[PKMN FULL] The Age of Heroes [IC]

[Garet]

Roscoe
Area 52, Lookout Pointe
~~~~~

Roscoe had shuddered when the Gengar phased through him before they'd entered the house. So he'd decided that a bit of payback was in order, had he? I wonder what I could do next. Maybe...no, the score was even at the moment, there was no need to prolong it. Roscoe wouldn't hesitate to, though, if the Gengar did.

That train of thought faded as the others began talking. So the Pikachu was Januario, where'd he heard that name before? Oh. Him. Roscoe's friendliness descended to a neutral level at the realization that this was the Trade Prince. Personally, he wasn't going to try to call out the Pikachu for the scheming and such that the Trade Prince was known for. There would be no point. Still, the Sceptile wouldn't willingly lead a Pokemon with such a reputation to Vivardia Town. Especially if he'd paid the Crimson Company, who had broken into the Sanctum.

"If you have any insight on the location of any of those Plates, share it with the rest of us; for some Plates, we are certain of their whereabouts, as they have likely influenced the area they were hidden. But for others, we can only make assumptions," Durand finished.

Approaching the table, Roscoe looked down at the map, one claw tapping the area marked 'Duskwood'. "Prob'ly obvious, but Duskwood an' Vivardia are likely places for th' Grass Plate. Both forests grew more or faster th'n natural, after all." He fell silent for a few moments, looking over the map as he went through where each Plate might be in his head.

Hm... "What of Cyala? Would they have hidden th' Steel Plate there?"

 

[Sir Bastian]

*bulbagarden.net image removed*Vincent 'Vince' The Wanderer - Area 52

Vincent was quiet as the group shuffled over and peered at the map in question, almost everybody going quiet to try and think of where the various plates might've been hidden. Vince raised a hand and chewed softly on his thumb, his eyes flicking across the map. He had several ideas as to where the various plates might be, but time was short, and he wasn't going to lead the others astray with guesswork. He'd only focus on the ones he was fairly sure of.

"Well, I dunno, they could've hidden alotta things in Cyala, but might be. Personally, I think…" He trailed a hand across the map and tapped the area to the east, between Indrasil and Port Rhago. "… This is where the Dragon plate is hidden. Folks over there are real proud of their ancestry, and there are rumors 'bout the Lord of Arcanthus hiding away some kind of treasure for himself. 'Side from that…" His hand moved up to the very north of the map. "Pretty sure the Ice plate would be hidden up here. I haven't personally been there, but there are people talkin' about a temple hidden beneath the ice."

His hand moved down south, to the desert of Shamar. "Likewise, there are people saying there's a temple like it hidden under the desert. Personally, I think the Fire plate might be there. Seems just about right for how hot it is in there. It's unnatural, really. Lastly…" He trailed his hand over to the waters just south of Port Rhago, near the islands to the south-west. "… Few years ago, this massive whirlpool popped up here. Bigger than any they'd seen before, and it's apparently still there. I'd say that's a pretty good guess as to where the Water plate is. Those are my best guesses, at least."

He stepped back and folded his arms across his chest, glancing around at the others before looking back at the map, contemplating what he'd just said and waiting for everyone else to decide on where to head next.

​

 

[Xilfer]

Toa the Blackhearted Duke
Area 52

Toa listened to the suggestions of the others. He didn't like guessing, but the Dewott, Vince's guesses were well-educated for a commoners'. Finally, Toa decided to step up and reveal some actual facts.

"Well, we know one thing for sure, at least," he said reluctantly, walking up to the map and brushing Vince aside rudely. He placed a sharp claw on Cyala. "Well, we know one thing for sure:" he began, "the Dark Plate is here. I would know. I tried to steal it."

Suddenly, an image appeared before all the Pokemon. It was a miniature version of Aion's throne, with the Dark Plate floating above it. This was simply an illusion that the Zoroark had generated. "This is Aion's throne," he said, "and that is the Dark Plate." He pointed to the floating plate above it.

"Aion keeps his Dark Plate afloat above his throne to show his superiority to all those who would enter the chambers. Stupid, I know. Makes it so easy for the taking. Or is it?" The illusion disappeared, and was replaced by an Ariados stuck on top of the ceiling, descending down using a spider web. The Ariados grabbed the plate and made its way back up, in the cover of darkness. Then, without warning, an arrow pierced its side and it fell down to the ground. The one who had shot the Ariados was a guard, who leaned over the creature's dead body and retrieved the plate.

"That was just an example. The Plate is guarded at all times throughout the day and night, and taking it from its psychic pedestal above the throne sends a telepathic alarm to any nearby guards. I had not foreseen this the first time I attempted to steal it, and I was caught. We would need a very powerful Psychic in order to deactivate the pedestal."

Toa glanced over at Durand and Reginald. "You two, old men. You think you're up to the task?"

 

[Ray Maverick]

Durand
​

"Prob'ly obvious, but Duskwood an' Vivardia are likely places for th' Grass Plate. Both forests grew more or faster th'n natural, after all," Roscoe said and Durand nodded slightly in agreement. "What of Cyala? Would they have hidden th' Steel Plate there?"

"Well, I dunno," Vincent begun saying, "they could've hidden alotta things in Cyala, but might be. Personally, I think…" His hand brushed from Indrasil to Port Ragho. "… This is where the Dragon plate is hidden. Folks over there are real proud of their ancestry, and there are rumors 'bout the Lord of Arcanthus hiding away some kind of treasure for himself. 'Side from that…" Then, he moved his hand to the north. "Pretty sure the Ice plate would be hidden up here. I haven't personally been there, but there are people talkin' about a temple hidden beneath the ice."

He pointed at Shamar. "Likewise, there are people saying there's a temple like it hidden under the desert. Personally, I think the Fire plate might be there. Seems just about right for how hot it is in there. It's unnatural, really. Lastly…" He trailed his hand over to the waters just south of Port Rhago, near the islands to the south-west. "… Few years ago, this massive whirlpool popped up here. Bigger than any they'd seen before, and it's apparently still there. I'd say that's a pretty good guess as to where the Water plate is. Those are my best guesses, at least."

Just as Vince was done, Toa spoke up, stating that the Dark Plate was indeed on Cyala and that he even tried to steal it. That surprised Durand; if Toa had the skills to target the Dark Plate in order to steal it, he could very much do it again. It sounded as if he knew the mechanism of defense worked now - and that he could possibly bypass it with his and Reginard's help. He was about to speak up, when Januario butted in.

