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Welcome to Harper Region

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Character Count: 101
Ml: 48 - Fml: 51 - Oth: 2
OR - 14 | R - 17 | H - 47 | G - 23

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Weather Conditions

Season: Autumn

With the cooling season of Autumn, Ice-types are starting to re-emerge from their hibernation as Ghost-, Normal-, and Flying-types swarm in the largest numbers they will all year. In comparison, wild Fire- and Bug-type populations are falling in number. The migration of Flying-types to the south in search of warmer weather has also started, as Istin City starts to re-freeze and Autumn marks the beginning of Cypwater Point's rainy season. Handlers and Rogues alike should be wary: Ghost-type powers are boosted during this season, at the cost of being more prone to their triggers.

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 No Good Deed, Closed
Kaia
 Posted: Apr 11 2018, 06:26 PM
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Top Handler
*****
Background Mods
Total Posts: 374
Member No. 2161
Joined on 29-December 15.


Characters:
Kalliope Tamsin, Namid Waagosh'Giizis

Awards: 3




Denzil's Team


Spawns
http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/753_zpsx3o9zga4.png
Leaf Guard and Contrary
Leaf Storm and Aromatherapy

http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/532.png
Guts and Sheer Force
Endure and Comet Punch

http://files.jcink.net/uploads/harperregion/sprites/519.png
Big Pecks and Rivalry
Morning Sun and Uproar


Denzil's Level Bracket: 1-22

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Namid and his Travels
PCR

user posted image
Kalliope and her travels
Incredible sprite by Mackay!


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Amakiir
 Posted: Apr 11 2018, 08:36 PM
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Houseplant Diglett
****
Members
Total Posts: 291
Member No. 1667
Joined on 22-June 14.


Characters:
Denzil Heath / Gwyn Elijah

Awards: 2




(Navdia Commerce Square)

Stop squirming, already.

The rope stopped jerking about for a moment as a pair of mismatched eyes came into view amid the sound of claws against stone. “It’s straight down, why are you moving around so much?

It’s not my fault, the stupid runt won’t hold still so I can grab it.

The two Pokemon stood glaring at each other as the sound of water splashing continued to echo from below. “Poli!” Gemini gave a roll of her eyes and lowered herself back into the sandstone well. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get your tail in a knot. Toss you back in, myself.” the Sneasel added in annoyance.

Gemini slid back down the rope leading into the deep well, Dorian on the surface keeping a tight hold on the other end. The shadowed depths gave way under the Sneasel’s gaze, stopping short of the murky water. A round shape breaching the surface and looked up amid a ring of gentle ripples. Poli?

Gemini made another grab for the trapped Poliwag who sank back beneath the water, several bubbles rising to the surface as it slipped from sight. Impatience giving way to a full scowl, she let go of the rope and dropped into the water with a splash.

What’s going on down there?”, the Nidoran shouted as he felt the sudden loss of weight on the rope.

Nothing!” came her reply, head breaching the water with the Poliwag’s tail clutched in her claws. With a frustrated grunt of effort, Gemini gripped the rope and flung upward with her other hand, the Water-Type becoming a bounding projectile. “Poli!” The creature sailed free of the well and landed in a dazed roll along the ground, after bouncing off the sandstone walls like a rubber ball. A shadowed shape emerged shortly after and landed beside the ball, stopping its roll with a clawed foot upon its head.

Hmph. Shouldn’t have been moving around.” She shrugged in indignation at the glare coming from the nearby Nidoran. “What? It's the stupid runt’s own fault.” She crossed her arms with a huff and stalked away from the well. The spiny Nidoran shook his head and began nudging the ‘rescued’ Pokemon along the ground with his head.

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Amakiir
 Posted: Apr 11 2018, 08:44 PM
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Houseplant Diglett
****
Members
Total Posts: 291
Member No. 1667
Joined on 22-June 14.


Characters:
Denzil Heath / Gwyn Elijah

Awards: 2




(Navdia Marketplace)

Dewdrop! Where have you been?” The young woman knelt as the Poliwag practically flew into her arms, nuzzling under her chin and squealing happily. One of the two standing nearby rolled her eyes, tapping her clawed foot on the ground impatiently. “Let’s go, already. This amount of sweet is making my fangs hurt.

Giving a weary sigh and exhibiting more patience than he felt he had, Dorian turned to regard the Sneasel. “You don’t feel anything about helping out? It wasn’t even difficult.” Gemini glowered at the reunited duo, the smaller of the two reacting to the abundance of hugs like it was reconsidering an escape plan.

If it was so happy, then why’d it jump in that hole?” she shot back with an aire of defiance. Dorian made to reply when there came a choking sound that drew their attention. “Dewdrop! What’s wrong? Dewdrop!?” The Poliwag had ceased coughing and was now swelling to almost twice its size in the woman’s arms.

Pol---bleghhh!” A torrent of water belched from the Pokemon’s mouth onto the dry cobblestones, splashing the woman’s feet before the hot ground greedily began to reduce it to steam. A final hiccup loosed a series of bubbles from its mouth, eliciting a sigh of relief. Gemini glanced at the woman’s uncomfortable expression and loss for words at the display. “You sure she even wants it back? Seems like a pain in the—” Her musing was cut short by the woman’s excited exclamation a moment later, snatching something from the ground and clutching it to her chest.

You found it! My precious Dewdrop, you found it!” In her hand was a slightly-waterlogged metal band, glinting silver in the light with a single blue stone nestled at its center. Dorian began herding his charge back the way they had come despite her protests, “Looks like it wasn’t just going for a swim, after all.

He was met with a glare of mismatched eyes. “It jumps in again, it can stay there then.” She cast a final look at the ring in the woman’s hand before catching up with Dorian, being sure to stay a few steps ahead of the stalwart Nidoran. “At least you can count this as your good deed for the day.” he responded with a shrug.

Yeah, yeah. I’d better get something out of this.” The pair turned left off the main road and headed towards the Artisan District, the sounds of wooden cart wheels reached Dorian’s ears before the shops came into sight. Their presence was commonplace enough that they went unbothered save for a few looks from passersby or pointing fingers by small children. “I’m sure Denzil will give you a hug, if you asked.” Gemini nearly lost her footing for a moment, regaining her balance and shooting him a glare. “Sh-Shut up! I’m not some overstuffed water ball pet!

Dorian held back a knowing remark while his charge fought to keep her eyes from averting to the sky or ground. It was no worldly secret that the ‘vicious’ Sneasel cared about her Papa. “Let’s just get back, already. I’m getting hungry.” The Sneasel’s steps quickened slightly as the smell of hot iron wafted through the air. “What was that rock for, anyway? She just like shiny things or something?

