred to her and she turned back to Nick. "And speakin' of which, how do you handle somethin' like that? You couldn't treat it like wood, since it's kinda metal, but you couldn't treat it like metal either, 'cause it's wood."

Nick smirked lightly at her question. "Like I said, most folks think it's just a bunch of mumbo-jumbo. They don't think it's real. Called my dad nuts, they did, said he'd never find it and was wastin' his time." He paused for a moment, a quick swing of his blade making quick work of the vines in his path before he continued up the steady incline. "Even after he found it, though, he knew people might get wise to it, so we never took much of it. Only for special pieces, special... projects," he added, nodding back towards where they'd come from. "Like our ship. Dear ol' dad taught me how to handle it, how to use it, but truth be told we never worked with it much for exactly the reason you said. Didn't want people gettin' wise." He paused for a moment, casting a sideways glance at the Marowak and grinning just slightly. "As to how to handle it? Can't tell you, family secret," he said with a prideful chuckle.

"Family secret..." mumbled Kayri. That was unfortunate. "Well... you say you're only usin' it for special projects," she said slowly. "I dunno if you remember, but I mentioned before that I'm workin' on a little somethin' of my own." She caught Nick's gaze and held it steady. "I've been thinkin' that maybe this special wood of yours could be one of the keys to helpin' me finish it. But of course, I ain't entirely sure of all its properties, so I haven't quite figured out how exactly I could use it yet." She paused for a moment, making sure Nick knew that she was very serious about what she was saying, before continuing. "But if I ever figure it out, would you be willin' to work on it for me?"

Nick tilted his head a bit, sensing she was serious, before shrugging. "Depends mostly on how this little adventure of ours goes," he said finally. "Though I s'pose there's no harm in it. 'Course I couldn't tell you where to get it or how to work it, since... well, family secret," he repeated, swinging away at another branch, seeing the top of the mountain just a little further ahead.

Kayri nodded. "Of course. I have trade secrets of my own, so I can respect that. Could I take a closer look at a piece of the wood, if you don't mind? Tryin' to figure out how to use material that you know almost nothin' about can be difficult." There was a small smile on her face; the conversation had obviously put her in a good mood. "Ah," she said when she caught sight of the mountain, "I shoulda asked earlier, but what makes a spot good for buildin'? What should I be lookin' out for?"

"Tryin' to get to the top so I can get a better view," Nick answered, chopping away another branch. "Just need some flat land, no rocks or mounds in the way; somethin' we can use as a sturdy foundation." As he finished, her turned to her again, his expression changing to a more musing one, mulling over her request. "I could let you look at a piece of it. The Wyron, I mean. What would you need it for, anyway?"

Kayri seemed contemplative. "...Have you ever heard of somethin' called the World Gear?"

"Nope," Nick replied plainly. "Should I have?"

"Nah. Not many folks have. I guess you could say it's a bit like your Wyron wood," she said with a small smile. "There're stories about it, but no 'mon's ever found it. They say that the World Gear's an important part of the whole world's ecosystem; that it influences how nature itself runs." Kayri waved a hand, gesturing at the trees and sky all around them. Turning back to Nick, she said with a steely determination, "I want to build a compass that will point me to the World Gear itself. It's never been done before. Most 'mon who've heard the stories don't even believe it's real. But I know in my bones," she tapped the skull that she wore, grinning a bit at her own joke, "that it's somewhere out there. I'll be the one to find it, or spend the rest of my life tryin'."

"Sounds just like my dad," Nick said with a tiny grin. "Kind of sounds crazy, but there again, they said the Wyron Woods was crazy, and it turned out to be true, so who knows?" he added with a shrug. "Not sure how the Wyron fits in with it, but can't hurt to try."

Kayri's gaze grew sharper and more businesslike. "I've got some rough blueprints, but, thing is, the technology just don't exist yet. There are some bits I got planned out that just can't be made with anythin' that I know of, and there are some bits that I ain't got a clue for how I'm gonna make work. I figure, maybe if I go 'round and learn of as much as I can about things I don't know about yet, maybe some of those things will lead me to the answer I'm lookin' for." She gave Nick a small shrug. "After all, you ain't gonna know what things you don't know 'til you know 'em, ain't that right?"

Nick gave a light chuckle, making one last cleave with his blade before venturing on. "I guess you got me there," he replied, making it to the top of the hill and catching a glimpse of the rest of the island. The sun was now high over the horizon, leaving Nick and Kayri with an excellent view of their surroundings.

[img]http://i.imgur.com/ytG8WLR.png[/img]

Nick's eyes scanned the island, catching sight of a very large tree down below, larger than all the others. He pointed Kayri towards the sight with his machete. "Give that a gander, yeah? Think we should check that out?"

Kayri followed Nick's gaze and looked at the tree for a short while, appearing to be studying it quite intensely. "Nick," she said, nodding thoughtfully, "I really ain't got a clue about trees."

"Well I'll tell you that's the biggest damn tree I've ever seen," he replied, motioning for her to follow as he began to head down. "Might be a good spot to build somethin'."

She followed him down the incline, not looking particularly bothered by the fairly strenuous trek they'd had so far. Though, of course, Nick's the one who'd been doing most of the work. "Not a lot of trees where I'm from. Mostly just bones." She grinned rather wryly. "My kind gen'rally like it there."

"Not many from my place neither," Nick replied. "More like a forest of metal, right miserable place." The way down was a lot less strenuous, with Nick able to maneuver around most of the foliage without much effort. "My granddad used to have a cabin out in Sonara, smack-dab in the middle of the forest, though. Love to live there permanently if I had the means." As he finished he cocked his head a bit to the side. "Where you from anyway?"

"Tyrantria, in Antara. Dunno what you might have heard of it. You?" Kayri's bag got snagged on a branch as she followed Nick and she had to take a minute to free herself and check that nothing got damaged.

"Liverte, far east of Sonara," Nick answered. "Nothin' but metal and smog. Don't know much of Antara, never been there."

"Antara has a lot of different kinds of 'mon in different kinds of places, an' none of 'em play nice," she said. It was difficult to tell whether she was being fond or critical of her homeland. She livened up when she asked, "You're from Sonara? The technology there's somethin' else, from what I hear. And it ain't just for bombs like back in Tyrantria. I definitely wanted to go there sometime, see what I could maybe learn."

"Ain't nothin' to learn but how to get ripped off," Nick said critically. "At least in Liverte, the tech's only used to line the pockets of the Trade Prince, nothin' else."

"Ain't that a familiar story," Kayri murmured, her eyes a bit faraway. "Whole cities start fallin' apart and good folk suffer. This ain't what Arceus would have wanted for us. Don't you reckon somethin' had to have gone wrong somewhere, for the world to end up the way it is?" She sounded almost as though she were musing to herself, but her eyes were intent on Nick.

"Nothin' gone wrong, just people doin' what they do best," Nick answered dryly. "Greed and selfishness, all it is, and unfortunately for the rest of us, greed tends to net you a bigger payday than anythin' else, which gives you the edge over the good, decent 'mon and lets you play 'em for fools. Bein' a good person just doesn't reward you like people'd like it to."

Kayri nodded, obviously cataloguing what Nick had said somewhere in her mind. "Greed. Maybe it is just as simple as that," she said. "Seekin' personal gain is strayin' from the path set out for us, for sure. But now might not be the best time for all this philosophisin'." She craned her head up to fully take in the sheer mass of the tree as they approached. Its roots were thick and long, squirming so far outwards that they had to start navigating their way over them even as far away as they were. "That really is one huge damn tree."

Nick peered around, glancing at the tree; the trunk was wider than their ship, and it's height extended so far beyond the rest of the forest, blanketing the ground almost completely from the sun. Nick nodded in approval, taking a quick look around before turning back to the spectacle. "Damn straight," he said, seeming to grow a bit excited at the sight of it. "Seems as good a place as any to build a little hideout, don't you think?"

"Just tell me what you need me to do," Kayri replied. She'd seemed a bit uncertain, but seemed more than willing to follow Nick's lead, since this was his area of expertise. "Like I said, I don't know much about plants or trees, but I have a bit of experience workin' with lumber. Remodeled an airship once." She paused. "It ended up crashin', though."

Nick set his pack on the ground, turning his head from side to side and cracking his neck, readying himself for work. "Just follow my lead and this'll end up better," he said with a smirk. He didn't bring many tools, but he figured between the two of them they could make do with what they had. "Go on and clear the land a little bit, we'll need a solid surface to start proper..."

Jon And Cook Follow Some Birds Because Hey I Guess There Are Worse Ideas​

The jungle was hot and dry at this season, just how Jonathan liked it. That forest was different from Modistra's; it was more tropical, the flora wilder and seemingly untouched by civilization. He and Cook had dashed past wilds like a Liepard and a Parasect, who would have gladly attempted to eat them, if they weren't so far above the ground. Jon had also encountered an Arbok up in the branches who tried to attack him; he ended up grabbing its tail and flinging it across the forest to get rid of it.

They had seen more Pikipeks, but those were flying about, watching them from afar, way out of Jonathan's range. The birds were wary now, he noticed, as if their comrades had warned them of something. Every so often, the Monferno would climb at the top of a tree to make sure they were going to the direction the Pikipeks had flown to. He was intent on finding out what was going on with those wilds that behaved strangely.

After hours and hours of trenching through the dense forest, and crossing over many streams of water, they reached a place that was more humid. Jon heard the waterfalls before he saw them, after he was done climbing a steep, rocky hill that grew from the ground like a knife. Mists that covered this part of the jungle rose with the strength of the waterfalls. With a quick look around, they could tell that they were in the heart of the island, where the jungle was the thickest and the wildest. But the most impressive part of it was the giant trees that sprouted between lesser ones.





The Hydreigon and the Monferno saw a flock of Pikipeks flying towards the largest and tallest of those trees.

"Look there, Cook!" Jon pointed. "Pikipeks!"

The Hydreigon squinted into the distance, and as Cook was about to speak his left hand uttered out a sinister "Yum!"

"Francis, mind your manners," Cook berated him. "We are civilised creatures who will not snatch up and consume another at the drop of a hat, however small. No?"

In response, the smaller head turned as if to face the main one, then turned a little too far off into blank space. "Traitor jums," it spoke, its eyes completely out of focus.

Jon laughed at Francis and said, "What's up with him?"

"Oh, Francis is just being silly," Cook assured his captain, absentmindedly patting the smaller head. "Should we follow the birds, master Jonathan?"

"Yeah, we will!" Jon shouted, "I'm gonna teach those bastards not to spy on me!" Suddenly invigorated, he rocketed downhill, jumping on a tree once he ran out of ground to run on. As the captain blended with the jungle again, Cook heard him shout, "You ready to lay the smackdown on 'em?!"

"Erm-!" The Hydreigon hesitated, distracted by his efforts to keep up with the Monferno that he couldn't entirely see amongst the dense foliage. "Probably best not to jump headfirst into, er... 'smackdowns', no? And pardon me, but- er, when we're, ah, darting through the forest... as we are now, it becomes somewhat difficult... to respond properly, in... in conversation!"

Jon didn't respond to any of that. With a few leaps on vines, branches and trunks, in less than five minutes he landed at the foot of the tallest of the gargantuan trees. That part of the jungle was teeming with Mankey and bird and other animals' screams. It sounded like they were having a party to Jon's half-wild ears. "Woah," he said, his eyes sparkling in amazement when he raised his head as far back as it would go to look at the entirety of the tree that rose from the mists. Its green roots were thick, and bigger than a regular house in Modistra; its shade seemed to Jon the coolest of all shades in the forest, or maybe it was the damp air and the sound of the waterfalls nearby that made him think that. "Nice tree!" he said to himself, "Wonder how old it is. Must be hundreds of years old!"

"Thousands perhaps, at this size- where-?" Cook flew past where Jon had ended up, failing to see the Monferno, and began to circle around the rest of the tree. After a short while he paused, spotting a small-ish hole in the side of the trunk's base that resembled a kind of cave entrance. "Er, Jon! Jonathan, my captain, did you head down here?" Cook called down into the tree.

"BACK OFF!" A 'mon with a squeaky voice screamed from inside. "Back off, you monster! I am armed!"

"O-oh! My apologies!" The dragon replied. "I'm just looking for a friend! Did another 'mon pass into this place a few moments ago?"

After a few moments, the 'mon inside the tree said hesitantly, "N-no? I saw nobody! Go away!"

"What the hell's going on here?!" Jon shouted, diving into a patch of grass next to the hole.

The 'mon in the hole started screaming.

"Oh, Jonathan, there you are!" breathed Cook. "We should probably leave and come back more delicately, the poor dear in there sounds terrified!"

"Hell no, I ain't goin' back now!" Jon shouted, and his eyes turned to the entrance. I knew they were sentient, Jon thought, pissed off more at himself for not figuring it out earlier than with the birds. But then he thought that the screams that were coming from inside the tree didn't sound like a bird... they sounded more like some other animal.

"HEY! You, in there! Come out and we'll have a little talk!"

"I beg you, go away!"

"Okay! I'm coming in, then!"

"NOOO!"

The Monferno bullrushed straight into the hole, expecting to find some sort of resistance that he aimed to trample with his reckless charge. But there was no resistance.

He found himself in a round, spacious room... with no bird in sight. Jon glanced upwards; the giant tree's trunk was hollow. Far above his head, light entered in beams from several other holes like the one he had just entered from. Stairs had been carved into the sides of the circular room, so one could walk to the top by going round and round and round... it would take hours to climb all of those stairs.

And when Jon looked down below, he saw a Pansear cowering in a corner and crying. Jon was surprised. That 'mon was the one who was talking to them earlier, and he was definitely sentient. He looked no older than sixteen. "Hey pal," Jon said, his expression having softened considerably once he saw him. "Sorry for barging in like that."

"Jonathan, for goodness'- oh..." As Cook floated onto the scene, he calmed down and gave his captain a hesitant glance. "Thank heavens. Perhaps... a more gentle approach next time, master Jonathan?" Clearing his throat, the dragon carefully lowered himself slightly closer to the ground and turned to the Pansear. "Are you quite all right, my dear boy? I'm terribly sorry to have startled you - I can assure you we mean no harm."

"Wh-who are you?!" the Pansear said, retreating even farther. "What are you doing on this island?!"

"My name is Cook!" The Hydreigon said with a smile. "This is Jonathan! We are exploring! What might I call you?"

The Pansear looked at them with teary eyes, reluctant to trust them. "Pans," he said, managing to stand upright now that he saw the Monferno wasn't advancing any further. "You can't go exploring this island!"

"I can go exploring anywhere," Jon said, undeterred. "Who's gonna stop me?"

"Uh," the Pansear let out, "my boss. He's the Kahuna of the island, and if he says you can't explore, you just can't." He seemed very proud of his boss.

"Erm, well, I don't recall him telling us not to explore... or making us aware of his presence, for that matter," Cook offered, stroking his chin. "Still, it is very nice to meet you, Pans, and I'm sure it would be wonderful to meet your, er, 'Kahuna' as well! I understand if you may still be wary, but if it isn't too much to ask, do you think you could direct us to him? I'm sure we wouldn't want to be unintentionally stepping on anyone's toes by being here."

The Pansear looked like he would melt into the wood with fear and worry, but in the end he agreed. "Follow me." He took the stairs up, heading for the top of the hollow trunk. "I spoke too soon," Pans said, "I don't think my boss actually said anything. He's sleeping all morning, and no one dares to wake him up."

"Wait a min," Jon said, "We're heading up! That's where the Pikipeks went, Cook."

"You noticed the Pikipeks?" Pans said.

"Yeah, we did," Jon said, "What's up with them?!"

"They're the boss's eyes. All across the forest. Nothing escapes them," the Pansear said fondly. "So, you're from the outside world?! How is it there?"

"Not without its problems, but wonderfully exciting nonetheless," Cook beamed, glad that the younger 'mon seemed to be less petrified. "Lots to do and lots to see. How are things here, my good lad?"

The Pansear seemed hesitant to say anything. "How are things here - well," he started, "Good?" He chortled awkwardly.

Jon had started to pant for breath after all the climbing; one look down was enough to make a 'mon afraid of heights dizzy, but it just made him excited. They were going to the top! I'll be able to see the whole island from up there! Out loud, he said, "Nice place!" between breaths.

"I'll tell the boss you said that," Pans said, "His birds made it. Pikipeks are woodpeckers, you know."

They had to stop a few times on their way to the top to catch their breath. Jon felt like it took them hours to get there, but eventually they reached one of the holes where the light was coming from. Even though the stairs continued their ascent further up into the tree trunk, the Pansear chose that hole to exit in.

Several hundred feet above the ground, they walked upon a branch as wide as the deck of the Safe Journey; it twisted and turned, leading them upward into the foliage of the giant tree. If the wind picked up, it would be impossible to tread upon the branch as you would just be knocked over, but the wind was tame that day.

Jon immediately noticed hundreds upon hundreds of Pikipeks sitting on leaves, in every direction. Some were staring at them with hostility, other ignored them and were chirping and singing loudly, coming and leaving from their home. It was a huge network of birds that spread all across the island, it seemed, and this was their base.

"Don't hurt them!" Pans said.

"I won't," Jon promised.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Cook concurred.

Their road led to a green patch at the treetop that was under the shade of other branches higher than the one they were on. That green patch was in fact a thick platform of leaves and vines that was sturdy enough to be walked upon, and in its shape, it looked very much like a birdnest. No Pikipeks could be found near it, so that place was quieter. It seemed like they were afraid to wake him up.

And in the center of it was roosting the largest Toucannon Jon had ever seen. His lower body was disproportionate to his head and beak, at least three times larger - his belly was that fat, and his wings blended in with all of it. He looked like a snowball made by a giant, sitting as he was in the grassy nest. Jon doubted that 'mon could ever move from there, let alone fly.

The Toucannon's eyes were closed, and he seemed to be asleep.

"Here he is - uh-oh," Pans said, "He's still asleep! I have to wake him. Wait here!"

"Wow!" Jon whispered, leaning towards Cook while still looking at the Toucannon. "This guy's competing with Captain Adrian for the fattest 'mon in Carajol!"

"Now now, Jonathan, be polite," the Hydreigon berated him, chuckling despite himself.

"Boss?" The Pansear whispered while leaning close to the Toucannon. "Boss? Wake up, boss!"

The Toucannon opened his eyes almost immediately, like he wasn't asleep. "Pans! What have I told you about waking me?" The bird croaked. Despite them being just a few meters away, he never seemed to notice Jon and Cook standing on his nest.

"Yes, birds your age need a lot of sleep," the Pansear said, as if he'd heard that before. "I would never wake you without a good reason! Listen, listen! We have... uh, visitors!"

"Visitors?" The Toucannon said suspiciously, and Jon picked up a definite Sonarean accent. He's not wild, he reflected.

A Pikipek appeared behind the fat bird and floated over his boss's head, holding a monocle's chain on his beak. The monocle fell down on one of the Toucannon's eyes, allowing him to look and see, and finally notice the two 'mon on his nest.

"Dear Gods!" He croaked, half startled, half irate. "Who are you?! What are you doing here?"

"We're pirates!" Jonathan said proudly.

"Ahoy, friend!" Cook greeted the boss. "Smashing choice of eye-wear!"

Through half-shut eyes, the Toucannon studied the Hydreigon, who had the three top hats and monocles of his own. The smaller bird above him had to adjust his position so the monocle fell in front of the eye; he seemed to be trained to do this, and to have been doing it for years, because he was more precise than Jon could've imagined to be possible. "I wear that for lack of choice rather than fancy," the Toucannon pointed caustically. "I am damn near blind, you see. A myops, the finer folk say. I can't see farther than my beak!"

The Kahuna seemed more laid back, Jon noticed, once he had mentioned they were pirates. "I am Captain Jonathan," he introduced himself with the kind tone that came naturally to him.

"And my name is Cook, my good sir," the dragon said with a respectful nod. "Indeed, the best of apparel is both practical and pleasing to the eye, is it not?"

The Toucannon nodded slightly in agreement at Cook's comment, before he continued. "Hmph, and you're pirates, eh?" He didn't speak with contempt, Jon noticed. Many 'mon from Carajol loved pirates, and regarded them as liberators. Thanks to the Government, the regimes that governed Carajol Sea were highly authoritarian in the past, and the unlawful lives of pirates served as a balancing force. Pirates were the people's answer to a Government intent on taking advantage of them. Jon thought that the Toucannon was old, and from the sound of it, he had been outside that remote island at one point in time. And he might have lived through times when pirates made heroes of themselves. "And what are you pirates looking for out here?" The Toucannon continued. "There's nothing to be found on this bloody rock!"

"We're lookin' for a place to build our hideout," Jon said earnestly. "This island's perfect. It's not in the charts, to my knowledge, it's not near a trade route that could lead unwanted folks here."

The Toucannon studied Jon with his critical stare, that he delivered with his eyes halfway shut. "You came here at the wrong time, lads. Don't tell my children what I'm about to tell you..." Jon glanced at the Pikipeks on the branches, watching the conversation from a good distance. He assumed that's who the Toucannon called 'my children'.

"Quiet as a grave," Jon promised, and the Toucannon nodded, closing his eyes. It may have been Jon's impression, but the giant bird seemed relieved just to be talking to them.

"There's a wild 'mon here on our island with a thirst for blood and a frenzied look. I thought myself the Kahuna of this damned rock, and rightly so, as there was no 'mon to stand up to me, until she showed up. My children know about her, they see her all the time. She's a Fearow, beats my size even, and she flies all around the place like she owns it. She feeds on our best food, and she even feeds on us, that monster. I fought for my land and family, I did." He turned his beak to the side, and Jon saw an ugly crack that rose vertically from his mouth. "I blasted her with my beak so hard, it cracked... and she survived. My children don't know I lost that fight. If they learn, they'll lose hope. They're still waiting for me to chase her off, but every day that passes, I feel less able to move. My age is catching up to me."

"Hey, no need to worry about it," Jon shouted with certainty and a smile, having forgotten all about the Pikipeks spying on him and the hideout he wanted to build. He cracked his fingers all at once, and then one by one, saying, "Leave that up to me! Where I come from, we eat wilds like her for breakfast!"

The Toucannon's severe expression didn't seem to soften, but he said, "I'd owe you thanks if you did. Her lair is up on that mountain, that's where you'll find her."

"You got it, bird," Jon said. He glanced at the mountain with a hint of worry. He had sent some of his people towards that direction... he hoped they were alright.

"Call me Raphael," the Toucannon said.

The sun had began to set, a gold and violet hue slipping into the colors of the sky in the west. Jon noticed that the Kahuna had an amazing view from his nest. He could see very far, in all directions, almost the entirety of the island. Only the southern shores were blocked from his view by the mountain. They could even see their airship from up there. "It'll have to be tomorrow," Jon said, "I promised to my crew to return at midnight. C'mon, Cook. Let's get back! And prepare your recipes for roasted fowl!"