"Listen to yourself," he said rudely. "Thinkin' of sneakin' into Cyala, weren't you? Hate to burst your bubbles mates, but that can't happen. The King's raised bounties for all those who call themselves 'heroes' - every citizen, from the blacksmith to the beggar, will know you're heroes. Heh... If you wanna get your hands on Aion's Plate, there's no sneaking around. You'll have to pass over Aion's corpse to get to the Dark Plate."

I do not think so, Durand thought to himself, you would like that, Trade Prince, wouldn't you? Setting the heroes against your greatest political enemy. I believe in the heroes, for what it is worth... Tsulong stepped into the conversation, before he could.

"King Aion is much too powerful for us to confront now. I suggest we focus on getting the Plates he is after, rather than those he already possesses." He put his massive paw on the map, covering the whole area of Duskwood. "As Roscoe suggested, the Grass Plate could be hiding in Duskwood or the forest of Vivardia."

"And seeing as Duskwood has been met with unnatural growth over the years," Durand continued for him, "it's safe to assume that that's where the Grass Plate is. We also have another lead to that: the Anonymous Brotherhood. They are the descendants of a part of Fenju survivors, back from the Seal, who formed the Brotherhood to live as outlaws, away from Aion's reach. Although we, the people of Area 52, are the rest of the Fenju survivors remaining, we have not kept contact... they are secluded, timid people, focused around their own survival. They go as far as to kill any who wander into the forest and do not belong to their Brotherhood. Eh... where was I going with this? Oh. Yes, of course. Studies here in our town dictate that the people of this Brotherhood took the Grass Plate with them when they left the destroyed Citadel. The Plates have wondrous powers that we mortals are unable to comprehend with. It could have affected the forest's growth easily..."

"Brilliant," Januario laughed, "allow me to add that the Crimson Company is killing everyone they come across on that forest." He seemed to enjoy the horrendous look on Durand's face. "Why, you ask. Aion's not stupid. Wait, I take that back, he's a little stupid. Thankfully, he has me as his adviser. Like a thinking person, I was able to deduce the very same thing: that the Grass Plate is hiding in Duskwood... poor people of Duskwood." He faked a sad face. "They must yield what they know, or die."

Why does he do this? Durand wondered. "You set Aion's armies scouring through the forest... why?"

"I want the Brotherhood gone," Januario said abruptly, "these goons won't allow anyone through their forest. The trade routes between Cyala and Skyhaven are limited because of them. My caravans need to circle around Duskwood! Can you believe it?! I'd save myself a million fortunes a year by clearing that damnable forest! You know, I've been asking the King to bring justice to these outlaws on Duskwood for years, but he's too bored to raise a fat finger of his. Well, now I used the promise of the Plate to get him to wipe the Brotherhood out."

Durand's beak tightened. "This petty money war of yours is none of our concern. We are to acquire the Grass Plate, if it truly is in Duskwood... are we not? What say you, heroes? It is your choice, where to start your journey. King Aion is searching for the Grass Plate in Duskwood; if we find it first, it will be a great victory to our cause."

For a brief moment, there was silence, but then Januario spoke again. "You guys are hurting me. Nobody mentioned the Sky Plate, yet it's so obvious, an idiot figures out faster. Skyhaven is where it's at! Of course. And mind you all, that's a fact. Hidden on top of our mountain, guarded by the city's pride: the Paragon of the Sky! It does belong to the city, though."

"So," Tsulong said skeptically, "the Council of Skyhaven would just let us get their Plate?"

That left Januario grinning for a moment. "Let me handle the Council. My voice speaks loudly there. If they deny the Trade Prince's will," he snapped his fingers, "no more good guy Januario. I own half of the city's businesses! No more good guy Januario, half of their economy collapses." He winked at everyone with a broad grin. "Get it?"

Yes, we do, Durand thought, mentally rolling his eyes.

"I see," the Arcanine replied curtly, then looked at the others. "Looks like we know there are two of the Plates close to us: Grass, Sky. What'd you think, lads? Which one do we grab first?"

 

[Xilfer]

Toa the Blackhearted Duke
Area 52

Throughout the whole conversation, Toa eyed Januario, the Trade Prince, suspiciously. He didn't like him, and he was sure nobody else at this table did either. Despite the fact that he could be of good use to the group, he would be quick to turn on them if it was in his best interests. For this reason, he could not be trusted. And Toa was not about to put his fate into the hands of a treacherous little Pikachu. He did note, though, that Pierce seemed to know more about the Trade Prince than he did, so he made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Anyway, it was about time somebody addressed him personally. If he was to be spoken to, it would be to him personally and not to the group as a whole. He didn't like voting either; he preferred decisive judgement.

"Duskwood," Toa stated, a look of disdain on his face. "And that's where we're going."

Right now, he was in no mood to take disagreements lightly.

 

[CourageHound]

Pierce the Cunning Shadow ~ Area 52

Pierce listened to the suggestions of the others thoughtfully. Some of others suggested locations of plates that somewhat corresponded with their respective elements. He couldn't really disagree with that logic, however he wished obtaining the plates themselves were as simple as merely narrowing down their locations. After confirming to search for plates that were not already in King Aion's possession, the Ghost's interest was sparked when the location of two plates were actually confirmed. One in Duskwood, one in Skyhaven; but both had some complications in attaining both plates.

All throughout the conversation, Januario spoke as if he was sorting around pieces in a giant game of monopoly. His motivation behind his suggestions and even his reason for coming here was to maintain a one up on the economy. But of course, that all of what the Shadow Pokemon expected from the Trade Prince. Pierce was about say something when Toa spoke up.

"Duskwood," Toa stated, a look of disdain on his face. "And that's where we're going."

Pierce glanced at the Zoroark. He didn't exactly adore the idea behind anyone choosing his destination for him, but whatever Toa's reason were he couldn't at all argue. "I second that." Pierce announced aloud to the group. "If the Crimson Company are indeed scouring Duskwood to find the plate, it surely wouldn't be long before they succeed. That plate would be long gone. SkyHaven could most definitely wait."

 

[Garet]

Roscoe
Area 52, Lookout Pointe
~~~~~

