The Grey Dust

Pokemon: Rise of the Rebellion

Running. Up the stairwell, passing floor after floor with the sound of clacking metal-capped shoes on chipped laminate. Yes, stairways still existed, even in the far future for automation had not reached so far outside the splendors of the regime. Further out, in the rustic ghettos of the past, another age dwelt. Forlorn apartments, either condemned, dying or vacant dotted the districts, pop-up areas for all the vermin to gather and die together. Coughing, sickly moans, and unwarranted groans filled the lower floors, as bodies were moved to make way for the chase. It was stupid of him to have fallen for it. To think taking one down would let escape was foolishness, and now he had paid for it. They were behind him, not too far down the stairwell, but it would only be a matter of time before they catch up. Fortunately even if ghost-types laughed at physical barriers, they still required orders from their trainers to make matters easier. So he had time, time enough to worry about the poison or rather venom. Each step was time lost, his pursuers were good, but not good enough. A quick glance at his belt hurried his pace, skipping the steps as required to get to the top.

An ariados of all things. Sticky string houndour burned off, but the poison was worsening. For both of them. As his vision began to blur, eyes began to blink as the effects of the poisoning made it difficult to maintain coordination. The rails were his guide, he had to make it, they would execute him upon capture. The door was his salvation, and so with panting breath and vertigo, he kicked it open and threw caution to the wind. Wide paces, his nausea dizzying at such heights as the building overlooked the streets below, nowhere to turn, but to the next building over by the rooftop. A leap of faith, running back and trusting that one could make the jump. So it was, and so it shall go with his running start.

Being kicked in the balls. That was the landing, hard and disabling, but he had no time to worry about the pain swelling up his arm. Having pulled himself up from the edge, barely made it to the building over certainly enough to pull his rotators. Of which he had to accept it and move on, clutching his arm with his other and sighing that the next building was far closer this time. How many of these did he have to jump to? No time to think of it, either way Conrad was a dead man if he didn't.

Go, don't look back, they are behind you, you know they are. But look forward, always look forward, look for where you can duck into, hide into, and slip into. A place to elude them for a day or two. Pay no mind to the toxins running in your veins and causing your organs to fail you. Breathing becomes labored, your windpipe constricting, your muscles in spasms. What are the options? Get caught and die? Run and die? Fall and die? Keep running, yes, into that building there, no, wait it's higher. A window will have to do. Is it going to shatter when you throw your body at it?

shattering glass, a roll of black, the frantic running again as onlookers gasped at the sudden appearance of the man in his black regalia. A uniform of the Shadow Division, iconic to strike fear in the hearts of rebellion. Black and red, a rank insignia and a shoulder guard of security clearances. But his uniform was frayed, torn in places, and weather beaten, shabby from a long history of life as a deserter. What was this building? A symbol on a wall suggested it was one of the Silph Company buildings, no time to confirm, just grab the nearest flat-object, that metal bar you nearly impaled yourself on would do. Yes, take it and use it to pry apart the elevator doors with your good hand.

Down the cable, brace yourself against it, hug it well, hold it against you as you would a dear lover. Then jump down, and fall into the abyss. The elevator itself will stop your fall, just don't fall to fast or you'll break your legs. Hold on, slow down, pull the rope to hold yourself, the car is coming up, drop down, hurry open the service hatch. Locked from the inside "Damn it."

An unwell pokemon was released, clinging on for life as it weakly growled and spouted some heated flames to melt the metal hatch. "Ember Houndour, now tear it off! come on!" A grabbing hand yanked the pokemon away from the open hatch, singeing the jacket on the hot steel. Their time was almost up. Without an antivenom, they had only a few minutes to live. Quite a pair, running down the last flight of stairs and exiting the back door. Keep running, they wouldn't give up the chase so easily.

"Damn it." Conrad collapsed with a thud against a door. And a whining houndour fell down with him.

And as sheer luck would have it he landed right at the doorsteps of a Doctor.