"Ay! Fur man! What you see up there?" Frag shouted out from the ground.

Out from a tree popped a small Furret head, still with bandanna wrapped firmly about his mouth, "There's a mountain off in the distance. A few birds here and there. We get on that mountain and we'll have a clear view of the whole island. We can find the best spot for our base there." The tree branch shook as the Furret dropped to the ground, rolling into the fall. "Should be a straight shot."

"Ugh, mountain?" Frag groaned. "Friend, Frag only have one foot. Is going to be difficult," he whined, looking down at the stuffed boot which took the place of his amputated limb. But hey, he'd gained something good out of it at least. "Bah, who care! We go!" the Chespin exclaimed enthusiastically, pointing ahead dramatically and marching forward.

Samuel just shrugged as he too made his way forward. "Lots of ridges we'll need to climb as well. Be prepared for that. I don't see any fires or smoke so far."

It took the two around half an hour to make it to the base of the mountain. Samuel glanced up, then back at Frag, "Think you can manage?"

The panting Chespin flashed him a weak thumbs-up sign before collapsing to the ground in a sweaty, exhausted mess. "Frag too.... overdressed for this..." he wheezed, rolling onto his back. He had already pulled back the hood of his outfit, exposing his green quill-covered head with the broken right spike. "Can we... take breather...?" he asked, looking behind him at the Furret.

Sam stared at him, "... Catch up when you're ready." With that he braced his legs and leaped up, gripping onto a ridge, soon scampering up a bit, "You'll be fine down here, right?" He asked as he peered down, "If not..." He glanced about, "... Gah, the captain will be in my face about this." He dropped back down. "Once you are rested you CAN climb this, right?"

"Wh, wha?" Frag replied absentmindedly, as if he hadn't even noticed Sam's departure in the first place. "Climb, no climb, yadda yadda, we rest now, think later. Da?" he waved him off. "Come, come, sit. Pile of spiky rocks very comfortable here." He patted the sharp-edged stones next to him.

Samuel crossed his arms, "No. Not at all." He stated, "Why are you wearing such heavy clothes? You realize we're going to visit some warm places in the future, right? Just take it off if it's bothering you so much."

"What?" Frag sat up, frowning. "Frag never take this off while on duty! Is all Frag stands for! First score." he added smugly. "Also to hide injury. So bad guys not know that Frag is hurt. Is called morale controllage, yes? Just like on AFN ship! They never know what Frag packing under this!" he said, smacking his belly. "Maybe bomb? Maybe gun? Maybe hurt, yes, but also maybe something to hurt them. Yes?" He grinned expectantly.

Samuel stared at him for a moment, then cautiously took a step away from the crazy Chespin, "Uh... sure."

"Oh, oh, speak of which!" Frag piped up excitedly. His energy had somehow miraculously come back, and he turned around to lie down on his belly. "You know... Frag not tell anyone except captain this, but there was other pirate on AFN ship. He is one who do the crashing on the castle! Or maybe she. Sometimes Frag not good with sex knowing. Like Rock Lady, Frag think she is Rock guy entire time! Hah, best joke." he cackled at his own joke.

Samuel looked away at that, "... Another pirate...?" He asked. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe was another pirate, maybe just some rogue. Charmeleon, yes? Very red lizard with the fire tail. But this Charmeleon was special, yes? Was using very strange moves. Blobby, yucky moves, and also very strange tattoo on arm." the Chespin noted. "Frag always wanted to get tattoo. Ladies think tattoo make man sexy, yes? You got tattoo anywhere?" Frag questioned.

Sam fell silent, "... I saw him too. On board. He was only attacking marines, I think."

"Hm. Maybe." Frag mused, rubbing his chin pensively. He hopped back to his feet. "Maybe is wanted list man like captain. Frag good at making wanted friends." the Chespin noted, looking upwards at the mountain. "Why we stop? We need to climb mountain, yes? Lazy is bad, fur man! Let's go!" He took off down the path excitedly.

Samuel let out a loud sigh, rubbing at his temples. He just had to endure for a while longer. Who knew? Maybe no one could notice if he happened to push the Chespin off the edge of the mountain? For now he just followed along, using his acrobatics to make his way up.




The sun slowly rose in the sky, a reminder of the passing of time. A celestial timekeeper. While creatures climb, trek, and toil below, its ascent continued: too slow to watch, too fast to ever catch up to.

But one was watching its movements. And in a way, she kept pace with it, as well.

At the edge of the mountain's peak -- not the highest peak on the island, but it would certainly do -- two talons rested on the rocky ledge. With wings folded across her front, an elderly Xatu stood, her body facing toward the rising sun, her long beak pointed toward it like an arrow.

Her eyes were fixed in place on the sun, but it was not what she was looking at. Other things passed in front of her vision: some dark, some as bright as the sun she stared at. Some hazy, some vivid. Some had already come to pass, some had yet to become reality.

One vision -- hazy, yet familiar -- reminded the Xatu of how she came to be here. She watched herself plummet through the sky, with no way to spread her wings and fly. She could practically feel the air whisking past her face, through her feathers, at a speed which made it feel like blades. But that sensation, she can't rightly tell if it's the vision, or her own memory, introducing that tactile feeling.

Another scene appeared, this one clear, and pushing the previous one from her attention. Her old home, on a rocky cliff much like this one, but ever so far away.

Its appearance was too fleeting to linger on long enough to become nostalgic. The Xatu saw a cascade of golden light wash over the clouds and the sea, a spotlight in the dark night. Its rays of gold lined up with the rays of sunshine which the Xatu's eyes were actually fixed on.

For a time, this is all that appeared to her. She allowed herself to become enveloped in this scene. It was an awe-striking, if eerie sight. When she remained in it, allowing herself to be "present" in this moment that was not in the present at all, she found herself feeling at peace.

She exhaled all her breath through her nostrils, and slowly filled her lungs again. The air was thinner at this elevation, but she was accustomed to it. What she wasn't accustomed to was that salty scent of the sea, though faint. On an island this small, you were never far from it.

In silence, she gave thanks for this vision, the present moment, the past and the future ahead. She gave thanks for the feeling of peace that she felt.

"YYYYAAAAAAAHH!!!"

An exasperated exhale left her nostrils.

Frag bellowed triumphantly as he finally reached the top of the mountain, looking onwards victoriously at the rest of the island. "WE IS KING OF ISLAND! TOP OF THE WORLD!" he bellowed, raising his arms.

"Frag, would you shut up!? We're not sure what's up there! If I get trampled by a Rhydon I swear to Arceus I will punt you off this mountain!"

Though aware of the presence of others coming near, the Xatu did not shift her gaze or her stance.

With his tirade directed at the Chespin done, the Furret turned his head toward the Xatu. "... You aren't king, someone already beat us up here." he muttered.

"Wha-?" The Chespin turned around, confused, before mouthing an 'oh' as he noticed the immobile Xatu. He looked at Sam, then back to the bird. "Should we, ah, try talking?" he asked hesitantly.

Samuel was silent for a moment, then slowly made his way forward, "Friend, or foe?" he asked.

The Xatu stood still, even her eyes unmoving from the object in the sky. If it were not for the winds tousling her feathers, she would seem a statue, or perhaps a totem. She remembered her meditation training: Acknowledge the noise and stop fighting it. What you resist, persists. She observed the sounds of these noisy Pokémon, then returned to her breath.

Frag scratched his head, even more confused now. He quickly walked up to the flying-type. "Is you okay? Hangover, maybe?" he waved his hand in front of the Xatu. "Maybe bird lady smoke some plant here." he said, turning to his Furret companion.

That was a sentiment that the old bird couldn't help but resist. Her eyes narrowed, and the moment that Frag turned his head away from her, she whipped her head down to look at him. "I am not high--" she began to yell, her voice coming out in a bit of a squawk. When she heard her own tone of voice and realized her feathers were ruffled, she took a moment to calm herself. "I am -- I was, rather -- meditating." She was calmed, but not without a twinge of annoyance, evidently. Needless to say, her visions had left her by now.

Frag was a little shaken by the sudden outburst, momentarily stepping back. At least she wasn't aggressive, so that was good. "Ah! Mediting, ya, ya, is good! Good for brain!" he proclaimed, nodding half-knowingly. "Uh, name is Frag! And Fur Man here is Samuel! We are pirates, from blue band crew, led by Captain Jonathan Fury!" he said. "Number sixty-four." he added smugly. "And you is?"

"Pirates," the psychic breathed quietly, turning away from the cliff's edge to look between the both of them. Distracted from the previous subject, she instead latched onto this one. "So... you are them, then," she commented, perhaps more to herself than to the boys. "You two must be visiting from across the seas. Well, you are welcome to stay for a time and converse. I haven't had the opportunity to speak with any sentient Pokémon in weeks. But, when I do, they typically call me The Oracle, or The Seer."

Frag looked at the rest of the island, the most of which was clearly visible from atop their spot on the mountain. "Hah, Frag get it, seer, because easy to see from mountain, hah! Best joke!" The Chespin slapped his knee. "And, uh, can you, maybe, uh- is for my friend Samuel here, he doesn't understand what 'Oracle' is. Maybe, explain?" he asked hopefully.

"Close, dear," she said, a thin, patient smile on her beak. Notably, she looked at Frag while explaining, not Samuel. "That title is linked with clairvoyance, an ability gifted to my kind, Xatu. I am able to see visions of the past and of the future, especially when I meditate, as you just saw me do." She spread a wing in gesture toward the sun she'd been gazing at.

"Meditating and visions is pure bullshit," Samuel muttered. "Never did anything for me except pain and misery. Whatever you're seeing is a pile of filthy rotten lies." The Furret sneered, far more aggressive than usual. "Just stay out of our way, and we'll stay out of yours."

The Xatu looked at Samuel for a moment, with... not quite a frown. "I suppose you won't be calling me Seer, then." She turns to the other. "Frag, may I ask why you and your fellow pirates came to this island? And what brought you to this mountaintop?"

"Uh, captain wants coconuts maybe. Or base. Frag memory not good." The Chespin scratched his head. "Oh! You should come and meet!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Captain Monkey man very nice guy. He surely want to meet future seeing person like you. Don't mind Fur Man Samuel, he is a little..." Frag leaned towards the Xatu. "...unhinged." he whispered all too loudly.

In an instant a knife was pressed against Frag's throat, the Furret now next to his 'crewmate' thanks to a Quick Attack. "Want to repeat that?" he asked softly.

"Gah! Nothing, nothing!" Frag croaked out. The Chespin and Furret both found themselves pushed backward along the rocky ground a short distance, by an invisible force -- one that wasn't too difficult to discern the source of. "Now, now," the bird tutted. "I know you two are pirates, but--"

Frag felt his heel leave solid ground, followed shortly by all but the tip of his boot. He'd reached the edge of the cliff, where the bird had been sungazing moments earlier. With his other leg simply a facade, he couldn't catch his balance. His arms pinwheeled, and a shout of "WHOAAAAOUH!" caught the Xatu's attention, just as his body tipped back and fell out of sight.

With a quick curse reserved only for the inside of her own head, the avian ran -- moving from her spot for the first time since Sam had laid eyes on her. Running straight off the ledge, she pointed her beak and her body down, keeping her wings tucked to dive after Frag. As she dove over the cliff's edge, Frag was already bouncing off the first of the cliff's outcroppings. All the while Samuel stared down, a smirk hidden under his bandanna as his eyes twinkled at the sight. Each bounce looked awfully painful, but they delayed his fall long enough for the Xatu's plummet to catch up. Her wings and her talons extended simultaneously, her talons closing around his arms in an almost painfully tight grasp. She pulled up and leveled out with her wings, pulling Frag away from the cliff's face before he could collide with the next stony outcropping.

Samuel's gleeful expression changed to one of disappointment.

The Chespin was still hollering unintelligibly. He was heavier than she anticipated, and for a moment she wondered what all he's carrying in that pack of his. She didn't think she could gain enough altitude to go back to the mountaintop while carrying him -- not at her age. Maybe in her younger years. Instead she settled on gliding forward, making the nearest treetop her destination. The two half-landed, half-crashed into the cushion of leaves and the scrape of branches.

"Oof... I must apologize, dear," she said as she tried to reorient both Frag and herself onto a stable branch. The best she could do in the circumstances was sling his arms over a branch, while she clasped her talons around the same one. "I didn't mean to push you back quite that far. Are you alright?" She reached one of her talons out in a gesture which eventually Frag recognized as an offer to haul him up.

"Wha..." the grass-type mumbled, groggily taking the bird's claw. "What just happen...?" He looked around in confusion. "Oh. We not on mountain now. Shit."

"You two alright down there?" Samuel called down, "You should have bounced a bit more, then you could have landed on the ground with a far softer landing!"

"I'm fine," the Xatu called, raising her voice and hoping it would project all the way to the mountaintop. "And your friend is battered." She lowered her beak as well as her voice. "Still in better straits than he was with your blade, though."

"Oh..." Samuel's voiced dropped to a mutter, "Just... great."

The bird's attention turned back to Frag, trying to keep him steady atop the branch. Not everyone has the gift of clasping feet. "Are you alright, dear?" she repeated, concerned. "Let me have a look at your head." She reached for his hood, but found it was already down. "Oh! Y-your quill!" she announced with distress, noticing one of them was broken right off.

"Hm...? Where? Oh, you mean spike." Frag said, looking around in confusion before realizing she was referring to the snapped thorn on his head. "No no, is always like this from before. Childhood accident." He waved off the concerned Xatu, still groaning in pain.

Meanwhile Samuel was scampering down the mountainside. "Well, that was a fun show, but we should be getting back. I saw what I needed to up there." he said to the two. "Well... at least Frag and I should be."

In a few moments, Frag was airlifted down to the tree's base by the Xatu's wings. "I am very sorry, again," she said, shutting her eyes and bowing her head after she'd landed on the ground. "I only meant to separate you two." She looked up at them again. "Frag dear, do you need any help returning to your ship? You took quite a bruising on your way down the mountain... perhaps more than a bruising." She gestured a wing forward, offering her help.

"I think we're fine," Samuel said as he grabbed Frag, frowning a bit at the weight. He set him on the ground and grabbed his hood. "See ya and all." He began dragging the Chespin along the ground while tugging on his hood.

The Xatu's wing folded to her front again, frowning as she watched the pirate treat his comrade so... without empathy. "Farewell," she bid them, knowing they'd meet again.

Pirates are a rough lot, she'd decided.

What had she gotten herself into?

A few hours after the sunset, Jonathan and Cook were treading under the last clump of palm trees between them and the sandy beach. The trip for their return was less eventful, and easier than Jon expected; he didn't have to strangle or launch any attacker to the other side of the forest. The only threat they encountered was to their ears: the distinct and constant sound of Kricketots hiding in the shade was coming from all directions, and they were forced to listen to it for the entire trip. Those bugs were everywhere in the forest, and during summer, they just wouldn't shut up. Jon ended up wondering if he'd have to hunt down the bugs around his base to earn some peace.

Apart from the Kricketots, luck had smiled upon them and their crew, as the whole moon and stars shed their pale light upon the island, making their way brighter.

Once Captain Jon saw the Crow's Nest of his ship amidst the treetops, he got excited and made a final rush through the thicket. The sand beneath his feet had quickly lost the warmth of the sun, but the feeling it gave was that of relief, after a long day's walk.

The Safe Journey's wood and blimps glistened like steel in the moonlight; the ship was rocking a bit with the waves of the bay, Jon noticed, not like when he had left. She had been unstuck from the sand thanks to the tide brought by the moon, but the anchor was keeping her safely in place. However, with the sea that had expanded, Jon could no longer reach the ship with a leap without getting his feet wet. He stopped just before the dark sand hardened by the waters that were lapping on the shore. "Cook mate, you mind giving me a lift?"

"Hm? Oh, er," the Hydreigon hesitated only momentarily before turning his back and floating closer to the ground. "Not at all, captain, climb aboard. Do mind the hat, my friend."

Once they were near enough the ship, Jon leaped at the railing. "Damn, we're a bit late," he said, and glanced around for any 'mon from his crew, but saw no one. "But so are the others. Gods, I could use some ale right now," he said as he headed inside, "I'm going to my quarters to drop this and grab me a slug, Cook." By this, he meant the coconut-like berry he was carrying for the entire journey. "You go rest, or whatever."

After half an hour the sound of bushes being whacked could be heard, as Nick and Kayri made their way back to the ship. "Oh, rich," Nick muttered in irritation, noting the small distance from the shore to the boat, now floating off the shore. With a grunt of annoyance the Scrafty dropped his pack on the shore, tightening his black belt over his waist and wading in the water. "Guess we gotta go swimmin'," he said to Kayri, hopping into the ocean's embrace without a second thought and making his way to the ship. The Ground-Type gave a begrudging sigh. She quickly slipped her boots into her bag before hoisting it up over her head and stepping into the water. From what could be seen of the expression on her face, it was obviously not a pleasant experience for her at all.

Captain Jon was preparing to crack the coconut when he heard splashing outside. He instantly jumped out his chair, tireless it seemed even after a long day's trip. "OY!" he shouted once he glanced off the port of the Safe Journey. The waters of the bay reflected the moonlight, making it clear as day who it was, swimming to his ship. Jon grabbed a rope and threw it overboard. "Nick! Brother, did you run into some Fearow?!"

Nick grabbed the rope, heaving himself up to the deck and shaking the water off his body. "Fearow? No, but I think you're gonna like what we did find." Behind him, Kayri clambered up somewhat more clumsily.

Jon got excited at the notion Nick suggested, but made sure to back away from the Scrafty so no droplets would touch him. "You found a good spot?"

Nick nodded, bringing a hand to his head and wiping off his crest. "Huge tree out there. Bigger than any tree I've ever seen. Cleared out some of the space in front of it, built a little foundation. Figure, with enough time and resources, could hollow it out and build on the inside of it."

"Aye," Jon let out, "Like a dream come true! Hope there's a place there proper to land our ship. Cook, bring us food and merriment! C'mon mates, rest while we wait for the others..." Jon didn't show it, but he was concerned. If Sam and Frag didn't arrive in twenty minutes, he'd go out looking for them.

"What-ho!" Cook called from inside the ship, emerging from belowdecks soon after. "The others are arriving? A pleasure to see you! Say, does tea count as merriment, captain?"

"Tea?! This is no time for tea!" Jon shouted. "I want ale!" The bottles he had found in his quarters were all empty.

"I understand if you fancy ale, captain," the Hydreigon replied, a small chuckle escaping him. "But there's no need to resort to such ridiculousness as implying there is any inappropriate time for tea! Why, it- goodness!" Cook paused to exclaim as his eye caught the state of the engineer and the boatswain. "You two are a tad soaked, I do apologise for not noticing earlier. I should fetch some towels, or some such - Jonathan, do you think we should move the ship closer ashore, that the others may board easier? I've no time to act as a ferry if I'm to be preparing supper, I'm afraid."

"Oh shit," Jon exclaimed, instantly getting up. "We should." He gestured towards Kayri; before they flew, they'd need to fire the engines. "Let's go. And keep the engines running." She followed his orders promptly, leaving soggy footsteps in her wake.

In a few minutes, the Safe Journey was floating gently a few inches above the sandy shore. It touched down softly, with a slight tremor, and Jon leaped from the railing of the bridge to the deck, where he was. His belly was rumbling. "Food!" he shouted.

"Foooood!" Cook echoed jubilantly from the kitchen.

"We're back." Samuel announced, calling up from the shore. After dragging Frag all the way back, he left the Chespin sitting in the sand. "So, doc, come and look at him. He fell down a cliff. A very tall one. With lots of sharp rocks."

Jon landed on the sand next to the two to check up on them. Frag seemed to be unconscious. "Shit," Jon said, "How'd he fall? Did you get to see any Fearows?"

Sam blinked at the captain, ".... No we didn't see any Fearows. A Xatu pushed him off of a cliff side. She was one of those hippie folks." He shrugged again, "He bounced a few times so not sure how shaken up he is. Had to drag him given I don't really have long arms."

"Seems I'm a tad late," Allen announced from behind the group as he stumbled toward the group, a bottle clutched between his hand. "Did I miss anything exciting?"

"Hey Rags!" Jon shouted. He pointed at the unconscious Frag. "Our boom boom pew pew guy don't look too good. Can you make him ok?"

The doctor wandered over to Frag's larger body, examining the 'mon at a few points. "I suppose that's one way of defining exciting," he murmured. "What happened to him?" he inquired as he checked points of his body. Allen reached into a satchel on his side, grabbing a few berries and crushing them in his hands before he applied it to the 'mon.

"He fell into some rocks," Jon said, glancing at Sam and nodding, as if to confirm the notion.

"Don't throw up on him now," Nick called out derisively.

"I don't make a habit of relieving myself on wounded 'mon," Allen responded to Nick, before he snorted. "Fell on some rocks? I suppose that sounds about right," he stated with a bit of ridicule undertone. He applied the berry ointment across the 'mon's body and into his mouth, before he took another drink of his bottle. "So, what's new and exciting that's going on?"

"Cook and I chased some birds who were spying on us, found a big bird who was their leader and he told us there's another big bird on the island that's wild and mean. Guess I'll hafta go teach it a lesson if we're to live on this island. Hey, come to think of it, Samboy and Frag also found a bird..." The Monferno seemed to ponder on it for a bit. "What the hell, this island's full of birds!" He suddenly let out an epic yawn. "It's bed time for me lads. Get Frag up on board and let's get some rest."

Jon rose from his comfy bed early for another sunny summer morning. He rang the bell on board for everyone to wake up, and headed straight for the wheel. In less than a quarter of an hour, they were soaring up in the sky, with breakfast nowhere in sight. Jon glanced off the starboard down on the ground, and after a bit of searching, he detected Raphael's big tree... and the looming grey mountain of the island. He didn't see a sign of the Fearow yet.

I can't fight her in the air, Jon thought, it's her domain, and it's too dangerous. I'll have to find her on foot and make my stand there.

He set course for the mountain, and in less than five minutes, they were at its foot; Jon found a small extent of flat rock for the Journey to land on, and hopped off the ship. "Oy! I'm gonna lay the smackdown on that fear bird! You all guard the ship till I'm back." With that, he jumped on some rocks to begin his hike on the mountain.

Jon had his eyes on the sky the entire time. Fearows and other such birds liked to hunt in the morning.

He thought he heard cries from the other side of the mountain, so that's where he elected to head towards; he searched every cave he came across, without much luck - many of them weren't large enough for a bird of her supposed size anyway. In an hour's time, the Monferno came across the very cliff Frag fell off from. The same cliff the elderly Xatu was found standing on, looking up at the sky. And as it turned out, she was a creature of routine, found in the same spot today, her gaze fixed up on the rising morning sun. Perhaps there wasn't much else to do, living alone at her age. Or, perhaps this cliff was chosen just for this activity.