After Vincent's guesswork came the first real evidence of a Plate's location. Still, Roscoe was a little surprised that the Zoroark had tried to steal the Dark Plate, then was chosen as one of the heroes now present. Then Januario shot down that plan by stating that the heroes were now wanted. Wasn't really wantin' to try that one, anyway.

As the conversation turned to Duskwood, Roscoe remained passive, the claws on one hand quietly tapping a staccato on the map. They missed a beat, only for a moment, when the Trade Prince said that the Crimson Company was scouring the forest. Considering how Januario wanted those trade routes to be able to get through Duskwood without being hounded by the Brotherhood, the Sceptile's neutrality descended further into quiet hostility.

"Almost goes without sayin' where it is," Roscoe muttered as Januario said an idiot would've figured out faster where the Sky Plate was. When a Pokemon traveled between all the cities and towns, he tended to hear things like that.

The Zoroark's decision made Roscoe think he wasn't used to voting or anything similar. After the Gengar spoke, the Sceptile looked up, the passive look on his face gone. "Seems we're decided, though I don't wanna bash on those who haven't spoken up. B'sides, Mister Trade Prince here would need time t' talk t' Skyhaven's Council."

Glancing back at the map for a moment before his yellow eyes returned to the others, Roscoe added, "So. Assumin' we're headin' for Duskwood after all, we need to consider somethin'. We're a small group, 'specially when compared to the Company. How're ya gonna get through Duskwood?"

 

[Sir Bastian]

*bulbagarden.net image removed*Vincent 'Vince' The Wanderer - Area 52

Vincent didn't really seem bothered by being brushed aside by Toa. He'd said what he wanted, and he was going to move out of the way on his own, so the in-your-face personality of the Zoroark didn't quite get to him. He stepped off to the side and crossed his arms, staring down at the map thoughtfully while listening to the others talking.

As the suggestion of moving to Duskwood and clearing out the Crimson Company and at the same time, grab the plate there came up, Vincent wrinkled his nose slightly, and as Roscoe had spoken up, Vince opened his mouth again.

"I'm not gonna argue with anyone else. If we're going to Duskwood to clear out the Company, then let's do that. But it sounds like you're all forgetting something. The Company are killing everything in there to get the plate. But if they haven't finished off the Brotherhood, which I doubt they have, by the time we kick them out, that means –we- will have to deal with the Brotherhood. And I dunno about you lot, but here's a question for you. Are you willin' to take the plates by force if we have to? 'Cause we might very well have to."

He went quiet as he looked up at the rest of the people gathered. He hadn't sounded challenging or the like, he'd simply… stated a fact, as he so often did.

​

 

[Greiger]

Reginard Asphos
​

Reginard frowned at the discussions going on and leaned on his staff, his eyes glancing over the various places pointed out. So far it seemed the others were dead set on heading to Duskwood... though he felt a bit apprehensive about it. If they would go and get the other plates before, then they could at least be ahead of the Crimson Company. Still... his head was buzzing from the images before.

"I know my way through the wood." Reginard stated softly. "I've been through it multiple times and I know some short cuts here and there." He frowned as the pain hit his head again and he had to close his eyes to retain his focus yet again. "... I am not sure where the Crimson Company would have already checked... but I do not know where the plate would be. I haven't come across any landmarks that would have signaled it's location."

The Alakazam backed away from the table and sighed, "Forgive me. I am not feeling well at the moment. Durand, I request a private talk after we are done here." The Alakazam sighed, "If you all will excuse me, I must head out and meditate." With that the Alakazam ported away back to his chambers and sat down, breathing a bit heavy.

Peace. Calm. The psychic sat on down and began to concentrate once more.

 

[Ray Maverick]

Tsulong

"Duskwood it is, then," Tsulong muttered his agreement, as everybody conceded on the location. It seemed the most logical decision to make; if they could find the Grass Plate before King Aion, they were denying him power while adding to their own.

Vincent spoke up, reminding them of a few factors Tsulong had forgotten: the Anonymous Brotherhood, and their behavior against outsiders. They would have to confront them, if the Brotherhood was truly guarding the Plate. Force would of course be involved, then. Vincent rose the question: would they use force in retrieving the Plate?

"I'm up for force, if need be," Tsulong said readily, "we have a purpose here. If the Brotherhood means to hinder us, they're as good as the King - enemies of ours. I mark my enemies for death." And it was true. No quarter for the wicked, an old Crimson Captain would advise him. The only honorable soul in that filthy lot, now long lost.

Januario reacted with a high pitched laugh that hit his ears hard. He had to adjust his sunglasses back in front of his eyes after shaking. "That's the spirit, boy! Your enemies need to be dead, or about to be."

Tsulong fixed his eyes on the little Pikachu, reflecting that the Trade Prince had so many enemies in Altica, he could not possibly want them all killed. He is trying to manipulate us, he figured and smirked. The old Xatu smirked as well, as if he had the same thought.

"No," Durand said, "it needn't come to force, if you are smart. We have not yet confirmed our relationship with the Brotherhood - they have not contacted us once, so we are not really aware if they are hostile or not. True, they attack any who pass through... but why is that? Is it only for territorial purposes, or are they guarding the Plate? If they are guarding the Plate, then explain your quest to them. Perhaps you could get them on our side."

"They will likely attack us before asking questions," Faolan observed.

"We'll just have to see when we get there," Tsulong said cheerfully, then glanced around. "I'm also confident we'll find our way through. Lots of us have traveled around these parts."

Reginard had been in the forest, as it turned out, but Tsulong was distrustful he knew how to get through; the rangers Area 52 was sending in the outskirts of the forest reported that the flora changed so drastically there, it seemed as if you were in a different world the next year of visiting. Either the case, Tsulong maintained the naive belief that if they followed the compass straight to the north, they were bound to come into the heart of the forest, which was said to be the Brotherhood's hideout. What they would do there, he didn't like to think. His legs were itching for adventure, and that was all he could think.

Meanwhile, Reginard retired, porting away from the Lookout Pointe and requesting a private talk with Durand, to which the Xatu answered with a simple absolutely and a look of understanding towards the Alakazam's direction. Reginard's old and weary, or so he seems. I hope he'll be able to keep up with us, else I'm going to have to carry him...

Januario finally jumped off the table and suddenly everyone had to look down at him, as he was so short. "Well, then, gents, this meeting's over, but you've scarce started on anything. Since you seem so caring for the people of the forest, you may want to start as soon as possible. I hear Ser Mantarys like to practice a new trend, as of late... he cuts people in half and keeps souvenirs from everyone." He made a disgusted face that Tsulong didn't know if it was genuine or not. "Bloody business, he's a real butcher... Regardless. Best of luck with your quest, and may the oncoming events prove... prosperous for all of us," he said pompously, and with that, he ran off on his four legs to the door, slipping under Guardian's legs.

"All is agreed upon, then," Durand said. "I will have to attend to Reginard. You can go back to your quarters and make ready for the trip, if you want... I will teleport you as far inside the forest as my powers allow me, once you are ready, of course. When that is the case, meet me here, in the Lookout Pointe."
​

 

[Greiger]

Durand and Reginard
​

Durand teleported away from the Lookout Pointe with a nagging feeling. Reginard's departure from the meeting was worrying him. Is it some kind of sickness that is bothering him? Or, perhaps, this memory loss... the images... the sounds. Us psychics can suffer from such petty influences from our environment, as we are most sensitive. He ended up in Reginard's quarters and saw him, legs folded, meditating. "Hello, Reginard. How have you been feeling?"