The ring? Far as I’ve seen, humans exchange them when they choose a mate. The rock somehow determines their worth, instead of just proving themselves worthy.

Humans are weird," Gemini replied after a brief pause.

No argument, here” It wasn’t long before they were at the thick wooden door at the front of a modest smithy, pushing it open and slipping inside.

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Amakiir
 Posted: Apr 14 2018, 08:03 PM
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Houseplant Diglett
****
Members
Total Posts: 291
Member No. 1667
Joined on 22-June 14.


Characters:
Denzil Heath / Gwyn Elijah

Awards: 2




(Kurt Mason's Smithy, Home)

The forge was a warm place in more ways than the obvious. Four simple rooms made up home, hearth and livelihood for the occupants. Passing through the wooden door had brought the pair before a heavy wooden counter bolted onto the floor, beyond which stood an open archway cut into the stone wall and leading out into the forge proper. Hammer striking metal could be heard in between the rush of bellowed air and brief flurries of embers that cast odd shadows across the walls before fading away.

The room to their right was treated with a foreboding respect as it stood with its door shut tight. No lock was needed as the occupants, and indeed the majority of those living in the Artisan’s Alley, knew to never enter this room. This was the private quarters of Kurt Mason, master blacksmith and surrogate father to the duo’s own human. To the far left was the quarters of said human, a more welcoming sight as the door resting closed against the wooden frame.

Gemini made for this door and pushed it open with her shoulder, slipping from sight. Dorian followed soon after, musing that their human would not hear them even if they announced their presence. The metal being shaped just made too much noise to be heard and sent him almost into a trance while he worked. The Nidoran knew enough of the world that humans used this metal as weapons, armor and tools, but didn’t understand why they didn’t just evolve into something more suited to their surroundings. He nudged the door the rest of the way and entered the room, a simple square of stone with a modest fire pit set into one wall.

A small worktable rested against the left wall with several tools hanging nearby, each secured to a hook by a loop of leather on their handles. Gemini was currently making herself comfortable on their human’s bed, claws tucked behind her head and feet propped on the lumpy pillow. Dorian made his way to the foot of the bed where a wooden trunk sat like some silent sentinel and pried up the lid, rearing up onto his hind legs and reaching inside. His search was rewarded with a rolled bundle which he pulled free and set onto the floor, letting the lid close under its own weight with a thump.

He guided the roll with light butts from his horn until it had become unrolled in front of the cold fire pit, stepping onto it with a yawn and stretching onto the weathered mat. The bundle of dried reeds was the only possession he had held onto since his time in the village ruins where he had met their human. It was frayed in places save for the right side where new reeds had replaced those that had rotted away. Dorian had been grateful to the human for this favor, and settled his head down to nap.

Gemini’s own musings were interrupted by a purple flame entering her field of vision, a single yellow eye glinting with the promise of mischief. “The heroes return! What poor soul did you save from Oblivion, today?” a voice asked with exaggerated stage presence, like a Bard telling tales to their audience. Gemini remained silent in the hopes that the voice would go away if she ignored it.

Come on, I wanna know.” No such luck.

Gemini covered her ears as the whine became a steady chant, the purple flame floating in a slow orbit near the ceiling. “I wanna know. I wanna know. I wanna know.

The Sneasel’s scowl deepened with each repetition, eyes clenched shut as she fought to block out the sound. She was contemplating digging through the sleeping mat to escape when Dorian’s ear swiveled toward the door. “He’s done” Gemini popped her eyes open and hopped to the floor while the flame hovered near the top of the door frame leading to the front room. The heavy sound of boot steps thudded towards them at a relaxed pace until the door was pushed open from the other side.

Denzil walked in and was greeted by a purple-flamed candle floating at eye-level, a jagged face stretched to distorted proportions amid a hollow shriek. “[/color=DarkViolet]Liiiitwiiiiick![/color]” The human jerked back and swung his hammer on reflex, the backhanded motion splattering wax and violet embers onto the far wall. As he caught his breath a single yellow eye opened within the mass to shoot him a dirty look.

Damnit, Pharus!” he uttered once he had recovered from the surprise, hanging his hammer onto its hook and peeling the wax from the wall. The glob slowly reformed into the rough shape of a candle and floated free from his hands. Pharus the Litwick crossed his stubby arms while Gemini was openly laughing, whether from the incident or the human’s swearing was unknown. “I warned you about doing that, almost gave me a heart attack. We really need to get you some fresher material to work with.” Pharus’ pout became a wide grin at the thought, while Denzil breathed a mental sigh of relief. He grinned back as the Litwick’s energy was contagious, and remembered that sometimes he couldn’t help himself as a Ghost.

No sooner did he give Pharus a playful shove toward the ceiling to buoy like a giggling balloon, Denzil felt a familiar weight on his back and the press of cold claws against his neck. “Sneasel” Gemini growled low and held her other claw just in front of his eye in a clear display, ‘got you’. Denzil held up his hands in defeat and stood still while the claws receded, leaning back suddenly once they were clear and grabbing the Sneasel with both hands. She squealed in defiance for a moment before it became shrill, desperate laughter as the blacksmith’s hands tickled her beneath the arms. “Got you back.” he said with a smile, the little one squirming to escape his grasp. As Gemini’s hunting instincts first sprouted, this had become a common game between.

He finally relented and set her back onto the floor, where Gemini wiped away a small tear with the back of her claw and glared up at his smiling face. He knelt to sit on his heels and looked the Sneasel in the eye. His rough hand gently came to rest atop her head with his thumb rubbing just behind her ear-feather. She turned into his hand for a moment until she seemed to realize what she was doing and pushed his hand away with a huff.

Don’t be like that, Gemini. Did you do your good deed for the day?” His question was met with the crossing of arms and an upturned nose. “Sneasel” she replied haughtily, as if there being any doubt that she would succeed was beneath probability. Denzil felt a flicker of pride in his chest as he smiled down at the tiny imp and started for his worktable. He paused when he spotted a small note tacked to the wood, a few rough scribbles on its surface.

Peets’ sprout came by. Plants.

Kurt’s handwriting left much to be desired and took a moment or two to decipher. If Charles Peets had been by, then he would need to harvest one of the plants outside again. Denzil used a piece of charcoal to mark on the parchment that he was going to go take care of it and turned to the trunk Dorian had just been at. He found his weathered pack and slung it over one shoulder before turning to the room’s occupants. “I’ll be back in a bit, keep the place standing while I’m gone. Kurt should be back in an hour or so.

