@MiddleEarthRozeWe hit a snag for sure, but I suspect things will up-pace from here on out. For one, I'm now actually able to interact again, as opposed to coughing up my lungs =P
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PlatinumSkink
Status
Recent Statuses
7 yrs ago
Current
How's about no?
2
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7 yrs ago
When you go from walking around at 5am like a half shut knife to bouncing out your bed 10 minutes before the alarm goes off within a month of early starts at work. Self-improvement, ho!
4
likes
7 yrs ago
Celebrating the one-month anniversary of my RP starting! 135 IC posts already and still growing. Also still accepting players, so hop on over if you are interested in gritty superheroes. All welcome!
5
likes
7 yrs ago
How to know when your day as a home shopper will be busy - when your boss can't be arsed counting all the orders to pick so he logs the official total as 'mental' :-P
4
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7 yrs ago
Best feelings as a GM #1 - Sitting at work cackling because a player has literally set up an amazing plot hook without realising it. *evil chuckle*
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Bio
Well, where to begin?
I found my love of roleplays through a brief block of sessions of D&D when I screwed up enough and brought an class from an entirely different plane to join the main party. After following the plot to the end - which involved our dwarven pilot flying a gunship while simultaneously controlling 4 cannons by tying string around them - we ended up crashing through a portal onto a different plane. When attempting to formulate a plan, one of the PCs delivered a line that has stayed with me ever since.
"Ask the artificer, he's already done it once."
Since then, I've done a 3+ year RP between two players - using the FATE system - in which we created an entire city through creating mentally unstable characters and callus cold-blooded killers. One particularly nasty NPC came about by a sheer accident, when the melee-build character out-snarked the diplomat. Which was much more fun than it sounds. Had a bad experience with this site before, in which the GM didn't plan far enough ahead to include any NPCs whatsoever, and the other characters had no interest in Player-to-Player interactions outside of their own 2-man group. Needless to say, it died with incredible speed, which was a shame.
But I was tempted back by a friend to play a Pokemon RP despite having no knowledge whatsoever of the topic outside of Gen 1 stuff, and even that was years ago. Despite everything, I've not only been holding my own, but coming up with a completely separate sub-plot from the main plot, and making the GM's life a misery. (Sorry Zan!)
My writing style draws heavily from the likes of Worm and The Dresden Files, which means I can do a great deal of two things. Snark and Escalation. Outside of that, I like to think i'm a dynamic roleplayer, but I prefer sticking to High Fantasy sort of settings. Anything Slice of Life-y doesn't do it for me. Unless i'm slinging magic, psuedo-magic or demons (while snarking at whoever is unlucky enough to warrant it) I feel as though I could be doing something more entertaining with my time. When it comes to RP systems, I enjoy FATE or narrative based things.
My first RP which I am GMing on this site is themed around Dragon Age as carried on from the far superior (in my humble opinion) plot of the first game.
That's pretty much all there is to know about me that people would actually care about. I'll update it as I do with important changes or epic moments. Until then, feel free to PM me if you have questions or invites to stuff, and i'll respond as soon as I can. ^.^
I found my love of roleplays through a brief block of sessions of D&D when I screwed up enough and brought an class from an entirely different plane to join the main party. After following the plot to the end - which involved our dwarven pilot flying a gunship while simultaneously controlling 4 cannons by tying string around them - we ended up crashing through a portal onto a different plane. When attempting to formulate a plan, one of the PCs delivered a line that has stayed with me ever since.
"Ask the artificer, he's already done it once."
Since then, I've done a 3+ year RP between two players - using the FATE system - in which we created an entire city through creating mentally unstable characters and callus cold-blooded killers. One particularly nasty NPC came about by a sheer accident, when the melee-build character out-snarked the diplomat. Which was much more fun than it sounds. Had a bad experience with this site before, in which the GM didn't plan far enough ahead to include any NPCs whatsoever, and the other characters had no interest in Player-to-Player interactions outside of their own 2-man group. Needless to say, it died with incredible speed, which was a shame.