The Alakazam was meditating lightly when Durand came in. The Alakazam slowly rose his head up and blinked a bit. "Durand… I have need of your guidance." The psychic hung his head, "I… I have started seeing images. Images I cannot remember being in my mind before. I feel strange when I see them… it's like I see them as memories, but they cannot be. How could these memories have avoided my detection for so long?" He clutched his head, "How can I trust my own mind now? Am… Am I becoming senile Durand?" He looked up at the bird with a bit of fear, "Is my age starting to affect me now?"

Durand let out a dry laugh, though he didn't seem to mean it. "I am twice your age, yet the notion that I have become senile never occurred to me... not that I claim to be in my forte, either - on the contrary, I have grown too old for the pressure of the quest you have accepted, else I would accompany you personally. You see, our mind ages with our body, albeit much slower... events from the outside can tire it. Cause it to give up, if you will, a few times. Tell me more about your issue, though, so that we can make something out of this... what kind of images does your mind project?"

The Alakazam sighed and let his head droop, "Mukrows… many Mukrows. I… I was at some sort of camp. I saw lights from a fire. They are pecking me… so much pain." He shuddered there. "I… I am unsure when this happened. It's never happened to me before… forgetting so much. But if the memories were in my own mind, then it means they were never taken, but I can't find them!" Reginard let loose a stray psychic blast. "Dammit! I can't find the other ones! Why does my mind torment me!"

"So, it is Murkrows..." Durand said, skeptically, in a low tone, avoiding to look at him. "I see, I see. Perhaps... if I may be so bold, as to make a suggestion... but, this is out of the field of our psychic powers. In all actuality, no Pokemon known to me possesses such powers... hmm. It could be, that your memories were not stolen, nor erased... just hidden. Relocated, if you like, somewhere in your mind - so whenever it is that you are trying to process them, they are missing. Yet, in case of a heavy resemblance between these memories and the outside world, these lost memories of yours are trying to come out. If that is so, you may discover more of these memories during your journey."

Reginard sighed, "I feared you would come to that conclusion." He looked down, "When I saw the Mukrows, the memory triggered. It trigged in an instant. If I must find the rest of my memories, then I must go out and find them." He rubbed his forehead. "I fear soon enough I'll get too old to go out on journeys anymore. But that day is not today." He grunted as he rose and gripped his staff, "Very well. Any items you can lend that will aid us on our journey?" He asked.

"Of course, Reginard," Durand smiled, "I have made something for you. A gift, if you would, a gift that would aid you and the heroes in your quest..." He looked under his wing, pecking through his robes... a pretty gem came floating out in front of them, glowing purple and pink as it pulsed with the power of the psychics. "It is a teleportation gem. You do know of those, don't you? They greatly enhance your teleporting abilities; only for once, though, as the power it holds is released once the seal is broken. Use it wisely, and keep it close." The pulsing gem floated towards Reginard, and the Xatu continued, "I trust you will counsel the heroes through their quest... your knowledge and wisdom shall be a great asset to them all."

Reginard's eyes shined on the crystal and he took hold of it. Reginard picked up his staff and pulled out a string and began to tie the crystal to the tip. "Well, I shall keep it safe, you need not worry about that Durand." He smiled weakly at the Xatu. "I will counsel them well. I will make sure we complete our quest." He let out a deep breath, "Now it is only heading out and preventing disaster from happening. I shall meet with the others. Take care my friend." With that Reginard imaged the place he had just left and ported back to the Pointe. As he arrived he noticed that Duran had ported along with him and Reginard coughed lightly, "So are we ready to head out?"

 

[Xilfer]

Toa the Blackhearted Duke
Area 52

Toa's mood improved slightly when he saw that his group agreed with him with no quarrel. He did take into consideration the threat of the Anonymous Brotherhood, though if they did attack him, he would take care of them swiftly and easily, he assured himself. When the decision was made, he didn't pay much attention to the rest of the conversation, as he was in fact in a hurry to leave. As the Trade Prince finished a speech about Mantarys which Toa thought was intended to intimidate them, he left Lookout Pointe and made his way for that low-quality hut he was required to call his quarters.

Here, in this hut made of wood and straw, Toa had assembled the few things he had taken with him from his home in Cyala. Ah, Cyala... he thought, gazing at the objects. How he wished his whole business with the king would disappear and that he could return there, in his rightful place as the Duke of Cyala. He had spent his entire life training in the arts of darkness, and for what? So he could end up serving an old Xatu and his band of commoners? No. As much as he hated to accept the fact, though, there it was. He could not return to Cyala; if he left, he would end up pursuing the nomadic lifestyle that he had before he came to Area 52, which was unacceptable. As an added bonus, Durand had revealed to him that he would be hunted down and killed if he did not aid them in their quest.

As a result, Toa felt he had a lot riding on this. His entire life hung in the balance, and the only way to prevent total destruction for him was to help Durand and his bunch. It would be easier if they treated me with the respect I deserve, he reflected.

Something caught his eye. The faint glimmer of gold shone in the pile of assembled trinkets and objects from home. Digging through the pile, he eventually found a small locket. Made from gold, on the front of the locked the letters TB were engraved. Toa born, he thought. Within the locket was a thumb-size red jewel that had belonged to his mother: a Blood Diamond, rarer than normal diamonds, and said to be imbued with the blood of a thousand Pokemon. He remembered this locket; it had been a present from his father to his mother when he had been born. When his mother had left, though, she had left the locket with Toa as a parting gift. Why, he did not know. After all, she had hated him most of his life. Remembering this, Toa cast the Blood Diamond locket back into the pile of stuff angrily and sat down on his rock-hard bed.

Despite the loud bustling of the obnoxious rangers of Area 52, Toa felt all alone in his ridiculous hut. The moment almost mimicked the memory of a young Toa sitting on his soft bed in the Duke's Mansion, feeling all alone despite the arguing of his parents outside his room.

 

[Garet]

Roscoe
Area 52
~~~~~

Vincent reminded them of the Brotherhood's behavior toward outsiders, and Reginard said he knew his way through Duskwood. Roscoe's claws returned to tapping out their rhythm as he listened to the rest. Yes, as Tsulong said, they would see when they got there. Roscoe just hoped they wouldn't be shish-kebabed before they had a chance to explain anything or find the Grass Plate.

As Reginard, the Trade Prince, the Zoroark, and Durand left, the Sceptile turned to the others. "Well, personally, I think we oughta grab a few supplies b'fore we go. For all I know, we might hit the slim chance and end up on th' run with no way t' eat off the land an' no way to get somewhere fast, right? I'll be back in a bit." With that said, Roscoe left Lookout Pointe as well, heading for the small hut he'd been given for his stay.

In reality, Roscoe didn't really need the food for himself. He had his seed to go on, after all. However, it couldn't provide food for the others, so Roscoe would get a sack of food in case the others decided not to get anything.

