Whimsley — Roleplayer Guild

Redorchard

@Rune_Alchemist@Lasrever@tex

The Youngster had nothing more to say, only able to retort with a shaking fist and muffled grunting. You figured they were vows of vengeance, or some sort of basic insult, as he sprinted away towards the lab with Poké Ball in hand.

The three of you were united in your first victory. A small crowd of younger trainers had formed around the match, and they were all vehemently discussing the battle. Who their favorites were, talking about the Pokémon each person used, everyone wondering one way or another where that sly Deerling went. Some of the conversations could be picked out, as their volume crushed the others:

“And then Nidoran was all ‘NYEHHHH I’M GONNA BE A FATSO AND CRUSH YOU’ but Meowth was all ‘NAH I’M THE BEST HOMIE’ and Nidoran was like ‘WHAAAAAAT’ and totally wimped out! And he did it while POISONED! His Meowth is amazing!”

“I didn’t even see Rattata move. I thought the Sneasel was gone for sure, but she knew where the Rattata was all along, she was just waiting to attack. And in one hit, she took him out! I’ve never seen a Pokémon land a hit that strong before. I’m gonna go catch a Sneasel too!”

“Honestly I still don’t know where that Deerling is. He vanished from everyone’s eyes like some kind of ninja or something. The other guy thought he saw him, but when Nidoran went to attack nothing was there. I mean honestly, like, honestly, I’m not even sure if that Pokémon ever existed. Hm. Is Deerling a ghost type?”

Among the ruckus and tomfoolery was a taller woman, even taller than Lynn, who had been watching behind a white picket fence near the lab. Her long, caramel hair grazed the top of the fence as she escorted herself around it. Her hair reflected the sun’s gleam, the act creating a highlight of purest white down the middle of her locks. She wore a long, white robe and cradled a bundle within her arms. A little head popped out of the bundle, arms stretched high and face full of laughter.

“Well, well, well. You kids aren’t that bad. Rue here is a big fan of yours. Yes she is!” Ficus cooed as she tickled the baby’s face with a dancing finger. Rue giggled in response, attempting to catch the finger with her uncoordinated hands. She smirked as her sharp, cutting amber eyes returned to the three of you. They were surprisingly alert and intimidating, for a mother. Or, perhaps, not so surprising.  “I’m Professor Ficus, I run this lab. Well, when Rue lets me.” Ficus let out a single, soft laugh and caressed the baby’s face, and Rue’s cheek began to snuggle against the palm of the professor’s hand. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you three. I want to see what you can do against real trainers.” Her attention turned to the three of your Pokémon as she began to rock Rue side to side. Her motherly smile became more atoned to motherly concern.

Her right eye twitched. “And I’m HOPING you weren’t going to just stand around and let your Pokémon stay injured? Your Meowth is POISONED, you know?” Her eyes scared fire and her voice spewed thunder. Everyone in the vicinity decided it best to cower behind the nearest object between them and Ficus. Rue sucked on her thumb and was fast asleep. The professor’s free arm sliced upward, a cutting, trembling finger pointing towards the lab. “Lab. Now,” she said.

Gleampier

@Xan the G@BlueSky44@Eklispe@SleepingSilence

“Mhm,” Professor Palm said, in response to all of your replies. He had not commented on Arren’s silence, so you weren’t quite sure if it was an invitation or he expected you to be there. Nevertheless, Palm said nothing more as his broad shoulders turned as a barge may in riptide waters. His raised hand parted a white sea of uniforms, men lining up to make way for the professor to walk through. His metal boot continued to collide with the ground hull of the ship, the sound fading as he ascended the stairs.

CLANG. CLAng. Clang clang….

The suits followed suit, in linear fashion, at attention. Their shoulders were square and their bodies were rigid. Not a single individual fell from formation as they marched in the path of the professor. There was something to say about the order and regiment these sailors followed. Though their uniforms were in the exact same shape and color, the diversity of the crew was abundant. And that spoke wonders to the way they were able to move as a single unit. Once the sailors had left the room, there were few things remaining. The ticking and tapping of keyboards. A collective blue hue overwhelming the walls and ceiling. Digital letters flashing across screens. Researchers tapping chromatic buttons.

It was time to move on, unless the three of you had a better plan.

~Assuming you moved forward…~

You made your way to the top of the metallic stairs, following the path of many before you. The end goal was to reach the deck, where Holly made the claim you would be able to catch Pokémon, as odd as that sounded. A hallway separated you and the main floor. Unlike the terminal room below, more hardwood covered the surfaces of the ovular hallway. Round, bolted windows with thick glass stuck out between solid oak doors. They gave a view of the wild blue horizon, between guest rooms, closets, maintenance, and other miscellaneous.

