Alter Ego
that evil mod from hell
- 5,750
- Posts
- 19
- Years
- Age 37
- Touhou land, grazing danmaku all the way
- Seen Aug 8, 2010
Eh-heh...sorry, folks, I've been a bit preoccupied with this and that, not to mention agonizing over my verdicts and the starting time far beyond what can conceivably be called 'productive'. >.<
In other news...we now have an official OOC Thread. So go ahead: read it, post there, mingle, say something that you think will make you sound smart and/or funny, bump your post counts, you know...whatever. XD
In the mean time...let's see what we've got here:
@Zore: Oh, dear...what to say about the biggest of my decision-making headaches? Deep down in my little heart I've always held a soft spot for the manipulative sociopath characters, and the idea is certainly something you don't see often in such a generally happy, go-lucky fandom. But...no, just...not this time, not this RP. Sorry. >.< I do appreciate you sticking to your guns and not compromising Elliot's disposition and I strongly encourage you to keep on breaking the norm with your characters, but this time around, for complicated plot/incentive reasons that I can't even begin to explain without completely spoilerizing...~Declined~
*Meebles* That was such a hard decision to make. ;;
@KatouBot: Passable quality thus far, but it's still very much unfinished. ~Pending~
@Phanima: Oh drat, here I thought I'd have shaken you off in your absence. And another Japanese inspired character?! What's wrong with you?! >.<
Just kidding, of course. XD Glad to see you around, and I actually like what I see of your character thus far, but do finish that profile in a timely manner, please. :3 ~Pending~
@Gummy: Yep, yep; you seem to be covering what needs to be covered. Just put the rest of the flesh on those bones and you should be good to go. ~Pending~
@Kogenta: Oh come now, you should know I love long profiles. XD Anyhow, I see no issues here at all; quite the contrary, actually. Without a doubt, this profile is ~Accepted~
@Thesis: Hectopascals? Who gives a digit about hectopascals anyway? My RP Mastering powers constitute a transcendental in and of themselves, a hyperbolic function even! AND THEN SOME! They let me do stuff like this: ~Accepted~
EDITNESS: Long-waited opening IC...go! We are officially in business. ^^
IC:
The sun rose slowly over Zenith island that morning, ascending past the island's many plateaus and hilltops with calm, dignified grace, like an emperor heading for the top of his castle to greet the unwashed masses under his rule. And what masses they were! Below the glare of the midday sun, at the lowest of the five distinct plateaus that constituted the majority of the island's flatland, a bizarre congregation had spread across what seemed like every last available piece of living space, a steady flow of their comrades still ascending the cliffside path from the multitude of ships moored below. There were people both young and old, of every color and creed, children laughing and playing amongst tired seniors and flocking around the occasional pro trainer - cool and collected - who made their entry. Pokémon were compared, challenges issued, bets made, refreshments and souvenirs bought from the colorful stalls that had - very prudently - been set up the day before. Laughter and chatter mingled with the strident cries of the most bizarre menagerie of pokémon that the sleepy island had ever seen, the occasional balloon fleeing the chaos into the cloudless sky above, much to the annoyance of the Wingulls nesting above while the queues to the registration booths grew ever longer. The very air itself seemed alive with excitement, all centered around the only space in sight that had not been subjected to this peculiar invasion: a wooden stage set up with its back pointing straight to the tallest peak of Zenith Island and the renovated observatory at its peak. Currently, the stage was occupied by nothing but a solitary microphone and loudspeaker set, save for the occasional stressed-out aide who ran in to perform yet another last-minute check on the speakers, but even so, the crowd milling around it was already abuzz with speculation. This was where the tournament's first round would begin, after all, and by none other than an evil land developer who had been suspiciously quiet and reclusive after his grand announcement - even coquettish, some would say. None of those gathered, particularly the hopeful competitors, wanted to miss his speech, and as such the jockeying for the front places was fierce, often kept in check only by the grim-looking black suits who hung about the area, casting warning glares from behind their shades and occasionally adding in a bit of suitable body language to intimidate potential troublemakers.