~~~~~

Okay, grabbed the few things I normally carry, and a pack of travel food that wasn't hard to come by. I'm all set. When he returned to Lookout Pointe, Roscoe saw that the two Psychics had returned. "I'm ready," he stated, pack slung over one shoulder.

 

[Sir Bastian]

*bulbagarden.net image removed*Vincent 'Vince' The Wanderer - Area 52

Once everyone else had firstly agreed to travel to Duskwood and talked a little about the Brotherhood there, although not having reached any sort of consensus on what they'd do if they did attack them, Vincent stretched out and let out a yawn, stepping over to the side of the room, slipping down onto the floor and leaning up against the wall while crossing his right leg over his left, shutting his eyes. He didn't have anything he needed to pick up, so he'd just stay here and wait for everyone else to return and be ready to head out. Focus on getting a bit of rest while trying to determine which of the heroes he was willing to put his life into the hands of.

​

 

[Ray Maverick]

Guardian

The sun had settled by the time Guardian set out from the Lookout Pointe to the dormitory, where Tsulong had gone off to. It was an underground series of rooms that he himself had dug, by Durand's command; he was now sitting with his friend on the very hay stack the Arcanine was born. Looking at Tsulong, he wondered if the services he could offer to the town were less valued than those he could offer to the heroes, to aid them in their quest.

"You heroes are capable," he said in his deep voice, "this one is afraid he will hinder you in your quest, instead of helping you."

"Relax," Tsulong assured him, "I know you're reliable. The townspeople might miss you, though."

Guardian's soul was blackened by that and the vision he had atop Mount Aegis returned. The town... razed to the ground... this one, he outlives the Elder Durand. He had failed in his purpose to Protect, Serve and Obey. This one cannot leave the Elder unguarded... But there was no need for protection. The town still stood strong, too far away from Aion's reach. The King would very much like lay waste on the last survivors of the Fenju, but the monstrous forest of Duskwood and the entire Anonymous Brotherhood stood in his way. They were Area 52's barrier, in a way, without them aware of it. If they were to fall now that the King had declared justice to be brought in Duskwood, Area 52 would be left vulnerable... in that case, Guardian would have to return here, to protect what he was made to protect.

"All set," Tsulong said, smiling in the way Guardian knew he always did. "Bags and all... do you mind helping me with those things? Town hasn't come up with a design for a strap to fit an Arcanine," he laughed. Guardian nodded silently and grabbed the two bags of Tsulong and hung them from his belt, without ever worrying about what was inside them. As a Golurk, he was nine feet tall, and made of stone, so he did not even notice their weight.

"Let's get going. I don't want to let anyone waiting," Tsulong said and walked out of his room, to glance behind him only for a moment, before Guardian squeezed through the door.

***

Guardian remained outside the Lookout Pointe while Tsulong headed inside and called out, "ready."

"Wonderful," he heard Elder Durand say, "let us head outside. The teleporting procedure will prove much easier in the open. You concur, Reginard, do you not? Oh, and I would not mind a helping hand. I am weary, after all that trouble in the Sanctum..."

The Golurk stepped aside from the door, letting everyone step out of the Lookout Pointe. Looking at them, he decided it was the best time to say this: "this one will be coming with you, heroes, by command of the Elder Durand. He will do his best in aiding you... starting now. If you have any bag, chest or sack that is too heavy for you to carry, give it to this one. He may be a slow walker, but he is made of stone... stone does not tire."

***


Tsulong

"Now that that's settled, we can set out," he said cheerfully. Glancing away from the small group of Pokemon gathered in front of the Elder's house, his eyes brushed to the town below. At the start of that day, he wasn't sure he would be able to leave Area 52 again, not after the attack of the Crimson Company on the Fenju ruins... but now, he felt that inaction would bring catastrophe. Now, his purpose wasn't only to defend the town and his people. He had to find the Plates, with the other heroes. In doing so, he would have to travel... much too far away from Area 52. What if this is the last time I will see my home? Might be I'll die off to some unnamed mountain in search of the Plates... but no. Thinking positively is key. That is what a Sceptile had once taught him... to be an optimist at all times, even the darkest of them.

Now he was watching the rest of the heroes, thinking he knew not much for any of them, except perhaps that they were powerful and able. We have to be strong in our journey, he reflected, unity can be achieved by bonding. Being friends, in other words. He wondered if it'd be hard to be friends with Faolan, who seemed distant from the rest, or Toa, who was surely the hardest to talk to.

The moment of thought passed, as everything vanished for a millisecond, during the psychic teleport. It was dark, the place where they ended up. The ground was wet and smelled of rain, with unstable footing, what with all the slippery rocks and roots. The trees rose high and low all around them, kinds of plants Tsulong had never seen before. One even looked like a Pokemon... The thick, huge leaves of the tall trees only allowed a single beam of moonlight to pass through, to illuminate their path. He had been in the outskirts of Duskwood, where the Brotherhood's presence was not as strong, but he would have never imagined what the forest looked like closer to its heart. The shadows between the trees were menacing, giving off the feeling that they were being watched... Rumors say that every single "wild" Pokemon in the forest belongs to the Brotherhood... even birds.

He nearly jumped when he heard a Murkrow scream, flapping its wings to fly away, as if going somewhere. Tsulong felt a chill up his spine. Could it be that he is reporting our presence to the Brotherhood? He scanned the darkness for more of those Pokemon. If that was so, it was only a matter of time before they were found.

Durand spoke then, interrupting his reflections. "That is as far as I can get you, heroes," he said, "remember, you are doing the world a good deed. Let none stop you. If you require any help... Reginard and I maintain contact, using our mental powers. I wish you the best of luck with your quest... " With that, he teleported away, leaving them to the dark of Duskwood.

After Durand teleported, Tsulong realized navigating wouldn't be that easy after all. He shouldn't have underestimated the forest; going on a straight line to the north sounded like a stupid notion now. With all these trees in their way, they would end up in Skyhaven for tea and chit chat with the Trade Prince. "Uh," he uttered, "anybody know their way around? I hadn't anticipated this kind of... complexity..."


[OOC: I believe it should be night, by the time they arrive in Duskwood.]
​

 

[Xilfer]

Toa the Blackhearted Duke
Duskwood

Darkness hung above, shrouding the heroes in shadow. The only visible light was that of the moon, which was blotted out by the many trees which grew in Duskwood Forest. Toa felt at peace for a moment; he was in his element, shadow. The presence of darkness had always comforted him, for obvious reasons. In darkness, he felt as if he could let go of the strenuous challenges which light and day brought forth. The feeling only lasted a moment though, for he was soon caught in a large bramble thicket which spread out across the ground. His leg became tangled first, and as he tried to pull it out, he fell and got his entire body trapped. A couple of Night Slashes got him out easily enough, but he was still flustered by the wilderness of the forest.