But I was tempted back by a friend to play a Pokemon RP despite having no knowledge whatsoever of the topic outside of Gen 1 stuff, and even that was years ago. Despite everything, I've not only been holding my own, but coming up with a completely separate sub-plot from the main plot, and making the GM's life a misery. (Sorry Zan!)
My writing style draws heavily from the likes of Worm and The Dresden Files, which means I can do a great deal of two things. Snark and Escalation. Outside of that, I like to think i'm a dynamic roleplayer, but I prefer sticking to High Fantasy sort of settings. Anything Slice of Life-y doesn't do it for me. Unless i'm slinging magic, psuedo-magic or demons (while snarking at whoever is unlucky enough to warrant it) I feel as though I could be doing something more entertaining with my time. When it comes to RP systems, I enjoy FATE or narrative based things.
My first RP which I am GMing on this site is themed around Dragon Age as carried on from the far superior (in my humble opinion) plot of the first game.
That's pretty much all there is to know about me that people would actually care about. I'll update it as I do with important changes or epic moments. Until then, feel free to PM me if you have questions or invites to stuff, and i'll respond as soon as I can. ^.^
Most Recent Posts
See you then ^.^
@ThundercrashSounds good. I'll prevent Drystan from becoming a pile of molten goo in the meantime.
Drystan sighed. “This room is getting incredibly cramped. Where exactly did all these people appear from?” He subconsciously pulled a little on the collar of his shirt, attempting to cool down a little. “And on top of that, it’s getting hotter in here. Maybe the air-conditioning units have blown.“
“Or perhaps, the two are linked,” Dialga said, as his host remained silent and irritably hot, waiting for him to expand. “Occam’s razor. This room is more crowded because people are fleeing worse heat elsewhere.”
“I’ll bite. How’d you figure?”
His awareness turned unbidden towards the door. “Look closely, and see the wisped waves of heat.”
True enough, every few heartbeats, the air distorted and the room’s temperature grew a slight more intense. It piqued the interest of both Avatar and Legend, however the Scizor didn’t seem overly keen on following, becoming uncharacteristically nervous with the rising humidity.
Noticing this, Drystan turned. “You seem a little twitchy, there, Del. What’s up?”
“Not a huge fan of overly hot places, for obvious reasons.” She turned to stare dead into his eyes. “You want me to come, that’s fine, but it’ll be in a pokeball. Otherwise, i’m staying right here, where it’s at least almost manageable.”
Nothing’s ever easy, Drystan though, deciding what to do. “Fine, stay here and call me if you see anything out of the ordinary - and there are Avatars here, so make allowances for that. I won’t be too long,” he threw out telepathically while walking towards the door.
Further down the corridor, it became a mild sauna, sticky and unpleasant. Beyond that, it grew hotter still, until they finally reached the gym and found the source.
“Well. Now there is a dangerous one,” Dialga proclaimed, watching the Avatar-figure in the gym and the origin of the excessive heat. Their features were completely unclear, through the ungodly amount of heat waves between them. Drystan watched in complete silence, momentarily blanking out the climate-induced discomfort from merely being close to the Avatar, who held themselves like a fighter. Someone who knew combat well - as well as they knew themselves, at least. Someone who acted, and not merely talked about action.
Drystan’s skin began glowing a soft red from the heat, more noticeable than it should be from normal human flesh. He half-smiled, half-grimaced, realising the effect of the temperature on his altered physiology. The increased density of his skin mimicking the steel of his embodied Legend. Plus side, sunburn wasn’t an issue, but much closer and melting might be. That’s not a chance i’m willing to take, he thought, but even if we don’t find it here, it might not be a wasted trip after all.
“Care to hazard a guess as to which?” he asked, as Dialga began flipping through a list of possibles.
One of the birds, perhaps? No, I don’t get that impression. Entei? Studying the figure for a little longer, he began noting pieces of information to use. “I’m unable to provide you with a definitive answer, my host, ” he said, “but our mystery Avatar is either Heatran or Groudon.”