Jon spotted the Xatu, and knew instantly that she was sentient. But then he also remembered the incident that happened the previous night: Sam said that Xatu had thrown Frag off a cliff. "Hey!" he called out as he was climbing to a higher spot. "You're that Xatu who hurt my friend!"

Though not as loud as Frag had been, Jon's accusation drew the Xatu's attention more easily. She turned her head toward the sound, blinking her eyes out of her "trance," and looking down. Spotting a monkey Pokémon climbing up her mountain, she leaned over to get a better look at him. "Ah -- do you mean the poor Chespin fellow?" she asked, and waited for Jon to scale his way up to her.

"Yeah, that Chespin!" Jon shouted back. With his natural agility, he was at the top of the cliff within seconds.

The bird was impressed. His agility wasn't unexpected, given his species, but it was still impressive. "I do apologize for that, again," she said, her almond-shaped eyes showing concern, regret. "His Furret partner became unruly with a knife, and I only wanted to separate the two. But I pushed too far, and the Chespin fell from the edge." Her gaze moved toward the edge of the cliff Jon had just scaled. "I managed to catch him in my talons when I dove after him, but he was still injured." She brought her gaze back up to Jon. "How is he doing now?"

Jon thought he got ahead of himself. That Xatu didn't seem like an enemy, and she probably wasn't if Sam was at fault for what happened. "I think he's fine," the Monferno said. Frag had been sleeping so easily that Jon knew he wasn't really hurt. "What are you doing here?" he asked without much care for manners.

"I certainly hope so." She moved her beak toward the sky again, gesturing simply with her gaze. "I stand here to watch the sun, to meditate and to receive visions." Her eyes came back to rest on him. "Something of a... tradition, for my species. And doing so from a high mountaintop is all the better."

"Yeah, I know about that thing Xatus do," Jon said impatiently, "I meant what are you doing here on this island? You come here for meditation?"

"Oh. My mistake," the bird said with a blink of surprise. "Well," she started, looking over the cliff to the landscape before them, "I came to the island purely by chance, unless of course you put your belief in divine intervention. I needed a place to get away to. I... ran into a great deal of trouble with the law," she admitted, with some reluctance. Her eyes moved back to Jon. "If you can call them the law," she added, a hint of resentment in her tone, but her expression even. "Why do you ask, dear?"

Jon sized her up. She didn't look dangerous, or a criminal, so he was going to assume that by them she meant the ANF. It was them who would make a criminal out of anybody who crossed them.

"We're in the middle of nowhere," Jon commented. "And I thought this island was deserted. I'm looking to build a home here."

"I believe it is. Deserted, that is. You and your two friends are the first Pokémon I've seen here capable of holding a conversation." She brought her wing up, running it along the bottom of her beak with a nod. "I'm sure you'd do well to make a home here. I've been trying to do the same." She unfurled her wing toward him in gesture. "The Chespin -- ah yes, his name was Frag -- he mentioned he's a pirate. You, as well?"

"I'm their captain," Jon said proudly.

"Well then, well met, Captain," she greeted with a nod.

Jon grinned, "You look like you've been here for some time, have you seen a Fearow around these parts? Haven't seen her myself, but a bird told me she's made her nest on this mountain."

Her eyes widened slightly when the Fearow was brought up. "Why yes, of course. She's never spoken to me -- perhaps she's incapable -- but she regularly attempts to chase me away from this mountain range. Very territorial. Very difficult." The old bird looked up toward the taller mountains. "I'd much rather make my home up there, but whenever I do, she attacks me. Technically, I'm not even safe on this mountain, she may yet still spot me."

Jon nodded in understanding. "Lucky for you, I made it my quest to rid this island of her. You know where her nest is?"

The Xatu smirked a little, playing along. "Oh, lucky indeed." She didn't mind his confidence, rather she found it endearing, amusing. "I haven't seen her nest myself, but I've surmised where it is, while trying to establish a foothold up here. I should be able to show you there." She paused a moment, something he'd said coming back to hit her. "Now, when you say you want to 'rid' the island of her..." she began to ask, narrowing her eyes and leaning in Jon's direction.

"If she's as wild and mean as I heard she is, there's only one way to go about it," Jon shrugged. "I know how to negotiate with wilds, but some of them just don't wanna. All they can understand is brute force."

"I understand that. I've been exchanging blows with her as well, whenever she initiates. But, I would not advocate for ending her life, bully or not," the Xatu said. She started to walk past Jon's side. "Like I said, I can take you there, but we should watch for her. She may be in the area, ready to intercept us and start a fight." Her wings began to unfurl, and she looked over her shoulder at him. "You'll be able to follow me from the land, yes? You came across as quite the agile gentleman, earlier."

"Don't worry about it," Jon said, waving a hand.

Her wings spreading and flapping, the Xatu took to the air, heading in the direction of the tallest peak of the mountain range. She could only imagine the Fearow had an ego to her, and only the biggest mountain would do. The Xatu kept an eye on her destination, but also on the surrounding area, should the Fearow appear, and of course, kept another eye on Jon below.

As Jon ran on the ground, he noticed they were taking the route he had come from. Damn! he thought to himself, I must've passed her nest on my way here!

"You don't seem to be too afraid of her," the Monferno shouted.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" she shouted back from the air, before returning her attention to the mountain. She wished she knew exactly where the nest was, but she knew it must be somewhere near the top of this peak. She climbed in altitude, scanning the rock for any recesses that looked suspicious. While she began to circle around, Jon had some time to make his ascent.

The green bird was almost out of sight when she called down to Jon. "I may have found something!" She regretted her shout immediately, reminding herself that the Fearow may actually be home, or nearby. Still, she had to say something, didn't she? Extending her talons for a landing, the Xatu found herself at the mouth of a cave set high into the mountain's side. Tentative steps and a lean forward offered her a view into the cave, little by little. She could see bones. That was promising, if morbid. Something carnivorous had certainly lived here.

Jon caught up to her quicker than she'd expected.

The Monferno glanced over the bones at the entrance of the cave. He fell on all fours, as he was closer to the ground that way, and less likely to be seen. Once he got closer to the bones, he examined them... he couldn't tell much by their shape as to what kind of Pokemon they belonged to, but their size made him think whatever that Pokemon was, it was huge. So the Fearow must be even bigger to take down that kind of animal.

Captain Jonathan stood still with his back against the mouth of the cave, listening, but nothing was to be heard. The cave was silent as a grave. She wouldn't make her nest too deep in there, he reflected, birds don't like going that far down and into holes. "She's not here," he said to the Xatu. Jon felt compelled to check out the insides of the cave all the same, so he stepped into the dark without fear.

"You're certain?" she asked in a quiet voice, falling into step behind the Monferno, though there was no way she would be able to get so low to the ground as he was. She liked to believe she was not fearful either, just cautious. "I should remind you once more that she is highly territorial," she said, uncertain about trespassing. "Is there something you are hoping to learn about her in here?"

He didn't answer the Xatu's question right away.

It got too dark once they took a few strides within the cave, so Jon held up his tail to light the way. The grey rocks were warm and dry, and the air was dusty; no plants like fungi or moss seemed to grow there.

"Just got a bad hunch," Jon whispered. "And I wanna find out if it's true. I've lived in the wild for a big part of my life and I can tell you, there's a reason 'mon like Fearow make their nests where they make them. If she's in a cave, she's hiding something."

His sensitive ears brought him very faint sounds from up ahead; he didn't think they could be caused by something large, but he was still preparing for a fight.

It wasn't long till they stopped, as the light of the burning tip of his tail fell upon what seemed to be a white rock that was almost as large as Jon himself. "Shit," he breathed immediately, and turned his tail elsewhere. Another white rock in the corner, and then two more of those placed on the floor of the cave. "Eggs!" As he said that, his eye caught movement. Some of the eggs were slightly shaking. "And they're ready to hatch!" The size of the Spearows that would come out would be monstrous. "We need to get the hell outta here."

"A mother, of course," the Xatu breathed quietly to herself. She agreed with Jon's sentiment immediately and wordlessly, turning with him and making for the mouth of the cave, her wings out to either side as she ran as well as she was able, ready to take flight once they reached the open air.

The Monferno and the Xatu exited the cave safely, but they didn't have much time to think things through, as they heard a terrible cry coming from afar. "That's her," Jon said, "See if you can spot her!"

After soaring practically straight out into the air, as if the cave's mouth were a cannon, the old bird almost reflexively looked up to spot the Fearow, given her past encounters with the fellow bird of prey. But no -- this time she heard the cry from below. "Captain!" she cawed in alert. "Is that your ship down there?!" At the foot of the mountain, the Safe Journey rested, a large brown bird with a red crest circling it.

"Uh-oh," Jon said to himself then shouted, "Yeah, that's mine!"

The Xatu circled back around to Jon with haste. "I'll get you down there!" Her talons reached out, and closed around Jon's biceps. In a blink, they were both gone.

And in the same blink, Jonathan was suddenly present on the deck of his own ship, the Xatu's talon's releasing his arms right away to let him get his bearings.

Jon only had time to look up in the sky, a bit disoriented from the quickness of the teleportation, before the giant Fearow dove down to their ship with a cry that tore the forest. The wild 'mon fell upon the bow of the Safe Journey with her talons; she was so strong she snapped it in half, making Captain Jon howl in a wordless fury. He dashed across the deck, leaped on the ropelines at the side of the ship, leaped again at the updeck and wall-kicked his way on top of one of the two blimps of the Journey.

The Fearow must've noticed him, as the next time she descended, she headed straight for him, using the same Drill Peck she used on the bow earlier. "STUPID BIRD!" Jon's angry shout echoed all across the forest. Jon sidestepped out of her way the last second and tried to grab the Fearow's thick neck as she went past him to unleash his Counter technique, but he couldn't wrap his hand around it and only managed to knock her off course. He cursed again as he saw her gain height and fly out of his reach.

A second bird whisked past Jon on its way up, alarming him for a moment before the green, white, and red plumage identified her as a friendly. She flew after the Fearow but kept her distance, focusing not on getting to the giant bird physically, but mentally. After a few moments, she'd worked her way into the Fearow's mind.

From below on the blimp, Jon heard the Fearow shriek, and saw her jerk her wing and falter in her flight, losing altitude. It looked as if she had been struck on her left wing, but the Xatu had been nowhere near her.

The Fearow disappeared in a cluster of palm trees, several dozen feet away from the ship. Jon was about to go after it, but when it recovered from whatever kind of attack the Xatu had used, it flew away at a great speed farther into the jungle. "Rot!" Jon shouted, jumping down on the deck and from it onto the ground. "I'm going after it!" he yelled. And the psychic went after him in turn, high above.

The Monferno took to the trees, leaping from branch to branch with his eyes fixed on the Fearow. He hadn't ran the way he was now in years. His breakneck pace through the jungle matched that of the Fearow's flight.

Once he noticed the Xatu was following, he yelled, "Friend! Just hold her in place if you can! I'll do the rest!"

For a split second, the Xatu was touched to hear Jon calling her "friend" so soon. But she really hadn't the time to dwell on it. She kept in aerial pursuit of the Fearow, halting her flapping and relying just on gliding so she could focus more of her mind on the larger avian. Reaching out with a telekinetic grasp, she "took hold" of the bird. The Fearow let out a cry, flapping her wings with more fervor, but she was no longer able to move forward, instead halted in place.

Once Jon saw the Fearow was held in place by the psychic attack, he stopped on a treetop of a palm tree and glanced around in a hurry. Sure enough, he found what he was looking for: the coconut-like berry. That one was larger than the one he'd found before, and with short, sturdy spikes on its tough skin. Last night, he had tried to crack the one he'd found and failed - those things were somehow harder than rocks.

His tail reached his leg, setting it ablaze, as he glanced up one more time at the Fearow to make sure he was in range. Then, with two steps he built speed like a goalkeeper and kicked the coconut with all his might. The fruit shot like a comet up in the sky, having caught on fire. It struck the bird directly in the head, and once the spell was done, the wild dropped into the jungle. Jon couldn't help but laugh.

Woah Boy There's A Thing And You Can Eat It If You Want​

Later in the day, the Blue Band crew reached the hut in the jungle with Nick and Kayri's direction. Jon had landed the ship on the flat ground next to the tree the hut was built on, and he quickly began starting a fire just outside the hut for food to be prepared.

"Cook!" Jon said, and sat on a patch of grass near the fire. "Let's do it!"

He had invited the Xatu he'd seen earlier too, since she had helped with the catch. She'd decided to have a look inside the hut, interested in its appearance practically overnight.

All the while Samuel leaned against another tree, his eyes glued on the hippie bird while he had remained silent. There was a slight glimmer in them all while he looked to be as ominous as possible.

Allen slumped onto the grass beside Jon and examined the fire, though he seemed more concerned with the beverage choice to go with the food rather than the food itself. He tightly clung to a bottle in his hand, taking the occasional swig of it while he observed the others.

"Egads, friends!" Cook exclaimed as though it were a surprise, floating over with an assortment of plates, cutlery, napkins and various other dining-related items clutched in his arms. "There is cooking afoot! A duty that surely falls to me, any and all picnicking aspirations brushed aside heroically for the time being, yes? Do take whatever you need of what I have brought with me - and indeed, enjoy yourselves!"

Nick simply stood near Jon, eyeing the Xatu as she examined his makeshift hut. It wasn't anything too impressive - only the sheer speed by which it was built gave it that description - but at the least it got the job done.

"So, who's the bird?" Nick asked curtly to Jon, keeping his voice a bit low.

"Found 'er up in the mountain," Jon said between bites; he was busy munching on the pieces of bread that were served as appetizers. He looked back at the Scrafty with his mouth full to the brim. "She's a psychic. I knew some Xatus back in Guntama, they're good people."

"If you say so," Nick replied. "She tries to read my mind, she goes overboard, yeah?"

Jon chuckled loudly, "Be fine if she could, that'd make us alotta money." He turned towards the hut, where he'd last seen the Xatu. "Hey! Come over here, bird! I wanna introduce you to my crew!"

"We've already met." Samuel muttered angrily. "Also query. If she gets too close to me or does that meditation shit around me I can stab her, right?"

Summoned by Jon's voice, the Xatu walked back to the area the men had gathered in for pre-dinner chitchat. "The same crew that constructed that hut, I assume? Very quick work, quite solid." Her face brightened. "A shame you boys hadn't been here when I arrived. I could have used a hut of my own in the mountains." She gestured a wing toward Jon, who was about to say it wasn't too late to build that hut for her. "Have you already made introductions, or shall I?" Surely at least some of them had seen her when she and Jon teleported aboard the ship, earlier.

Jon shook his head and made an easy gesture towards the table and the crew. "Nah, go ahead."

She obliged and took a place at the table, though she remained standing. Spots near the captain were predictably taken, so she took one next to Nick. "Well, let's see, what's there to say. I am known as an Oracle, a Seer, and as people came to know of me by that role, that is how they referred to me. You and your crew are welcome to do the same." She swept her eyes across the faces at the table. "Your captain found me atop one of the mountains, interested in finding the Fearow who was making a menace of herself in those parts. We found her nest together, but it seems it distracted us from an attack on your very ship in the meantime. Perhaps some of you could explain what happened there?"

Samuel kept his eyes locked on the avian, "We had it covered. That's all you have to know."

Ah yes, that must be why you needed your captain to come finish the job for you, the Xatu thought to herself, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes.

Nick shrugged, only halfway paying attention. Great, a seer he thought to himself. He didn't want to have to deal with mystic nonsense during their time together. "Wouldn't know, wasn't there," he said plainly.

"Hoho! A bloody feast!" came a voice from above, prompting Jon to look up. He was startled to observe the Toucannon, large as a boulder, flying towards them. Before, Jon wasn't even sure the Toucannon could fly, obese as he was. His great wings kicked up dust when he landed, and the grass waved with his arrival. His Pikipek servant was flying behind him in a hurry. Nick was about to fight the intruder, until Jon spoke up first.

"Raphael!" Jon said, jumping up from his seat on the table.

"Ahoy, Captain Jonathan," Raphael said, and the Pikipek carried the monocle over the Toucannon's eye so he could see what and who was in front of him. "And this is your crew? Well met!"

"This is the big boss of the island," Jon explained to the others. "Met him earlier with Cook, we'll get along, you'll see."

"Big boss?" the Oracle parroted, confusion in the furrow of her brow. "What do you mean by that?" she asked Jon with a glance, before returning to examining the Toucannon's significant... presence.

The Toucannon reacted before Jon could speak by chuckling, his massive beak raised in the air. "Hold, now! When I first came to this island, I was the strongest 'mon on it! It took me months, years even, but I chased off most of the monsters I found myself. So when you reach the top, you're the boss. But luck be that stronger 'mon arrived, it seems! My children told me of what happened, Captain Jonathan." The Toucannon raised a wing, as if to salute. "You taught that bird a lesson. You're more fit to be the boss of this island than I."

"Then you be its protector," Jon decided. "I ain't planning to stick around here for long. As for the bird, don't let me get all the credit. I had some help." He nodded towards the Oracle.

The Toucannon tilted his head, "Dear me, fellow fowl! And who might you be?"

"Hm! If you'd come a bit earlier, you could've heard my introduction," the Xatu chuckled. "I best not repeat the whole thing, or I'd bore the crew. I am the Oracle, and I came to this island a couple weeks ago. I wished to live on the mountains, and the Fearow attacked me regularly." Her smile changed out for a curious frown. "Quite unusual that I've been here that long and traveled the whole island by air, yet I was convinced there were no other Pokémon here capable of speech. How did I manage to miss the 'boss' of the island?"

"I don't do outings anymore," Raphael admitted, "The comfort of my home has grown on me too damn much, I say!" The Pikipek that was carrying the monocle landed on Raphael's shoulder and seemed to be secretly telling him something. "Bloody hell!" Raphael cackled, and the smaller bird returned to his position. "Riki tells me we didn't miss you! I may have forgotten I was told this. Old age, aye... but more so that I don't mind if you came here peacefully. So, you may have encountered my children." His Pikipeks were all over the island, after all.

The Xatu tilted her head for a moment while the little woodpecker chirped in a hushed tone, perhaps even in a tongue she wouldn't understand anyway. "Well yes, certainly. Pikipeks all over the island, to be sure, but none who have spoken with me."

She changed the subject, turning her head toward the monkey. "But as for what you said before, I think the good captain may have done more than simply 'teach the Fearow a lesson.' "

"He straight up slaughtered the beast." Samuel spoke up with a meek shrug. "Though our captain will have to make sure next time to let us know whenever he makes alliances with other beings." Jon rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, and was about to mutter something about how it all happened so fast, when someone else spoke up.

From the fire came a drawn out cry of, "Dinner's ready!" As Cook ceased his barrage of flames against the crew's dinner.

Jon immediately shot back at the table. "Woo!" he shouted. "I haven't eaten all day!"

"Will you be joining us for dinner, Raphael?" the Oracle asked. "And Raphael's little Pikipek aide, of course," she added with a nod toward the small bird.

"Yeah, come over," Jon said, motioning at the two birds. "I won't take no for an answer."

Raphael happily obliged; he settled at the edge of the table, sinking into the grass as he settled down. His aide Riki sat on the bigger bird's head, the monocle never leaving the eye. It didn't look like he was trained to ever let up this exercise. Floating a little unsteadily over to the table came the Hydreigon chef, wielding a huge tray that despite its size could still barely contain its massive contents. With some effort, Cook heaved the meal onto the table before stepping back to wipe his brow and admire his handiwork.

"What-ho, folks! Pardon me," the dragon said. "Blimey, what a feast! A shame the thing couldn't be tamed, but I suppose I can only hope I've done the beast justice in the culinary sense, yes?"

Eyes narrowed in a clear wince, the Xatu leaned back from the table and the meal. Its shape was unmistakably fowl. Her head turned next to Jon. "You had your chef cook her?" she asked, incredulous.

The captain seemed surprised that she'd ask such a question. "Yes." He let a hint of a smile show. "Be a shame if we killed her for nothin'. I don't like wasting food."

"Waste not, want not, friends!" Cook concurred. "Though I'm sure I could whip up an alternative if the meal isn't to your tastes. Merely give the word!"

"You saw the nest full of twitching eggs as well as I did, captain. She was a mother. Doesn't this seem a little tasteless?" The Oracle looked up, noticing Cook's sudden crestfallen expression. "Ah, sorry -- poor choice of word." Cook seemed to bounce back quickly. The Xatu looked back to the captain, her wince gone by now, a motherly -- perhaps grandmotherly? -- frown of disappointment on her face. "We ought to show some level of respect."

Respect or not, the green bird was holding up the meal, perhaps not the wisest choice in the presence of a crew of hungry pirates and a hot dish this size.

Jon frowned in turn, "Oy, I don't respect wilds as they don't respect me!"

Raphael didn't seem to mind the Fearow serving, although he himself didn't have a plate and utensils in front of him, and likely wasn't going to touch it. "Blimey," he said, "That Fearow didn't show my children respect, either."

"Oh yeah!" Jon shouted, suddenly remembering. "You said she fed on your birds!"

Raphael nodded gravely. What he didn't say was that he couldn't have been too distraught if his army of hundreds of noisy trouble-loving woodpeckers was a bit lesser.

"See," Jon said, having lost his smile and scratching the side of his jaw skeptically. "Wilds die as wilds live."

"I can't deny your points," the Oracle conceded, shutting her eyes, "but at the same time, I cannot help but think of the chicks."

"They won't even know her," Jon said, shrugging. "C'mon, Cook, carve it for us and we'll get started."

"Indeed, by this point we'd best not waste food when a restocking of rations may not be guaranteed," the dragon added, raising a blade in Xavier's mitted mouth and bringing it down upon the carcass. Cook didn't seem entirely sure where to cut, but once the bird had been separated into chunks of roughly reasonable size the Hydreigon declared it carved and floated off to grab some napkins.

Jon plunged both hands into the pile of meat. What ensued was a flurry of grunts and grumbles as he ate with a speed that matched the way he bolted through the jungle. "Mmm, Cook, this, this is a masterpiece," he mumbled, although it looked like he was eating too fast to actually taste anything.

The Hydreigon chuckled, his back momentarily turned. "It's quite nice of you to say so, but- egads, Jonathan!" Cook shook off his surprise at how quickly the Monferno had dived in, rolling his eyes and handing out the retrieved napkins to everyone else at the table. As he passed each 'mon, he advised them discreetly, "Do reach in and help yourselves, dears, but do be weary of the captain's hands if you stick a fork in there... or just in general, I suppose. We'd best avoid seeing what happens if he were to grab one of us instead of food, hm?"