Although he could not say he was unfamiliar with forests, Toa had always been a 'mon of the city. As such, he didn't spend too much time in the wilderness, though he had learned how to handle himself here from his father.

Pulling his pack out from the bramble thicket, Toa warily marched over to the others, trying to avoid getting stuck again. When he heard Tsulong's statement, he was quick to answer. "Why not burn the whole place down, fire master? Without this infernal wildlife, we could find our way around much quicker," he joked, though there was no indication that he was doing so.

Without another word, Toa dug his claws into the nearest tree he could, the claws sinking so deep that they left large gashes from which sap poured. He then dug his feet into the trunk of the tree as well, and began climbing his way up the tree vigorously. Avoiding branches and leaves, he eventually made it to the top of the overgrown thing, and gazed out. To his disappointment, he saw only the southern mountains, and mist. Mist as far as the eye could see, shrouding everything from view, even to his keen eye. "Damn it," he muttered.

Toa dug his claws into the tree again, but this time let his weight slide him down the side of it, with his lodged claws preventing him from falling too quickly. When he landed back down into the bramble thicket, he approached the group. "Nothing. Too much mist," he stated simply.

"Do any of you know where to go, or was it planned that we'd get lost?" Toa snapped.

 

[Garet]

Roscoe the Leech
Duskwood
~~~~~

Now that they were about to go, Roscoe was silent as he waited for the others to be ready. For that matter, he was silently doing a few quick stretches as the time to leave came closer. When Guardian offered to carry bags, chests, and sacks, the Sceptile said, "Actually, I've got this pack of food here. I'd prefer to be able t' respond quickly, without it."

Roscoe hung on to his personal sack as they gathered around Durand and Reginard, then everything vanished for a moment.

~~~~~

"Uh," Tsulong uttered, "anybody know their way around? I hadn't anticipated this kind of... complexity..."

Wincing slightly at the noise and actions of the others, Roscoe looked at the surrounding forest, yellow eyes scanning for something. He began climbing up another tree moments after the Zoroark had, making his way to the top. Okay, there's the southern mountains...an' that there...alright, there's something. It didn't take long to get back down, just in time to hear the Zoroark speak. "Do any of you know where to go, or was it planned that we'd get lost?" Toa snapped.

"Would you keep quiet?" Roscoe retorted, striding to a plant that looked something like a Pokemon. Turning in a circle as he scanned the forest again, he nodded to himself and unslung his personal pack. "In fact, everyone keep quiet as possible. An' no lights, despite whatever reason you might have."

Pulling something out, Roscoe slung his pack back on before unrolling it in his claws. Anyone who could see well in the dark and looked over his shoulder would see a map.

Spoiler:

"'Kay, now if you all wouldn't do anythin' to attract attention," Roscoe announced, quickly rolling up the map once he'd mentally pinpointed their location, "we're headin' this way." He began walking in one direction, eyes trained for details and any disturbance that the heroes didn't cause.

 

[CourageHound]

Pierce the Cunning Shadow ~ Duskwood

Pierce didn't need to pack anything but decided to take a particularly big apple along just for the heck of it. He always found eating during trips or journeys satisfying. Once Durand had transported them all to Duskwood, the Shadow Pokemon was pleased to be shrouded in the chilly blanket of the night. His figure practically turning invisible, meshing with the shadows. However the Gengar's satisfaction with the area didn't seemed to be shared among the other heroes, as they seemed to almost immediately become disturbed and seemingly lost.

Just as Toa boldly stated his mind about their predicament, Roscoe then unveiled a map that would guide them toward their destination. The Gengar himself needed not light to see around them and found himself scanning their surroundings for anything to look out for as the group moved along. It occurred to Pierce that if they did run into either the Brotherhood or the Crimson Guard in the thick of night, the heroes would be at a disadvantage. He believed it to be am obvious factor but the Gengar decided to say something anyway. "I'm assuming you all can defend yourselves in the midst of these cramped and low visibility conditions correct?", he inquired to the group.

 

[Xilfer]

Toa the Blackhearted Duke
Duskwood

As they walked, Toa approached the one known as Roscoe silently and swiftly. "If you ever talk to me like that again," Toa warned, "I'll have your head. Commoner." He then slunk back into the shadows of the forest, just in time for him to hear what Pierce had asked. As an answer, he stated, "Of course. I'm a master of darkness, I can see right through this place. The only problem is this cursed fog..." He walked closer to Pierce, intending on asking him a question he'd had in mind earlier. "Tell me, Pierce, what connection do you have to the Trade Prince?" He asked casually. "I noticed that he and you seem to have some history, and I don't trust him. Tell me everything you know."

 

[Ray Maverick]

Howland
​

As he stood in the predawn chill watching Rodrick butcher a rodent they had caught, Howland listened warily to the silence of the forest. Black smoke billowed in the air, marking their failed attempt to light a fire on the damp wood. The Pignite's hands moved deftly, his daggers removing the white pelt; the work had to be done quickly, before the scent of blood drew Mightyenas or worse things from the shadows.

"That'll do it. We'll have our bellies full once it's roasted," Rodrick said. He was like a shadow himself, too thin for a Pignite, though bone hard. Hunger had driven him half-mad, Howland could see. He himself fared much better. An aged Sceptile, hunger and the woes of live were not new to him. He was of lean build, with immense black circles under his eyes that made him look as if he hadn't slept for weeks; two deep gashes adorned each of his thighs. He guarded the secret of their origin better than his own eyes.

"We hunt in the wrong place," Howland observed sullenly, looking at the dark forest. Duskwood, they called it, and for a good reason. "This is not our territory, or have you forgotten? Even crossing these woods is unwise."

"The Brotherhood doesn't come round this way," Rodrick said, waving his thick hand in dismissal. Howland clutched the curvy scythehook on his belt all the same. He didn't share Rodrick's certainty; the Anonymous Brotherhod scoured all of Duskwood, claiming the region and defying the rule of Cyala. The forces of the citadel were unable to stop them, as their skirmishes crippled the great armies that hoped to meet them in open battle when they marched through the forest. But the Brotherhood knew the area too well and they had eyes everywhere... Howland had heard the villagers say even the birds had joined them. As for the travelers hoping to reach Cyala, they had best take the Golden Road to the north, around the forest. Wanderers were to be killed on sight, cold blood. He couldn't imagine what would happen to poachers.

Howland suddenly jerked around.

"Heard it?"

"Heard what, man? Might be it's only the wind that whistles through your empty head," Rodrick said and roared his laughter at his own joke. Howland was deaf to humor, though.