Your steps echoed halfway across the hallway, when…

“Bro.”

A broad man in light blue uniform stuck his head from an open doorway, broad jaw nearly colliding with the doorframe. His wide-legged saunter brought him directly in front of Vuduin. The blue trim and hue of his uniform was unlike the white suits you had seen before. His meaty, sausage finger slowly rose at an angle toward Budew. His mouth remained agape and one of his eyes closed.

“Is that a Budew? That’s, like, my favorite Pokémon.”

He flicked a Pokédex similar to your own from his front pocket, waving it in the Budew’s face trying to get a read. Finally, after many unsuccessful attempts, a Budew appeared on the screen. Everyone could hear the log, in a pixelated voice much alike to Palm’s (admittedly, without the accent):

“BUDEW. THE BUD POKéMON. IT IS SENSITIVE TO CHANGING TEMPERATURES, THE BUD BLOOMS WHEN IT’S WARM, RELEASING TOXIC POLLEN.”

The Sailor’s eyes brightened and he laughed in a boisterous manner. His neck pulsed in turning, and you could see the very veins beating blood.

“BRO! You’ve got to check this out!”

Another head appeared, just as muscular but with blonde hair and beard instead of brown.

“What’s that bro?”

“Bro, check out this Budew.”

“Broooooo.”

The second, blonde-haired sailor behaved in a similar behavior, showing child-like intrigue in Vuduin’s Budew. A stroking palm proceeded to caress his beard, and his pupils looked to the ceiling. He hummed inquisitively, as a sailor might.

“Bro, you know who likes Budew more than me and you?”

“BRO. I almost forgot!”

The same neck turn, the same voice.

“YO BRO! You’ve got to check this out!”

And in a complete twist of events, a third sailor stuck his head from a door at the end of the hallway. His beard and hair combo was a fiery red, of course. But they all wore the exact same type of uniform.

“B. R. O. Is that-“

The other two sailors nodded.

“You know it Brohammed.”

The final, red-haired sailor laughed in excitement, waving his Pokédex even more ferociously than the first sailor to gain Budew’s data, and for twice as long. His mouth was permanently upturned in an agape smile. His twilight eyes turned to the brown-haired sailor.

“Broski, I owe you one.”

“I’m not the one with the Budew, Broseidon.”

“King of the brocean,” the blonde-haired sailor muttered under his breath.

The red-haired sailor bowed to you, in a surprisingly formal manner. His head bent so low to the ground, you were sure his significant upper body mass would topple him over. Though, his center of gravity was deceptive, and only an elegant thanks was given.

“Bro, I am in your debt. If you could broffer me a battle with your Budew…”

He unhinged a Poké Ball from behind his back, revealing one with the same, large P on the front of it.

“I would bro you two solids.”

The blonde-haired sailor nudged the other with his elbow, and they too revealed similar-looking Poké Balls that were tucked away in their belts.

“We want in on this brodeo too!”

“The Broletariat fights as a group!”

“So what do you say, brotato chip? Will you and your friends hang?”

Krunk Fortress, Courtyard

Ballmen, dragons, and hammers, oh my

Zerraf's lazy, glazed eyes drifted upward to the sky. They rested on the man of three heads. Zerraf wasn't aware that triclops existed until then. Whatever the case, the wind mage was glad he didn't have to dodge all of the fire going around. It seemed to be the popular element these days. Maybe Zerraf should pick up some fire tricks. Eh, it wasn't his style. The wind mage returned from his day dreams, blinking slowly, and once. He raised his left hand, elbow bent and fingers dropped. He wagged his fingers in a wave-like fashion.

"Hey."

With that, the hand was brought down like a lever of a slot machine. Ribbons of wind formed on the ground, weaving between the grass of the courtyard. They formed abstract patterns. As if they were alive, they danced amongst the tiny organisms the soil held. If a Krunklet was to step on one of the many ribbons, it would feel gravitation toward Zerraf's wind wall, picking up speed until they were shot as a cannon toward Spike. Zerraf's arched neck proceeded to creak in the direction of the wind wall, feeling as if he had forgotten something.

"Oh, Right."

Zerraf bent at the knees and leaned backward, just dodging the half-speed spikes that had been sent in his direction. He rose from this position afterward, as a zombie from the grave. Slowly, he returned to his feet and cracked his neck in his classic hunched position. The fingers of his left hand danced on the rapier, as he would unsheathe and strike if any rolling ball men were to escape Jenso's hammer and Zerraf's currents.

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