“Not bad,” Drystan said, nodding. “Heatran would be an easier battle. Groudon, however, is better suited for our plans. If they are on board, of course.”
Dialga’s disbelief was palpable. “You cannot be bloody serious. Look, host. Does that strike you as a co-operative person?”
The man smiled. “For the right cause, yea.” Removing his hat to combat the torrent of sweat accumulating across his forehead, it was perfectly clear getting much closer wasn’t possible - or likely to be good for his health. “I’ll show you, later. For now, take notes. If we end up against them in the tournament, we’ll need every advantage we can get.”
“Or perhaps, the two are linked,” Dialga said, as his host remained silent and irritably hot, waiting for him to expand. “Occam’s razor. This room is more crowded because people are fleeing worse heat elsewhere.”
“I’ll bite. How’d you figure?”
His awareness turned unbidden towards the door. “Look closely, and see the wisped waves of heat.”
True enough, every few heartbeats, the air distorted and the room’s temperature grew a slight more intense. It piqued the interest of both Avatar and Legend, however the Scizor didn’t seem overly keen on following, becoming uncharacteristically nervous with the rising humidity.
Noticing this, Drystan turned. “You seem a little twitchy, there, Del. What’s up?”
“Not a huge fan of overly hot places, for obvious reasons.” She turned to stare dead into his eyes. “You want me to come, that’s fine, but it’ll be in a pokeball. Otherwise, i’m staying right here, where it’s at least almost manageable.”
Nothing’s ever easy, Drystan though, deciding what to do. “Fine, stay here and call me if you see anything out of the ordinary - and there are Avatars here, so make allowances for that. I won’t be too long,” he threw out telepathically while walking towards the door.
Further down the corridor, it became a mild sauna, sticky and unpleasant. Beyond that, it grew hotter still, until they finally reached the gym and found the source.
“Well. Now there is a dangerous one,” Dialga proclaimed, watching the Avatar-figure in the gym and the origin of the excessive heat. Their features were completely unclear, through the ungodly amount of heat waves between them. Drystan watched in complete silence, momentarily blanking out the climate-induced discomfort from merely being close to the Avatar, who held themselves like a fighter. Someone who knew combat well - as well as they knew themselves, at least. Someone who acted, and not merely talked about action.
Drystan’s skin began glowing a soft red from the heat, more noticeable than it should be from normal human flesh. He half-smiled, half-grimaced, realising the effect of the temperature on his altered physiology. The increased density of his skin mimicking the steel of his embodied Legend. Plus side, sunburn wasn’t an issue, but much closer and melting might be. That’s not a chance i’m willing to take, he thought, but even if we don’t find it here, it might not be a wasted trip after all.
“Care to hazard a guess as to which?” he asked, as Dialga began flipping through a list of possibles.
One of the birds, perhaps? No, I don’t get that impression. Entei? Studying the figure for a little longer, he began noting pieces of information to use. “I’m unable to provide you with a definitive answer, my host, ” he said, “but our mystery Avatar is either Heatran or Groudon.”
“Not bad,” Drystan said, nodding. “Heatran would be an easier battle. Groudon, however, is better suited for our plans. If they are on board, of course.”
Dialga’s disbelief was palpable. “You cannot be bloody serious. Look, host. Does that strike you as a co-operative person?”
The man smiled. “For the right cause, yea.” Removing his hat to combat the torrent of sweat accumulating across his forehead, it was perfectly clear getting much closer wasn’t possible - or likely to be good for his health. “I’ll show you, later. For now, take notes. If we end up against them in the tournament, we’ll need every advantage we can get.”
I might well do, if I have time later today. In the mood for writing, so might as well use that to do something productive as opposed to another piece of writing to shove on a memory stick never to be looked at again =P
Plus, fitting you in the lift downstairs might be an issue ;)
Ahhhhhhhhhhhh
It's good to be back =P
It's good to be back =P
Sitting in a comfortable leather chair close by the window, Drystan overlooked the street below. Despite the time, people were already beginning to mull around, preparing for the day ahead, operating through routines as integral to their very core as breathing. So much so, that even after the events of yesterday, where an Avatar - a God - had died, still they continued as if nothing had happened. As if nothing was wrong. With a mug of tea in one hand, and a cigarette in the other, he silently observed them, bemused at how simple life must be for a people like that.