Dorian flicked an ear in acknowledgment and Pharus gave a lazy wave from the shelf he had landed on. Gemini sat on the top of the trunk and gave a noncommittal sound. Their human gave a nod and smile before turning to leave, closing the door behind him while a pair of mismatched eyes watched closely. Almost as soon as the door creaked shut claws clicked across the floor and out into the foyer where the blacksmith had disappeared onto the road outside.

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Amakiir
 Posted: Apr 23 2018, 06:03 PM
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Houseplant Diglett
****
Members
Total Posts: 291
Member No. 1667
Joined on 22-June 14.


Characters:
Denzil Heath / Gwyn Elijah

Awards: 2




(Charles Peet’s Bakery, the ‘Slow Dough’)

Straight from the dirt. Make it last though, Aloe is easy enough to grow but it takes forever.

This will be more than enough, thank you.” Charles Peets accepted the small bundle of Aloe leaves with a smile, setting it onto the counter and pulling the paper wrapping aside. The elderly man sat onto a nearby stool and carefully unwrapped a long cloth bandage from his left arm to reveal several fresh burns. He snapped the Aloe leave into strips and took one of them in his free hand. He squeezed juice from the leaf and gently rubbed it onto the burns with a relieved sigh. “I swear that oven has it out for me. Thanks again, and feel free to take some treats back for your brood.

I appreciate the offer, but we should be getting ba—

Bray!

Charles quirked a brow as a small brown donkey poked its head in through the doorway, clopping a hoof on the floor in protest. Denzil could only give a shrug and meet Charles’ grin. “Looks like I’ve been outvoted” The old man laughed loud and full that echoed in the small bakery before he began the long process of rebandaging his arm. Denzil ushered Jacob inside where the Mudbray took considerable time selecting his treat of choice. He eventually settled on a half-loaf of bread that had been baked with lines of fresh cinnamon still in the dough, giving each slice large swirls and a sweet smell that filled the room.

It seemed only fair that he got to choose a treat. It was actually Jacob that tended to the plants more than Denzil did and so spent most of his time in the lot behind the Forge. After the events of the Schism that threw the land into chaos one of the Healing Circle members had offered to teach the blacksmith about medicinal plants, as thanks for his aid in their Faction. Most of his hands-on experience had been with the hardy Aloe that grew wild in the packed earth of Navdia and the cultivated patch they had set up at home. The ones that Jacob didn’t eat were often used to make burn medicine or used directly on injuries.

Peets was one such person who frequently asked for this kind of help, on account of his faulty oven. It was firebricked and weathered almost smooth but he refused to have a replacement built, when asked why he would simply change the subject and fiddle with a metal band on his left hand. He had just finished wrapping the cinnamon bread when Jacob gave a low and nackered away from the doorway. Denzil turned to see the bakery’s namesake very slowly make his way into the building, a stubby pink limb entering the room several moments later. Pete was a Slowpoke almost as old as Charles himself, and had been the one to inspire the unofficial name the ‘Slow Dough’, due to the deliveries requiring a bit of patience on the part of the customers. The goods produced by the bakery had so far made the wait worth the wait.

The bread was secured by the time Pete made it behind the counter and the pair turned to leave with a wave and word of thanks. “You know, I can pay you for the plants. You bring ‘em by often enough, it doesn’t feel right just taking them.” Charles reached into a drawer and starting counting out thin coins and placing them on the counter, quirking a confused brow when Denzil waved it off. With a grin he gestured to Jacob with the hand not holding the door open, where the Mudbray was snuffling at his Handler’s pack where the sweet bread was stowed away. “Don’t worry about it, the trade was fair. Payed in full.

The baker threw his hands up in mock defeat and put the coins away and shook his head in bemusement after the pair had departed, and set about a tray of wheat cookies atop the displays to cool. A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye made him turn back toward the door. Seeing no one he gave a shrug and went back to his work, pausing when he noticed the count on the cookies seemed to be short by one. Meanwhile Pete began the long journey across the floor with his next delivery hanging from his tail as it arced over his back, the Slowpoke stepping past the threshold and onto the street. Despite the clear sky a shadow cast swiftly overhead, unseen save for the faint sound of clicking claws and a trail of wheat crumbs left in its wake as it flicked between the building rooftops.

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Amakiir
 Posted: Apr 25 2018, 10:04 AM
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Houseplant Diglett
****
Members
Total Posts: 291
Member No. 1667
Joined on 22-June 14.


Characters:
Denzil Heath / Gwyn Elijah

Awards: 2




Navdia Warehouse District

Move it over more, get that damn wheel in place!

The sounds of construction rang loud through the evening air. The brick and mortar warehouses securing the Crater’s various goods were close to adding another to their number. The foundation had set the day before and now it was time to prepare the walls for heavy wooden support beams, which would then keep the roof up where it should be. With a heavy thunk of wood against wood the ramp was placed, connecting the ground level with a scaffold built along the inner wall where the supports would be put into place.

Sometime today would be nice!

The foreman made an impatient gesture with one arm as a cart was pulled into position. It was a simple slab of wood being hefted on its axles by a paired team of sturdy creatures with tusks and long noses, one at each of the back axles where wheels would otherwise be. These earthen creatures aligned the cart with the ramp and waited for further instruction.

Load!” A pair of four-armed creatures began setting barrels of pitch onto the cart while a third was using rope to lash them tight. The cart groaned under its burden but held until the six barrels had be secured. “Roll One!” At the foreman’s call the Machamp stepped back and gave the two tusked creatures room to move. As one practiced unit the four Donphan each grabbed an axle and rolled themselves into a ball. The combined momentum of their joined Rollout steadily pushed the cart up the steep ramp amid a spray of loose soil, the Donphan digging in to move their heavy load.

It took only a few minutes with them working together to get the pitch up to the top of the scaffolding. The Machamp had since climbing the outer walls to meet them at the top of the ramp and set to work offloading the barrels of pitch. After they were finished, the Donphan then backed the cart back down to the ground level where they were guided to pull it off to the side. “We’re burning daylight, people. Let’s get this layer done before nightfall!” A round of affirmation came from the workers and their Pokemon partners as they redoubled their efforts.

The Sun had just started to kiss the horizon when things had gone South faster than a Swanna fleeing Winter.

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Amakiir
 Posted: Apr 25 2018, 05:49 PM
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Houseplant Diglett
****
Members
Total Posts: 291
Member No. 1667
Joined on 22-June 14.