The branches of some nearby trees shook as Pidgeys flew away, terrified from the laughter. Below, the bushes rustled, something approaching. Howland considered his options. Charging in was too risky. Staying in place put him in danger of ranged attacks... he was ready to draw his dirk and decide then, when a Clefairy appeared. A Pokemon that could harm him not.

"Mary?!" Rodrick leaped to embrace her and Howland eased his hand away from his belt. "How's it that you're alive? We thought you lost."

Mary seemed to have been weeping. Hard. Their companion wasn't pretty, but she could sing well. That didn't help them in the forest in any other way than to attract enemies. Howland was reluctant on taking her with them, as she would only slow them down, but Rodrick had insisted. His fellow was too gallant to leave anyone behind in that village the Crimson Company had burnt to the ground. Howland had been there as well, where he befriended Rodrick; though he did not see how that friendship benefit him any. His foolishness and stubborn spirit were like to get them all killed.

Something was awry, though, Howland could feel it in his bones, weathered bones that were hardened by a hundred battles; his instincts were screaming. The little Clefairy sobbed and swept her tears away with the back of her hand, staring at the ground.

The shadows behind her moved and something thrummed from the trees. A bolt stuck through Rodrick's chest. His eyes opened wide in surprise and he clutched at the thing with both hands, before he fell backwards. Mary started screaming, stopping abruptly when another bolt emerged in her chest, drawing the breath and life out from her. Blood trickled down her belly as she fell. Howland drew his dirk and scythehook, vicious pieces of steel, and ducked stealthily, merging with the ground like a panther. He looked around warily, his heart thumping in his chest. The shadows melted, becoming the assailant that seemed to be one with them.

A Zangoose with a crossbow was standing in front of him; his malicious half-smile reached his terribly scarred left green eye. The fur on the side of his face was wild and unruly, spiky tufts of it shining even in the dusk of the predawn. He glanced quickly to the white pelt of the rodent Rodrick had skinned, then back at Howland, clutching his empty crossbow.

"Havin' fun, hunting in our forest as you are?" he rasped. He didn't sound the least bit of angry, only amused. "Your little friend here," he pointed a claw at the dead Clefairy, "led us to you. Kind of her, no?"

The Sceptile did not speak or move. He could attack, but he dared not. Crossbows could not fire two shots in such a short amount of time. There was a second crossbowman nearby, and Arceus knew how many shadows around him could also melt. He flipped his scythehook in his hand and remained into position. One, five, a dozen, a hundred if they were, he would still fight. He was afraid to die, as he felt he had left some things undone in his life, but if death was his fate, he would have it the way he had lived: by the blade.

The Zangoose walked past the burnt wood of their fire, boots crunching in wet ground, to stand over the carcass of the rodent that was steaming in the chill. He sheathed his crossbow behind his back, on a belt that was hanging across his chest, steam billowing hot from his mouth as he exhaled. Howland observed the Pokemon, judging him as an able fighter, maybe a Pokemon who could give him trouble; he was in his mid fifties, perhaps, just like Howland. Their eyes met.

He was grinning in amusement, mocking him as he spread his arms, leaned forward, gasped, then laughed.

"A fire, really? You thought you'd light a fire in our forest, and... we wouldn't see it? You think us blind?"

Howland gestured towards the Pignite without looking at him. His blood had become a pool underneath him. "His notion. To cross through here, to hunt, and to light a fire. I tried to talk him out of everything."

"Wait," the Zangoose said, holding his arms up. "You mean to tell me... you didn't want to be here?"

He considered his words for a few moments. "No," he replied finally, "I did not."

"But you belong here, my grassy friend," the killer with the crossbow rasped in his terrible voice, "you're a Pokemon of the forest, aren't you?"

Howland could feel being mocked, but the years when mockery could move him were long gone. He licked his lip.

"Do you know who I am," the Zangoose suddenly asked.

"No," he replied curtly.

"Lord Zeke the Ruthless," he said, just as curtly. "Or the Undying, as you will it."

Howland scowled, regarding him brooding. This is Zeke, he thought, the leader of the Anonymous Brotherhood himself. The world hasn't seen his face in so many years that they have forgotten what he looks like and what species he is. Zeke the Ruthless was said to raid villages around Duskwood, claiming the eggs of the folk and killing their newborn, but he believed it was only propaganda the Cyalans promoted to turn the Realm against the Brotherhood. Still, he did not look like a kind man. On top of that, he had come to be called the Undying by the Crimson Company, as it was said they had seen the very same Zangoose killed and risen again and again... but Howland was not a superstitious Pokemon, not even a religious one, who did not believe in miracles. The notion that came off as absurd to him was that this Zeke was a lord. "Lord Zeke? Lord of what?"

Zeke the Ruthless spread his arms once again, showing him the forest around. His green eyes were open wide, as if to say, it is quite obvious. "Duskwood. My home. Which you three intruded," he said, tilting his head and eyeing him menacingly. "This is our own Realm. And trespassers are committing a grave crime. You don't go 'round intruding the palaces of lords, do you? You saw what happens," he chuckled mercilessly. "Tell you what, though. I'm a kind man - no, don't listen to what they say. My ears tell me you don't lie when you say it wasn't your doing you ended up here. Chased off by these bloody mercenaries from that village, weren't you? You're an honest true man, I know."

"Aye, I am honest," he said, unable to figure out how Lord Zeke had pieced that out. "We were forced to run. They burnt and pillaged and killed... my friends claimed we would be safer under the cover of the trees."

Irritation flashed across Lord Zeke's face, his eyes shone in fury; it was a scary thing to behold. "Under the cover of the trees, it's us who take shelter. Not Cyalans, not Companions. Only us, and the wild Pokemon."

"I told them so," Howland said calmly, "I would have followed the Golden Road, but it is overrun with Cyalans. I never meant to intrude in your Realm. But there was never a choice to begin with."

"Well, we'll just let Arceus decide if you're as innocent as you sound. You're honest and true. An honest and true man believes in Arceus, that's known."

"It is known," Howland agreed, but then he grunted quietly and shook his head. If there is truly God, he is cruel, he thought sadly, I should know that first-hand, his eyes lowered to the gashes on his two thighs. He was ready to ask how Arceus would decide he was innocent, but Zeke motioned his hand, looking somewhere behind his shoulder. A massive shadow stepped into the light, standing a head above the Zangoose leader; it was a Nidoking, looking as hard and vicious as Zeke. Another Pokemon landed from a tree next to them, a Lucario whose fur was a dull grey instead of blue, a colorful crystal hanging down his neck. Soon, Pokemon kept appearing from the trees around him. He looked behind him, all around. He was surrounded. All of them looked tough Pokemon with angry, unforgiving faces. Everywhere he looked, the Anonymous Brotherhood was staring down at him.