The person at the front of the right-hand registration booth queue faced intimidation of a completely different sort, however.
"Next, please." the receptionist's voice was friendly and pleasant to the ear, like a cool breeze in the sweltering summer heat, and the moment he caught sight of her face, Laure felt the temperature around his cheeks rise even further as he half-stepped, half-stumbled closer. His head throbbed, he felt caged in and ill, the sweat ran down his face and neck in rivers, disappearing beneath the sweater - far too warm for this kind of weather - and so fervently did his tongue move as he tried to explain his case that he was surprised a few seconds later when he realized that it had failed to make a sound.
"I-I..."
Rather than the chastisement he had expected to receive, the receptionist - apparently well-accustomed to this type of thing by now - treated him to a sympathetic smile, "Your ID, Ms Whitendon..?"
"Mister."
"Excuse me?"
"Mister." Laure repeated, a bit louder, his face now bearing an even deeper shade of red than before, only intensified as his own voice - shrill and frightened - resounded in his ears, the trainer hastily shoving a trainer card forward for examination, "I'm a boy."
"Oh." the receptionist looked slightly taken aback, chuckling in an embarrassed manner, "I'm sorry, Mr.Whitendon, just a moment, then." with routined flourish, she grasped the piece of plastic, running it through a small reading device mounted onto the desk and turning to consult the computer by her side, her fingers dancing gracefully across the keyboard. As he waited, Laure could already hear the laughter spreading out behind him; quiet, muffled, as if they thought he couldn't hear it. Gritting his teeth, the male pulled the baseball cap on his head a bit further down, focusing his gaze on his feet while he tried to tune out all sounds but the rhytmic tap, tap, tapping of the keys.
After what felt like an eternity, the receptionist finally spoke up again.
"So, it's Laure Whitendon. Gender Male. Age 15. Born in Kanto region. Trainer ID 6281 - 3217 - 5534. Registered pokémon: Growlithe, Jolteon, Butterfree, and...an Alakazam." she paused, frowning a little as she turned her gaze back to the teen and asking, not unkindly, "Is that correct?"
He managed a weak nod, and the woman didn't press the unspoken matter further, but he knew. It was the question that had been on the lips of everyone he had encountered since disembarking the ferry in Zynthre's company, the question everyone inevitably came to ask, in a very carefully worded manner so as to not sound rude, of course: how could such a weak trainer have such a powerful pokémon?
It was even more embarrassing when he had been arrested on charges of pokémon theft for his guardian, not to be released until Mrs. Whitendon had come over and given the investigators both a full testimony and a piece of her mind, though they would probably have been satisfied with only the former.
"Here you are."
At the receptionist's words, Laure snapped out of his reverie, just in time to notice his trainer card heading back towards him, accompanied by a small, white ID card that was a bit smaller, bearing his basic information on the front.
Catching the boy's quizzical glance, the receptionist elaborated, "That card is proof your participation in this tournament." she explained, "In addition to pass and fail verdicts, you will also be graded on your overall performance throughout the tournament and be awarded Prestige Points for your performance. While basic accommodations are provided, you may also trade any points you gain for items or additional services between rounds. Some of the stores on this island will also have discounts and special offers available only to tournament participants, so make good use of that card during your stay. But be careful; if another competitor bests you in battle, a number of your Prestige Points will be transferred to them. So stay on your guard and use your points sparingly, but don't get too greedy or you may loose them all." returning to her previous smile, she then added, "I wish you good luck in the tournament."
With another hesitant nod, Laure quickly pocketed both his trainer card and competitor ID, taking special care to make sure that they were properly contained, before hobbling to the side as quickly as possible, gasping for breath like he had just run a marathon, still feeling the crowd's collective stares boring into the back of his skull as he found himself a spot by the edge of the plateau facing towards the sea, leaning over the railing as he allowed the fresh sea breeze to brush over his sweat-covered face. It was not fair, the teen told himself, not fair that no-one else had to struggle like this, to muster all their courage and push themselves to the outmost just to manage something as simple as a tournament registration. How pitiful he must have looked, quivering like a leaf and stuttering incoherently, blushing at the first sight of a pretty face. Weak, that was what they thought of him now, weak and pathetic, a Rattata thrown out to a flock of ravenous Persian, and they were right.
"I take it, the registration was a success?"
Laure did not seem the least bit fazed by the sudden entry of a foreign voice to his mind, nor the equally sudden appearance of a humanoid creature with a fox-like head - decorated by a large moustache- by his side. The opened can of yogurt floating in mid-air in front of the psychic type and the sizable spoon that was shoveling its contents into the pokémon mouth on its own accord, however, were a slightly different matter.
"Y-yeah...I guess so..." Laure replied, "But Zynth, what-?"
"Yogurt." Zynthre replied matter-of-factly, continuing to consume his snack, "A human treat which I must confess is quite tasty. A vendor was offering free samples, would you like some...?"
"No-no, I'm fine." Laure replied hastily as the yogurt can made a tentative move towards him, "I really couldn't eat anything now, I..." he paused, briefly tearing his gaze away from the absurd sight in front of him and turning it to the countless crowd members still making their way up the slope, "...I just didn't think there would be so many people."
"It is a big tournament." Zynthre replied, "The biggest investment since the last national championship, I gather, and advertised in overseas media too. A big crowd is to be expected. Some celebrities, even, respected names from the competitive circuit."
"Oh..." Laure felt his heart sink even further. The tournament had seemed like the right idea at the time, but the moment he had stepped onto the ferry and caught a glimpse of the competition he had had half a mind to quit the contest already. When they finally disembarked and he found that his ferry was only one of what looked to him like a small fleet, he had come very close to a nervous breakdown, and now...
"Zynth...do you...think I made the right decision?"
"Absolutely not." the abrupt bluntness of the response caught Laure off guard, but before he could muster a single sentence, the Alakazam continued - with what Laure thought was the tiniest hint of a smile - "This yogurt is absolutely delicious."
The boy frowned a little, "I meant about entering the tournament."
"Oh."
For a few moments, there was complete silence between the two, save for the occasional slurp of yogurt leaving spoon and entering mouth, but eventually Laure spoke up again:
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Was it...?"
"A good decision?" the Alakazam finished, taking a brief pause from his treat to shake his head slowly, "Who am I to say if one decision is better than the other? Who am I to say that such a thing as 'right' even exists? Only the future will reveal such things, if they reveal themselves at all, and the future is not for us to decide. You can only do as you think best, then deal with the consequences as they come."
Laure looked somewhat crestfallen, "That...wasn't very helpful." he said at last.
"A completely truthful answer rarely is." his companion concurred with a light shrug, "To answer the question I believe you intended to ask, however: yes, I believe that Rebecca would have come to a similar decision."
"I see." Laure replied, looking slightly relieved; this was his mother's prized pokémon, after all, and he would know her better than any. Even if he still wasn't sure of his decision, at least he was not letting his family down. This fact was enough to raise his spirits a little, eliciting a shy little smile, "That's good to know."
"I do believe that the terms she would have expressed her approval with would have been a fair bit more colorful, however." Zynthre continued conversationally, "'Damn straight! I'll kick their lilywhite butts all the way back to prep school', or something to that effect, I believe."
"You're kidding..." Laure replied, repressing a guilty fit of laughter at the mental image of his prim and proper mother, chairwoman of the local trainer school's parent council, wielding such expressions, "Mother seriously didn't say things like that, did she?"
"Well..." the psychic type conceded, "I confess to leaving out some of the more vulgar terminology, yes. She was quite the outspoken young lady in her younger days." the tiny hint of a smile briefly graced his features once more, "I would appreciate it if you did not betray any knowledge of this in her presence, however."
Chuckling genuinely for the first time since he had set foot on the island, Laure offered his pokémon a grin, "Didn't hear a thing." he replied, finally raising his head from the depths of the hoodie's collar and pulling up the baseball cap just a little to grant him a better view of his surroundings, "Did that vendor still have samples left?"
"A fair amount." Zynthre replied, "It appears that his products were not viewed with particular enthusiasm, despite the very generous pricing. Shall I lead you there? It would appear that we still have some time before the tournament begins, after all."
"...why not?" Laure replied in cheerful forfeit, his recent embarrassment now all but completely wiped from his mind, "Why not?"
In other news...we now have an official OOC Thread. So go ahead: read it, post there, mingle, say something that you think will make you sound smart and/or funny, bump your post counts, you know...whatever. XD
In the mean time...let's see what we've got here:
@Zore: Oh, dear...what to say about the biggest of my decision-making headaches? Deep down in my little heart I've always held a soft spot for the manipulative sociopath characters, and the idea is certainly something you don't see often in such a generally happy, go-lucky fandom. But...no, just...not this time, not this RP. Sorry. >.< I do appreciate you sticking to your guns and not compromising Elliot's disposition and I strongly encourage you to keep on breaking the norm with your characters, but this time around, for complicated plot/incentive reasons that I can't even begin to explain without completely spoilerizing...~Declined~
*Meebles* That was such a hard decision to make. ;;
@KatouBot: Passable quality thus far, but it's still very much unfinished. ~Pending~
@Phanima: Oh drat, here I thought I'd have shaken you off in your absence. And another Japanese inspired character?! What's wrong with you?! >.<
Just kidding, of course. XD Glad to see you around, and I actually like what I see of your character thus far, but do finish that profile in a timely manner, please. :3 ~Pending~
@Gummy: Yep, yep; you seem to be covering what needs to be covered. Just put the rest of the flesh on those bones and you should be good to go. ~Pending~
@Kogenta: Oh come now, you should know I love long profiles. XD Anyhow, I see no issues here at all; quite the contrary, actually. Without a doubt, this profile is ~Accepted~
@Thesis: Hectopascals? Who gives a digit about hectopascals anyway? My RP Mastering powers constitute a transcendental in and of themselves, a hyperbolic function even! AND THEN SOME! They let me do stuff like this: ~Accepted~
EDITNESS: Long-waited opening IC...go! We are officially in business. ^^
IC:
The sun rose slowly over Zenith island that morning, ascending past the island's many plateaus and hilltops with calm, dignified grace, like an emperor heading for the top of his castle to greet the unwashed masses under his rule. And what masses they were! Below the glare of the midday sun, at the lowest of the five distinct plateaus that constituted the majority of the island's flatland, a bizarre congregation had spread across what seemed like every last available piece of living space, a steady flow of their comrades still ascending the cliffside path from the multitude of ships moored below. There were people both young and old, of every color and creed, children laughing and playing amongst tired seniors and flocking around the occasional pro trainer - cool and collected - who made their entry. Pokémon were compared, challenges issued, bets made, refreshments and souvenirs bought from the colorful stalls that had - very prudently - been set up the day before. Laughter and chatter mingled with the strident cries of the most bizarre menagerie of pokémon that the sleepy island had ever seen, the occasional balloon fleeing the chaos into the cloudless sky above, much to the annoyance of the Wingulls nesting above while the queues to the registration booths grew ever longer. The very air itself seemed alive with excitement, all centered around the only space in sight that had not been subjected to this peculiar invasion: a wooden stage set up with its back pointing straight to the tallest peak of Zenith Island and the renovated observatory at its peak. Currently, the stage was occupied by nothing but a solitary microphone and loudspeaker set, save for the occasional stressed-out aide who ran in to perform yet another last-minute check on the speakers, but even so, the crowd milling around it was already abuzz with speculation. This was where the tournament's first round would begin, after all, and by none other than an evil land developer who had been suspiciously quiet and reclusive after his grand announcement - even coquettish, some would say. None of those gathered, particularly the hopeful competitors, wanted to miss his speech, and as such the jockeying for the front places was fierce, often kept in check only by the grim-looking black suits who hung about the area, casting warning glares from behind their shades and occasionally adding in a bit of suitable body language to intimidate potential troublemakers.
The person at the front of the right-hand registration booth queue faced intimidation of a completely different sort, however.
"Next, please." the receptionist's voice was friendly and pleasant to the ear, like a cool breeze in the sweltering summer heat, and the moment he caught sight of her face, Laure felt the temperature around his cheeks rise even further as he half-stepped, half-stumbled closer. His head throbbed, he felt caged in and ill, the sweat ran down his face and neck in rivers, disappearing beneath the sweater - far too warm for this kind of weather - and so fervently did his tongue move as he tried to explain his case that he was surprised a few seconds later when he realized that it had failed to make a sound.
"I-I..."
Rather than the chastisement he had expected to receive, the receptionist - apparently well-accustomed to this type of thing by now - treated him to a sympathetic smile, "Your ID, Ms Whitendon..?"
"Mister."
"Excuse me?"
"Mister." Laure repeated, a bit louder, his face now bearing an even deeper shade of red than before, only intensified as his own voice - shrill and frightened - resounded in his ears, the trainer hastily shoving a trainer card forward for examination, "I'm a boy."
"Oh." the receptionist looked slightly taken aback, chuckling in an embarrassed manner, "I'm sorry, Mr.Whitendon, just a moment, then." with routined flourish, she grasped the piece of plastic, running it through a small reading device mounted onto the desk and turning to consult the computer by her side, her fingers dancing gracefully across the keyboard. As he waited, Laure could already hear the laughter spreading out behind him; quiet, muffled, as if they thought he couldn't hear it. Gritting his teeth, the male pulled the baseball cap on his head a bit further down, focusing his gaze on his feet while he tried to tune out all sounds but the rhytmic tap, tap, tapping of the keys.
After what felt like an eternity, the receptionist finally spoke up again.
"So, it's Laure Whitendon. Gender Male. Age 15. Born in Kanto region. Trainer ID 6281 - 3217 - 5534. Registered pokémon: Growlithe, Jolteon, Butterfree, and...an Alakazam." she paused, frowning a little as she turned her gaze back to the teen and asking, not unkindly, "Is that correct?"
He managed a weak nod, and the woman didn't press the unspoken matter further, but he knew. It was the question that had been on the lips of everyone he had encountered since disembarking the ferry in Zynthre's company, the question everyone inevitably came to ask, in a very carefully worded manner so as to not sound rude, of course: how could such a weak trainer have such a powerful pokémon?
It was even more embarrassing when he had been arrested on charges of pokémon theft for his guardian, not to be released until Mrs. Whitendon had come over and given the investigators both a full testimony and a piece of her mind, though they would probably have been satisfied with only the former.
"Here you are."
At the receptionist's words, Laure snapped out of his reverie, just in time to notice his trainer card heading back towards him, accompanied by a small, white ID card that was a bit smaller, bearing his basic information on the front.
Catching the boy's quizzical glance, the receptionist elaborated, "That card is proof your participation in this tournament." she explained, "In addition to pass and fail verdicts, you will also be graded on your overall performance throughout the tournament and be awarded Prestige Points for your performance. While basic accommodations are provided, you may also trade any points you gain for items or additional services between rounds. Some of the stores on this island will also have discounts and special offers available only to tournament participants, so make good use of that card during your stay. But be careful; if another competitor bests you in battle, a number of your Prestige Points will be transferred to them. So stay on your guard and use your points sparingly, but don't get too greedy or you may loose them all." returning to her previous smile, she then added, "I wish you good luck in the tournament."
With another hesitant nod, Laure quickly pocketed both his trainer card and competitor ID, taking special care to make sure that they were properly contained, before hobbling to the side as quickly as possible, gasping for breath like he had just run a marathon, still feeling the crowd's collective stares boring into the back of his skull as he found himself a spot by the edge of the plateau facing towards the sea, leaning over the railing as he allowed the fresh sea breeze to brush over his sweat-covered face. It was not fair, the teen told himself, not fair that no-one else had to struggle like this, to muster all their courage and push themselves to the outmost just to manage something as simple as a tournament registration. How pitiful he must have looked, quivering like a leaf and stuttering incoherently, blushing at the first sight of a pretty face. Weak, that was what they thought of him now, weak and pathetic, a Rattata thrown out to a flock of ravenous Persian, and they were right.
"I take it, the registration was a success?"
Laure did not seem the least bit fazed by the sudden entry of a foreign voice to his mind, nor the equally sudden appearance of a humanoid creature with a fox-like head - decorated by a large moustache- by his side. The opened can of yogurt floating in mid-air in front of the psychic type and the sizable spoon that was shoveling its contents into the pokémon mouth on its own accord, however, were a slightly different matter.
"Y-yeah...I guess so..." Laure replied, "But Zynth, what-?"
"Yogurt." Zynthre replied matter-of-factly, continuing to consume his snack, "A human treat which I must confess is quite tasty. A vendor was offering free samples, would you like some...?"
"No-no, I'm fine." Laure replied hastily as the yogurt can made a tentative move towards him, "I really couldn't eat anything now, I..." he paused, briefly tearing his gaze away from the absurd sight in front of him and turning it to the countless crowd members still making their way up the slope, "...I just didn't think there would be so many people."
"It is a big tournament." Zynthre replied, "The biggest investment since the last national championship, I gather, and advertised in overseas media too. A big crowd is to be expected. Some celebrities, even, respected names from the competitive circuit."
"Oh..." Laure felt his heart sink even further. The tournament had seemed like the right idea at the time, but the moment he had stepped onto the ferry and caught a glimpse of the competition he had had half a mind to quit the contest already. When they finally disembarked and he found that his ferry was only one of what looked to him like a small fleet, he had come very close to a nervous breakdown, and now...
"Zynth...do you...think I made the right decision?"
"Absolutely not." the abrupt bluntness of the response caught Laure off guard, but before he could muster a single sentence, the Alakazam continued - with what Laure thought was the tiniest hint of a smile - "This yogurt is absolutely delicious."
The boy frowned a little, "I meant about entering the tournament."
"Oh."
For a few moments, there was complete silence between the two, save for the occasional slurp of yogurt leaving spoon and entering mouth, but eventually Laure spoke up again:
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Was it...?"
"A good decision?" the Alakazam finished, taking a brief pause from his treat to shake his head slowly, "Who am I to say if one decision is better than the other? Who am I to say that such a thing as 'right' even exists? Only the future will reveal such things, if they reveal themselves at all, and the future is not for us to decide. You can only do as you think best, then deal with the consequences as they come."
Laure looked somewhat crestfallen, "That...wasn't very helpful." he said at last.
"A completely truthful answer rarely is." his companion concurred with a light shrug, "To answer the question I believe you intended to ask, however: yes, I believe that Rebecca would have come to a similar decision."
"I see." Laure replied, looking slightly relieved; this was his mother's prized pokémon, after all, and he would know her better than any. Even if he still wasn't sure of his decision, at least he was not letting his family down. This fact was enough to raise his spirits a little, eliciting a shy little smile, "That's good to know."
"I do believe that the terms she would have expressed her approval with would have been a fair bit more colorful, however." Zynthre continued conversationally, "'Damn straight! I'll kick their lilywhite butts all the way back to prep school', or something to that effect, I believe."
"You're kidding..." Laure replied, repressing a guilty fit of laughter at the mental image of his prim and proper mother, chairwoman of the local trainer school's parent council, wielding such expressions, "Mother seriously didn't say things like that, did she?"
"Well..." the psychic type conceded, "I confess to leaving out some of the more vulgar terminology, yes. She was quite the outspoken young lady in her younger days." the tiny hint of a smile briefly graced his features once more, "I would appreciate it if you did not betray any knowledge of this in her presence, however."
Chuckling genuinely for the first time since he had set foot on the island, Laure offered his pokémon a grin, "Didn't hear a thing." he replied, finally raising his head from the depths of the hoodie's collar and pulling up the baseball cap just a little to grant him a better view of his surroundings, "Did that vendor still have samples left?"
"A fair amount." Zynthre replied, "It appears that his products were not viewed with particular enthusiasm, despite the very generous pricing. Shall I lead you there? It would appear that we still have some time before the tournament begins, after all."
"...why not?" Laure replied in cheerful forfeit, his recent embarrassment now all but completely wiped from his mind, "Why not?"
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