"I'll be sure not to add any additional drumsticks to the meal," the Seer said with a laugh at Cook's jolly nature.

"Aye, good job, Cook," Nick said, smirking lightly. "You didn't incinerate it completely this time."

"Ha-ha," the chef laughed good-naturedly, sending a wink the Scrafty's way. "Indeed. Medium-rare, as per your specifications, young Master Nicholas."

The Monferno was looking at the Oracle as he picked a huge bone clean. "So, Oracle," he said, "You predict the future? And shit?"

She looked up from her own portion of the poultry, appearing rattled by those last two words. "Well. Not quite, but close."

"Not quite?" Jon repeated, somewhat unconvinced. "You either do or you don't, no?"

"What I do is I see the future. Predictions are educated guesses based off of current trends. My visions show me, rather literally, what will happen. No guesswork." She shut her eyes, shook her head. "Sorry, I suppose that's me being a persnickety old bird when it comes to wording." She opened them again, looking to Jon once more across the table. "I have visions of events from the past, as well."

Jon didn't look like he comprehended every one of those words. "The past?" he said, scoffing slightly, "Who'd wanna see that? The past is the past!"

"Yes, that's true, it's not quite as important as the future," she conceded, her eyes back on her food. "But there is still a lot to be learned from the past. Seeing parts of it with my own eyes certainly beats reading it in a history book," she added with a smile tugging at her beak.

The Monferno swallowed and stopped eating for a second, as if pondering on something. "How far back have you seen?" he asked, willing to believe she had truly done it before.

"Hm! An interesting question." The bird took a few moments to finish her mouthful and think back on this. It was interesting that the captain swept the conversation in this direction, and not toward visions of the future, which most people were more interested in, in her experience.

"Alright, here's an example." She looked up at Jon again, but also swept her gaze across his crew. "You've heard of the ancient battle between Megistea and Atlandea, yes?"

Jon hadn't had proper tutoring when he was younger, and history was something he'd never learned much of, but he at least knew about that battle. It was regarded as the most important battle in the history of the Known World. It was supposedly the battle which tore the landmass into two, creating Sonara and Antara, as Groudon and Kyogre each fought for their factions with disastrous results.

He nodded. Everyone knew about that story.

The Xatu took a break from her meal to play storyteller. She spread her wings, just enough to illustrate her point, without getting her feathers in her neighbours' plates. "These two cities were superpowers at the time. It was a time just barely before the Known World, which historians simply dub the Ancient World. Now, Megistea and Atlandea, to augment their armies, they each decided to use the Legendaries themselves as their weapons, pitting one against the other. Having these Legendaries fight for them."

She looked to and fro across the table, checking that she had the Blue Bands' attention. "Even one strike from these creatures could bring down a mountain. Waging an entire war with them brought immeasurable fallout. As you know, the very continents were changed. Individual cities, they... They were devastated.

"One of my ancestors was a guardian of one of these ancient cities. A Sigilyph, whose name I never did catch. I have seen him, darting about the ruins of his city. Fresh ruins, at that." The Xatu's expression darkened sadly. "Fresh bodies, as well. His role, it was guardian of this city, but I could feel his despair, he could find nothing left to guard, no one left to... to protect."

Her beak dipped, her eyes closed. "I watched him search the city he lost for some time, but it never bore fruit. Eventually it became too hard to watch. I don't know what happened to him after that."

Jon seemed skeptical about it, having abandoned his food. He couldn't think of something to say about her story. He had heard of Xatus in Guntama performing miracles - the locals there revered them as prophets - so it was possible she was being truthful that she had glanced at the past. Xatus were powerful creatures after all.

"That was long, long ago," the Seer said, noticing Jon's expression. "One of the oldest visions I've had. Not one of the brightest."

Nick leaned on the table, looking at the Xatu with an expressionless face. Any other day he might make a sarcastic quip - never one to believe in any kind of 'hocus-pocus' as seeing the future, or even the past - but the way she carried herself caused him to show her a smidgen more respect than usual. "Eh, the past's the past. Ain't nothin' we can do about it, yeah?"

She nodded. "Nothing but try our best not to repeat it."

"Say," Jon said, licking his fingers nonchalantly, "What is it you're doing on this island? So far from civilization? You don't seem wild-born."

She shook her head. "No, no, not wild." She narrowed her eyes slightly at Jon, as if assessing something. "Hmm. Before I answer, remind me: your crew came to this island for what reason?"

"We're here to make our hideout," Jon said. "Perfect island for it."

The Xatu smiled. "Isn't it, though? I find myself here for the same reason." She shut one eye, wagging a feather at them. "And seeing how you all are pirates, I suppose I can afford to tell you a little more. You see, this island is my little escape. An escape from the eyes of law enforcement."

"You're wanted by the law? Good!" Jon said happily. "Are you a pirate?"

"Well, technically, I was arrested. And I escaped. I believe this makes me a pirate under the ANF's current definitions, even if I don't swashbuckle and sail the open blue." She continued to smile, and even joke. "I don't exactly look the part."

"You wanna join my crew?" Jon asked in his straightforward way. "We could use a psychic."

"And someone with brains..." Nick muttered under his breath.

"Oh?" the Xatu asked with a perk in her posture. "Well, now I'm curious. What does a pirate crew need a psychic for?"

Jon scratched his chin with his index. "For one, making use of our barriers. We've no idea how to set them up ourselves and we can't go to battle without 'em. No idea how to make use of the other features of our ship's Spirit Core either." The Spirit Core was often considered the battery of an airship, as it was thanks to it that the engines operated. Usually, only psychic could tamper with its energies to activate certain weapons or defense mechanisms the cores carried.

"Ah, I see." With a gesture of her wings and a little concentration, the Xatu made a small horizontal screen of light, no bigger than her plate, and lifted it a few inches off the table. The flat shining surface carried what remained of her meal, into the air. "I have experience with small barriers like this. Well, bigger than this, but you catch my meaning. Perhaps with your Spirit Core, I could master shields large enough for your ship, as well?"

Jon seemed very pleased with that notion and busted a great smile. "I already think you'll make a good fit."

The day after the crew had eaten and drank well with Mr. Raphael and the Oracle, preparations started to set out on the next journey. Jon was sitting on the mast, watching the light of the setting sun dancing on the waves of the sea around him. He'd had the ship anchored just a few steps from the sand; the shores of Antigua beckoned him, and he thought the island might be sad they were leaving next morning. He had spent his day out in the jungle, gathering all sorts of berries. He had especially targeted that spiky fruit and amassed a pile of them in the hold - he wasn't certain why, as he couldn't crack them yet to eat what was inside, but it did prove useful when taking down a big bird, if nothing else.

Nick down below had brought his tools and wood near the prow of the ship to fix the bow that was broken by the Fearow. The broken piece, a dozen feet long, was right beside him on the prow. "Yo, Nick," Jon shouted, "Need some help with that? C'mon, I'll raise that for ya."

Nick turned to the Monferno, raising an eyebrow and smirking lightly. "Just don't fall in the water, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jon said and jumped on his feet. He sprinted across the upper deck in the middle of the blimps and leaped on top of the frontal mast. A few steps forward and he was right above the bow.

Nick threw him the rope tied around the broken bow, and they got to work. "Just hold 'er steady while I re-attach it," he started, reaching for his tool belt and pulling out a few nails and some adhesive. "You trust that seer girl?" he asked idly.

"Yeah," Jon said, not as confidently as he could have, pulling the rope backwards. The bow was heavy, but he didn't complain. "I've a hunch she's from Guntama, the place I'm from. People love Xatus there, they're almost holy."

"She said she was running away from the law or something, yeah?" Nick asked, shaking his head lightly. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I ain't too peachy with the Marines either, but a seer? Makes you wonder what she did to get them angry at 'er. You said it yourself, people think 'em holy, so what does a seer have to do to get the law mad at 'em?"

Jon said nothing for a few moments, concentrating on his breathing and keeping the wood steady in the air. "True," he said, "But she's nice, so it can't be that bad."

Nick groaned softly. "Well, 'least she can't read my mind," he said quietly. With a steady hand, he began to apply the adhesive and nail the bow back into place. His rough nature seemed completely gone while he was working, the Scrafty intently focused on his work and using precision in his repair, as if he had been doing this for decades. "Almost finished, just keep 'er steady."

Jon had felt the wood stabilize a few minutes ago, so him pulling the rope back seemed like it had no effect now. All the weight had gone as the bow had been re-attached. "I let go now?" he shouted.

Nick stared at the bow intensely, before finally nodding and looking back to Jon. "Yeah, she's good, let 'er go."

Jon let the rope fall with a grunt and glanced down to see what had been done. It seemed Nick had patched up the wyron wood with regular wood. "That's gonna hold up?" he asked, uncertain.

"Yeah, just wait a few days," Nick said modestly. "Wyron Wood's special like that; if you patch it up with regular lumber, eventually it latches on and seals itself back. Kind of like healin' a broken bone."

"Never knew it could do that!" Jon exclaimed, "I knew wyron was rare but not like this. This type of wood would be world famous."

Nick just crossed his arms and shrugged. It should have been world famous.... "Yeah, it would be," he said quietly, suddenly growing a bit sullen at the thought.

Jon noticed immediately. "Something wrong, brother?"

The Scrafty seemed to shrug off the question. "Eh, don't worry 'bout it, it's nothing."

Jon frowned for a second, but decided not to press on. If Nick wanted to tell him something, he knew he could at any time. "Help me out," Jon said, motioning towards the hatch that led belowdecks. Let's sort out the gold we got, will make it easier to fence it when we hit port next." The Scrafty shook off his thoughts for now, the mention of gold perking him up, if only slightly.

The Monferno and the Scrafty descended upon the hold, where they were keeping their catch from Modistra's Castilio. Most of the furniture had been emptied and the gold placed in a corner, so Jon picked a drawer that was still full, and Nick picked another one. "Let's sort things out," Jon said cheerfully, and yanked open one of the drawers. "Oh, sweet shine," the Monferno chimed. "The Governor knew his jewelry." He glanced upwards, where the gundeck was; that's where they had been keeping the Governor chained.

Nick rummaged through the drawers, picking up a gold ring that seemed to be engraved. "Fancy," he said to himself, before turning to Jon. "So, how are we gonna sell this stuff?"

"Going to Kuai island next," Jon said idly, looking through the shine and pulling out chunks of it. The drawer was full of it. "Kuai's in the Novayas, if you haven't heard. Lots of pirates there, we'll find us a fencer at the port and all this stuff's out of our hands and into our pockets."

"Kuai..." Nick said. He'd never been to the place personally, but his family had often done business with folks from the island. Dockworkers and sailors needing wood and repairs for their ships. A long time ago, he'd considered going there himself to get a temporary job. "Heard of that place. We stayin' there long?"

"As long as it takes to get us some good equipment for our ship and install it. Less than a fortnight."

Nick thought for a moment. "Say Jon, when we get there, you mind if I take care of some things real quick? Shouldn't take more than a day, if that."

Jon threw the last handful of jewelry he'd found on top of the pile with the rest, then glanced back at Nick. "Yeah, whatever. But I need you to help install the new hull and make holes for new guns on the gundeck. If that gets done, do what you want."

"Of course," Nick said, counting out a few coins and setting them neatly aside. He'd hoped Lucas' contacts were still following, and that he could get in talks with them on Kuai.

Jon wiped his hands off with a great smile spawned by greed. "Done," he declared. "Good job, brother," he said, patting the Scrafty on the side of his arm. "It must be late. Let's get some sleep. We're sailin' early tomorrow."

Nick pulled out one last drawer, the handle feeling heavy and weighed down but inside was only a simple necklace. He picked it up and felt it in his hand, light as expected. "Huh... heavy wood..." he muttered before nodding at Jon's suggestion. "Yeah, sleep sounds nice right about now."


A few hours later and they both had retired to their cabins. Nick, however, tossed and turned in his cot, trying to find some sleep and failing spectacularly. After what seemed like an eternity of restlessness, he finally got up and decided to simply explore the ship for a while. Maybe go back belowdeck; counting coin could help take his mind off things.

Soon enough he came back to the piles they had made, beginning to reorganize them into neat stacks, dividing them by type, necklaces in one pile, rings in another, just trying to do something monotonous to hopefully induce sleep. After a moment, he went back to the drawers, making sure they hadn't missed anything. Pulling out the drawers, he came across the same heavy one from before, still empty. He pulled it out and pushed it back in, repeating the motion a few times, then pulling on the other drawers to see if they felt the same. They didn't.

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Just what're you hiding?" he murmured, pulling out the drawer completely and inspecting it from ever angle. It felt like there was something in it, but he heard no noises. He pondered for a minute, before taking the entire drawer and throwing it to the ground, smashing it into pieces and revealing the source of the weight. A small, hidden compartment, affixed inside the drawer itself, with rolled up coins lodged tightly against the sides, keeping them from rolling around and making noise.

"Clever little bastard," Nick commented. The Governor liked to keep his secrets, it seemed. It was then he noticed one last thing in the compartment; a rolled up piece of paper. Curiously he reached forward, fingers clutching tightly at it and opening it up. His eyes scanned the parchment, before immediately running back up to Jon's quarters.

"Hey, Jon, mate," Nick said, not too loud but loud enough to wake the Monferno, gently jabbing him with his hand. "Jon, wake up, take a look at this."

Jon was snoring with his mouth wide open before he woke. "Hunh?!" he let out, snapping out of it. He opened his eyes. "Are we being attacked?!"

But then what Nick said about looking at something registered in his mind. The moonlight that found its way into the captain's quarters through the windows fell on the pale piece of paper the Scrafty was holding. Jon rose half-way, putting his back against the pillows on the wall behind his bed, and had a look. His eyes read back and forth. Coordinates!

"Where'd you find this?"

"Secret compartment in one of the drawers," Nick answered. "Governor must have hidden it before we found 'em."

"Lemme see," the Monferno said, grabbed the piece of paper and jumped off bed to head towards the table, where all his maps were open as of late. Tracing the coordinates from that paper, his finger landed on the Long Blue. His fingers tightened around the paper and his eyes threw sparks. "Shit, hang me," he shouted. "This really is Apolucia's schedule! I thought the Governor ate it! Oh, that scoundrel's just pretendin', ain't he!"

Jon stormed out of his quarters and rushed to the gundeck's storeroom, where they'd been keeping the governor confined. Nick followed after him.

Once Jon kicked the storeroom's door open, the chain-bound Lickylicky woke and let out a muffled cry in terror.

"Oy," Jon said angrily and held up the map, "You've any idea what's this?"

The Lickylicky must have instantly recognized what it was, and such was the fury he saw in the Monferno that he broke down and cried, "Apologies, sir Duncan! I needed you to help me, and you wouldn't if you found my map!"

"Help you?" Nick asked incredulously. "Gettin' tied up and kidnapped is your idea of bein' helped?"

The Lickylicky's eyes were wide open in fear as he uttered, "Oh, yes, trust me, the alternative is much, much worse. I wouldn't want to be in the hands of the Government. Anything but that!" He noticed the way Jon's eye blazed in fury. "Please don't kill me! I can lead you to my treasure!"

"Then you'd better start singing, bud," Nick said, pounding his fists together.

"Hold on," Jon said, "I ain't falling for the same trick a second time. Adrian woulda known if you had a treasure." The governor of course was in Captain Adrian's pocket - his income, in fact the whole of Modistran economy, was regulated by the Head Crushers. The fortune Governor Edvin had amassed under Adrian's law was located in the Castilio - part of it was confiscated by Air Marshal Basil, and most of it was stolen by the Blue Bands. The Head Crushers would know if the governor was hiding profits from them, so he couldn't have possibly hoarded any other kind of valuables to form a hidden treasure. "This fella's messing with us, brother. You want to get beaten, governor?"

"No!"

"Then stop tryna trick us! Next time you do, it won't be easy for ya! I'm gonna spare you this time, since I'm happy I found the schedule in written form and I don't have to rely on your fat ass to find what I'm looking for. You're gettin' off my ship first thing tomorrow morning." Jon turned to leave.

The Lickylicky let out a sweet sigh of release, his eyes turning to the ceiling. "Thank Arceus."

The Blue Band flag that Raphael's children sewed was flapping on the mast of the Safe Journey. Jonathan looked up at it and his chest filled with pride, much like how the sails swelled with the wind. As their base in Antigua was now established, the captain thought to use the time they had before Apolucia's scheduled journey to fit the ship with proper equipment. And to do that, the next place to go was Kuai island in the Novayas. As the island was remote, and a place frequented by pirates, they would be doing good business there, as well as fence the goods they had stolen from the Governor.

The former Governor was left behind in Antigua, as Raphael insisted that he would like a new pair of hands to help him cope with life. Jon laughed and agreed, thinking it was some sort of poetic justice to see someone who lived all their life in the cream of Modistra's top, to be condemned into a life of hard work. Surprisingly, Governor Edvin didn't mind... he didn't mind that he was going to part with the jewelry the Blue Bands had stolen. He only looked glad to be alive.

After gazing beyond the yonder into the open blue, as he often did, Jon went belowdecks. He wished to check upon the newcomer on board. He entered the engine room, and from there, he knocked the door to the Spirit Core's room, where he supposed he would find the Oracle.

"Come in," came a familiar female voice. Jon found the bird in a small and simple room, made a little more comfortable with a series of windows, as the room was positioned at the stern of the ship. Her head turned from the Spirit Core toward the Monferno when he entered. She smiled. "Knocking before entering, aboard your own vessel?"

"Oh!" Jon was caught off guard by the comment. "You seem to like the place, that's all. Do you want to stay here?" His gaze fell on the radiant, calm Spirit Core, a sphere of white energy with clouds circling gently around it. Adrian's Psychic, Fergus the Grumpig, was known to have been addicted to the psychic powers of the spirit core, to the point where he didn't leave the room for months at a time. Jon had heard of other psychics who made their home in the Core's room, and he wouldn't be surprised if the Oracle did so as well.

"Hm." The Oracle cast her gaze about the room for a moment. "That's certainly an option. I suppose having a place to myself for privacy would be a welcome blessing." She looked up to him again. "Not that I don't wish to become better acquainted with your crew, of course. But plenty of time for that at meals and at work, yes?"

"Yeah, of course, anytime," Jon said happily. "So," he said, walking closer to the Spirit Core, "Did you have a proper look at this? We're lucky we found you, 'cause I've no idea how to work this thing."

She looked toward the Core with him. "Yes, yes I did. The clouds are so captivating, aren't they? Almost as if the Core has its own atmosphere." Then her gaze turned back his direction. "They weren't using this to power ships back in my day," she chuckled.

"I suspect it'd be difficult to figure out for a fighting type," she continued. "From what I've gleaned, the Core is..." The Xatu paused to consider her explanation. "Like a tool, of sorts. I still use my current working knowledge of psychic techniques, but with this extension, that can be put to use on a large scale toward the ship itself. A Pokémon with no psychic ability cannot use it."

She looked toward the Wyron wood of the ship, envisioning the exterior. "I should be able to make psychic shields large enough to cover the ship on any given side, with this. I may be able to do large-scale telekinesis as well, it would require some experimentation." The Seer looked back to Jon. "What do you think, captain, should we test the shields?"

"Let's do it!" Jon said excitedly, and looked out the window. The first time he'd been in this room, he was surprised to see there were windows on it, as this part of the ship was underwater when at sea, but no luxury seemed to have escaped the list of the wealthy merchant who ordered it built. Jon would bet the view from those windows would be amazing in the crystal clear waters of a beach, where they could have a look at a reef or the golden sand...

Now what they could see from the windows was the sky and the ocean.

"Good, good! Why don't you go up on deck, to watch it materialize, if all goes well?"

When Jon turned to go, the Xatu held out a wing. "Actually. If you'd allow me, I could connect with you up on deck, telepathically. Then it would be quite easy to communicate above and belowdeck."

Jon ran up on the deck and looked expectantly at the skies that surrounded the airship. The wind fondled his hair and flowed through his jacket. Aw-right he thought, does this work, Oracle? Do you hear me?

"Aye, captain," came a voice in Jon's head, sounding a tad playful. "I can even get a small sense of that nice breeze up there. Now, the protection shields I know are Light Screen and Reflect. What're my orders, o captain?" the Xatu's voice asked, perhaps having a little too much fun in her new role.

Let's test the shields all around the ship.

"Both, then? Stand by!" came her reply. With that, Jon saw something take form in the air just beyond the deck, starting at the bottom and materializing swiftly upwards. It looked something like a thick pane of glass, though it curved with the shape of the ship, and great streaks of white light reflected across its surface. Once the first had fully taken form, another pane of light began to materialize, again from the bottom to the top, layering with the existing shield like a double-paned window. The second shield was clear as well, but it reflected light with swirls of rainbow, like you'd see on a soap bubble's surface.

"One layer for physical attacks, one for special attacks," the Xatu's voice summarized, just as the second screen materialized all the way up and curved to make a roof over their crow's nest.

"Awesome," Jonathan hissed.

Nothing will get through those things! Jon thought, more for himself than the Oracle. We can get the third layer in there too, Barrier, if you know it. Do you?

"Barrier? Sadly, no," came her reply. "Hm. This isn't nearly as taxing to keep up with the Spirit Core's help."

Jon imagined that for a psychic, holding up those shields without a Spirit Core was the equivalent of a fighting-type like him holding up a boulder of considerable weight. You can drop them now, he thought. That was awesome! We'll see if we can get us Barrier installed to the Spirit Core through a technical machine, if we find one on Kuai. What else can you do?

Both the Light Screen and the Reflect shield begin to disintegrate, much the same way they had appeared. "Well, I can do this, which you're hearing right now." The sound of her chuckle could be heard in Jon's mind. "I also make use of telekinesis to move objects through the air, and use teleportation to move myself from place to place. But I'm not yet certain how many techniques would translate through the tool of the Core. My apologies -- I'm more experienced in flying under my own two wings, than standing on a deck."

Don't mind that much, I'm just glad my ship has shields now, Jon thought happily.

"Speaking of on deck. Have a peek behind you, dear." When Jon turned around, he found the Xatu had joined him up top, showing a smile that echoed his celebratory feelings. Jon cheered in amazement and clapped his hands; it was like she had shown tricks to a half-wild Pokemon. With a laugh, she gestured with her wings to calm down, she had merely climbed the stairs. Jon stared at her comically, as he'd first thought she teleported, then chuckled shamelessly.

"Actually, I do have some additional techniques, as a Seer. I don't know if they could be amplified with a Core, but they may be worth mentioning. They are based around vision."

"Vision? Like?"

"The first is called Mark of Vision. I admittedly don't find frequent use for it, but after connecting to someone's mind, in much the same way I did to speak to you over a distance, I can essentially see through their eyes.