Pokemon: Rise of the Rebellion

In all honesty with regards as to why pokemon repeat their names as sounds to which how they can seemingly interact with each other intelligibly cross-species is rather perplexing. On one hand, if you follow the compilation of pokemon lore, there are at least 3 different origins of pokemon, pokemon are either natural beings which were created with the rest of the world/universe from which follow pseudo-evolutionary lines with a core common genome which manifest itself as Ditto and found within the ancestral Mew. There are also artificial man-made/resurrected beings such as porygon, kabuto, and grimers. And there are spiritual pokemon which are said to be spirits of the dead sentients or inanimate objects ie Banette/drifloon/spiritomb/yamask/shedinja. Thus curiously, the idea of egg groups makes some sense with regards to having a certain percentage of DNA to interbreed cross 'species' as the degrees of differences may actually be considered 'minor' relative to the core genome in itself. However since it is maternal true-breeding, there must be some sort of differentiate in the genomics that lead to heavy maternal imprinting or so to determine the offspring 'species' thus all pokemon are actually all related to each other and that the differences in pokemon core genome in itself to explain the genetics are actually minor in comparison.

As a really bad example, Wailord and Skitty are capable of breeding, and Skitty is compatible with Shroomish but Wailord cannot breed with Shroomish. Wailord however can breed with magikarp, and magikarp can breed with treecko, and treecko can breed with bulbasaur, and bulbasaur can breed with shroomish which then can breed with skitty. Hence, given that most pokemon are in at least 2 egg groups, there must exist a core of genomic similarities that allow pokemon to breed in this manner despite gross anatomic variations. Don't even get me started on Nidoran Reproduction.

Thus begs the question what about ditto? Well ditto can breed with almost anything. Perhaps by being a genetic donor, which supports the theory that all things, even man-made pokemon and 'spirit' pokemon share the same genomic activity with relatively small variations. Thus rises the question if pokemon and humans could be technically related to each other via this theory? Which is to say that since pokemon such as deoxys form from space DNA, is it possible that everything in the universe shares a common genomic DNA exploited by pokemon egg groups? And as such, pokemon are actually just another branch point in the evolutionary line wherein humans are just another type of pokemon who communicate with each other and have lost the ability to specifically communicate with pokemon by no longer saying our names, but instead say other things dependent upon the names of other pokemon?

"Magma" is called magma because "magmar" live in it. Gravel is called gravel because "Graveler" look like it. A snore is called a snore because "Snorlax" make them. And so forth, filling the gaps with inventive words when necessary.

Pokemon: Rise of the Rebellion

@A Tattooed Girl Ill allow a second one, assuming you have an original idea as to how youve come across the luxury of two pokemon without being a Regime member. As stated pokeballs are hard to come by. Rebel agents scrap and scrounge for anything we can get when it comes to pokemon. Generally a Rebel agent stays mobile, always running from the Regime. We tend to have one pokemon because of practicality, ease of travel, and to reduce resource intake (food, water, etc.) Two is fine, just make sure youre original and be aware that you would be a rare case to have two.

@DarthSeverus394

Perhaps she could catch one? using a Pokeball from one of the Regimes goons? Or take one from the Regime?

Pokemon: Rise of the Rebellion

@DarthSeverus394 I unfortunately would not have the time to CoGm, however thank you for the offer. But I'd certainly offer my opinions on anything if you'd like me to but certainly anyone could do this right?

Also I'll be posting in a few once I get a good idea of where everyone (in New York it's a big city) is and if we do a classic "everyone suddenly bumps into each other" or have like several groups doing their own things concurrently. I'd probably have Conrad meet Brynn or Chris after the intro post since currently Conrad can be situated anywhere.

Pokemon: Rise of the Rebellion

Name: Conrad Grimm.
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Appearance:


Background: The Regime was all Conrad knew, and all he had ever cared for. Reciting the mantras of the regime was easy when the totalitarian world he lived in offered them comfort, safety, and security. Of course, the Grimm family had been relatively well off in the entire swing of the corruption taking over. There was always money to be made in the military-industrial-political complex, and three generations ago, Conrad Grimm Senior, the great grandfather, had made a name for the Grimm family by serving on the mercenary forces the Regime used to enforce their visions of the future. As such the Grimm family, of German descent, was traditionally interred into the military and law enforcement part of the Regime. Conrad was no different and was under the shadow of is great grandfather to succeed.

But after the pressure and stress, Conrad had decided to desert after the blood on his hands fed the conscience he had. He was part of the Shadow Division, a part of the regime which specialized in tracking down Rebel operatives and terminating them under the orders of the Regime's higher commands. The first execution he had covered his eyes before pulling the metaphorical trigger, because his assigned weapon was no firearm but rather a pokemon, a tool for his office. But the second execution he had witnessed the effects of taking his squad's signature move to eradicate the rebel scum: Shadowball. The third hunt he could not bring himself to kill again, and stood down, reporting in the kill to his team but letting the rebel go, changed in his view of that which had provided for them at the expense of freedom and their lives. Though his houdour was the tool they provided him, he was the tool he provided them.

He had now deserted, wandering from place to place in his old uniform getting shabby and using the very skills he learned to avoid capture from his former team members. That being said, it would only be a matter of time to be captured if he continued this way, as an internal affair he was fortunate enough not to have his face plastered everywhere and wanted on known channels for on the record, he was still within the Regime's ranks despite having access and clearances stripped away. Perhaps it was not to embarrass the family name. Or to outcast him from joining the rebels.

Pokemon: Houndour, currently un-nicknamed

Pokemon Background: An issued pokemon for the Regime, Houndour was presented to Conrad shortly after graduating from the training academy. Once a pokemon captured and contained within the confines of a black premier ball reserved for the Regime's shadow division. It's relationship has been one of master and servant with Conrad, although he has recently begun to see his tool as more of a partner. Sometimes confusing the trained pokemon as to why it was let out of its pokeball when there was clearly no other pokemon the hunt down or trainer to bring to justice. That being said, Houndour is well trained to obey Conrad, despite the lack of bond or connection between them.

Pokemon: Rise of the Rebellion

@A Tattooed Girl

I was thinking of Grimmsby or some variant but decided Grimm would work best given the backstory.

I mean you wouldn't be afraid of someone sent to track and eliminate you when they are referred to as "Agent Wimbley" would you?

Massive Spambot invasion 4/16/2016

At least the other spam bots offered us affordably priced furniture.
I was rather interested in that mahogany display cabinet for my teapots.
I'm not even sure what these bots with their Korean scripts are even offering us.

Pokemon: Rise of the Rebellion

Name: Conrad Grimm.
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Appearance:


Background: The Regime was all Conrad knew, and all he had ever cared for. Reciting the mantras of the regime was easy when the totalitarian world he lived in offered them comfort, safety, and security. Of course, the Grimm family had been relatively well off in the entire swing of the corruption taking over. There was always money to be made in the military-industrial-political complex, and three generations ago, Conrad Grimm Senior, the great grandfather, had made a name for the Grimm family by serving on the mercenary forces the Regime used to enforce their visions of the future. As such the Grimm family, of German descent, was traditionally interred into the military and law enforcement part of the Regime. Conrad was no different and was under the shadow of is great grandfather to succeed.

But after the pressure and stress, Conrad had decided to desert after the blood on his hands fed the conscience he had. He was part of the Shadow Division, a part of the regime which specialized in tracking down Rebel operatives and terminating them under the orders of the Regime's higher commands. The first execution he had covered his eyes before pulling the metaphorical trigger, because his assigned weapon was no firearm but rather a pokemon, a tool for his office. But the second execution he had witnessed the effects of taking his squad's signature move to eradicate the rebel scum: Shadowball. The third hunt he could not bring himself to kill again, and stood down, reporting in the kill to his team but letting the rebel go, changed in his view of that which had provided for them at the expense of freedom and their lives. Though his houdour was the tool they provided him, he was the tool he provided them.

He had now deserted, wandering from place to place in his old uniform getting shabby and using the very skills he learned to avoid capture from his former team members. That being said, it would only be a matter of time to be captured if he continued this way, as an internal affair he was fortunate enough not to have his face plastered everywhere and wanted on known channels for on the record, he was still within the Regime's ranks despite having access and clearances stripped away. Perhaps it was not to embarrass the family name. Or to outcast him from joining the rebels.

Pokemon: Houndour, currently un-nicknamed

Pokemon Background: An issued pokemon for the Regime, Houndour was presented to Conrad shortly after graduating from the training academy. Once a pokemon captured and contained within the confines of a black premier ball reserved for the Regime's shadow division. It's relationship has been one of master and servant with Conrad, although he has recently begun to see his tool as more of a partner. Sometimes confusing the trained pokemon as to why it was let out of its pokeball when there was clearly no other pokemon the hunt down or trainer to bring to justice. That being said, Houndour is well trained to obey Conrad, despite the lack of bond or connection between them.

Ascension of Gods (High Casual) (Still Accepting)

@LadyRunic

Posted. I hope you find it appropriate. Thoth's pretty much giving Morrigahn a warning that he will stop her and ruin her plans should it not fall into place with his own.

Ascension of Gods (High Casual) (Still Accepting)

The Scribe

"Cryptic answers? I had expected The Morrigahn to be more direct, and foretell death more openly for all her ravens and crows. Yet it seems you would prefer to make your plans unknown to me, even now you dare not think of them in my presence." Thoth preened himself, a act unnecessary for a god, but perhaps natural for the form he took to represent himself here of all places. Ivory feathers, white as snow against the background of her dark feathered flock, yet black tips and a ebony beak stemming from the jet neck. With long legs the Wordborn One stood tall amongst the others, though small in comparison to the Queen. It was her realm after all, and to offend her hospitalities was to make an enemy of a possibly ally. Yet Thoth was not nicknamed 'he who bears two faces' merely for the fact that he wears either his ibis mask or his baboon mask to present himself, but rather for the nature of his task to keep universal balance. It is after all, a strange place to be in when your former ally suddenly turns into an enemy by assisting your enemies. Such was the job, to maintain equilibrium was to play both sides.

"I expected more from a goddess who lays claim to Fate. A blind king bears witness." This of course was reference to Oedipus, whose parents in attempting to defy fate, merely fulfilled it. Thoth was not bound by fate after all, and had the power to change it by serving as fate's polar opposite. Wherein fate in concerned about the beginning, middle and end of the story, equilibrium was concerned about keeping the story from ever ending such that it may continue into the eons past until the Void reclaims everything as equilibrium comes to a close dies. But that would cause the end of all things, and neither Thoth, nor the Morrigahn nor any god would care for their own demise. Or would they? "I bring change to tip the scales, where I see fit, should you be with me, or against me. Set makes his move now. And I shall bolster him so. War it is, where will you stand War Maiden? There are only two sides to my scales, Stand in the middle and you shall be cast into the void."

With that Thoth left, stretching his wings to take flight, leaving the Celtic underworld for the cosmos, his home wherein his form molted away. white feathers dropped as he ascended, far into the stratosphere, beyond the reach of the birds and taking on his true form as his hands grasped the celestial objects across the Egyptian sky. The sun halted in its advance, and the moon locked in hers. Two eyes aligned in the eclipse, as the darkness took the skies over Egypt and Rome. From every place upon the known world, a perfect total eclipse, an impossibility, and yet, there it was, by the work of a God's hand in warping the space between the Earth, moon and sun. Their movements on a track, guided by his hands and sheer will.

War was being declared by Set, an insult Apollo should bear to protest Zeus and goad them off into war. So it shall be, with or without the Phantom Queen.