And how dull.
The scizor stirred slightly in her sleep, as Drystan wondered exactly how one sleeps comfortably with wings sticking out and getting in the way - and not for the first time. Still, she seemed settled enough, and hadn’t been disturbed by him getting up, dressing and making a cup of tea, so it couldn’t be all that bad. In fact, a whole extra hour of quiet contemplation rolled past until Deladriss awoke fully, and the two made their way downstairs to the breakfast table, after attempting unsuccessfully to locate Palkia in her room. Although, where she had actually wandered off to was anyone’s guess. Finding her could wait until at least after breakfast, however.
As the pair walked into the large, elaborate dining room and took their seats, it wasn’t long before a waitress appeared to jot down orders and vanishing into the hustle and bustle as quickly as she had arrived. The two made small talk, telepathically, until breakfast had arrived and been promptly devoured. Feeling rather content, Drystan fished out his packet of cigarettes and the box of matches from the suit pocket. Something stirred inside, as his legend finally awoke. Placing a cigarette in his mouth, the match sparked against the side of the box, igniting in a satisfying whoosh of flame. Holding his hand up to light the cigarette, the waitress reappeared quickly, looking rather flushed as though from a dash.
She spoke up, harshly, the anger in her voice not even remotely veiled. “Sir, you can’t smoke in here.”
Drystan instantly felt his hackles rise due to her tone of voice. Taking a deep breath in, exhaling through his nose, he wrestled down the urge to treat her as a gang member, and rearrange the placement of a few ribs for her sudden and outright gall. “Careful,” came the advice, “it wouldn’t do to make that much of a scene.”
The legend was right, of course, but this couldn’t be allowed to simply slide by. A small smirk crept over his lips as he removed the cigarette ever so slightly while keeping the match lit. “One would have thought that you’d be more hospitable to an Avatar.” Letting the sentence hang in the air, the woman inhaled sharply and paled a shade. Drystan replaced the cigarette, lit it, and drew a lungful of smoke, blowing it across the table. As it rolled out, spreading like wispy tentacles around the room, he glared at the waitress. “Be very careful who you take that tone with, among my kind.”
Flicking the match out, towards the waitress, it flared a bright blue for a split second. As it fell towards the table, the flame extinguished, leaving the acrid smell of burnt wood to assault the nearby air. The match continued to fall, and now the wood began to rot. Individual splinters began to peel back along the length, drifting off to follow their own trajectory. After what seemed like an eternity, it collided with the table proper, and turned to a substance not unlike dust. A pile of tiny wood chips - rotten and splintered. Seeing the unmistakable power of an Avatar, the waitress understood the not-so-subtle threat that now polluted the air, and went ghost-white.
“Not all of us will be so… tolerant.” Puffing out another column of smoke, he turned to the Scizor nearby, sending out the thoughts to her. “Let’s go, it’s clear we have overstayed our welcome.”
She gave a look, one he had seen hundreds of times before. “I’m sorry, we?”
That drew a smile. “Of course! Didn’t Palkia ask you to keep me out of trouble when she isn’t around?”
Deladriss gave a short, sharp cry - although the nature of which wasn’t clear to Drystan, and he thought it better not to ask. As the two emerged onto the streets, his thoughts suddenly became clouded with raucous laughter, drifting through him in such a way that Deladriss could listen in as well. “Breakfast and a show. How I wish more mornings would start this well.”
“Dialga. Did you sleep soundly?”
“Most wonderfully, my host, and I woke at precisely the right time. That match trick was well done.” The voice boomed harshly and yet was silky smooth at the same time, it appeared neither male nor female, no other sound was quite like it. “How was your morning, Deladriss?”
The Scizor, who had been scowling ever since leaving the hotel, allowed a hint of humour in her tone. “I’ve had worse.”
In respectful silence, the party moved through Mauville’s streets like apparitions, using Dialga’s perfect recollection of the city maps from the previous day to simply glide through alleyways and shortcuts until arriving at the scene of last night’s chaos. The area was substantially tidier now, and especial care had been taken to remove the bloodstains, yet the tree remained. It emitted a soft, comforting energy - the kind that made you feel safe and warm. A stark contrast to the emotions it churned up inside Drystan. Staring at the tree, at what it signified, he became very aware of the frailty of life, even for Avatars. Not fear, not quite, but the larval-form of it. Contemplating death hadn’t been high on his list, after partnering up with a being of immense power, but the tree before him had also been an Avatar. Of life, to boot. Dialga remained perfectly silence in commemoration.
Debris and clutter had been swept into neat piles - as neat as broken pieces of building can be, anyways - along the pavements on either side of the street. Sitting nearby, at the foot of an alleyway, Drystan found a bag. Brown leather, and filled with a variety of seemingly-useless junk. A broken bottle of wine, chipped glasses and a strangely red egg.
“Who left this here?” The man asked, somewhat taken aback by the find.
“At a guess, Xerneas. He’s not exactly in a position to pick it up now,” Dialga chuckled.
Holding the egg up to the light, Drystan stood, puzzled. “Why was the Avatar of Life carrying an egg around?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, my host. Take it with you, perhaps we can hatch it. Surely it’s important, if Xerneas took an interest in it. At the very least, it’ll do for lunch.”
Smiling at the strangeness of the situation, he shrugged, and pocketed the egg. Something to tinker with later, he thought.
As they moved on, further into Mavuille, it became apparent that less and less people were around, which struck Drystan as odd, given how plentiful they had been earlier. It wasn’t until they past a small poster on the wall informing the public about changes to the tournament that the reason why struck home. Everyone would be at home ready to watch. “Wait,” came the voice, a harsh edge of suspicion. “They have relocated the tournament - underground.”
Drystan furrowed his brow. “I believe we are on the same page, but continue.”
“Now, all Avatars taking part are going to be in the same place, a small bolt hole underground. If someone wanted to, an attack there would be catastrophic.”
Raising an eyebrow, Deladriss asked “You expect a trap?”
Dialga didn’t answer straight away, instead pondering that question. Did he? After a lengthy silence, he finally spoke. “Yes. The situation seems too perfectly set up for it to be a fluke. I know not who made the decision to move the event, but perhaps they have ulterior motives.”
“Always safer to assume everyone is out to kill you, even when they aren’t,” Drystan answered, flashing a grin. “But I personally hope they are. I’ve been itching for a good shot at these Alliance screwballs for a while.”
Feeling his host’s fire, the legend was wary. “Find Palkia before you go.”
“No time,” the man replied, shaking his head. “We need to get going now or run the risk of being late, no idea when they plan to begin. Besides, she’s a big girl and can handle herself.”
“It is not her I am concerned about. We blindly walk into a Growlithe’s den without someone to watch our backs.”
Feeling a tad annoyed, Drystan raised the volume of his mentally-projected voice. “Relax, Dialga. Between the three of us, we can manage.” He paused, lighting a cigarette before continuing. “Just keep an eye out for anything strange, and let’s go.”
They arrived at the underground location - the new site of the tournament locked off to everyone without proper authorisation - earlier than anticipated. Finding it hadn’t been quite as difficult as Drystan had allowed for, despite the guards at the entrance asking countless dross questions. Turning one of their personal effects to ash or its composite parts would have been a sure-fire way of ending any doubt of his authenticity, but such an act could have been misconstrued as outwardly aggressive, rather than just plain pissed off. Removing his hat, briefly, to wipe the sweat from his brow, Drystan surveyed the scene.
People were buzzing around like flies, setting things up and getting prepared for the show to come. Quite a few of the present company could be easily picked out as fellow Avatars from their rather eclectic dress sense, although not enough for a tournament. He began staring at each individual in turn, trying to figure out if they were an Avatar and if so, who’s and what powers they possessed. Feeling a nervous excitement deep inside - caused by as-of-yet unfounded fears - he instinctively picked out a cigarette and lit it.
“Dialga. Can you tell if it’s here?”
“No. Due to the length of time that portal was open last night, it’s coloured everything with the horrible black energy of Giratina’s domain. Locating it would be less a needle in a haystack, and more a specific drop of water in an ocean.”
Sighing, the Avatar turned back to the collected group of his kind, steadily growing with each passing second. “Well then, I suggest we mingle and hope it turns up today.” Scanning the crowd, he noticed a rather portly man in a suit taking a very prominent seat. “Now then, there is a man who knows how to dress!”
“I’m glad you find this a laughing matter,” the legend growled. “If the Allia-”
“Dialga.” Drystan’s tone held more than a hint of finality, and annoyed anger. He sighed, the action billowing smoke down his form. “Look, the Alliance are a bunch of amateurs, no more a threat to us than a shoal of Magikarp. Especially now. All reports from the terrorist attack started the same. The Alliance members stood up, announced their presence and then launched their attack. It smacks of arrogance - the kind born through a lack of fear - because real threats don’t talk about action. They simply act.”
“Now, the ensuing battle didn’t exactly go in their favour, granted, but later that day, an Avatar died. It proved we aren’t all-powerful immortal deities. So I am willing to gamble that same foolish arrogance will still be entirely present. Should they show up, we will have our chance to handle the situation. For now, we wait.”
Throught the lecture, Dialga remained silent, hearing the truth in the words. Nothing was set in stone, but it was an accurate and well-informed guess. He decided to relent and bide time, after all, Drystan was good at the business of reading situations like this. “Very well, I’ll follow your lead.”
“Good,” he said, dropping the cigarette on the floor before crushing it underfoot. “Now let’s go size up the competition.”
And how dull.
The scizor stirred slightly in her sleep, as Drystan wondered exactly how one sleeps comfortably with wings sticking out and getting in the way - and not for the first time. Still, she seemed settled enough, and hadn’t been disturbed by him getting up, dressing and making a cup of tea, so it couldn’t be all that bad. In fact, a whole extra hour of quiet contemplation rolled past until Deladriss awoke fully, and the two made their way downstairs to the breakfast table, after attempting unsuccessfully to locate Palkia in her room. Although, where she had actually wandered off to was anyone’s guess. Finding her could wait until at least after breakfast, however.
As the pair walked into the large, elaborate dining room and took their seats, it wasn’t long before a waitress appeared to jot down orders and vanishing into the hustle and bustle as quickly as she had arrived. The two made small talk, telepathically, until breakfast had arrived and been promptly devoured. Feeling rather content, Drystan fished out his packet of cigarettes and the box of matches from the suit pocket. Something stirred inside, as his legend finally awoke. Placing a cigarette in his mouth, the match sparked against the side of the box, igniting in a satisfying whoosh of flame. Holding his hand up to light the cigarette, the waitress reappeared quickly, looking rather flushed as though from a dash.
She spoke up, harshly, the anger in her voice not even remotely veiled. “Sir, you can’t smoke in here.”
Drystan instantly felt his hackles rise due to her tone of voice. Taking a deep breath in, exhaling through his nose, he wrestled down the urge to treat her as a gang member, and rearrange the placement of a few ribs for her sudden and outright gall. “Careful,” came the advice, “it wouldn’t do to make that much of a scene.”
The legend was right, of course, but this couldn’t be allowed to simply slide by. A small smirk crept over his lips as he removed the cigarette ever so slightly while keeping the match lit. “One would have thought that you’d be more hospitable to an Avatar.” Letting the sentence hang in the air, the woman inhaled sharply and paled a shade. Drystan replaced the cigarette, lit it, and drew a lungful of smoke, blowing it across the table. As it rolled out, spreading like wispy tentacles around the room, he glared at the waitress. “Be very careful who you take that tone with, among my kind.”
Flicking the match out, towards the waitress, it flared a bright blue for a split second. As it fell towards the table, the flame extinguished, leaving the acrid smell of burnt wood to assault the nearby air. The match continued to fall, and now the wood began to rot. Individual splinters began to peel back along the length, drifting off to follow their own trajectory. After what seemed like an eternity, it collided with the table proper, and turned to a substance not unlike dust. A pile of tiny wood chips - rotten and splintered. Seeing the unmistakable power of an Avatar, the waitress understood the not-so-subtle threat that now polluted the air, and went ghost-white.
“Not all of us will be so… tolerant.” Puffing out another column of smoke, he turned to the Scizor nearby, sending out the thoughts to her. “Let’s go, it’s clear we have overstayed our welcome.”
She gave a look, one he had seen hundreds of times before. “I’m sorry, we?”
That drew a smile. “Of course! Didn’t Palkia ask you to keep me out of trouble when she isn’t around?”
Deladriss gave a short, sharp cry - although the nature of which wasn’t clear to Drystan, and he thought it better not to ask. As the two emerged onto the streets, his thoughts suddenly became clouded with raucous laughter, drifting through him in such a way that Deladriss could listen in as well. “Breakfast and a show. How I wish more mornings would start this well.”
“Dialga. Did you sleep soundly?”
“Most wonderfully, my host, and I woke at precisely the right time. That match trick was well done.” The voice boomed harshly and yet was silky smooth at the same time, it appeared neither male nor female, no other sound was quite like it. “How was your morning, Deladriss?”
The Scizor, who had been scowling ever since leaving the hotel, allowed a hint of humour in her tone. “I’ve had worse.”
In respectful silence, the party moved through Mauville’s streets like apparitions, using Dialga’s perfect recollection of the city maps from the previous day to simply glide through alleyways and shortcuts until arriving at the scene of last night’s chaos. The area was substantially tidier now, and especial care had been taken to remove the bloodstains, yet the tree remained. It emitted a soft, comforting energy - the kind that made you feel safe and warm. A stark contrast to the emotions it churned up inside Drystan. Staring at the tree, at what it signified, he became very aware of the frailty of life, even for Avatars. Not fear, not quite, but the larval-form of it. Contemplating death hadn’t been high on his list, after partnering up with a being of immense power, but the tree before him had also been an Avatar. Of life, to boot. Dialga remained perfectly silence in commemoration.
Debris and clutter had been swept into neat piles - as neat as broken pieces of building can be, anyways - along the pavements on either side of the street. Sitting nearby, at the foot of an alleyway, Drystan found a bag. Brown leather, and filled with a variety of seemingly-useless junk. A broken bottle of wine, chipped glasses and a strangely red egg.
“Who left this here?” The man asked, somewhat taken aback by the find.
“At a guess, Xerneas. He’s not exactly in a position to pick it up now,” Dialga chuckled.
Holding the egg up to the light, Drystan stood, puzzled. “Why was the Avatar of Life carrying an egg around?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, my host. Take it with you, perhaps we can hatch it. Surely it’s important, if Xerneas took an interest in it. At the very least, it’ll do for lunch.”
Smiling at the strangeness of the situation, he shrugged, and pocketed the egg. Something to tinker with later, he thought.
As they moved on, further into Mavuille, it became apparent that less and less people were around, which struck Drystan as odd, given how plentiful they had been earlier. It wasn’t until they past a small poster on the wall informing the public about changes to the tournament that the reason why struck home. Everyone would be at home ready to watch. “Wait,” came the voice, a harsh edge of suspicion. “They have relocated the tournament - underground.”
Drystan furrowed his brow. “I believe we are on the same page, but continue.”
“Now, all Avatars taking part are going to be in the same place, a small bolt hole underground. If someone wanted to, an attack there would be catastrophic.”
Raising an eyebrow, Deladriss asked “You expect a trap?”
Dialga didn’t answer straight away, instead pondering that question. Did he? After a lengthy silence, he finally spoke. “Yes. The situation seems too perfectly set up for it to be a fluke. I know not who made the decision to move the event, but perhaps they have ulterior motives.”
“Always safer to assume everyone is out to kill you, even when they aren’t,” Drystan answered, flashing a grin. “But I personally hope they are. I’ve been itching for a good shot at these Alliance screwballs for a while.”
Feeling his host’s fire, the legend was wary. “Find Palkia before you go.”
“No time,” the man replied, shaking his head. “We need to get going now or run the risk of being late, no idea when they plan to begin. Besides, she’s a big girl and can handle herself.”
“It is not her I am concerned about. We blindly walk into a Growlithe’s den without someone to watch our backs.”
Feeling a tad annoyed, Drystan raised the volume of his mentally-projected voice. “Relax, Dialga. Between the three of us, we can manage.” He paused, lighting a cigarette before continuing. “Just keep an eye out for anything strange, and let’s go.”
They arrived at the underground location - the new site of the tournament locked off to everyone without proper authorisation - earlier than anticipated. Finding it hadn’t been quite as difficult as Drystan had allowed for, despite the guards at the entrance asking countless dross questions. Turning one of their personal effects to ash or its composite parts would have been a sure-fire way of ending any doubt of his authenticity, but such an act could have been misconstrued as outwardly aggressive, rather than just plain pissed off. Removing his hat, briefly, to wipe the sweat from his brow, Drystan surveyed the scene.
People were buzzing around like flies, setting things up and getting prepared for the show to come. Quite a few of the present company could be easily picked out as fellow Avatars from their rather eclectic dress sense, although not enough for a tournament. He began staring at each individual in turn, trying to figure out if they were an Avatar and if so, who’s and what powers they possessed. Feeling a nervous excitement deep inside - caused by as-of-yet unfounded fears - he instinctively picked out a cigarette and lit it.
“Dialga. Can you tell if it’s here?”
“No. Due to the length of time that portal was open last night, it’s coloured everything with the horrible black energy of Giratina’s domain. Locating it would be less a needle in a haystack, and more a specific drop of water in an ocean.”
Sighing, the Avatar turned back to the collected group of his kind, steadily growing with each passing second. “Well then, I suggest we mingle and hope it turns up today.” Scanning the crowd, he noticed a rather portly man in a suit taking a very prominent seat. “Now then, there is a man who knows how to dress!”
“I’m glad you find this a laughing matter,” the legend growled. “If the Allia-”
“Dialga.” Drystan’s tone held more than a hint of finality, and annoyed anger. He sighed, the action billowing smoke down his form. “Look, the Alliance are a bunch of amateurs, no more a threat to us than a shoal of Magikarp. Especially now. All reports from the terrorist attack started the same. The Alliance members stood up, announced their presence and then launched their attack. It smacks of arrogance - the kind born through a lack of fear - because real threats don’t talk about action. They simply act.”
“Now, the ensuing battle didn’t exactly go in their favour, granted, but later that day, an Avatar died. It proved we aren’t all-powerful immortal deities. So I am willing to gamble that same foolish arrogance will still be entirely present. Should they show up, we will have our chance to handle the situation. For now, we wait.”
Throught the lecture, Dialga remained silent, hearing the truth in the words. Nothing was set in stone, but it was an accurate and well-informed guess. He decided to relent and bide time, after all, Drystan was good at the business of reading situations like this. “Very well, I’ll follow your lead.”
“Good,” he said, dropping the cigarette on the floor before crushing it underfoot. “Now let’s go size up the competition.”
Not complaining, but I'm just wondering internally how many more incidents we need before the entire Mauville board runs for the hills =P
Right, since Zan has approved my character (<3) i'll hopefully have a post up later today. If that *really* isn't possible, i'll definitely have one up tomorrow.
Also, I love that they Mayor's idea of fixing the current problem is to just move everyone underground =P
Also, I love that they Mayor's idea of fixing the current problem is to just move everyone underground =P
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