Characters:
Denzil Heath / Gwyn Elijah

Awards: 2




(Artisan’s Abbey)

Denzil and his companion were nearly home when they heard distant screaming on the wind. At first it didn’t seem real, that it was a trick of the wind as it whipped through the empty spaces between the squat buildings. The pair glanced at one another for a moment, then resumed walking. “Sounds like when that storm blew through the cactus fields. Do you remember that? It sounded like someone was whistling and screaming at the same time.” The Mudbray gave no answer save for looking back towards the sound again.

The Smithy was in sight now, not too much further until they could call it a day. There was the thudding of frantic steps from behind a moment before something bumped his shoulder, rushing past in a hurry. “It’s a bug road, go around.” he said as they ahead of him. They stopped in their tracks and turned about before running back at him. Denzil’s hand curled into a fist on reflex and drew his hand back at his side. The young man before him stopped and took several deep breaths, he appeared more ragged than the typical traveler in these parts.

Please, you have to help!” He said with some urgency. His face was streaked with dirt and sweat, and his dark hair was unkept and flopped about with his frantic movements. Denzil relaxed his hand and held it out as a barrier between himself and the new person. “Calm down, and tell me what’s wrong.” The youth took several breaths and pointed back the way he had come, where a column of black smoke was climbing into the sky. “Fire, at the warehouse…need help, please! You’re a Handler, right?” he added with a fervent glance towards Jacob.

Denzil tensed at the sight, a faint chill just under his skin. The screams, what if they weren’t a trick of the wind? He hurried to the Smithy and stepped inside the door. “Where are you going? I just said there’s a fire back ther---” His words were cut short as the blacksmith returned with a magenta rodent keeping pace with him. With Dorian and Jacob flanking him on either side Denzil made for the smoke pillar, “The Guardian post is past the Marketplace, get help!” he called back as the trio sped off. The young man gave a halfhearted wave as they disappeared from sight, then gave a wide smirk when he saw that the coast was clear. He walked to the door of the Smithy and pushed it open as though it was his, pulling a cloth sack from under his shirt. “Too easy.

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Amakiir
 Posted: Apr 25 2018, 10:15 PM
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Houseplant Diglett
****
Members
Total Posts: 291
Member No. 1667
Joined on 22-June 14.


Characters:
Denzil Heath / Gwyn Elijah

Awards: 2




(Navdia Warehouse District)

Chaos reigned over the desert night.

Denzil arrived to see the half-built warehouse erupting in crackling flames, casting searing heat and blinding light that lashed out from all sides of the structure. Everywhere he looked there were humans and Pokemon desperately trying to put out the fire before it spread to other buildings. Directly in front was a line of people passing buckets between them, conveying water from a stone well to the blaze where a cloaked Guardian stood giving orders. “Ground and Water, move your arses to the front!

Several people stepped forward alongside their partners and gave their commands, Denzil’s team among them. “What started it?” he had to yell over the roaring flames to be heard. A woman in line the water wiped sweat from her brow and raised her voice to him while passing another bucket forward. “Some strange clay fell into the rain barrel and boiled over to the building pitch. Whole place went up in minutes!” Denzil quirked a brow at the mention of boiling clay but his query was cut short by a shift in the the wind, turning the choking smoke to spread over the group. Amid the stinging eyes and coughing fits communication was effectively shut down for the time being.

It took a great deal of rubbing his eyes before he could see again, and the sight did not offer much in the way of morale. One wall had completely collapsed and the other three were not far behind. Several Pokemon had recovered and set to work doing what they could to assist with the effort. A Diglett poked its head from below the ground and began to spin like a top to spray sand along the base of the building. This seemed to inspire the others as a pair of Machamp each grabbed an end of a thick rope and stood in front of the Eastern wall, a Donphan gripping the center of their cord and rolling into a ball. With the Fighting-Types keeping a tight grip the Donphan began to use Rollout away from the fire to cascade a steady flow of sand. The Machamp worked together to angle the spray and managed to put out the fire at one of the corners of the building, but the need to stop of unwind the rope was slowing their progress,

Denzil turned to his partners and saw the resolution in their eyes, each exchanging a nod before getting to work. He took up buckets alongside the other humans while Dorian and Jacob joined the line near the warehouse itself. Pulses of water loosed from the Nidoran’s fanged mouth again and again to spray across with the walls with the sickening hiss of liquid striking a hot surface. Jacob followed suit with the resulting water and sand mixture by turning about and delivering back kicks to Mud-Slap near the base of the flames. The rough mud steam and cracked almost immediately but it provided gaps for various sprays of water to reach the building’s interior. A white bird winging overhead loosed a barrage of Water Gun from above while several Shello joining the Mudbray in spraying mud onto the flames.

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Amakiir
 Posted: May 2 2018, 10:26 AM
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Houseplant Diglett
****
Members
Total Posts: 291
Member No. 1667
Joined on 22-June 14.


Characters:
Denzil Heath / Gwyn Elijah

Awards: 2




(Kurt’s Smithy)

Taylor ‘the Razor’ was not a happy person. Almost an hour into his search and he had still not found anything worth grabbing. He grumbled under his breath as he lifted a stack of papers and tossed them aside. This was supposed to be his big score, everyone knew Blacksmiths made steady gold with how often their garbage metal broke. “So where is it?” he hissed to himself in frustration. The fire was a stroke of luck and he intended to use the distraction to net himself as many coins as he could, even if that meant tearing the place apart to find any hidden stashes.

He didn’t bother keeping his footsteps quiet or hiding his presence at this point. He was starting to get upset, he should have left already with a sack full of gold and maybe a new sword to show off. He smirked at that thought, swinging about a blade tended to net plenty of attention from the ladies, and he could always come up some story about where he got it. Maybe he got it from a grateful traveler he saved from bandits, or swiped it from the hoard of a thief Lord. The possibilities were endless and spurned him on to keep searching.

He slapped his palm in frustration against the heavy wooden door to his right after this third failed attempt to get it open. There had to be something good in there, why else would they lock it when the front door opened easy enough? After a futile kick against the frame he called it a loss and turned to the other door. The bag at his belt clacked slightly as the metal tools he had already swiped knocked against one another. Thoughts jumbled together as the ‘infamous’ bandit swept his eyes across the modest room, eventually falling onto the wooden chest at the foot of a battered mattress.

Taylor licked his lips when he knelt before the chest and saw that it bore no locks. The lid lifted easily enough and came to rest against the bed’s wooden frame with a light thud. There were a few tattered pieces of clothing, some parchment bound with twine, a weathered whetstone and some other bits and pieces. These were shoved to the side in his search for riches. A thrill ran through Razor when his hands struck something solid underneath all the junk, only to be replaced by a scowl when he realized that it was just the bottom of the wood trunk.