"Let Arceus see the truth... if you had no part in the decision of you coming here, he will know it, and he will pardon you," the Lucario said in a gentle, soft voice that took Howland aback. He did not sound wild at all. On the contrary, he sounded like a man who has been through books and books. What is such a man doing amongst these savages?

"We'll give this honest and true man a trial," Lord Zeke announced, his voice echoing. "And Arceus will be the judge." Seeing the confounded look on Howland's face, he laughed. "Trial by combat," he explained, and Howland understood. He had to champion himself into a duel with another Pokemon who would be named his opponent by Lord Zeke.

"Who will it be, then?" he flipped his scythehook again, looking around, weighing the Pokemon of the forest. They all looked equally vicious. Lord Zeke patted the ribs of the Nidoking who was standing close, sending him forward into the mud puddles towards the Sceptile.

"Looks to me my brother Victor here's real eager to answer your call."

The massive Pokemon nodded and stepped forward, pumping his huge fists and gritting his teeth. Bells were hanging from his ears, producing a high sound every time he moved; Howland's eyes wandered all over the Pokemon's body, studying him. As a Sceptile, he stood a little bit taller, but his opponent was way more bulky, and his body was sturdy, covered with hazardous poisoned spikes he had best keep away from. Yet he wielded no other weapon. Speed is key here, Howland thought to himself, if he manages to poison me, time will work against me. He noticed an Ursaring leaning to Zeke's ear.

"What happens should he prevail?" he asked in a low voice, making the leader turn around, but the Lucario next to him replied for him before he could get to it.

"If that is Arceus's will, there must be a reason... for there always is."

"Small chance o' that," said another Pokemon which Howland could not see, "Victor's gonna pummel that punk to the ground. Haven't ye seen what he does to those Cyalans?"

The forest shook with the laughter of the company. Howland noticed this Victor did not so much as smile. He wasn't smiling either. One of them would lay dying in the dirt soon, it did not seem a fun matter to him.

"Joseph," Lord Zeke called out in his raspy voice, "get on with this, the boys are itching for some blood, heh."

The Lucario named Joseph walked into the mud puddles, between the two combatants. He removed the crystal that was hanging from his neck and lifted it high above his head. The shadows shattered as all the colors of the rainbow danced inside the crystal and onto everyone's faces. The priest started murmuring in a quick paced solemn voice. "Arceus. Look down to the earth and bear witness to this trial, find the truth in this man's soul, grant him life and freedom if he bodes us and our forest no ill will, grant him death if he is guilty of such." His voice echoed off the trees.

When the echo had died away, Joseph the priest lowered his crystal and departed in a haste, to regain his spot next to Lord Zeke, who leaned over and whispered something in his ear. The priest chuckled, his laugh sounding absurd after the holy manner the words he said carried. A wind blew through the trees, ringing the bells on the ears of the Nidoking. They stood on a good distance from each other, measuring and observing. He will bull rush, Howland decided, flipping his scythehook again in readiness.

"Fight," Lord Zeke commanded.

They circled around the mud puddles, their feet already soaked. Treacherous ground, to his advantage, Howland noted, seeing the Nidoking had no trouble sticking his heavy feet out of the mud.

Howland presented only his side to his opponent, crouching slightly so his eyes were just above his scythehook and at the same height with his opponent's. In Altica, he was known to fight like a panther, holding both his weapons as if they were parts of his arms. Victor swiveled forward, his claws meeting the curvy blade in a parry. Claws and steel rang together once, twice, testing. Howland backed off from the mud. Bells raging, Victor came after him, charging ferociously in an attempt to quickly overpower him, but the Sceptile nimbly jerked sideways, slashing past his shoulder with one of his leaf blades. It was no good. Victor turned to face him, unharmed, and pressed forward, trying a megahorn in a rush. He gave way, his face a stony mask of concentration, his eyes cold, never leaving his foe. The Nidoking charged again, but he leaped away, hopping on a moss-covered rock. He circled around him, awaiting the next charge, which came faster than the previous, head-first in another megahorn attack.

Howland's scythehook curved around the Nidoking's head horn and he pulled hard sideways to change his direction; as the Nidoking lost balance, his dirk slashed past his ribs. He grunted, stumbling splashing on the mud.

"Bloody bastard," he cursed under his breath, his huge arm brushing past the gash Howland's dirk had left on his side. Blood trickled on his thigh. His next charge came with such ferocity that caught Howland off guard. He was taken down in the ground, mud and blood filling his mouth. Excruciating pain boomed on his shoulder as he tumbled backwards, quickly regaining his balance. The Nidoking had fallen as well, but he was getting up quickly.

"Finish him, Victor," somebody called out from the crowd.

Howland cursed the God. His head ringing the same tune with his heartbeat, he stepped backwards, out of the mud. He realized he would die from the poison on his shoulder, if not by the Nidoking himself. His foe came at him, the bells on his ears screaming; his last rush would have torn Howland in two... if he had not thrown his trump card. The ground beneath the Nidoking erupted and roots tangled his feet. Normally, his ultimate move would have drawn a recoil in his strength, but he had not managed to use it fully. In a desperate strength he thought he had lost, Howland swung his scythehook through his foe's large ear, hooking and flipping him sideways; the Nidoking fell on his back, spikes stuck on the ground.

The Sceptile was on him in a heartbeat. He stepped on one of his arms and locked the other in his scythehook, keeping it at bay to expose the bloodied chest. He drove his dirk through it with all his weight behind it, under the arm and through the ribs. Victor shuddered and lay still.

Silence hung over the forest. Howland took a step back from the corpse. His weapons left his hands, falling on the dirt, the roots withdrew in the ground. He fell on one knee, clutching his shoulder; his head throbbed just above the eye and blood clouded his vision. He could feel the poison running through his veins. This is how I die, then, Howland conceded. A grim, faint smile adorned his face, touched with the complaint and sadness, the feelings that best filled his life. A pity I never got the chance... to...

"Is it over, Lord Zeke?" somebody asked stupidly from the crowd.

Howland looked at Lord Zeke. The Zangoose's hard, green eyes regarded him in a grim manner, reflecting his own figure; his face was solemn and mature, all the ferocity and malice from before gone. Strangely, the leader of the Anonymous Brotherhood seemed not as wild or evil as he had originally thought. Why, he almost looks like my father. The insane thought came unbidden to him, with the last shard of his strength. But his father was neither a Zangoose nor alive.

"Aye," Lord Zeke said finally, "it's over." Then he patted Joseph, ever so softly, his eyes still fixed gravely on the Sceptile.

The Lucario walking towards him was the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes.