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The onset of the Summer season has led to a swarming of Fire-, Electric-, and Bug-types, overtaking most populations in the Region. In their place, Water- and Grass-types have retreated to the shade and to cooler areas, while Ice-types have all but vanished. The rising temperatures has also led to the annual thaw of the infamously cold Istin City, though it remains the coldest.

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 Gilen Bassett's Travels, Diadem (Carni)
KayWalt
 Posted: Jul 22 2016, 12:51 AM
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Aedan Anrisen

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[I know you know what to do, hope you enjoy your Travels, this is my first creation. You asked for the timeskip, I give you the timeskip.]

Prologue


Istin City

“Rise, Guardian Bassett. Welcome to the Guard of Istin City, and of Harper. You may return home for the time being. I shall send word when I am ready to put you to work.” The councilman returned to his desk, and resumed whatever work he had left incomplete before the appointment.

One week later…

The bright summer sun shone over Istin city this morning, heating the cool air that had settled over the city overnight. It had been a full seven days since Gilen took the Guardian’s Oath, chosen his pokemon, and returned home. Since then, he hadn’t been approached for any work. Free to collect his thoughts, get to know his pokemon, or find more ways to layer sweaters with his armor in that time, his break was now over. For on this morning, Gilen would receive his first official mission. Whether or not he was expecting the job itself, it was certain that he wasn’t expecting the person delivering the briefing.

A hard knock shook the front door of Gilen’s home, followed by the gruff voice of the man behind it.

“Oi, Is there a uh…” The man paused, reading a name off perhaps a letter? “I’m looking for one Gilen Bassett. This ‘is home? Is ‘e here?” The man waited for any notion of an answer for just a second, before continuing.

“I’ve a docket here with ‘is name onnit, from the Councilman. ‘E’s been assigned ‘is first mission, and I’m supposed to bring him ‘round for the job.”

Three more thuds shook the door before the man let himself in. “Oi, Newby. It’s time to get to work already!” The gruff voice emanating through the home came from a tall, large man. His dark brown beard, which covered most of his neck and hid his mouth, waggled when he spoke. The man wore the armor of the Guardians, his scale armor tinkling flared out slightly over the top round of his belly. A cloak hung off his back, reaching the floor. He held the door open with the hand holding a rolled up paper, it’s broken wax seal once shaped like the harp the Guardians used as their coat of arms. His other hand wrapped tightly around the staff of his halberd.

The paper was likely to be information about the mission, and the man was eager to put the rookie to the test. He impatiently waited for Gilen to show himself, puffing his beard, and tapping his foot. He left the door wide open, holding it there, not wanting to have to venture into the home to find the rookie Guardian.

When would Gilen show himself, and how will he take the intrusion?

--------------------
Aedan Anrisen
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Diadem
 Posted: Jul 24 2016, 10:28 PM
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Head for the hills!
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Egg Count 1 <3 (Again. >:C) EGG IS GONE, BYE EGG. WON'T MISS U 1 BIT.

.

It was Gilen's aunt who opened the door, an older woman in shawls and a modest but elegant white dress that did much to conceal the thinness of her form. Pale blonde strands fell around her sharp, lined face, hiding the too-sharp jut of cheekbones, remnants and scars from years of starvation. She greeted the guardian sent to fetch her nephew with a graceful smile and a gleam of amusement in her dark eyes. "Many an apology, guardsman. I've my hands tied," she said easily, in accentless Harper Common, and with a flick of her thin hand beckoned the man in should he choose.

The front door of the large but not-too-showy house led directly to a decent-sized hall, with a sitting room directly to the right. While the guardsman announced himself, Vivienne Lorraine dusted off her clothes and whistled three high notes.

A slurpuff poked its head out of a door near the back. "Fetch me my nephew, please, Adain," Vivienne requested, and smiled when the fairy-type waved his hand in acknowledgement and vanished again.

There would be hot tea and small cakes for the guardian sent to fetch Gilen should he want it, which Vivienne would be happy to provide for him. It would take a few minutes anyway before the door - front door - suddenly banged open again and Gilen was striding in, groceries held in one arm alongside a number of books and journals he had taken on loan from the Barracks, a togetic floating in behind him, trying to balance a Fairy Gem on her nose. He saw the stranger in his home, the uniform he wore, and winced.

"My apology, sir," he said respectfully but with plenty of genuine remorse as he dumped both of his burdens somewhere. Scrolls where nobody would step on them, groceries passed to his aunt, then a glare at Aveline when she fluttered over to the senior guardian and stared at his beard with fascination. Given that she seemed to not want to...pull on it, Goddess forbid...or anything, he left her alone and addressed the beard's owner himself.

"I am already in uniform, as you can see." And indeed Gilen was. The Guard's symbol had been emblazoned upon the left breast of his leather armor, which he was currently in. Whatever supplies he might need were in a rucksack left in the sitting room to begin with, which Gilen could easily grab.

Trepidation twinged in Gilen's chest, but also relief. For a full week he had heard nothing from the Guard. He had been afraid his behavior had reflected badly upon himself after all, and the councilman had put him on probation. This mission might still be considered such, but at least it was...something.

Something, indeed, though he knew not what it might be. So Gilen waited with a polite smile. "How will I be of service today?"

Quietly Vivienne left Gilen and the guest alone, striding out of the sitting room to waylay a frantic slurpuff who couldn't locate Gilen before more chaos could break out. Aveline fluttered back towards her handler with a bright smile, though her eyes were still fixed on the senior guardian.

--------------------
Gilen Roy Bassett

Guardian || Istin City || Councilman Matthais Lindsey
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Flight
 Posted: Aug 12 2016, 08:53 PM
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{ 0.7 EXP for you! }

.

The Guardsman, though he dragged his feet and seemed thoroughly unenthusiastic about it, did come further into the hall and to the sitting room that Vivienne showed them to once it became apparent that Gilen was not immediately present. He reordered himself, handling his halberd with all the casual carelessness of those that had spent extreme amounts of time with their weapon, and nodded graciously to his host.

"I be Guardsman Arnold Randall, madam," he said. "I'll be Basett's mentor for 'is first mission." He still seemed impatient to get going and get started, but at least he did not seem angry that he would have to wait. He turned down offers of tea and cake, citing a need to start patrol with the Newby as soon as he arrived, and he would stand instead of sit.

When Gilen Basett did appear he straightened, halberd carefully tucked away on his shoulder so that it wasn't dragging and ruining anything within the room. He nodded, in acknowledgement of the apology, and raised a bushy eyebrow at Aveline's antics. The beard made it hard to judge the slant of his mouth, but it seemed to be upward.

"Very good, Newby." It seemed that Arnold was not going to stop calling Gilen that, and would continue before the new Guardian could protest, "And what we'll be doin' is just some basic work for now - patrolling 'round the streets, makin' sure nobody gets in'ta fights they can't finish, an' if they do, they get out o' it in somewhat one piece. The usual."

Arnold shrugged, the movement casual and the sort that someone would make absent-mindedly. "Not the most interestin' of jobs, I know, but 's still somethin' that needs t'be done. And 's not the Councilman makin' 'is ire known, either."

The last was said sharply, and suddenly, not quite an afterthought made known but not quite a judgement on Arnold's part, either. He eyed Gilen, eyed his pokemon - and met her gaze evenly; there was only steady truth there - and said, carefully, "The recent 'appenings are on the verge o' creepin' in'ta the city. This ain't a milk run, Newby; keep that in mind."

Then he turned, threw a "Grab yer things and let's get movin', Newby!" over his shoulder, and was out the room in the next moment. He exited the home, too, opening the front door with a carefulness that belayed his appearence, and would wait outside (impatiently, again; he was tapping his foot on the ground and his fingers on the shaft of his halberd) until Gilen had his affairs sorted and notified his aunt - or did not - of what was to happen.

"We can visit the General Store if ya need," Arnold would say as soon as they were ready, and stride down the street at a rapid clip. "But after that, our assignment t'day is the Market Square on the Second Level. You e'er been there, Newby?"

--------------------
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Diadem
 Posted: Oct 18 2016, 11:00 AM
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Head for the hills!
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{ I don't have an egg I don't think? BUT I AM BACK or trying very hard to. }

.

If Gilen minded being called "newbie" - he was not, as it was the truth - he did not let it show on his face. He took the reassurance that the councilman was not angry at him with a smile, polite but grateful, and nodded, moving towards the door with his pack.

What Arnold mentioned was not lost on him. Gilen was glad he had decided to leave the Xernean cloak pin at home today. The Bassetts made no secrets of their affiliation with the possibly heretical Church of Xerneas...in the private sanctum of their homes. Out there against the world, they kept their faith off the table, especially now that rumors of the Schism's chaos banged at their doors like storm winds. Xerneas would understand Gilen's need to keep Her out of his daily life, he was sure.

"I should have everything I need, and, well. Second Level. That's-" Gilen said aloud by the door as he pulled his boots on. He eased it open and sighed when a blast of cold wind, even this deep into the city, hit him in the face. By the saints but he missed sunlight and green fields so much. "There was an issue between myself, an urn and an old lady six months ago. I haven't been to Second Level on foot since. But! I do remember the place. How about that?" Gilen tossed a grin at Arnold and stepped outside. With an unnecessarily flowery twist of his hand, he tossed a pokeball to the ground where it cracked open and spilled out a little shinx.

Cyril made one quick circle around Gilen's legs, then sat down next to him and gave Arnold an imperious look. "This rude one is Cyril. That is Aveline," Gilen pointed at the togetic who was finally poking her head out. "Don't worry. They're both well-behaved."

The shinx puffed up at the word 'behaved', but Gilen tweaked his ear and he deflated, sullen. He shot off at once, racing down one end of the streets.

Gilen let him go. Instead he turned to Arnold. The humor left him even as he smiled. "What has changed in the city?" He waited for the senior guardian to lead the way and would whistle Cyril back if necessary. "I haven't noticed anything outrageous around this area, but Istin is a large city."

--------------------
Gilen Roy Bassett

Guardian || Istin City || Councilman Matthais Lindsey
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Flight
 Posted: Nov 13 2016, 02:51 PM
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{ 0.7 EXP for you! }

.

Arnold eyed the shinx, then the togetic, when both were introduced to him. He raised an eyebrow and watched Cyril race down the streets, away from them, and Gilen's own actions - or non-actions - regarding that.

Then he shrugged again, the movement shifting the scale armor on his shoulders. "That'll do, I s'ppose," he said, and his voice was carefully neutral. "At least ye've been there a'fore, Newby; some o' the others haven't. Keep what ye know in mind, but don't be surprised if things 'ave changed since."

The streets that Arnold chose to take them down would be familiar to Gilen, at least; they were the main roads, winding downwards toward the Second Level, and the cobblestone here was maintained in good enough shape. As the morning sun rose over Istin the people stirred; more and more were appearing on the streets as they went.

Arnold did not answer Gilen's question for a long moment, one hand stroking down his scraggly beard, the other balancing his halberd on his shoulder. Then he said, eyes glancing towards Gilen, "If ye haven't been down in a'while, then I s'ppose that explains it. Ye know the thing that we've been callin' the unrest? The Great Schism."

They took a left turn, then straight down, then a right turn that wound down a set of staircases that Gilen would remember led to one of the side streets of the Second Level. Throughout all of it Arnold kept his voice low, which looked - and sounded - odd coming from the man, but there it was. "Even those in Istin 're scared, Newby. Magic's not a kind thing, most days, and learnin' that them mage's 're runnin' loose-" He shrugged again, and the halberd shifted on his shoulder.

The street that led to the Market Square was not far, nor long, but Arnold stopped walking all the same and would wait for Gilen to do so as well. His face was grim, now, and any traces of impatience had faded like fog in direct sunlight. "Like I said, not a milk run. But the people come first. Yer aunt seems like a kind lady, Basett; I 'ope she steered ya well."

Arnold cleared his throat. "We're on Market Duty, and that means we make sure arguments're quelled 'nd no riots break loose. Ye be nice, 'nd ye be friendly. Helpful. Any questions?"

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Diadem
 Posted: May 25 2017, 01:43 PM
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Head for the hills!
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Gilen inclined his head soberly at Arnold's words, his face a polite mask of seriousness and the inside of his mind churning, churning. Yes, he knew about the Great Schism. He himself had played no great part in it that he would ever acknowledge aloud, but he had aided the Healer's Circle in whatever small means he was able. It was the smallness of those means which had first driven Gilen to join the Guard, to begin with. His uncle was merely a trader, a merchant with some coins to him, but held little power in the grand scheme of things. He had thought -- hoped -- that perhaps wearing the Guard's sigil would grant more.

Aloud Gilen said nothing, not even to the remark that magic was not a kind thing, because the response that he wanted to voice -- Magic in my land is gift from the Tree of Life, wielded by our mages to ease the burdens of living, but look at what you have done in yours, what you have done to your neighbors with it, all out of greed for knowledge -- was uncalled for and certainly would do nothing to help his image, and image was important that the moment.

If he would know what kind of image he wanted to project to begin with. And what a foul thought that was, too. Gilen pressed a finger against his mouth, pretending to consider Arnold's words (which he heard but did not pay much mind to) and told himself he was being an idiot. This was his first day out on the job, they likely expected no more from him than any other. An impression would be easy to make precisely because he was a nobody.

"You needn't worry about my rearing, sir. My aunt did teach me well, and life the rest," he said, pulling himself from the festering pit of his own thoughts now -- what was with him? To suddenly feel so bitter and moody over a few simple words and an imaginary response to it he would never say out loud? -- to engage in present conversation. Gilen peered up at Arnold, his head tilted, mapping the senior guardian's features and evaluating him as he would have done any other speculative person of interest.

Not that Gilen considered him especially interesting. Arnold to him seemed as gruff and honest as the lumpy rock caves outside of their city, with the kind of air that suggested if he threw himself against him he'd come away bruised and scratched, but that felt about it. Solid, sure. And...not much else.

Gilen turned away from Arnold and rolled his eyes at himself. Calm down. I've known the man for all of fifteen minutes. Cyril's haughty broodiness is rubbing off on me.

That might well be the case, given how the shinx had been doing his utmost to be an affectionate cat these days and intentionally making himself a cute nuisance all over the place. When they caught up with him around the next bend, Gilen zapped him back to his pokeball without a second thought. "Just in case," he told his companion. "I would rather not risk him in a market full of people."

Though an electric-type with never-missing moves in a potentially rioting crowd sounded excellent. Gilen would need to think about it.

"Do you think there will be riots?" Gilen asked when the market began to come into sight. "I've visited the local villages along the mountain's foot during the Schism, but Istin lacks the undercurrent of fear and brewing panic."

He glanced around the streets, the walls, the doors, how few plants and life there were and how far the sun was, away. Remembered how terrible the first few months had been for him, who had lived in airy towers and open flower fields and then, at the very least, the beauty of Cape Augustine all the while. He never got so bad as to consider the drop, but this city -- Gilen could almost feel the weight of its somberness on his back when he walked. It sucked the warmth from your bones if you were not careful.

Once again, he ignored the faint whispers of, This isn't my home.

"Questions, eh?" Gilen chewed on his fingernail and glanced up at Aveline, who hovered close by his shoulder, humming a few cheerful notes under her breath. He glanced ahead at the market, thinking. "I...do not think so. Aveline, my dear." He glanced up at the togetic, who had lifted off his shoulder and was chirping overhead. "Keep an eye out for us, yes? Bartering is one thing, but they should not sound angry."

Aveline gave him an overly serious nod that made Gilen swallow back a chuckle. Shaking his head, he slowed his steps to let Arnold lead. He for his part tucked his hands under his arms and hunched his shoulders from the cold.

Cold. Istin was always cold. Everything iced over here, or otherwise simmered under the frozen surface. Arnold's warning of this "not being a milk run" trickled back into Gil's mind, sent a quiet chill down his spine. It focused him.

--------------------
Gilen Roy Bassett

Guardian || Istin City || Councilman Matthais Lindsey
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Flight
 Posted: Jun 17 2017, 04:10 PM
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{ 0.7 EXP for you; sorry for the lateness! }

.

Arnold raised a bushy eyebrow when he saw Gilen recall his shinx, but in the end nodded amiably enough. He started walking again. "'s always better t'be prepared than t'be caught off-guard," he said, in response to Gilen's question about the riots, and then shifted his halberd so that it was tucked away beneath his cloak. His height allowed for it; and when he walked, there was only the dull glint of steel.

The Market was not terribly loud, nor seemed to be anything approaching riotous; Arnold had led them to one of the ones on the third level, whose streets was lined with shops and stalls alike. There would be a General Shoppe somewhere near, Gilen would know, and a Job Board in the vicinity; it meant that even today, when the weather was hazy and the mood somber, there would be people milling about.

Aveline would be hard-pressed to find people angry, though there were pockets of space centered around travel-weary men and women who certainly did not feel happy to be out in the cold. Arnold, for his part, glanced down at Gilen with his hands tucked under his arms, and scowled briefly. There was concern on the edge of his mouth and the way his eyes narrowed.

"Ain't that cloak o' yers Istin-standard?" he asked, but his tone was more gruff than anything else. He reached beneath his cloak and beneath the first layer of his scale armor, rummaged briefly, and surfaced with a thick woolen scarf that had seen some years of use. He tossed it to Gilen without fanfare. "I knew ye weren't from somewhere cold, Newby, but-"

The man cut himself off. Aveline would have heard it, with her directions to keep an ear on the marketplace and its people, and Gilen would see what had drawn his attention mere moments later. There was shouting, in the distance, far away enough that it would be out of sight; it sounded panicked. Someone was shouting for the Guardians.

Arnold was broad and he wore the armor of the Guard, the blue harp visible on his cloak and on his person. It was he who led them through the crowd, trusting Gilen to follow. The crowd parted for them both, only to descend back into murmurs that were confused and bordering on panic.

Aveline would see the cause of concern before Gilen, in the air as she was. A young woman was slumped on the ground, bleeding from her head if the red in pale-blond hair was anything to go by. There was a monferno by her side, baring her teeth and keeping the crowd to an arm's-length.

"Tend t'the lady, Basett," Arnold said as he took a stance by the woman, catching the monferno's eye. "I'll clear us a space." One hand went to his belt, pressing on a pokeball there; the beam of light coalesced into a bisharp, widening its stance on the cobblestone streets, who paced to stand at the woman's other side.

The woman herself would be blinking herself back into consciousness when Gilen reached her. Her eyes flicked from the crowd around them, now backing away at Arnold's steady directions, to the monferno, and back to Gilen. "What... happened?"

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