"The second is what's colloquially known as the move 'Confuse Ray'... an opposite of the first, in a way. Here, I stimulate another Pokémon's brain, and basically trick them into seeing strange things that are not real, or disorienting flashes of lights. It's very much related to psychic attacks -- do you remember when I wounded the Fearow's wing? That was a similar trick of the brain, but used as an attack called 'Psychic.' She felt as if something had struck her: I created the feeling of pain, where there was no real injury. Tricking the eyes is similar," the Seer explained. "Of course, when it comes to Confuse Ray, vision isn't the only way to do it. I could simply scramble their thoughts instead. Either way, it causes a state of confusion."

The Xatu digressed. "The third is called Miracle Eye. This allows me to look at things that are very far away, or beyond my confined space if I'm in a room. This one isn't all that easy to explain through psychic means, I believe it is more tied to being a Seer. Think of it as... hm." She lowered her head in thought, struggling with an explanation. "Perhaps I should just show you?" she offered, looking up at Jon again, who nodded eagerly. "Yes, actually, that's perfect. Just a moment."

She bowed her head, and her mind appeared to wander. It was, in fact, navigating to another location entirely. After a moment of waiting, the Xatu projected an image in front of Captain Jonathan, materializing in the empty space between the two. It looked like the view he had just earlier, when he opened the door to the Spirit Core's room. He could see the room's layout, the series of windows, the slowly swirling clouds around the Core itself. Jon shouted with awe, throwing his arms in the air.

"First time I ever seen this trick!" His eyes reflected the vision in front of him. "How far away can you look with this?!"

"I would say... several miles, though I've never had help from a Core. We'll just have to see." The projection begins to fade from view, gradually instead of all at once. "So, what do you think? Might have some use for this old lady?" she asked, a smirk on her beak.

Jon busted a half smile and readily said, "Hell yeah! You can do things I never thought possible! Glad to have you aboard."

The Oracle unfolded a wing in his direction. "Now that I am aboard, may I ask a little bit more about this crew? The Blue Bands, I believe you called it?" Her glance went toward Jon's upper arm for a split second, before returning to his face. "What are your current goals, captain? Short term, long term, anything really."

"Oh, right," Jon said, "I wanted to talk to you about that. We recently formed up, got us the ship we're on. And got a good prize too, much of it is in the hold, you can go see it for yourself. As for our goals, we're hunting another prize, you see." The Monferno's face lit up as he talked about it. "Apolucia, a Trade Prince's galley, ever so fat with gold, will be sailin' through a path in the Long Blue in a couple of weeks. We got a map for this path, and we're going to Kuai to get us equipment that'll help us deal with that kind of situation."

"Wealth, then," the bird summarized, lifting her beak up and sporting something of a smirk. "Funny, you didn't strike me as the type to be driven by greed." Whether it was psychoanalysis or just intuition, it's hard to say. "...I'm betting you have a purpose in mind for these ill-gotten goods."

Jon put a hand on his hip, rubbed the back of his head and looked to the side, giving it some thought. "I know Nick's doing it for his family, but I dunno what the others will wanna do with their share. That's their business. As for me, I dunno what I'll do with it either. I guess I'll hafta think about it when I'm there." Both hands now on his hips, breeze flowing through his jacket, he smiled smartly at the Oracle. "And what will you do with it?"

The bird looked surprised at his question. "Well. I can't say I was expecting to come into a large sum of wealth, unlike yourself."

She looked thoughtful, her eyes moving away from his. "I'll have to give it some consideration, as well."




The journey to Kuai would be an easy and fast one. The Blue Bands had found a seasonal skyway that cut across Carajol Sea; the air currents formed only during the summer and they were so strong that the crew had to pull down the sails and let the skyway do its thing. Jon was on the Crow's Nest day and night, despite the strong winds, scanning the horizon for ships, and he saw many, friends and foes alike. Their lesser foes like merchants were following different skyways that led to other places, in a whole other direction. Those avoided their vessel like the plague. The stronger foes, the marines, were seldom seen, but when Jon spotted one of their airships he sped up and lost them with the great speed of the current they were riding. The sudden bursts of speed consumed a great deal of fuel, and they had almost ran out by the end of the journey.

It took three and a half days to reach Kuai, the Chinchou Island; Jon thought it must've been a record time, and his chest filled with pride for his ship.

Jon and crew now knew why Kuai was known as the Chinchou Island: as they sailed into the small port, Chinchous lit the crystal clear waters and surfed alongside the Safe Journey. Jon's eyes fell upon the other ships that were coming and going and his chest filled with happiness and the scent of brine, to see fellow sailors and pirates at work. It felt good to be back at civilization. Ships with the black flag hailed them with air horns, and Jon shouted and waved back. The 'mon from the port looked at their ship curiously; some fishermen by the pier as they regarded the Safe Journey, their interest piqued. It wasn't often that a ship of that caliber would sail to their waters.

The port was a safe haven for the pirates who frequented the Novayas, and a historic location in the first age of piracy. Kuai's history was one of the pirate tales Adrian used to tell Jon when he was younger; according to legend, the town had been founded by a pirate going by the name Fayn. The circular cove served as the best hideout for him and his crew, who used it often to escape the marine's detection. After a while, they had grown accustomed to the safety and settled down; that was when the first houses started popping up, and under Fayn's protection, a small community outside the Government's law was built. However, when the marines caught wind of what was happening in the small Kuai cove, they raided the place during a dormant, moonless night, and Fayn danced the hempen jig in the very town he had helped build.

The town grew and grew through the centuries, and its quiet and friendly citizens remained much the same, neutral to the ongoing conflict of the marines and pirates in Carajol Sea and welcoming any vessel that sought refuge in their port's waters. The first place Jon wanted to visit was the Captain's Ire tavern, one of the most interesting locales, and popular among pirates - popular enough so that the pirates in Modistra knew of its fame, or rather, ill repute...

As they sailed through the cove, the Monferno ran to port to look at a cave; it looked like part of the town was built inside that cave, as the houses and structures dipped into its darkness until they disappeared from sight. A canal led towards the cave that swallowed the town, but it was far too narrow for the Safe Journey to go through it. The captain ran back to the wheel and guided the ship to the wooden pier; friendly folk from the port helped them dock, and Jon greeted them happily. Once they were close enough, he jumped onto the pier, landing next to an Abra with several grotesque earrings that helped them with the ropes. "Hey, hey, hey," Jon said cheerfully.

"Ahoy..." the Abra said in a low voice. "What're ya here for, speedy?"

Jon recognized him as one of the typical scavengers that hung around the pier in towns like this... shady people, with lots of information, looking to make coin by any means possible - any kind of coin. They loved pirates - pirates got shit done in Carajol, and that meant money was headed their way as well if they were involved. The Monferno rubbed the back of his head, glancing around warily for any government officials or perhaps marines, but none were to be found. The town was as free as it could be. "Just cruisin'," he said, seeing fit not to share they were carrying a prize, lest they got robbed. "Listen, you got any opportunities for me? My crew and I are itching to get somethin' goin' for us..." leaning forward, Jon slipped a silver berry coin on the Abra's palm, and the Abra took it slyly, taking care that nobody saw them. The psychic had no pouch or bag, but the coin had vanished in thin air within a second.

"O' course," the Abra said with a small, toothless smile. "You look savvy, mate, and with a ready crew me thinks, so how about you let Ol' Willy let ya in on a lil' secret. 'Propriate to the size o' your... 'contribution', o' course," he said slyly. Then, he pointed somewhere towards the cave part of the town, "Tavern called the Captain's Ire." Jon started nodding his head, knowing instantly something good would follow. "Ask around, you'll find it, Ol' Willy thinks... there's a man there of many journeys, there is. Bare as bones, Lombre with a head rottin' of old age, but... he knows things. You and your crew want to go adventurin'? Buy him an ale. Might be he'll tell ya one of his favorite tales, and might be you'll end up someplace you didn't even think existed..."

Jon nodded once again, "Alright, thanks, friend," he chimed, patting the Abra on the arm. "Stick around, we might work somethin' further out, yeah?"

"Aye, aye..." said the Abra and slowly floated away to another part of the pier.

Once the shady Abra with the earring was gone, Jon turned momentarily to his ship and shouted, "Oy! I'll be at the Captain's Ire, it's a tavern in the cave. Take care!" And then he bolted off.

Dealing and Killing​

Given that they were finally on land once more, Samuel took the time to get off the blasted boat he had been locked on for several days already. He had taken rides in the sky before, sure, but something about this trip was different. It was one thing to be excited to head to another land for say a vacation or something along those lines. It was another to be following someone else and being on another's agenda. As it so happened, Jon was just happening to head right for the place that Samuel had to go as well. The Furret figured that there would be at least one job being roped about to potential candidates, what better time than to snatch it up? The smaller mon ran on all four legs, "Hey! Jon! Hold up for one blasted minute, will you?"

"Oy Sam," Jon turned and greeted the Furret. He waited for him to catch up in the middle of the road; curious villagers sitting on the side of the road were looking at them both, but Jon ignored them. "You wanna come have a drink too?!"

Samuel was barely weary. He glanced about warily before leaning in to whisper to Jon, "Listen, I have a contact here. You want to know what I do? Meet with me in there. Middle of the whole place. Just sit and listen, that's all." With that he pulled away and continued his way to the tavern, albeit at a slower pace.

Jon didn't know what to make of Sam's secretive attitude, but he thought he should play along, if it meant a good deal was coming their way. Keeping some distance from the Furret, he walked after him into the part of the town that was swallowed by the rock. The place grew darker and darker the further they went in; music and screams and cries could be heard echoing in the walls of the cave.

Eventually, Jon lost Samuel after the Furret took a turn. "Fuck me," he shouted, and stopped a Slowpoke passerby. "Hey, you! How do I get to Captain's Ire?!"

The Slowpoke, who was entirely bruised from the waist down, looked at him almost with disgust. "Follow the goddamn noise and you'll find it sooner or later," he grunted in disdain, and went on his way.

The neighborhoods inside Fayn's Retreat were colder, more ragged and less groomed than those outside. Walls were full of moss, the pretty, dry cobblestone had turned into mud and shit, and the buildings looked ready to fall apart. Light was coming from a hole on the cave's ceiling somewhere ahead; the noise took Jon closer to that light, and he found himself wondering excitedly what kind of place the Captain's Ire tavern was.

He knew that place was founded by Fayn himself. Hiding in the cave for weeks on end had him craving for ale and company, it was said, so part of his crew remained in the cave to build it. This part of the town was exclusively built and occupied by pirates... and that made fights even more often. So it was no surprise to Jon when he learned where the ruckus was coming from when he stood just outside the tavern, listening to the music and noise.





Jon opened the door and had a wary look. Folks inside were at literal war. Chairs and tables were flying around, 'mon were being body slammed and floored by all kinds of attacks, drunk pirates roared, some others just sat on the floor, drinking or unconscious. A Throh was thrown out the window, and he climbed back in; a flamethrower was shot and every 'mon on its path screamed and cowered away. All the while, the Kricketune pianist never stopped playing a merry tune - he wasn't allowed to stop during a bar fight, as per the custom - and was sweating profusely as the pandemonium encircled him and he was in danger of being knocked out or worse by a stray deadly attack or an airborne chair.

Jon had to duck to avoid a wooden mug that was flung out the door and across the street. He was pushed out of the way by a Poliwhirl who went out to get the mug and throw it back in.

"Holy hell," the Monferno breathed, watching the chaos. The Captain's Ire was more of a battlefield than a tavern. "How in the hell am I supposed to find Sam in here?!"

On his first few steps inside, he had to avoid several blows and push folks away from him. In general, he was being ignored, and no one seemed to attack him randomly, which was a good thing. As he walked towards the bar, he heard someone scream, "ERNIE, DON'T YOU STOP ON THAT PIANO OR I'LL MAKE YOUR FACE ONE WITH THE FLOOR!", and the Kricketune picked up the pace.

Sam had told him to go to the middle, so that's where he went, and sure enough, a lone table was there to be found with Sam on it. "Yo," Jon shouted and laughed, "What the hell's going on here?! These folks are tryin' to destroy the place or what?"

"It's natural." Samuel tilted his head and raised his voice to be heard somewhat over the fighting, "Don't tell me you've never been to a REAL tavern before." He smirked a bit and glanced about. If Jon would pay attention he would see that whenever someone got too close to the middle of the area there would be another mon to throw them back out to the outer edges of the tavern. Samuel glanced to the side as a lone Lopunny waitress came over, "Ah, great to see you again, Sam! Who's your cute friend?" She asked with a sly wink thrown Jon's way.

"Let's say a new superior..." Samuel replied, "I need water for now, Carrie. And get my friend whatever he wants."

"I'll try your ale, sweetheart," Jon yelled as he grabbed a footstool and sat at the opposite side of Sam. He had forgotten about the Lombre he was supposed to be looking for after that Abra's instruction; his attention was wholly focused on Sam, and he leaned in closer to the table, just to guard against the chaos that raged on the outer edges of the tavern. "So, we're here."

Sam smirked back, leaning in closer, "Yeah! Don't worry about them. They know better than to bother my business!" He took another glance about, "Ah! There we go!" He made his way onto the table and turned Jon's head toward the entrance, "There's our guy! From this point you'll be referred as my superior! Just say you're new to the business and it'll go swimmingly!"

The doors had opened, but the thickness of the crowd kept the two from seeing who had entered, that was, until five mon who had been in a tight brawl were suddenly thrown to either side, causing additional tables and seats to shatter into wooden splinters. A rather intimidating Nidoking walked right on through, snorting as he caught sight of the two. He walked on over, taking his sweet time before finally sitting down on the third seat. Wrapped about his waist was a pouch made up of fine red leather. He untied it and gave a courteous nod, "Samuel." He glanced at Jon, "And who's this?" Despite his rough demeanor his tone and voice sounded far more noble sounding.

Samuel smirked and patted Jon on the shoulder, "My new boss! My new POLITE boss." He hissed out the enunciation, "One who would gladly introduce himself to you!"

"Oy!" Jon said with usual excitement and passion, slamming a closed fist onto his chest. "I am Furious Jonathan, captain of the Blue Bands, A.K.A. the We Get Shit Done crew." He glanced at the Nidoking's look and laughed. "Don't know us? Well tune in the news few weeks from now and you will!"

The Nidoking gave a nod, "I like that attitude. The name is Purple. That's all you get until you show me more. No disrespect your way, of course. Now, down to business." He opened his leather pouch and took out two items. One was a picture, the other was a piece of paper, but rolled up with a red sealing band wrapped about it. "This is the target. Her name is Penelope. It's been a while since you were here Sam, so I'll give you the scoop. She came in about... five months or so. Give or take. Pretty nice girl. And that's the problem. Most nice girls know to keep their heads down, she doesn't. She's some stinking journalist or somethin'. She comes around like she owns the place and rats out the police chief for our deal. Poor guy is stuck behind bars now, but we managed to get the new guy under contract. It's just not our group getting the harsh treatment. Old Jacky had his guys at the docks exposed too! She's so charming and nice that the front line guys are having their mouths greased with a few extra coins too! And she's getting into places no one should be getting into! Same as before, get into her place and take her out. She's bound to have evidence hidden too. Find it and burn the whole place down. The boys'll run a distraction whenever you strike. Once you get that done then you'll get this." He held up the rolled up paper, "Approved withdrawal of a thousand. I gotta warn you, she has that small town girl aura! A few guys around town are thinking they need to protect her! Stay sharp."

Samuel nodded as he grabbed the picture, looking it over before sliding it over to Jon, "Interesting... very interesting."

The Nidoking laughed loudly, "So, what do you say?"

Jon took the photograph in his hands. The young lady was a Ledian in her twenties, and she looked pretty innocent. Some of his disturbance showed in his eyebrows, which became slightly frowned. He couldn't just kill a person for doing their job. Αfter several moments, he glanced at Sam with a serious look, about to say he couldn't in good conscience take such a job.

Samuel frowned and lightly jabbed an elbow in his side before he could speak, "We'll think about it." He told the Nidoking. "My boss does have a lot of business here. I'll see if I can fit it in."

The Nidoking nodded, "The bane of bosses, eh? Alright, give me your answer by tonight, would you? I would hate to be left hanging." He rose up, "Take care, Sam. Things have changed here a bit."

The waitress just brought Jon's ale, and he took a big gulp while staring at Purple. "Not my taste, truth be told," he said. "But don't be gettin' ahead of yourself. Like my guy said, we'll think about it."

Samuel waited a bit for them to be fully alone before sighing, "Listen... a thooooousand." he enunciated. "Do you understand that?"

Jon scratched his chin with a finger, not much caring for the amount. "Partner, that girl's just past twenty. She's harmless. I can't put her down for doing her job. See if we can get another contract with this Purple guy, we'll find us some real pieces of shit who need killing, I've no problem with doin' that kinda job."

Samuel frowned, "Okay... what if I find dirt on her? Eh? I have a whole day to give him an answer? What if I track her and see if I can find anything that dirties up that image? Would you be okay then with the job?"

"Dirt?" Jon asked, confused. "She's just some journalist."

Samuel smirked, "Jon... everyone has dirt. It just takes an inquisitive nose to find it."

The Monferno looked thoughtfully at the Furret. He took a sip of the ale, which tasted more like piss, and nodded. "A'ight," he said, "You go ahead and look her up, but it'll be your own project. I've business to do on the island and we've only got a week before we need to bail outta here. I can't go sneakin' around for the promise of a thousand gold berries when we've several thousand waitin' for us soon."

Samuel smirked, "Oh trust me, you do this with me well enough and we'll have more than several thousand more waiting for us. I'll find dirt on her. Everyone has a past and a hidden present, I'll find it like usual."

Sam had seemed interested in his new quest, so Jon and he parted ways soon after their conversation. Jon chose to stay a bit longer in the war-torn tavern, not for the ale of course as that was some of the worst drink he'd ever had in Carajol, but for the company of the bartender of the Captain's Ire whose name was Mappie, according to the waitress.

After Sam left, Mappie was the only person that wasn't busy either trying to destroy everything in their path or eating and drinking themselves half to death. The pretty Lopunny waitress was always swerving between the drunk pirates while carrying the tankards and plates, doing her best to avoid projectiles in the perpetual brawl that raged in Captain's Ire. Jon didn't have much time to talk to her and get to know her, so he got on a stool near the bar.

Mappie was an Osenian Meowth, of the kind that had fur of a darker hue. He held a rag, black from filth, and was casually cleaning a beer glass with it. He seemed so used to the war just a few steps away that he didn't even blink when thunder and lightning were shot; cleaning the beer glasses was his priority. Once he saw Jon on the bar, he eyed him with a mocking smile. "Someone took ya out, lad? What're ya limping over here for?"

Jon shrugged with a small, tired smile. "Just got here from a long journey. Hey, you know where I can find a Lombre 'round here? Need to talk to him."

Mappie laughed mockingly. "You and the hundred others that came before you. Bloody hell, who keeps sending all of you this way? Is it Ol' Willy by the port? Damn him," He let out another gust of derisive, raspy laughter. "You wasted your money, son. That scallywag tricks everyone he talks to."

Captain Jon frowned greatly, thinking the Abra had fooled him, and that the Lombre wasn't even real. I'll strangle him if I find that psychic pest, he vowed. For now, he slumped into his stool. He was going to drink to his heart content now. "Pour me a beer, man."

"So, long journey, eh?" the Meowth said and asked with a slightly uppity frown, "Where're you from? Sonara?"

Jon waved his hand, "Nah. Coming from Modistra."

"That ain't too far," Mappie said dismissively, while pouring him a glass. "Not with the summer skyways and all. Unless..." He half shut his eyes. "You took the long road, didn't ya? Too much traffic for comfort on a skyway, aye?" He chuckled quietly, and his laugh was as sinister as an accomplice's laugh. "You're a pirate. In fact, I seen your face before. You were on the news lately."

The Monferno grinned, "Was I?"

"Yeeeah," the bartender slid the glass across the bar and Jon caught it and immediately poured the beer down his throat. It was tangy, and left a bitter taste, but it was better than the ale at least. "Furious Jon," the Meowth continued with an impressed grin. "You took a score from the Governor's house, didn't ya. And messed with the marines, I heard... blown up their ship! Hah-hah! The media whitewashed it, to be sure... said it was a flogistron accident, but us pirates know it ain't true."

Jon thought back on the incident; Frag was the one to blow up the ship, as far as he knew. Good job, Frag boy, he thought with a smile. The bartender kept on talking.

"Captain Adrian was impressed with ya, I heard. You saved his island."

"How's Adrian?" Jon asked in a laid back manner. He should've been concerned, but his confidence in the Slaking was absolute. "Any news? Last I saw him, he was out to beat some sense into some invading cunts."

"Ah," Mappie said with sardonic glee, "That's been the favorite story of mine lately... Captain Adrian's foe was Amadeus, a no-pirate from Liverte... a nobody, really. The two crews duked it out in open skies, but while they were at it, a storm broke out. The Head Crushers were the ones to return to Modistra... I would've said safely, but if I were to believe in hearsay... they were all pretty battered, and their captain was left in bed for several days afterwards. His crew claims he took on Amadeus himself, and the fanboys of course screech that Adrian absolutely destroyed him. It's said after their defeat, Amadeus and his crew were swallowed by the waves."

Jon let air escape his nostrils loudly and raised his glass. It looked like Adrian was the end of that crooked Garbodor gangster, and it was a shame, because Jon wanted to be the one to kick his face in. "To Captain Adrian's health," he said, and downed his beer. "Pour me another one. I knew he'd come through. He's a beast."

Mappie poured him another one, and glanced at him inquisitively. "So, you're back in business?"

"Aye," Jon said, "Back in business, and with a good crew now."

Mappie gave his sinister laugh again, returning to cleaning the glasses with the rag, but his calculating stare didn't leave Captain Jon. "You wanna give me something extra, lad? I've some hot info to share with ya for a price..." Jon didn't immediately look interested, so the bartender added, "It's about a galleon carrying the Trade Prince's gold... a big score, no lie there. It's coming to the Novayas very soon, and I've heard some tales about where it'll pass from."

Jon took a sip from his beer, staring forwards at the dirtied, cracked mirror behind the bottles of whiskey, gin, ale and grog. He figured it wouldn't be wise to brag about knowing all about that particular galleon, including its exact path and schedule. "Appreciate the offer my friend, but my crew and I've set eyes on a score already."

"Don't be passin' up on it now..." the bartender said in a sinister tone. Jon noticed that Mappie always seemed to be up to no good. "Furious Jonathan, my boss would be pleased to meet ya, I reckon, and you could work out a deal..."

But Jon didn't seem much interested, as he had suddenly remembered one of the main reasons he'd come to Captain's Ire. "Nah," he murmured with his head turned away, his eyes busy glancing around the tavern, searching for a certain Lombre, but he couldn't find him, probably because he didn't exist.

He ordered another beer, which he downed at once. The drink was shit, but the Captain's Ire felt like home, oddly, once he got used to the fuss of the roughhousing pirates, so the money was well spent. But he did feel disappointed he wouldn't get to meet that Lombre. That good feeling he had about that person was in shambles.

It seemed like many, many hours had passed since Sam left. Jon couldn't really tell, as the cave the tavern was in was always dark, but he would've sworn it was night by then.

"I've ta go," Captain Jon decided, his head hot from the drinks, and threw Mappie a few silver berries. "Nice talkin' to ya friend."

"Have a good one," the Meowth from Osenia said, "We'll talk again, Furious Jonathan..."

After Jon left the stool he decided to try going the other way and exiting from the backdoor of the tavern, as it was closer to him and he wanted to avoid going through the battlefield. He also thought he'd probably end up in some quiet back alley for a quick piss. But just before he exited the tavern, his eyes caught sight of a Lombre on one of the tables at the corner. "Damn!" he said, his voice covered by the fuss. "He really does exist!"

The Lombre seemed to be a lone drinker, as the seats next to him were empty. The walls of that corner were covered in moss, which seemed to be his doing; it looked like he hadn't moved from there in years, and a small bed of leaves on the corner, just below his chair, convinced Jon of the notion. The Monferno hadn't noticed him before because his face was buried behind a newspaper, a newspaper that was from thirty years ago or so, but the Lombre looked to be studying it like it was from the day before. Jon got the sense of death coming from that person; he looked so frail and old that the next squall would knock him down. Dark, purple freckles had spawned on the normally perfectly green skin of his kind, and his body was so thin that his bones were showing. That person could've easily passed as a ghost, haunting that corner.

Before Jon approached, he stumbled on purpose upon the waitress, who let a dainty yelp. "Woops," Jon let out, grabbing the Lopunny so she wouldn't fall, smiling all the time. "Bring me and my friend over there an ale, will ya?" he said, nodding towards the Lombre.

"Sure," the Lopunny said, smiling back at him.

When Jon went over to the Lombre's table with a merry step, a strange smell reached him, and he figured it was from the Lombre himself - his head was rotting from old age, like the Abra had said.

"Oy," Jon said, brazenly grabbed a chair and sat on the table. The Lombre simply glanced quickly at him, and his eyes darted back to the newspaper, without him uttering another word. "You don't talk?"

The Lombre motioned at his throat and made a sound like he was being strangled. Jon was left aghast at first, but then understood. "Listen pal, an ale's on its way. Maybe that'll help ya throat loosen up?"

The old Lombre seemed satisfied, but didn't talk until the ale arrived. Jon's gaze lingered a bit on the waitress as she was leaving the ale, and she must've felt it. The Lombre didn't seem to notice, as he took the ale, had a sip and watered with it his pale lips. "You should drink some water too," Jon suggested, "You don't look so good, man. No disrespect."

The Lombre pursed his lips in an exaggerated way and stared at Jon with one eye open wide, the other half-shut. Jon didn't know what to make of this look, and he got the sense the Lombre was completely unhinged.

"Who am I speaking to?" the Lombre said, his voice dry like the desert.

"Furious Jonathan, and who are you?"

The Lombre, lips pursed like he'd smelt a carcass dead for a few weeks, put a finger in his ear to clean it. "You're here for me tale?" he asked, ignoring his question. "Your name is new to me, but you look strong, smart. Might... might be able to pull it off... fine. I'll tell you."

Jon nodded, prodding him on. "Spill your guts, old man."

"I once was a pirate. Captain of me own crew. I roamed the seas, and I saw many shores. Me name was well known... it carried with it such meaning, that it struck fear even in the hearts of ally pirates." Jon was leaning on his elbow on the table, sizing the Lombre up. This guy? he thought, doubtfully, but he wasn't going to outright question it, so he let him go on. The Lombre took a sip from his ale; Jon noticed his eyes were bloody red from the drink, and that he must've been drinking all day and night. "Don't be looking at me like that. I once was as fierce as a Pyroar. I sailed the Carajol sea, back and forth, many times. We preyed upon the weak; took their livelihoods, took their lives, took their ships, and we returned into port to wash the blood off our hands with ale. Women, I had known plenty. Men, I had killed plenty. Each journey was the same for us; we plundered, slashed and stabbed, and then we headed for port to have our fill of ale and women. These memories..." The Lombre shook his head. "If I could turn back time, I would do it all over again. I'd plunder, slash and stab every last one of those bastards."

Jon glanced around, his eyebrows showing a hint of worry. He was willing to try to believe the Lombre, so he examined ways that his story could be true; if it was, how come he hadn't heard of him? As if to answer to Jon's thoughts, the Lombre said, "But that was a long time ago. A fine life... fine memories."

Jon nodded, although he disagreed. He didn't much like pirates who resorted to such slaughter. "So, you said something about me pulling something off? What's that about?"

The Lombre looked at him stupidly. The haze of alcohol was floating above his reddened eyes, and Jon realized he looked like he had been crying. "... when our crew retired, everyone got their share. But I cheated. I took more than they knew. I got meself a huge fortune, and hid it, along with me good luck charm. I wanna make a deal with you. I'll point you to where I hid me treasure; you go and find it. Keep everything, but give me me good luck charm. It's just an anchor necklace, worth nothing."

Jon thought for a bit. As Mappie had said, a hundred others or so had met this person before him. Apparently, none had managed to fulfill this request. Furthermore, he had no clue how the Lombre expected pirates to keep their promise. He was one to keep a promise, though, so he nodded. "A'ight, I'm interested, if it means I getta keep the booty. Where is it?"

The Lombre downed his ale and sighed. "Some ruins in the Novayas..."

"Yeah...?"

"The place's called Gonpa Temple. It's a flying structure somewhere in the south of the Novayas. It's always enveloped by clouds, so it's hard to find..."

Jon frowned. He didn't know about Gonpa, but he knew nothing was always enveloped in clouds, unless... "You're talkin' about a place that's in the middle of the Cloudstream." The Cloudstream was a weather phenomenon classified as Constant & Perpetual; it occupied certain areas of the Known World forever. Clouds seemed to sprawl forth from those areas endlessly. The ancients believed the Cloudstreams were the birthplace of all clouds, before it was observed that clouds formed naturally everywhere. It was a tough place to navigate through, or so Jon had heard - sailors and pirates alike avoided those areas, and with good sense, because visibility was reduced to zero thanks to the enveloping mists, and on top of that it was hard to breathe because of how thick the atmosphere of the area was.

"Aye, Gonpa Temple is there, hidden in the clouds," the Lombre confirmed. "Not many have seen it, but if your navigator is good, you will be able to find it. Its location is marked on maps..."

Jon was disappointed. It was more likely the Lombre was some lunatic than who he was saying he was, and he suddenly didn't quite buy the story of a good luck charm. "Sorry pal, not interested," he said, and got up to leave.

"My treasure's buried in a tomb," the Lombre cried, but Jon ignored him and left.

Pissed off that he had wasted his time, he strode across the dark streets of Fayn's Retreat with a quick step, eager to get back to his ship. With his ire rising, he realized what the bartender had said about the Abra tricking people had been true.

Looking down upon Sinners​

"Look, I don't really want to push this any further, but I will. You know I will. So I'm going to ask again, what's her schedule? This is the last chance I'm giving you. Avoid it again, and I'll just find someone else to answer the question."

The Beedrill warily glanced down at the steel knife that was pressed against his throat, "... A-Alright! She goes to the church! She goes to the church every day before evening!"

"Why?" The Furret asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Gah! How should I know!? Bzzt! All I know is she heads in and comes out a while later! She's a good girl, just going for her blessings or something!"

"Every day?" Samuel raised his brow, "I guess she must have quite a lot of sin in that soul of hers."

"Hey man, don't drop to that level!" The bug snapped, "She's better than you'll ever be!"

With that Sam took his other balled up fist and slammed it into the back of the bug's head, the buzzing of the wings now stopping as the flyer slumped against the floor.

Samuel knew well enough where the church lay, but first he would have to ensure that no one discovered the evidence he had left behind. The alleyway had a few trashcans where he proceeded to open one up and dump the bug inside. Sheathing his knife he took to run forth on all fours and back out into the main streets. He was a Furret with a mission as he easily ran past those who advertised their wares and slipped in between numerous mon. The church itself was easily seen from really any point in the port town, mainly due to its importance. The One Faith wasn't something that Samuel agreed on, and in his opinion, included idiotic teachings. Such as the idea that the church was to serve as the lighthouse, with a fire burning up high above the rest of the town and capable of being seen for many miles at the den of night. Oooooooo, a fire that guided ships to the port, like how the faith guided every mon to their 'home', ooooooo symbolism!

Maybe that was why he was feeling more smug as he made his way across the bend of the island to where the church lay. Sure, you had a big fire going, whoopie doo, but even with such a harsh fire helping to declare that the church was far more important than anything else on this island there would always be those little cracks in the walls. The forgotten dark passages that would help him sneak inside. Perhaps symbolically it meant every single mon had sin in their heart, no matter how many times they threw money at the priests and prayed for dark thoughts to go away. The thought brought him SOME relief, but that quickly faded when he gazed upon the pristine front facing area of the church. Large marble columns stood outside, helping to hold the archway above the front doors up. Next to the door was a golden plate, with but a simple phrase about how the church only accepts donations. Oh yeah, no materialism here at all! Samuel made his way to the side and glanced up toward the higher parts of the walls, keeping a look out for any windows or other openings he could take advantage of. He didn't see anything that could help in that regard, given the numerous windows near the sides and back end were all sealed stained glass windows, but there was a drainage pipe that was stuck to the wall. He glanced at the pipe, then over to the nearby building, his eyes snapping back and forth as a coy smirk formed over his face.

The church had very little handholds as the very 'paltry' donations the priests received ensured it would remain in top condition. The building next door wasn't up to the same par.

It was a two story eatery where the worshipers could quickly head out after sermon to get a bite to eat. And it had a few decrepit handholds that he was aiming to take advantage of. It wasn't lunch time yet, so no mon were out in the back. Hopping onto a trash can the Furret braced himself and leaped up, gripping onto the edge of a hanging brick. With a grunt he pulled himself up, making sure to slip his paws into small handholds in between the bricks as he quickly worked his way up the wall and onto the roof. Dusting his paws off a bit he glanced over to the church again. If they had to tend to the fire up top, then there had to be some sort of hatch where he could easily scale down from the top. He eyed the distance to the drainage pipe and took a quick peek over the side to the road down below. A few mon there, but more than likely so absorbed in conversation or looking elsewhere. He readjusted his scarf and walked back along the roof until he stood on the opposite end. He scraped his paws along the roof and quickly ran, waiting until just the edge before leaping out. He slammed against the wall, barely able to wrap his front paws around the pipe as he aimed to slow his descent. The metal was rather chill, but that wasn't too much of a bother. Using his claws to grip onto the edges of each section he slowly worked his way up, quickly realizing that the metallic qualities worked against his usual style of scaling upward. "Stupid priests... stupid fire..." He muttered to himself as he kept on ascending. "Stupid fucking religion..."

By the time he reached the top he couldn't help but wonder why there weren't any stairs that led up here as well. He rested up top, seeing that the fire rested on quite a number of coals that caused him to sweat. Rubbing at his brow he moved along the very narrow walkway until he found a small set of stairs that led down to a wooden hatch. It was easy enough to pull up and he quickly moved down, closing the hatch behind him while he enjoyed the cooler air. A pair of wooden stairs led down in a circular fashion, though he would see some light rising up. Keeping to the edge of the stairway, he made his way down until finally he hit an end. The stairs were all kept inside of the ceiling. No doubt a tall ladder was used to reach this area, but thankfully he had other means to transverse. Several chandeliers hung from the ceiling placed there by the very 'paltry' donations given to the church. Several more marble columns stood against the edges of the walls, each bearing a different sin that the general public could come to repent against. He lept over to a chandelier, letting out a soft grunt as his body made impact. He gripped the metallic structure as the lights swayed every so slightly. Okay, he had a way up here, and that was good enough for now. Peering down he saw that there was a single preacher down below, but the bloke was too busy to look up. No one ever looked up.

He carefully regarded the other parts of the cathedral, noticing that several tall marble statues of the numerous legendaries were all placed against the walls, behind each a stained glass window representing said legendary as well. Numerous red cushioned pews made up three long rows of seating. He could see another door while up top, but that looked to be a door where only priests and other church employees were allowed inside. He figured that with his basic scouting all done he could try next with figuring out who to ask questions about, possibly tracking down a groundskeeper to find out a bit more. Though that priest down there also looked like a prime target. He was here all alone, and today wasn't a holy day nor was it the typical mass day of the week. Leaping down from the chandelier wouldn't be too subtle, but perhaps he could make his way back up and come in looking like a sinner? Possibly... if no one had confessed to him about dealing with a Furret assassin yet. He would have to get rid of the scarf and his various items to just look like a typical member of the public who has so been burdened down by unimaginable sin. Of course, money would also helping in greasing the doors to heaven's inner secrets open. If there was one things priests were, it was obnoxiously greedy.

It was then that the door opened. Unlike other doors this one was well greased as it opened with no loud creaks. Closing the door behind herself was a fluttering Ledian who had a bag hanging from her shoulder and a red cap with the word 'reporter' proudly imprinted on the front. "Leandius?" She called out, her wings buzzing a bit as she flew forward, "I gotta touch base with you." Samuel made sure to press himself down upon the chandelier, now not daring to move at all.

The clacking of small legs was heard in the church... the priest, a Graveller, was hardly visible as he stood in a dark corner besides the altar. It was evident that he was from Osenia, as he had spikes on his arms and small parts of his body were giving off a faint yellow glow. "Hello," he said to the Ledian journalist in a deep voice.

She glanced about, "You the only guy here?" She asked as she began to unbuckle her bag.

"We're alone," the Graveller reassured her, not bothering to glance around. "I saw you made some progress."

She couldn't help but give him a smug smirk, "Of course I did." She opened her bag and set it on a pew, pulling out a small white book from it, "After all, he thought I would get the best fit for the job, right? You surely have confidence that he would bring the right bug for the job... right?"

The Graveller laughed softly. "Of course, dear, you're a star. He handpicked you for this..." he glanced warily at the door, then waddled over there, his clacking footsteps muffled by the thick carpet; after the locked the church's main door, he turned to her. "I will need to take notes, papers, documents or anything of the sort that you've made on our case."

"Why else would I have this?" She held out the book, "This has all of my notes over these months. Everything from susceptible folks to others who are more likely to be... lenient to our cause when the time comes. I'm sure you heard about how I mucked up the dirt around that chief of police. They already got to the new guy, so I made sure to take extra notes on him too. The guy is crawling in mud, basically. With that done, I'll have to get heading back soon. As for you, just get ready for the new faces that'll be coming into town. I made sure to make a chaptered listing on everything we'll have an advantage over. Who knows, by the time this is all over you might finally get into one of his parties." Samuel felt the fur along his back raise significantly. "But most of it concerns that pesky skipper." The mayors of ports like Kuai in Carajol were called skippers, as per the custom; usually they were bosses of all the fencers on the port. They were the ones who were responsible for cleaning the Pirate Alliance's dirty gold.

"I have a suspicion that he'll know of a few who could easily take his place," the Ledian continued. "Once I'm ready to head out I'll just happen to drop it off at the newspaper. I'm sure the editors wouldn't mind seeing their readership spike with this evidence pile."

Sam couldn't see the priest's face from above, but he sounded like he was smiling. "They wouldn't mind, no... and the Party God knows who he would replace the skipper with." He made a gesture with his hands, as if to say me.

The Ledian chuckled, "You would think that. The Party God tends to do his own thing. Don't be too disappointed if you don't get picked." She placed the book back in her bag, "Has he ever gotten close to inviting you to a party yet? If not, then I wouldn't have too high of a hope there. Soon enough this entire town will belong to him. I imagine it'll be a shock to these folks when their new mayor barely puts up a fight against him."

"His letters are charming, certainly," the Graveller said confidently. "I have high hopes for this position. I've lived here for all my life. I know better than anyone in Kuai how to turn this pirate-infested shithole into a proper town. Exactly as he plans."

Mention of the Party God wasn't common in Carajol. A controversial figure, and a faithful practitioner of the divide and conquer strategy, he single-handedly brought all civilized islands of Osenia in chaos and ruled them to this day with deceit and the might of his pirate crew. To distract the common folk from atrocities, he invited "the best people" to parties on his paradise island resort where thousands of people showed up to celebrate his name every weekend. Poor or rich - everyone in Osenia loved him, and those who didn't love him, he removed by underhanded means.

He effectively turned civilized archipelagos once governed by republics into a theocracy where he was the ultimate being. A brutal and ruthless pirate, his tactics earned him the contempt of the Big Five of the Pirate Alliance, who denounced him as a rogue who knew nothing of the Golden Code of Conduct, or purposefully spat on its Osenian grave, where he had slain it by turning on fellow pirates. As an egoist, the Party God raised rivalry between Osenia and Carajol; and by the looks of it, he had already began dismantling the Pirate Alliance foothold in Kuai before he moved towards conquering it.

Samuel felt his eyes forming into a glare. Of course. Of fucking course. He just had to encounter his agents here.

"Oh, his looks are equally charming too." She stated. "No doubt once you get on his high end you'll get a personal invite into his chambers. If you thought his parties were the stuff of legend, then you'll be happy to see what he has ready for his favorites." She chuckled and shouldered her bag, "Do take care, Leandius. And remember, don't let all this hard work go to shit."

Samuel glanced to the ladder and leaped back over, his listening now done with. The only problem was that his body hit against the wood as he scrambled up.

The Graveller glanced quickly upward, standing frozen on his spot.

The Ledian also glanced up, gripping her bag tightly as she saw but the end of a tail disappearing up. "... I'll get going then." She said. She quickly made her way out and out the front doors, just as Samuel got to the roof and saw her depart. He grit his teeth and scratched his claws along the rooftop in anger. He was sure they had heard him and his clumsiness. Now, to get back to his captain.

A Castaway's End​

Encompassed by the sky above and the sea below, clouds and foam became white streaks against deep blues all around. The translucent violet aura was a balling wisp, hurtling towards an emerging mass in the distance. As it kept its course streamlining towards the horizon, the mass seemed to rise from the sea, only a blemish of green from this distance. The ball of shooting energy sharply surged, yawing in a grand arc for the sky. As soon as its motion peaked, it honed in for a dizzying spiral at the only other mass for miles: a small log raft with what could only be described as a colorful lot of cargo?at the speed it descended upon them. As if with instinct, it knew where to strike, and the bolt of violet crashed itself into the gaping maw of its original vessel.

With the sharp sound of a zip, the Toxicroak felt the limp-lying Banette in his arms twitch back to life.

"Anne?" The frog croaked. He straightened his posture to haul the Ghost-type steady back on her feet.

The Banette's glassy red eye began to flutter and refocus. She regained her sense of touch, as the chill of the blustering wind whipped about her cloth-like skin while the sun worked hard to beat upon her. Taking a few seconds for her racing mind to settle and her sense of balance to adjust, she leaned off the frog and quickly touched the broad brass zipper for a mouth.

"Something?" The Toxicroak asked, almost wearily. "Or blue?"

Regaining her bearings on the rolling tides, the Banette took a hand and bunched the skirt of her dress, preparing so as not to trip. She carefully stepped over the head of a prostrate Politoed by her feet and bent down, picking up an oar. As she stepped back into place, she gave the Toxicroak a firm tap on his bloated throat with the stick's end.

"Enzo!" The Banette exclaimed excitedly through her clasped metal teeth, motioning with the oar's blade to an unstirring Persian sprawled on the raft floor, "If only Barbosa were with us!" She then lifted the oar to point out across the clear horizon. "There's an island maybe a hundred miles this direction! Flew as fast as I could?why, we could make it by evening!" She turned back to Enzo, a glimmer in her stare. "It could be inhabited! The 'mon could be civilized! Or there could be no other soul alive!"

The Toxicroak held the worn look in his eyes as a hoarse laugh rasped from behind him. Anne couldn't hold back a light chuckle either, as behind the frog, past the few motionless bodies that were strewn across the raft, she laid her eyes on a Scizor.

Laying feebly against the low panel of the raft, the Scizor's laugh was cut short with a dry cough. He shakily raised a claw as his head rolled onto his shoulder, eyes glazed by the sun. "Arceus help us all," he rasped aloud, "if it's an island dead as me!"

Enzo let out a low, strained croak as he leered at the bug, though his attention turned back to Anne while she lightly prodded his throat again.

"You've survived worse, Vincent," cooed the Banette as she handed Enzo her oar. "Why, you're still here, and you've still got breath to damn yourself too!"

"More than Barbosa," was Vincent's shaky reply. "Hasn't moved in four days. I've been watching..."

"Enough," Enzo said in exasperation. The Toxicroak dipped the oar in the water and took a more planted stance in what little space he had around him. The Scizor wheezed another rough laugh in the back, while a humming Anne carefully stepped over limbs and necks for the other oar on board.

Just as she reached to pick it up, a wave had swept over the panels and washed the floor with salt water. The surge forced a nearby Farfetch'd to start sputtering, forcing himself awake. As Anne set her oar to the water and Enzo croaked out a cadence, they rowed to the cry of the fowl moaning for a drink. They had run out of freshwater five days ago. Everyone on board knew this, and so over the wails, Anne hummed her shanty louder.




The sun was a round, lit buoy, sinking into the blazing gold horizon beside the island. Anne stood tall as her soaked white dress flapped out in the gusting winds. Dropping her hand from the visored position over her eye, she said, "Enzo! Look, look! They come in droves!"

Oar still in hand, Anne carefully leaned over the edge of the raft to see dim little orbs of light, drifting beneath the surface of the water by the tens. Anne couldn't help but sing cheerfully, "Isn't it just lovely? Like swimming through a night sky!"

She looked back over her shoulder, expecting to see excitement shared on the Toxicroak's face. Instead, Enzo continued to row, almost mechanically, sweat trickling down his knitted brow as his eyes set dead ahead.

He only acknowledged her distraction with a low-rumbling croak in his throat, before breaking his silence for the first time in hours.

"I see the beacon," he said. His breath was labored. "For the mouth of the cove." Anne shot up to attention with a wide grin as her eyes scanned the coastline. There was what looked like fortress walls jutting from the rocky terrain that rose from the beach. Her eyes spied a flickering light on the edge of one, toward her left.

He ordered, "Hard on starboard."

Anne put what seemed to be her endless energy into the stroke as Enzo let his oar sit in the water as anchor. The boat began to turn toward the mouth of the cove, and as they both resumed their rowing, they started to see the lights in the water concentrate in groups. The lights grew brighter as the water gradually turned crystal clear. Any one could see now that Chinchou were idly drifting around the coastline.

As the raft pushed through the towering stone walls of the cove mouth, the flow of water was now calmed as they drifted down the channel of the island's harbor. Everywhere in the channel, piers and piles were plentiful and readily available for ships to dock. The buildings and walkways were still lit and active with citizens. It was unmistakeable now that this was the island port of Kuai. Their entire ordeal was over.

"We're here, everyone!" Anne shouted to bodies that littered the raft. "We made it! We're here, we're?"

Enzo collapsed. Anne shot her eye over as the Toxicroak fell to his knees and slumped over the side of the raft, strength gone from him, oar lost to the harbor. The Banette let out a gasp as she stepped over to the poisonous frog, taking a hand off her oar to lift his head by his horn and examine his eyes. Enzo's breathing became ragged from all the exertion that day, and his eyes began to roll back.

Anxiety began to pick its way at the Banette's seams like pins, her eye frantically darting about. Everyone on board was down and unresponsive now. Everyone was deathly still.

Dropping her own oar and tugging the tag on her mouth sealed shut as steadfast as she could, the Ghost let out a desperate Screech that rattled through her metal teeth.

"Help us!" She frantically cried, cradling the Toxicroak's head to her chest. "Help us! Please! Somebody! Help us! Ten 'mon down! Ten 'mon down!"

Pokemon peered over decks, out of windows, and over shoulders as a small raft piled with bodies drifted in, a screaming Banette in a sopping, tattered dress turning to look at them all with a red eye, the other completely driven in by a massive iron nail.




"They call me Anarchy. Anarchy Anne."

"How did this happen? Are you okay?"

The Banette was bundled tightly in towels, though she did not complain of feeling cold and barely shivered when she arrived soaked. She sat on the dry beach, high on the slope from the waves. While the sands slowly lost the warmth they harbored from the earlier afternoon sun, the evening dark and cool was staved by the small fire pit. Anarchy Anne was surrounded by Kuai natives who tried to tend to her. At first, it hadn't occurred to Anarchy that the sight of the nail piled clear through her head would be a gruesome shock to onlookers when she pulled in. She had felt no pain from it, and had quickly forgotten the other castaway's concerns back when they first saw it too. Yet, as any could see from her hands gripping her towels close, she already wore pins: two pearl push pins that held her dress' long sleeves in place?by sticking full through her wrist. The natives involved with her learned to take the strange species' word that she, at least, was not in pain from those. Although she did mention she was just a bit sore from rowing.

"We were just a trade ship on route to here, in fact," Anarchy said, and a native chimed with a word to Arceus for her luck. "But our ship went under in a great storm. It was a disaster." She only stared into the flames before her, the light dancing in her eye and a white glint in the head of her nail. The Banette could feel the worry, pity, dismay, and even fear waft off the natives who sat around her, their emotions like a tangible aura soaking into her skin like water. She became on edge with a feeling like an anxious verve she knew wasn't reflective of the disappointment she was supposed to feel.

Another asked how many were her crew.

"Fifteen of us. Five lost to sea." The last line rang hollow of emotion.

Sixty paces away, their wood raft sat beached, a track in the sand ran from the water where natives hauled it in. Missing a number of oars, the raft only had five left. Scattered with them around the log-bound floor, there were a rags of clothing, a couple tin pails to scoop out seawater, a rolled up sheet of large sewn-together jungle leaves as a rain cover, and a few pound barrels which once held drinking water. Laid out beside the raft were her fellow castaways, most sporting old, dirtied, stained gauze bound around parts of their half-starved bodies. Natives were swarming them, feeding water from pitchers, cups, and canteens to the three who could be roused to conscience: Enzo, Vincent, and with great effort, just barely the Persian. Every one of the bodies were being wrapped in dry cloth to keep them warm.

Anarchy turned her head to the sound of a shout. Behind her, a Nuzleaf native clambered down stone terrace stairs from the upper market story, hands in the air as he ran across the sand between the two parties.

"Doc's a-coming!" The Nuzleaf shouted. "Doc's a-coming! Get'em poor folk ready aboard! We need strong'uns fer liftin'! Strong'uns fer liftin'!"

Several of the citizens surrounding Anarchy stood, being able-bodied Pokemon who looked physically prepared to handle dead weight. As they excused themselves and walked off, a native gave Anarchy a pat on her back, and gingerly asked, "Maybe you'd like to talk with the others who are awake now?"

Anarchy gave a silent nod as she stood from the dissipating circle of Pokemon, moving with the herd to the raft.

"Anarchy!" Vincent, the Scizor, called when she was a trot away. Enzo sat beside the red insect, peering out the corner of his eye to her as he downed a bowl of fresh water.

"Vincent!" Anarchy called back with a wave, setting herself down in front of the two. "And Enzo! See now? I told you we'd make it," she whispered excitedly. "I told you!"

Vincent let out a chuckle, the water from the canteen in his pincer had wet the rasp out. "Never doubted you for a second, Anarchy," he said. "It was just a waiting game, then. You got us through Carajol on that rotting piece of driftwood. Damn near surprised it held together that long, eh, Enzo?"

The Toxicroak continued to drink his water, looking away. Vincent eyed him expectantly; Anarchy grinned knowing Vincent was not one to have his questions hang rhetorically. When the poisonous frog finished his bowl, he murmured solemnly, "Hope Emmanuel comes through."

Vincent glowered now at Enzo, quick to spit, "Monkey ain't dead. None of us are. Guilt me for a joke, but we ain't dead in the water." Enzo kept his eyes on the bowl, saying nothing. Instead, he stood himself up in his towels and walked over to the unconscious Passimian a few paces away, joining another native as they inspected Emmanuel.

Anarchy looked as the other bodies had been lined up in a row. Other than the carpenter Emmanuel, there laid a shivering Politoed, a coughing Farfetch'd, and a silent lot of a Salandit, Heliolisk, Granbull, and Drilbur. As something suddenly grabbed at her arm, Anarchy turned to face Vincent's tired and intent gaze.

"Anarchy," he softly pried, "I was telling you the truth."

"Which truth?"

"That I never doubted you for a second. I'm alive because of you. And so's Barbosa. Look,"

Vincent let go of her arm and pointed a claw over her shoulder. Following his direction, she saw a Persian?a meek huddle under sheets of cloth, craning his neck to lap at a bowl of water placed by his head. As the Banette's eye lit up with excitement, she felt the pincer press against her cheek and tenderly tilt her head back to face him.

"I love that look on your face," he breathed.

There was a gentle look in the Banette's eye as it locked with his, before she lurched back on her hands and planted the soles of her little leather boots square on Vincent's forehead.

"Wh?" He didn't have time to finish as with an unexpected and immense power, Anarchy kicked off and sent the Scizor smashing flat on his back, while she continuously somersaulted seamlessly and effortlessly toward the Persian.

As Vincent shouted curses that caught nearby native's attention, the rolling ball of towels that Anarchy had become just stopped short of the feline Pokemon, who let out a startled yell. Now sitting on her rump with her legs sprawled and her hands on her toes, Anarchy nearly doubled over laughing as she tried to stop her eye from rolling around too.

"... Anne?" A cracking voice came from the gaunt-faced cat. Anarchy held her laughter for a bit as she nodded.

"We made it!" Out came her hushed excitement again. "We made it to land! We made it to Kuai!"

"Anne," Barbosa mumbled, half-lidded, sunken eyes peering up at her. "I'm weak..."

Anarchy picked up Barbosa's bowl of water, easing its lip to his. His tongue quickly lapped it. "A doctor is coming soon for all of us, Captain. You'll get your ol' strength back!"

"Please Anne," the Persian quietly begged, holding his raw stare. The remnants of a rolling, rhythmic island accent cropped through as he spoke. "I've lost ship? I've lost crew? Of what am I captain?"

"Of me," she protested. "Of the survivors!"

Barbosa shut his eyes. "It was Providence... I did jack shit."

Before Anarchy could counter, the sound of a bell came with the encroaching night?and with it, the sound of clopping hooves and wooden wheels jolting against stone. The Nuzleaf cried, "Doc Keahi a-comin'," as a Mudbray-drawn wagon came into view, descending from a roadway through the upper market and down onto the beach. The face of the wagon was illuminated on either side with two hanging lanterns, burning brightly. Sitting in the front seat with a rein wrapped around either little arm was a Gloom, a burlap headwrap tied around the bud atop her head. As the doctor pulled on the reins to stop the pair of foals in front of the commotion, she unwound the ropes from her arms and leapt off to the ground.

The doctor shouted as she kicked up sand trotting over, "Kaipo, take the reins! Anybody with muscle, get ready to load folks on the back soon as I'm done their check!" The Nuzleaf responded back with an earnest "Aye," as he went to take Doctor Keahi's place at the wagon. Natives were quick to cart the bundled bodies off, as one by one, the Gloom did cursory vital checks. It was clear the doctor was only checking to see if the bodies weren't already lost. The natives watched in tense relief as all of the immobile members of the castaway crew were deemed clear to board the wagon.

Doctor Keahi finally made it over to the remaining four conveniently grouped together: Enzo had walked over to help Vincent off the ground, just a short walk from Anarchy, her back turned to them all as she held a bowl of water in her lap from Barbosa. The feline had a paw over his face as if in mourning.

"Don't look dead to me," quipped the Gloom, rubbing her cheek as she peered them all over in her squint. "Except maybe that ol' Persian."

Anarchy whipped her head around and shouted, "He ain't dead!" Upon seeing the head of a nail in place of an eye on the unfamiliar Pokemon, the doctor fell back in a scream:

"You neither!"

Laughs rang out from Vincent behind as a grinning Anarchy jumped to her feet, the bowl of water splashing some in her hand. "Sure as they call me Anarchy Anne! This here nail hurts me none," Anarchy said with a firm knock to its head. It didn't budge. "I'll be fine. But my captain can hardly stand." She motioned to the Persian, who laid silent. "He's to be carried. Enzo and Vincent and I, we can walk ourselves on board," she asserted, skipping across the sand to stand before the two with her arms at her hips. Cheekily she taunted, "That so, men?"

The Toxicroak and Scizor exchanged glances. Vincent tutted and gave a wry smile as he shambled past Anarchy. Enzo gave a low, throaty croak as he sauntered over to help up a frazzled doctor, warning her to watch his claw. Another bulky native appeared and assisted in picking up their Persian cargo.

Anarchy dashed past Vincent on her way to the wagon, giggling as she glanced back at the pincered Pokemon with a bright eye. She thought to return his grin before she went about her business with the Nuzleaf assistant. Soon as she turned away, Vincent returned to grinding his teeth, grimacing from pain as he tried to straighten his leg with every step.

Under his breath, he cursed Enzo's name.




"Wayfare & Company?" Doctor Keahi asked the five at the table.

Her kitchen was modest in her small cabana-styled home, the table nothing more than a slab cut from a large tree trunk and the seats were straw-stuffed cushions on the floor. Bowls of water and plates with small servings of berries and steaming roasted Chinchou sat in front of her guests. As it was now late in the evening, small torches on the walls were lit, shedding a warm glow to augment the moonlight that shone through a net screen door. Anarchy, Enzo, and Vincent sat together; joining them was Barbosa and Emmanuel the Passimian, who emerged from their dismal states just enough to insist they be seated.

Barbosa continued, "Correct. Headquartered in Liverte, Sonara." Despite the look in his sunken eyes and the occasional crack in his voice, his tone kept the formality his life's position always demanded of him.

Keahi took a sip of her tea. "Never heard of them. Not a big name in the trade business, huh?"

Barbosa leered from under his brow at the Gloom, but she didn't seem to notice as the bowl eclipsed her face. He cleared his throat. "I am?was?Captain of a once-proud seaworthy vessel, loaned to Wayfare for our use by the esteemed Admiral Charles Gallagher."

Vincent rolled his eyes at the word, "esteemed", but at the mention of the Admiral's name, Keahi opened her own eyes and lowered her bowl from her mouth. Now she seemed more enthralled, and Barbosa couldn't help but give a faint, sardonic smile.

The Persian went on. "I, Fillmore Barbosa, and my small crew had annexed some of the Admiral's seafarers?" to the beat of a Scizor's scoff?"to amass a total of 15 crew. Here with me now are my original Gunner and Navigator respectively: Vincent Sterling, the Scizor over there, and Anne, the?" Barbosa eyed the Ghost-type, whose species he admittedly had never crossed before in his life, and Anarchy couldn't remember what her kind were called, either. "... Touch of femininity in our group," he concluded.

Anarchy sat patiently with a bright smile at Barbosa, and he softly returned it. Vincent gave a proud grunt to Barbosa before going back to picking his fourth skewer of Chinchou.

"As well as," Barbosa went on, not to leave the Toxicroak and Passimian waiting, "additions from the Admiral's fleet: Enzo Teller, our Toxicroak Striker, and temporarily alleviating the former duties of my Boatswain is our Carpenter, Emmanuel Igboh." He tipped his head to the muscular lemur sitting beside him, who stopped gnashing on his handful of berries to give a stalwart nod. Enzo was busy drawing his third bowl of water from the jug at center table.

Keahi set her bowl down and rubbed her cheek, eyes shut again as she hummed in thought. "Well, pleased to meet you bunch at a sit-down, rather than back there with the rest." Anarchy couldn't help but glance back behind her at a screen door left slightly ajar. She could peer through the sliver into the next room, and saw as the Nuzleaf Kaipo tended to several occupied beds. As he passed between shadows and light in there, she caught a glimpse of a bucket in his one hand and a dripping rag in the other. The doctor continued, "You've got some spirit to be up after the way you were, yah. Somebody up there likes you bunch."

Vincent tapped his claw on the table with a hard scowl. "Liked us enough to sink our whole damn ship in a storm and kill a third of our crew," he derided, "Arceus, Our All-Loving Father. Struck us down for all that sin on one deck."

Barbosa struck him a glare across the table. "Sterling?"

"Must've been from all those damn pirates," The Scizor finished, leering out the corner of his eyes at Enzo and Emmanuel.

Anarchy slammed her hands on the table, standing up from her cushion. "We washed up on the southernmost point of Antara!" The trembling excitement in her voice hushed the others up, a glint in her eye as she rapt the Gloom's attention. "Not all together, of course! But after a day of scouting and gathering the rest of us up, I and those who were able went out to forage for food and a good shelter in the jungle's treeline! Ambushed by wild ferals even, and strong too, but we're a seafaring folk through and through, and we put up a nasty fight even if we had lost all our weapons in the wreck! Not to say we came out of it unscathed, but we came out of it with our lives!"

Emmanuel piped up. Like Barbosa he had an accent foreign to Sonara; unlike Barbosa, his was stronger, more enunciate, and seemed of a different place. "Yes," he began, his words sounding thick in his mouth though he had just swallowed his food. He leaned over the table to look Anarchy in her eye, giving her a firm smile. "If not for our coop'a-ra-tion as a team, sure-ly our part of troubles be o-ver! Tch, yaa, mine God!" He shook his head at that. Enzo straightened his back and crossed his arms, eyes down on his lap, avoiding Vincent's still steady gaze.

Anarchy chuckled at the Passimian's interjection, agreeing. "Thanks to mainly you and Enzo, we were able to bind up some of our men and find good shelter, before heading out days later to stumble upon that town of, of?"

"Half-savages," quipped Barbosa, stopping his lapping of water for the interjection. Emmanuel shifted back in his seat, giving Barbosa a bit of an uneasy glimpse before Anarchy commanded attention again.

"Uncivilized natives," the Banette continued, "But they were able to give us some medical attention! It wasn't the best, but it helped bind us up of some fearful sprains and gashes."

Barbosa interrupted again, a bitter edge to his tone now. "And that was as far as their sympathies extended. Despite explaining our dire situation as castaways, their fishermen refused to be charitable for we who had nothing. They refused to give us a boat so we could stop intruding on their land, since they clearly treated us like a nuisance. To tell us we had to buy a boat from them when all our treasures have sunk to the sea floor is an unjust mockery. But of course, Providence made a way."

Enzo raised his hand. "'Scuze me," he grunted. Everyone turned to look at him as he stood from the table. "Thank you," he said to Keahi, before turning to leave.

"To bed, Teller?" Barbosa asked Enzo. The Toxicroak gave a quick nod, receiving good night wishes from the table before he walked off. The table could hear a deep churning croak in his throat as he headed into the ward room, shutting the door behind him as the hushed, familiar voice of Kaipo greeted him.

Vincent, finished with his plate, stacked his atop of Enzo's. He then clasped a pincer on the edge of Anarchy's completely untouched plate and began to slip it his way. The Ghost-type saw and the two quietly tittered amongst themselves as Barbosa continued to the doctor.

"Yes, Providence made a way. Teller and Sterling were able to procure some equipment for Igboh and the rest of our able crew to help craft a raft." Emmanuel straightened his posture and beamed with pride. Vincent stopped his playing with Anarchy at the mention of his surname with Enzo's, He glanced back at the door of the ward, which was now silent. Subconsciously, he shifted his broken leg. The doctor had bound it in a splint after an examination in the ward, prior to dinner.

Anarchy piped up one last time, brimming with glee, "And we were able to sneak us some drinking water, too! We set to rowing and now we're here! In Kuai!" She gave a little clap to contain herself. "It was eleven days by raft, and we ran out of food and water a week in, but we made it to Kuai, where we needed to be!"

Emmanuel extended a hand over Barbosa to Anarchy, stating, "Anarchy's spe-ci-al gift, ye? Without her gift, we sure-ly would not have made it across the blue! Blind without our navi-gator, ye?" He shook his head, giving Barbosa a firm pat on the back as he gave a short lament. "Tchyaa, our God is good, o! Yehh, na na."

The Gloom nodded, and finally, she stood. "That's a story, if I ever heard one," she exclaimed, wiping a bit of spittle from the corner of her mouth. "But now you're here without a ship and no goods for Gallagher." Vincent gave a snort at that.

"So what?" He jeered, his claws snapping menacingly. "Almost lost our damn lives! Woe to his mum if that snaggletooth'd slack-jaw worked the nerve to?"

Barbosa was quick to chime in. "Please excuse Sterling," he reproved over the scowling Scizor and a giggling Banette. "Sterling forgets Charles Gallagher's position. He is an Admiral, an Ex-Marine; clemency is not out of his powers, especially for all the suffering one of his best merchant crews endured at a blind act of Arceus. We will be pardoned."

Doctor Keahi rubbed her cheek in thought yet again. "Well, all that stranded mess on the side, must've taken up more time than you'd liked. How do you even know he's here now?"

"I saw," said Anarchy. "There was a grand airship back at the docks painted all black, sleek design, made for luxury! It's gotta be his! Gallagher must be here for a getaway in the Novayas, and wanted to take care of merchant business on the side. He wouldn't leave here yet if he were expecting important cargo first."

Keahi waved her hand as if to agree with the hypothesis, and went around the table collecting empty dishes. "If you say so. Then you'll probably want to head down to The Captain's Ire tavern tomorrow, if he's worth his salt." She stacked the plates atop of her headwrap'd head, which balanced perfectly level?then she pointed her arm at Anarchy. "Just you," she clarified. "You're the only healthy one here. The others all need rest and treatment. Even that blue fella, pushin' it today! He needs a long soak; he was dry of water in and out!"

Before the predictable protest from Vincent, Anarchy asked the doctor where the Captain's Ire was. To which she replied as her arms were now full of bowls, "I'll tell you tomorrow morning. You all best get to bed."

The crew thanked her for her services as she set the dishes in a bucket beside a well pump, and she turned and wished them good night. Her patients then quietly filed in line back into the ward.




The last to enter, Vincent was sure to close the door shut behind him. In the dark room whose only lights now were the moon and stars that flooded through a tall, curtain-drawn window, the last of the Wayfare crew quietly shuffled into the ward. He kept a small smile as he discreetly guided a pincer before him, gently skimming it against Anarchy's waist. The Banette, draped in the cast shadow of the ambling Passimian in front of her, twisted around to give the Scizor a curious stare with her eyes. Vincent leaned in and whispered, "You're not going to leave me tomorrow, are you?"

She smirked. "You're a grown man," she retorted, softly so only he could hear. "You'll follow if you've the mind to."

The line of four broke apart as they approached their cots. These were as plain as could be: their low frames were tied rods of bamboo and their mattresses burlap stuffed with straw. A single quilt was neatly made over the mattress, a courtesy of the Nuzleaf assistant, Kaipo. The doctor's ward luckily had just enough beds for the ten castaways, and as Barbosa soundlessly slunk back to his own in the back of the room, he passed his eye over every one. Each 'mon, he recalled their name and position on his crew, solemnly sounding off in his head.

The Heliolisk, Granbull, and Salandit were pirates, provided as additional and all-encompassing Armorers, Cannoneers, and Security for the then-new merchant ship loaned under Gallagher's name. They were fighters, but now they laid sprawled limp on their beds. The moonlight illuminated what was not under their covers: cleanly-threaded wounds and fresh new gauze tied over injuries suffered from Antaran ferals.

The Farfetch'd Boatswain, originally from the merchant guild, and the Drilbur Chaplain bore other abuses. Lying in their beds, the contours of multiple splints took shape beneath their sheets. They had potentially been out of commission the moment they washed up on shore, after the violent force of the shipwreck and its debris broke bones. Barbosa, just a few strides away from his cot now, stopped at one just before.

The mattress on this one had been replaced, and instead sitting on the bed frame was a narrow tub carved in one piece from wood. Filled halfway with well water, lying mostly submerged within, a Politoed sat wearing a soaked rag draped over his forehead and eyes. His closest associate for years. Philip Kelpsy was Barbosa's First Mate during guild operations in Liverte, a competent deckmaster who doubled his administrative duties as a Clerk. Yet, as Barbosa looked on, he saw the toad still trembling in his sleep. The fever Kelpsy had contracted nearly ten days ago still plagued him now.

There was a low, distinctive croak behind the Persian, as across from Kelpsy was a similar sleeping arrangement?the yellow eyes of a Toxicroak peering over the edge of his tub to meet the Persian's.

Enzo spoke. "Look. To his chest."

Barbosa's eyes lingered on Enzo's, distant and tired stares matched as the Persian seized up in hesitance. With his will already downtrodden, Barbosa let his mind go to dark places about what could have marred his friend's chest, what ugly wound he bore. Breaking away from his mind's own grip, Barbosa braved a crane of his neck over Kelpsy's body, only to see that pressed to his chest, the toad's hand held a tattered tricorn hat. The feline stood still, silent.

"Oh look, Captain!" Barbosa glanced back to see Anarchy standing on her cot, her boots on still, back bent forward and her eye narrowed to get a better view of the Persian's business. She pressed on in her quiet enthusiasm, falling flat back on her rear atop her bed. "Kelpsy kept your hat ever since you fainted on the raft! He tried to keep it safe for you!"

Barbosa shook his head with teeth grit as he crawled back into his own bed. "I am not a captain," he said, curling into himself with his back to the others, "to have outlived a third of my crew that day."

"My life has no value to you, Captain?" The bulk of fur did not budge, though everyone else's eyes turned to the silhouette of a familiar creature, sitting on the side of the cot which laid outside the light of the moon?save for his red pincer and a splinted leg. "We who are still here to even give you respect?"

"Hmph, nyama-ye." Eyes shifted to the Passimian lying on his cot, flat on his stomach. His fingers were dipped in a bowl of drinking water, provided beside each bed. Resting on his cheek, Emmanuel kept his eyes on the thatch ceiling, his ever diligent tone he moderated in the silence. "Cap-i-tain, ya?" He sucked his teeth. "Is what you are. You are my inspi-ra-tion. Throw your hope away, and I fear for you. Do not let your tongue speak curse over you-nah. Speak life. If you are not my Cap-i-tain, then who will I be for? What will I do? If you are not my Cap-i-tain, then am I good for no-thing? Aah-yo. Let it not be so-ah."

Silence filled the room again. In it, Enzo nested his only addition: "You are needed."

The ball of fur heaved as a breathy sigh rose from it. "Anne," it quietly posed.

"Yes Captain?"

"Whatever the doctor says? so long as I can stand, it is only fair that I go with you tomorrow, to seek out the Admiral. It is ultimately my responsibility to claim over the events that transpired. My ship went down. I go with it."

"But it was neither your fault nor mine!" Anarchy protested under her breath, pulling her covers around her shoulders as she hiked her knees to her chest.

Vincent's voice agreed from the shadows. "That storm felt impossible. Didn't even see it 'til the rain blinded me."

Anarchy hugged her quilt tighter. "It blew in so quickly, while the skies were sunny and blue and the wind was dying. Clouds blacker than pine tar, they were! None of us saw it coming, and?"

A sound like a deep, throaty groan cut her off. Anarchy glimpsed over to see Enzo slumped in his bath, eyes shut as he softly snored.

Wearily, Barbosa impressed, "Tomorrow."

The captain wished them all good night, where the other three returned their wish to him and each other before sounds of covers shuffled and straw gave way to resting bodies. As the room fell to the nightly quiet, only Anarchy stayed awake, hunched over her knees and swathed like a cocoon in her cover. She stared at the thin linen curtains drawn over the window for the rest of her time there. A Ghost who never slept, she waited for the silver glow behind the curtain to slowly burn gold.

Once they had landed at the port, anchor set, and ship rested comfortably, Nick took a sigh of relief. At least they were on land now. He didn't know much of Kuai, but it was a town, and a town meant there had to be some kind of mail service here. Somewhere. Seeing as Jon went off to the tavern almost immediately, he assumed he'd have free reign for the time being for some exploring.

A shadow passed over the Scrafty as he left the ship: a bird flew overhead and passed him, landing atop one of the pier's wooden poles up ahead. As she perched and stood, Nick was able to recognize her as the Xatu. He hadn't seen much of her in flight, and was more used to this view of her. Nick flinched slightly, eyeing the Xatu suspiciously as she landed. "Ominous," he said sarcastically.

After a quick preen under her wing, the bird surveyed what she could see from her perch, looking over the town. It looked like she may have similar exploration goals in mind. Nick simply eyed her for the time being. He wasn't comfortable with much of the crew, to be honest, but psychics especially he didn't trust. "Hey, feather-brain," he called out.

Her head turned to the voice. For a split-second, her eyes seemed to be studying him, trying to judge if he meant the nickname as scoffing or friendly. "Hello, Mr. Darcy," she responded, opting for formality instead, and giving him the chance to catch up.

The Scrafty slowly approached her, the Xatu taller than him even when she was not elevated as she was. "Up to anything in particular?"

"No," she admitted, looking back toward the town. "You would think that after a long travel, I'd know what I want to do now that I'm finally back in civilization. But a large part of me expected to be isolated for a very long time. I suppose I don't know where to go first."

"Maybe you could help me find the post office," Nick said, his tone suggesting that it was more of a command than an offer. "Since you're not doing anything."

She looked back at him, sensing that what he said wasn't a "maybe" at all. "I could." She shut one eye, holding her gaze. "Aren't you a big enough boy to go into town by yourself, dear?" Was that a tease? "Not that I mind accompanying you."

Nick twitched an eyebrow at her comment, shaking his head lightly. "Of course, but I figure if we're gonna be on the same crew, might as well get to know each other," he said as politely as he could, though still carrying a slight twinge of indifference.

With a single flap of her wings, the Xatu hopped down to Nick's level on the pier. "A good idea. Perhaps get to know the town a little, as well. Kuai, was it? Have you been here before, Mr. Darcy?"

Nick began to walk off the pier towards the town as she spoke, trying to get some sense of direction for where he was going, looking back to make sure she was following him. "If I had I would know where the post office is, wouldn't I?" he replied.

She kept stride at Nick's left side. "Not to worry, some local will know which direction to point us. There --" She pointed with her gaze, as well as her long beak, toward a Tepig who was milling about at the foot of a stone stairway. "That young man doesn't look busy." Nick grumbled faintly, looking towards the 'mon in question.

"Hey, you," he called out.

The small pig looked over, his curly tail bobbing once. After a quick check around the premises, he looked back to Nick again. "You mean me?"

"Yes, you," Nick said, motioning for him to come over. "You know this place well?"

"Sorta," the Tepig said, not volunteering much, and only coming a couple paces nearer. Either wary, or aloof.

Nick kneeled down to the Tepig's height, eyeing him with the Scrafty's unique brand of apathy. "Think you can point me and my... friend to a postal service around here?"

"What, I'm not a true friend?" came the Xatu's half-joking voice from up above the boys.

"Oh, you just want direc'ions. Sure, cummon up here," the piglet beckoned, turning and half-galloping up the steps, which separated the city streets and the piers by a level. "So uh, you want that street," the Tepig said with a point toward a lane with a fish shop facing the trio. "It's straight, if you keep goin' down."

"Thanks," Nick replied plainly, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a single berry, tossing it at the Tepig's feet as a 'tip' before looking towards the Xatu. "Let's go."

"Oh!" Clearly the Tepig hadn't expected payment, given the way his ears jumped at the sight.

The Xatu moved back to Nick's side as they took down the street directed. The stink of fish from the nearby shop briefly overtook the smell of salt water in the air. "Do I get the next stranger, then?" she asked, half-joking.

"Sure," Nick said, as if not really paying attention. He peered down the street, looking to see how far it went before walking down as instructed. "So, tell me about yourself."

"Alright," she agreed, slipping into a slightly more serious expression. "At which part of me are you interested in beginning?"

"Well, you could start with your name," Nick said pointedly. "You know mine, it's only fair after all."

"Sorry, dear. Oracle or Seer will have to do for now. Perhaps if we come to know each other as more than co-workers -- crewmates, rather -- then I may share. Until then, it's a secret I hold closer than most do. You understand." She glanced his way. "I could call you Boatswain in kind, if it makes you feel better. Has a professional ring to it!"

Nick raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't exactly build confidence, you know," he quipped. "How am I supposed to trust you? Didn't you mention on the island you were 'on the run?' Not a great first impression."

"Mm, sort of." She bobbed her head to the left side, then the right. "I may have... unintentionally... faked my own death. If I resurface in the public eye, I'll be wanted." She looked toward Nick again. "Not nearly as wanted as your captain, but you understand." Her gaze went back to the street. "But if I stay with a pirate crew, I should be safe, especially as some anonymous Xatu."

"I'll be frank with you," Nick started. "I don't trust psychics, and that's even with me being immune to your abilities," he explained. "I don't quite like your answer, honestly, but then again I don't really like much of anything, so if you don't make any trouble, we won't have any problems, yeah?"

"The ludicrous charge against me notwithstanding, I'm not in the habit of making trouble," the Xatu assured him. She looked reflective for a moment. "I suppose I'll have to change that, aboard a pirate crew." Her eyes returned to him. "In any case, it's a shame to hear your prejudice, but at least you recognize your bias. Is there anything I can do to begin to earn your trust? Perhaps become an exception to that rule?"

"Don't be like every other psychic I've met," Nick stated plainly, looking forward down the street as they walked. "Actin' all high and mighty, like you know everything, you get me?" he added. "Look, I don't really like much of anyone on Jon's crew, so not like I have anything against you personally, just don't go pullin' that psychic routine on anybody and we should be fine."

The Seer opened her beak, then shut it again, biting her tongue. That could be difficult, as not just a normal psychic but a clairvoyant as well. "Certainly, I'd like to come across wise, but I don't want to come across as if I know everything, in a negative way... In a boastful way. At least, I don't think I've ever been boastful about it." She sounded troubled, as if she really did want to change Nick's mind in some small way. Well, everyone would like to be liked, after all.

"You don't trust psychics, but you still asked me to join you on your way to the post office," she pointed out.

"Wanted to see how you'd react," Nick stated bluntly.

"Oh --" Turning her head to the side and stopping in place, the Xatu held a wing out in front of Nick's chest. "Looks like we almost missed it." The building to their right was plain and unassuming, with no particular advertisement or eyecatch. The small lettering that read "Post Office" was easy to overlook among the more vibrant shops and bars in the area.

"Some Seer I turned out to be, hm?" the bird quipped with a smirk on her beak, turning to head inside. The Scrafty followed after.

The interior design was subdued as well, but the activity a little more animated than one might have expected. A postwoman Swellow spoke across the counter with a Sentret and Dustox, though their conversation didn't seem to have anything to do with the mail.

"I don't think there's anything up in the north that COULD make a light like that, though," the Swellow said. "Not much up there but ice."

"If it's not 'mon-made, then supernaturalities are the only explanation!" the Sentret insisted, on up his tail to make himself taller as he held his paws up.

"Alright, out of the way," Nick said, completely ignoring the conversing strangers and politely but firmly moving himself to the front of the desk. "Got something to send out."

"No problem," the postbird said, shifting her attention to her new customer. "Want me to box that up for you, or already got that taken care of?"

Nick produced a small letter from his pocket, neatly folded in an envelope with a wax seal. "Not necessary, just this," he said, idly tossing the paper on the counter in front of the Swellow.

While the mailbird asked Nick to cover the small charge of the stamp, the Oracle slipped herself into conversation with the Sentret and Dustox. "Supernaturalities?" she parroted.

"The big light in the sky, two weeks back," the Dustox repeated for the Xatu's benefit.

"Looked like the sunrise, it did!" the Sentret asserted, stretching upward again. "But up in the north, and nowhere near dawn!"

"Folks are callin' it the Evening Star," the Swellow added, while fixing Nick's letter up with the proper postage.

"Sounds like a bunch of nonsense," Nick added idly, dropping the payment on the desk and looking towards the Xatu. "Well, I'm done here. You comin' with?"

"Just a moment," the Seer requested, looking his way. "Nick, did you or any of the crew see a light like this? From on deck, or...?"

"Only thing I saw was the sun," Nick replied dryly, glancing from the two townsfolk. He thought for now he'd be better off keeping things to himself, pretending he hadn't seen anything. "Maybe you two shouldn't be staring at the sky, you'll hurt your eyes like that and start seein' things."

"Well I am a Seer, dear. If not me, who else will start seeing things?" the bird teased, cracking a smile.

"Did you catch sight of this thing too, miss?" the Swellow chimed in from the other side of the counter.

"Yes. It was extraordinary."

"So? Settle a bet for us," the Dustox requested. "Fake or real? What's your take."

"Alright. I like a curious gaggle of minds... And a good wager, as well," the Oracle agreed. She spread one wing forward. "I'll admit this: I cannot tell you what it is. I can tell you what it is not. First, it was not the sun. Obviously." It was seen in the north, so she assumed that most everyone had figured that out by now. "I do not know what exactly caused the light, so it may well be supernatural in nature."

The Sentret perked up his posture at these words, long ears standing taller.

She continued. "But I can say with absolute certainty that it was not the Evening Star spoken of in legend."

"What! Come on, why not!" the Sentret objected.

"How can you be that sure?" the mailbird questioned, more curious than skeptical.

The Oracle was happy to answer. "The Evening Star in that legend is meant to rejuvenate. If it were to ever happen, every being in the Known World would feel it, even if they were not looking at it." She paused for just a moment. "What did you all feel when you saw that light?"

"I felt pretty excited!"

"Awestruck."

"Anything else?" the Xatu asked. "Warmth? Anything you might describe as rejuvenating?"

There was a short, introspective silence. Then, even the Sentret admitted, "Maybe it wasn't the Evening Star, then..." He looked up at the green bird again. "But you said it could be something else supernatural?"

"For now, it's a mystery to me as well," the Seer admitted.

"And there's no point in taking shots in the dark," Nick said curtly, before turning to the Xatu. "I'm done here, so if you wanna stick around, then by all means. I'm going back to the ship."

"Do you mind if I wander town for a while longer?" she asked, joining him at the door. As both of them headed out of the post office and onto the street, she cast her gaze both directions. "It's been a time since I've been among civilization. Would enjoy the time to get re-acquainted." She paused only a moment, but it gave enough time for Nick to turn to leave. "Ah, but before you go, I should thank you for getting to know me a little, despite your admitted prejudices. I appreciate that."

"Eh?" Nick answered, raising an eyebrow, before shrugging it off. "Er, sure, I guess. You know where to find me."

"That I do." With that, she bid farewell proper; one of them headed back toward water, and the other headed deeper into the town.

Captain Jon's first night at port was a tumultuous one, as the drink had hit him hard on the head and he only felt it in his sleep; on top of that, the Kricketots outside just wouldn't shut up, so he ended up drifting in and out of sleep. Laying on the bed in his quarters felt much like he was back in the jungle, sleeping on the ground. The ruckus caused by the sailors outside woke him, and he left the bed eagerly and with a headache.

After getting a coffee from the kitchen, he stumbled to the Navigation Room, where Nim usually slept, as he wished to talk to her about examining Apolucia's schedule and charting the course of their journey accordingly. However, the Navigation Room was empty. The Monferno looked around for a bit just in case the Emolga wasn't hiding anywhere, but there wasn't anyone there.

Irritated, Jon hung around the deck for a few minutes, sipping on his coffee and staring at the ships coming and going, taking in the fresh air of the port and the scent of brine, both welcome changes from the smog of Captain's Ire that he was subjected to yesterday.

He couldn't relax for long, though. There was great ruckus coming from the port; the sailors were being unusually loud. "Damn," the Monferno said, left his cup aside and jumped from the deck of his ship to the pier.

A large crowd had gathered near the front of the first houses of the dock and seemed to be interested in something on the wall. Some 'mon there seemed scared, like a shadow had spread above their heads.

"Oy," Jon said to a Zigzagoon at the fringes of the crowd, "What's going on here, mate? Any trouble?"

"Solo strikes again!" the Zigzagoon cried.

"Solo?" Jon said, somewhat amazed. "Ain't that the guy who sank a bunch of ANF ships?"

Just then, the crowd parted for a bit, and Jon was able to see what was on the wall: an array of wanted posters.

One of the posters was showing a dark silhouette with a question mark on it; a dozen of those were plastered all over that wall, as if one of them wasn't enough. The poster said,


Wanted
~ Dead or Alive ~
Public Enemy #1
Solo
No description available - any information for their identity will be dearly compensated
789.000.000 golden berries

- The Avian Naval Force -


"Gods be damned," Jon muttered to himself under his breath, "Look at that bounty. Whoever catches him'll be richer than a dozen kings... the Government sure went spendthrift here."

There was something a bit off about the whole Solo situation. Even a couple of weeks back when Jon first heard of the story, it rang strange. Apparently this pirate, who called himself Solo, had sent letters to the Marine Headquarters proclaiming he was about to conquer them and the world, that their resistance was futile and that they should lay down their arms. Of course, nobody took him seriously... until the next day, when he sank four ANF airships. And using an item of legend no less, the Red Orb, to summon a catastrophic storm that could be resisted by nothing in the air, not even psychic barriers. The part that didn't sit right with Jon was that this person, Solo, despite never have been seen before, was made Public Enemy #1. That kind of shit just doesn't happen, Jon had thought then. In one night, Solo had surpassed pirates who had done much worse than than sink four ANF ships; Public Enemy #7, the Party God, current ruler of Osenia, had slaughtered every marine in that region he could find according to the Government report. The body count was some five thousand, and that only counted the murders of when the Party God seized power, not the ones that came afterwards. And he was still #7.

"What'd Solo do now?" Jon asked the Zigzagoon, a bit appalled that Solo would show up in the news again.

"Sank Gallagher's merchant line ship apparently, he summoned a great storm and the ship just went down."

"Shit," Jon said in awe. A 'mon who could summon storms strong enough to sink ships would be a tough opponent.

"And this just in," the Zigzagoon continued, "Gallagher's in town. Did you see his frigate just off the shore?"

"Doubly shit," Jon exclaimed.

Admiral Charles Gallagher was one of the Big Five of the Pirate Alliance and the Public Enemy #3; a commander of a great fleet, his power was akin to a powerful military leader. He had taken it upon himself to provide Nautactus with the essentials like food and medicine bought with stolen gold, and regularly sent merchant ships to and fro Nautactus. Despite his contributions to the Pirate Alliance, everyone feared him, pirates and marines alike, and with good reason...

"I wanna meet him," Jon said excitedly, having all but forgotten about Solo. "You know where I can find him?"

The Zigzagoon looked at him in doubt. "Are you insane, fella?"

"Nope," Jon said, "I just wanna meet him."

The Zigzagoon shrugged, "It's your death. He's in Captain's Ire. But I hear you can't just walk there and meet with him."

"Yeah, whatever, thanks mate," Jon said and walked off.

But before he left, he glimpsed another wanted poster on the wall, a different one than Solo's.

It was the wanted poster of an Emolga; and it was no other Emolga than Nim. Jon immediately knew because of the eye patch. He was immediately hooked to the poster. "I didn't know Nim was famous!" he said, getting close to read the details.


Wanted
~ Only Alive ~
Nim, Emolga
Daughter of a wealthy merchant family. She ran away from home, Seafleet. Please bring her back, by any means.
25.000 golden berries

- The Avian Naval Force & the Commonwealth of Seafleet -


Jon looked at the poster for a few moments, troubled. He read it a few times, worried that he had made a mistake taking her on board. Then he thought, Nim was an adult. She could go where she pleased, and her choices were her own. If she wanted to be in his crew, then that's what would happen.

So, Jon didn't think much on it, and went on his way to the Captain's Ire.

3/7/1076
It's Two People Who Wake Up And Go Out Onto Deck And They Talk About Going Outside But They Don't Quite Do It Yet Because You Don't Just Go Shopping Instantly When You Get Up Sans-Brekkie​

The Seer perched with her talons locked around the railing of the Safe Journey's bow. Her attention was divided, between the quiet docks and town laid out before her, and the colours of the rising sun in the sky. The ship's wings and ratlines swayed lightly in the early-morning breeze, and from below deck the sound of quiet humming joined the harmony. Crockery jangling in his arms, Cook emerged and breathed deep of the surface air before floating leisurely to a nearby table and bringing the tray of tea he held to rest.

The bird's head turned to the noise. "Good morning, Cook. Or do you prefer Mr. Cook?" With a wing-flutter, she turned her body to face him and the table, wrapping her talons around the railing in the other direction. "My, you've prepared tea already? A fellow early riser, then?" she guessed.

"Oh! Hello, good morning," the dragon laughed. He hadn't been expecting anyone else on deck this early. "Just Cook is fine, and yes, bright and early with a cup of tea is the only way to start a morning, for me. As they say, the early bird gets the Wurmple!" The Hydreigon paused for a moment, wondering if the phrase was a little tasteless.

"I would be that early bird, then?" the Seer chuckled.

"Er, yes, I suppose you would! Care for a spot of Wurmple? I mean, tea?" the three-headed 'mon's centre head offered, pulling an unused mug closer to the teapot.

"Tea sounds much better, doesn't it?" She hopped down from the railing, and her arrival at the table was met with a freshly-poured cup. "Thank you, dear." Just a spot of telekinesis lifted the teacup to her beak, so she could enjoy its fragrance.

"You're very welcome, Seer," Cook nodded, pouring a mug for himself. "I do believe there is a blend of tea named after the Wurmple, so the two aren't necessarily strictly separate. Not this particular kind, I'm afraid, but perhaps they have some down at the food market in town."

"I was having a look in that direction. Not too many people up as early as us." She cast her gaze over the side of the ship. "Not outdoors, anyway. I suppose we technically haven't left our front door, either."

"Hmm, perhaps a while to wait until the stalls are all up," said the Hydreigon, sipping some tea. "I should find my way down there later today just to see what they have. While we're far from starving, it always does good to have one's cupboards full, yes?"

"I'd like to go as well!" she said, looking back to him. "Although... I suppose I've nothing to spend." Her gaze wandered again. "The island of Antigua didn't exactly have a currency. And the captain hasn't paid me anything but board, at least not yet. But even so, it would be nice to be in a marketplace again. After all this time." A wistful tone gently coloured her voice.

"Well, food is something of a necessity," the dragon hummed, lifting Francis to stroke his chin. "I'm sure what I've been given for purchasing food doesn't care much for who is doing the purchasing. Just take however much you need and consider it a... larger influence over deciding the menu, hmm? A little bonus. A Wurmple, if you will."

The Oracle laughed over the dragon's insisted use of the metaphor. "Either you're being very generous, or you're coaxing an old woman into helping you with the groceries." She gave him something of a smirk. "Either way, I believe I like the way you think."

"Why not both?" Cook chuckled. "I don't think it's unreasonable to risk as little interference from the munchkins as possible."

"Who, those two?" the Seer asked with a glance to each other his smaller heads. "I'm not sure how much help I'd be with that. Unless you simply want me to be your hands for you." She lifted a wing. "Well, not hands, per se." Her mind would have to do the lifting.

"Oh, I was just poking fun - though the offer is certainly appreciated," the dragon chortled. "At any rate, they seem to be a little dormant at the moment. Xavier? Francis?" The right head gave little more than a sharp exhale in response, while the left let out a drowsy squawk.

"No no, don't get up, you two," the Xatu insisted. "I accept, Cook. Joking aside, thank you for the invitation. We can fly out as soon as we've finished our tea."

"Ah, think nothing of it, Seer," said the cook, sipping from his teacup. "Seems a splendid idea."