He slammed the lid down without care for the noise and glanced about for something to vent his frustrations on. This was a working shop, there was supposed to be something sellable here! “Waste of a good fire.” he muttered to himself. He was making to leave when a sound stopped him in his tracks, pulse quickening and lips going dry. He moved his foot back a step. There it was again, could it be? He deliberately tapped his foot on the floor stones nearest the bed and smiled broadly. He dropped to one knee and began to feel his way until he found the edge of one stone and worked to pry it up.

He lifted it free and saw the prize he sought, a simple cloth bag shut tight in the hollow beneath the floor where his foot tapping had made a hollow sound. Taylor opened the drawstring and nearly shouted in triumph at the sight of glittering coins, taking a moment to move the bag so that they made that wonderful clinking noise that only hard ‘earned’ gold could make.

Too easy.

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Amakiir
 Posted: May 4 2018, 09:32 AM
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Houseplant Diglett
****
Members
Total Posts: 291
Member No. 1667
Joined on 22-June 14.


Characters:
Denzil Heath / Gwyn Elijah

Awards: 2




(Navdia Warehouse District)

Though human and Pokemon alike worked to put the flames the area around the warehouse had become almost suffocating. It was getting harder to breathe, the fire sucking away any air it could grasp onto in order to feed itself. Every time there was some show of progress, some dent put into the blaze, it would catch the wind and flare back up again. The water line was working in shifts now with exhausted people swapping out with rested, their partners combating the fire with water and earth.

They were losing ground.

Denzil pulled his arm back with a hiss when a whipping flame made contact with his left forearm. Blacksmith or not there was a vast difference between working with fire and facing it as a foe. He clenched his teeth and ignored the burn for now, grabbing the bucket passed to him and splashing water onto the nearest wall. A sharp crack of wood was the only warning they had.

Get back!" someone shouted. The wall groaned as if in pain and began to crumble to the sides. A loud cry echoed out when a burning support beam crashed to the ground and scattered embers in all directions. Denzil wiped at his forehead and immediately regretted it when the sweat came into contact with his burn. Looking back did not help his morale. The fallen support beam was now merrily crackling like a fireplace in Winter, having landed in a position that cut the water line in half. They were struggling with the fire as it was and not the buckets couldn’t get to the warehouse without a large detour that costs them precious minutes. They were effectively cut off but the beam burned too hot for anyone to get close to it.

They had to do something quick, even now the flames were licking at the nearest buildings. Even if they put out the flames on the fallen support beam it would still be too hot to move out of the way, let alone too heavy to lift. If something wasn’t done soon the fire could spread unchecked, and possibly endanger homes beyond the modest square of warehouses. Denzil poured the water bucket out onto the support beam only to jump back when the gout of steam threatened to boil his eyes in their sockets. “No good, can’t get through and the damned thing is blocking the path!

The Wingull had since crashed to the sand in exhaustion and the Machamp for all their strength were beginning to slow to a crawl, a bucket in each of their four hands. The crowd as a whole just wasn’t hitting the fire on enough sides to keep it down. The warehouse had already been reduced to a cracked husk, the outer walls crisped black and falling away in chunks as the interior crackled and popped from the heat. Through the ring of blinding light cast by the fire a small crowd could be seen, residents and travelers looking on in worry, morbid curiosity and fear.

We need a miracle, at this point.” Someone said to Denzil’s left, their voice heavy with fatigue and a loss of hope. No sooner were these words uttered than a small figure darted from the shadows. Sharp claws flashed in the light as it leapt into the air and struck directly below itself upon landing, connecting with the middle of the fallen beam with a sickening crunch. Embers and shouts of alarm scattered into the chaos while the feathered creature landed deftly onto the sand as easily as a bird landing on a branch. It seemed to be waiting for something and gave Denzil a chance for a better look. It appeared to be an orange bird with three claws on the ends of each ‘wing’, feet ending in more sharp claws and holding itself with an easy readiness. Where even the Machamp had drawn back from the flames this newcomer seemed unfazed by the blistering heat.

At an unseen signal it gave a single spinning with its talon-like foot raised high and brought it down onto the indent it had just made, cracking the burning beam into two uneven pieces. Before the eyes of all the two halves began to rise into the high, hovering at waist height and dripping embers onto the ground. The crowd parted to give it a wide berth when they shifted to land off to the side and fell to the sand with heavy thumps. The path was now clear between the burning building and the stone well again. “That a girl, Abby!” A heavy figure stepped from the street a moment later trailed by a pink creature with an empty expression, the faint aura of Psychic energy fading from its body.

Help had arrived in the form of a Combusken, a Slowpoke, and a jolly baker.

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Amakiir
 Posted: May 11 2018, 10:42 AM
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Denzil Heath / Gwyn Elijah

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(Kurt’s Smithy)

Taylor let the glinting coins rolled through his fingers for possibly the tenth time as he considered his windfall. This has to be that loser’s entire savings. he thought as he weighed the bag in his hand. It wasn’t exactly a dragon’s hoard but it was enough to make his life easy for a week or so. He pulled the drawstring and passed the bag from hand to hand while he thought of what to spend it on, rolling one shoulder to get at an itch.

The tools he could sell cheap now that he had this gold to fall back on. He smirked as he thought that If he played his cards right he could even throw in a sympathy bit to fleece some gullible merchant. “Won’t you buy my tools? They’re all I have left in the world, but I’m so hungry. Hah!” He rolled his shoulder again. That infernal itch wasn’t going away and had been bugging him for several minutes now. He reached up to scratch and jerked when his hand brushed against a gooey lump on his shoulder. He brought his hand back to his face and saw that there was a white goop on his fingertips.

The frick is this? There was a brief thought that a bird had gotten him before he looked around, remembering that he was in a dark smithy rifling through the rooms. He rubbed it between his fingers and noted that it felt like wax, a quick look upward confirming his suspicion. Up on the banister, resting near the ceiling support, was a large grey candle sitting on the beam. Why the smith had stashed it up there, Taylor had no idea. In his experience most things that are hidden away came with a good resale price to the right buyer. Licking his lips, he stepped up onto the worktable and reached for the candle to find it just out of reach. He managed a better look at it and noticed that it was nearly as wide around as his own torso. A candle that size could burn for days, or even be melted to smaller ones he could sell to a church or scribe.

He nearly fell off the table when his first grab went wide, the second grabbing the beam and pulling back several splinters. He paused long enough to bite the sliver from his hand and loose several choice sailor words into the air before trying again. This time, he managed to grab the support beam and pulled himself up. Taking the candle under one arm, he swung in place by one hand before dropping down to the floor in a crouch. He stood and held it up with both hands to turn it in the light. What, was he stockpiling his wax into one candle? This thing is huge! It was little more than a grey lump with a melted top but weighed about as much as a small child might. The color matched the goop on his shoulder, so he at least knew a bird hadn’t gotten lucky with its aim.

Taylor set his find onto the table and debated whether to take the thing with him, or just throw it into the forge-fire for kicks. While he was debating he made a final pass around the room in case he missed any other hidden finances. He needn’t have bothered, the place was empty of anything worth snatching. At least, not anymore, he thought with a smirk, patting at his bag to the sweet sound of jangling coins. When he turned around to grab his new supply of wax he stopped, looking ahead with confusion on his features.

The candle was gone

Taylor scratched at the back of his head. He knew he set it on the table just now. A quick search found the lump of wax on the floor near the doorway, where it had apparently fell on its side and rolled. His steps clicked slightly on the stone floor as he bent to retrieve his loot, and promptly discovered how cold that floor was when he fell face-first to the ground. Dazed for a moment, he spit dirt from his mouth and rubbed at his slightly flatter nose. Glancing down in confusion he didn’t see anything he could have tripped over. He tried to move his foot and found that he could not, brow furrowing in irritation when he saw why. Somehow the laces of his boots had tangled together and tripped him.

He propped himself into a seated position, pausing long enough in his struggle with his boot laces to spit on the floor. “First thing I’m buying is some new boots” he grumbled, finally getting back to his feet. His annoyance grew when he saw that his wax had disappeared again, having rolled as far as the bed.

Forget this.” He decided to cut his losses and get out with the gold, reaching for the door handle to the main area of the smithy. A quick tug found the door unresponsive, as well as the third, fourth, and a fifth accompanied by a sound kick that Taylor suspected had broken at least one of his toes. He bumped his shoulder into the door to jar it loose and succeeded in bruising the bone. Rubbing the spot with his free hand he felt along the edge to see if it was stuck on something. Finding nothing he tried the latch again. The metal of the latched clanked loudly with each pull but the door itself was stuck fast. Taylor gave the impudent wooden door a shove before turning back to the room and freezing in his tracks. The candle wasn’t on the floor anymore. It was sitting peacefully on a corner of the worktable.

The wick was burning brightly.

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Amakiir
 Posted: Jun 3 2018, 01:17 PM
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(Navdia Warehouse District)

Is it just me, or is water making it worse?

Nightfall had come in full force by this point, and the blaze was still fighting back with everything it had. Several people and Pokemon alike had passed out from the heat and exhaustion of trying to keep the fire contained. Those that fell were moved off to the side and tended to while the others kept on as well as they could. The arrival of Charles and his partners had helped to bolster morale and give them some relief but the fact remained: They just didn’t have the output needed to put the flames out for good. It didn’t help that they seemed to gain strength when doused with water as opposed to fizzling out as they should be, a bright flare going up whenever a spray or splash made it inside the building itself.

Dirt and sand were slightly more effective but that was like saying rain was slightly wetter than well water. Denzil looked to his partners and frowned at the sight. Dorian was refusing to give up despite being exhausted to the point of launching weak Water Pulses from where he lay on his belly, panting heavily. Jacob wasn’t faring much better despite his earth-aligned Typing. Much of his mud had dried and flaked away from the heat and left him without much of his natural protection. Demzil knew he was going to have to make this up to the both of them, they had worked far too hard not to receive thanks.

Dorian collapsed at that moment, breath coming out in ragged gasps and spraying sand away from his mouth with each exhale. A beam of light returned the weary Nidoran to his sphere, which Denzil secured in his vest before taking up a bucket once more. Less than a fourth of the crowd working against the flames remained standing, most resting at a safe distance and some even unconscious from the effort. Denzil wasn’t faring much better, the only reason he was still standing was due to his years before the forge. The building itself was little more than a few ragged supports and a burning foundation, much of the threat was gone but it still flared often enough to pose a risk. Each gout of flame threatened to jump to a home or livelihood just within reach of the warehouses.

Jacob gave a whinny and dropped on his forelegs, eyes clenched against the sweat creeping down his face. The Mudbray was heaving badly, sweat creating a map of trails through his mud-caked fur. Denzil swore under his breath and returned his friend to the red and white sphere. He glared at the fire like it was openly defying him as part of some personal vendetta. Dorian and Jacob were exhausted, Pharus and Gemini were back home and Ruby couldn’t get near the flames without losing her wings. It was the first time in years he hadn’t had at least one of his family at his side, and it made him feel disturbingly alone.

He spat at the fire, or tried to as he found his mouth about as dry as his boots at that moment. Charles looked his way when the blacksmith gave a low growl. “Don’t go losing hope, now! We’ll figure something out.” Despite the encouragement Denzil was hard-pressed to remain positive after the long night. “We’ve tried dirt and that didn’t work. We tried water and somehow that made it worse! Unless a fireproof tarp magically appears and chokes the fire out, everyone here is going to work themselves into the ground.” His shoulders slumped in exhaustion as though the admittance had stolen the last of his strength.

The baker, however, didn’t see this. He was looking at the fire as if he was seeing it for the first time. He cracked a smile and stepped forward. “Abby, bring it back!” The Combusken finished kicking away a bit of burning debris before bounding back to her Handler’s side. Denzil looked over in confusion and saw Charles whispering something to Peter, the Slowpoke showing no outward sign that the words were even registering. He remained still for a long moment after Charles rose back to his feet with a light grown. Peter took a step towards the fire. Then another, and another, until he was trudging forward with purpose. One look told observers That that wide grin was on a mission.

When the bucket line parted to let the Slowpoke through, Denzil couldn’t help but gawk. The pink creature was certainly capable to launching gouts of water, but was it thinking to take the fire on by itself? For many moments it stood, transfixed before the fire, watching it dance over the ruined structure like cruel celebration. Denzil wiped the dirt and sweat from his eyes as he watched. The wind was beginning to pick up again.

Quite a bit, actually.

Sand visibly flew in all directions as the wind reached a fever pitch. There was only a loud rushing sound at first as people tried to block their faces or move to take cover. Throughout it all a pink form stayed resolute where he stood, unflinching. It was only then did Denzil hear a second sound amidst the whipping winds, almost so low as to easily been mistaken for a trick of the imagination. A faint humming rose to match and even threaten to overshadow the wind completely.

Sloooooooooooooooooooow.

The wind whipped about in time to this sound. Covering his eyes with a forearm, Denzil couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The ‘wind’ was circling the burning building and growing taller by the second, a faint pink haze matching that emanating from a particular Slowpoke standing directly front and center of it. The roar hit a fever pitch when the pink miasma enclosed over the top of the blaze and formed a swirling dome of sorts. This carried on for long enough that some began to venture out from their makeshift protection to see what was happening. More than one face looked upward, and even more jaws threatened to strike the ground at what they saw. The blaze, once a towering inferno that hungered for home, hearth and livelihood, was encased in an ever-shrinking shell of swirling pink energy. Even as they watched, the flames had been pushed back from a blistering blaze to a rambunctious bonfire, and even further to that of a lantern’s light.

By the time people were recovering from the sight and coming back to their senses the flames had been reduced to mere embers, glowing on the tinder that was to be a new warehouse. The pink miasma eventually dissipated as if it had never been there at all, leaving a charred mess in its wake. Peter was halfway towards closing his mouth by the time Denzil walked up to the Slowpoke and knelt down. He looked into that dopey grin and gave a confused smile. “Well, that was…interesting.” Charles was rubbing the back of his head with a mildly embarrassed expression when the blacksmith stood back up. “We would have gotten here sooner, but, you know.” Peter’s mouth finally closed by this point.

With the flames no longer sprouting back up every few seconds the cleanup went far smoother. Steam billowed from the wreckage as the former wooden supports were pulled clear and piled far from anything flammable. An investigation followed immediately. As they watched, several broken barrels were dragged out into the open. By this time Denzil had managed to bandage the burns on his arms, as Charles was walking back from the group looking into the barrel contents. “What was it, tar, pitch?” The baker shook his head lightly. “Worse, saltpeter. No wonder it kept flaring back up!” He chuckled slightly at Denzil’s confused expression. “It’s something used to keep food fresh for longer. Problem is, it heats up ridiculously fast when it gets wet. I’m sure that’s why the water looked like it was making the fire stronger.

Denzil just shook his head and walked beside the baker as they departed the scene. The thought of water making fire stronger sounded like Mage-craft to him. Time passed in comfortable silence between them as they walked back into the village proper, Abby having caught up to them and now leading the way. A thought popped up as he looked back at Peter who was steadily trudging alone behind them. “I have to ask. How is Peter that strong, but still only a Slowpoke? I understand with Abby, she’s already in her second Stage.” Said Combusken looked back at them and gave the air a quick jab in agreement. Charles smiled kindly before answering, “Aside from Peter being perfect the way he already is?” he teased, then continued. “A Slowpoke can evolve two different ways, a Slowbro or a Slowking. I don’t have a King’s Rock so no Slowking.” They were turning the corner back towards Artisan’s Abbey. “What about Slowbro, then?” Charles turned with a grin, “A Shellder would have to bite his tail for that, and when’s the last time you saw a Shellder in the desert?

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Amakiir
 Posted: Jun 12 2018, 03:49 AM
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Houseplant Diglett
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Denzil Heath / Gwyn Elijah

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(Kurt’s Smithy)

Taylor stood with his back to the heavy wooden door separating him from freedom. The lit candle sat there flicking in a light draft, almost innocently, almost calm with the way it lit up the small room. Odd objects on the walls caught the flame’s light and cast shadows that looked like something otherworldly. As he stood there, heart beginning to thud in his ears and a layer of sweat starting to coat his palms, the candle flame began to flicker. The shadows openly danced wilder, changing shape rapidly while the flame fought against a wind that was not in the room, and went out completely. Taylor thought he could hear something over his own rapid breathing, blindly fumbling for the door latch with his free hand. ‘Ok, don’t panic. You’ve got the loot. Just get the hell out before this place plays anymore tricks with your head.’.

That had to be it. The forge was dark, and air coming down through the smokestack must have puffed the candle out. He was spooking himself, that’s all. Taylor turned to face the door and redoubled his efforts to find the latch and escape to the street. He grinned broadly when his hand finally fell onto the cool metal and gave it a tug, “Too ea…” The door didn’t still wouldn’t budge. He stepped back and slammed his shoulder against the wood with a dull thud, only to stagger as a wave of dizziness rolled over him. Them everything was too bright. He could see his own shadow outlined on the door in front of him and slowly turned back around with a knowing apprehension running down his spine. There the candle sat, it’s wick flickering merrily without a care in the world.

Taylor’s didn’t realize his hands were shaking until heard the jingle of metal coins. His left hand was gripping his stolen loot until the knuckles were beginning to turn white. As good a weapon as any he hefted the bag and prepared to throw if the candle moved any closer. Then he looked down with his eyes wide in shock. It already had moved closer. The candle was initially sitting near the far leg of the work bench. Now, it was burning brightly near a small crack in the stonework a few feet closer to him. His heart dropped into his boots when the candle flame started to flicker again, gently at first then growing more aggressive until it was pointing towards the far wall. A moment later, darkness claimed his vision once more.

The darkest enveloped him like a hungry beast, and Taylor could swear he saw massive teeth coming at him from out of the corner of his eye. Just what the hell kind of place did he sneak into? His breathing was coming ragged now, the pounding of his heart nearly deafening him against the sounds of the empty forge. His mind gave him plenty to hear, however. The scuff of sharp claws dragging on the stone, ready to tear his throat out and feast on his insides. He shook his head violently to chase the thoughts away. No matter how hard he shook, shook until stars filled his vision, he could not shake the uneasy feeling that something was indeed in the room. Something was watching him, he was sure of it.

Taylor the ‘Razor’ shut his eyes and tried to force his knees to stop shaking. He had managed to get them to slow to a dull quiver when a luminescent glow kissed his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn’t. The candle was lit again. Only this time it wasn’t alone, as a trio of violet flames floating above the wick. Even as he watched, they slowly drifted towards him one after the other. He started to fully panic now, tugging at the door latch with everything that he had. After barely a moment of hesitation he threw the bag of coins at the wicked candle and tried using both hands. He heard the bag hit the floor with a loud clang and figured that he’d missed, which convinced him to redouble his efforts and pull for his very life. The door remained steadfast almost in defiance of him, as though it had the sadistic desire to see him punished for his thievery.

To Hell with this!” he shouted. He took a deep breath to call for help and felt it freeze in his chest. It escaped as a shrill whine as he saw just how close the balls of flame floated to him. His vision began to blur. His breath became forced, hyperventilating as his ears filled with a horrible ringing. The flame atop the candle itself winked out and cast both it and the back of the room in darkness. The glare from the three bobbing orbs made it impossible to see past them. His eyes were just starting to adjust to the new level of light when the furthest flaming orb winked out. Two orbs remained and they continued to float closer, making it all too easy for Taylor to imagine them with hungry eyes and mouths filled with sharp fangs.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, could barely breathe. He could only stare transfixed as his doom floated towards him with all the menace of a cotton seed on the wind. Another flame extinguished in the dark, leaving only the one floating less than a foot away from his face. Taylor found himself both terrified of this purple ember, and praying that it stayed lit lest it leave him alone in the dark again. ‘No…no, no, no…’ The final flame ignored his protests, and with a final flicker went out. The darkness that covered Taylor’s eyes seemed deeper than it had before, deeper than any darkness he had ever been in before. What he was standing in now was an…unnatural shadow that made the night sky look grey by comparison. At least, that’s how Taylor saw it at that moment.

As his heart pounded hard enough that he considered that it might actually escape his ribcage, he noticed something. It had become quiet, completely and utterly silent. The only thing he could hear besides his heart was his own breath, which was now coming out through his nose in a pained wheeze. His elbow bumped the latch and made him cringe back as it sent a metal rustle echoing through the small room. Nothing. Nothing responded, nothing came to eat him or carry him away to some twisted underworld. Just silence, silence in a locked room. He was contemplating just standing right there until morning when he finally heard something, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention when he did. It was faint at first, almost a hissing whisper that invited him to lean closer and hear its offered secrets. That was as far as his thought process had gotten when the light came back on.

Taylor’s face shrunk in on itself in horror, blood freezing in his veins at the sight of a horrible face inches away from his own. Purple flames floated at the edge of as its toothy maw gaped wide in a scream that heralded the end of days and all that was good. It kept stretching wider, and wider, and wider still until it threatened to engulf the would-be thief. He could not find his voice. He didn’t notice the liquid running down his thigh, nor the door behind him opening a crack until it hit him in the back. The jerk forward snapped him out of his stupor, and he pried the door the rest of the way open with the strength only borne of panic. Boots pounded against the stone floor and out into the night, followed only by the echo of a door slamming open and hissing, hysterical laughter.

A Sneasel with mismatched eyes walked though the open door with confusion etched on her features. They slipped into annoyance when she saw the floating monster above her with a head full of purple flame. “You’re blocking the door.” Which a sickening slurping sound the creature folding in on itself even as the purple flame on its head shrank to the size one would find on a candle wick. By the time Gemini had crossed the room, the gelatinous mass had returned to its former form. Which currently wore a mild pout and crossed stubby arms. “Why’d you let him get away? One more good one and he’d have jumped right out of his skin!” the Litwick’s annoyance was momentarily forgotten in favor a dark smirk.

Gemini hopped up onto the bed and leaned back with her feet on the pillow. “The door was in my way. Deal with it.” She added after giving a fanged yawn. Pharus gave a pout and floated overhead, flaming wick angled towards the ground when he idly turned upside down. “You need to lighten up, already.” He replied while briefly flaring his candle flame. Gemini tucked part of the blanket under her head and tried to get comfortable, “You need to get a life.” The Litwick merely leaned back until he was lazily rolling down the wall while maintaining a gently floating speed. “I would have if you hadn’t let it out, just now.” The Sneasel said nothing, opting instead to roll her eyes and try to sleep.

Where’d you go, anyway?"

No such luck.

Gemini went to snap at the floating candle when the sound of heavy bootsteps came from the front of the building. A simple call came through the doorway, “We’re home.” Gemini sat up and swung her feet over the side of the bed, pausing when something caught her eye. A small bag was sticking out from behind the workbench and sure enough, it had a metallic clink to it when she plucked it up with her claws. She turned and saw that the stone their human ‘hid’, and she used that term loosely, these metal things there until they could be traded for treats. Quick as a flash she pried up the loose stone and tucked the bag back where it was supposed to be, setting it back down and resuming her spot just as their human walked in. Denzil gave a tired smile to the duo, returning Pharus’s wave with one of his one.

He went to the workbench and carefully replaced the bandages on his arms for clean ones, being careful not to tear the burns open. With two of his partners watching he fought to keep the pain off of his face, if barely. His energy was already fading quickly while he kicked his boots off, shook the sand from his vest and settled onto the bed. He gave his neck a slow roll. It had to be close to dawn by now by how much his Ghost candle was yawning up on his shelf, with any luck he’d be able to catch some sleep as well before the forge opened in the morning. He gave Gemini a smile as he pulled her Pokeball and readied to return her, but stopped when she rushed forward. While not absent of affection this was the first time she had randomly hugged him like this. Well, if you didn’t count when she played assassin and jumped at his neck with her claws.

Mindful of his bandages he returned the embrace, surprised by just how cold she felt. The little Ice-Type held the hug for another second before pulling away and looking up at him with a look of…something. Relief? Had she been worried about something? Before he could question further Gemini had tapped the sphere in his hand, recalled herself with a brief flash of red light. Denzil sat dumbfounded for a moment, holding the ‘ball in his hand like it might break at any moment. He smiled with a tired sigh and secured the ‘ball with the rest of his family. He saw that Pharus had settled in for the day and looked for all the world like a half-melted stick of wax. “Mornin’ Pharus,” he uttered before settling back onto the pillow and closing his eyes. The Litwick gave a jaw-stretching yawn and fell still as stone in his rest a second later.

As Denzil drifted off to sleep he reflected on the day, how helping out the local baker had kickstarted this odd chain of events. Dorian and Jacob really had worked themselves to help with that fire. He was definitely going to have to do something nice for them, they’d earned it. Dorian would be happy with some blueberries from the marketplace but Jacob…he wasn’t really sure what the Mudbray liked besides mud and nibbling on Aloe plants. That was a question for the morning, now was time for sleep. He was just on the brink of dreamland, reflecting on just how tired helping out can make a person, when--.

"Oi!

Denzil jarred up from his bed hard enough to slip off and onto the floor. Standing in the doorway was the stout form of the Smithy, Kurt. His normal scowl had a hint of annoyance mixed in as he said, “Outta bed, ye dun’ ha’ plenty enough. We got work ta do, lad. Move ‘em!” Denzil gave a groan as he climbed to his feet, and found that Kurt was already heading to the forge proper by the time he was standing. He stretched his back until it gave a single popping sound and went to pull his boots back on. He gave the bed a final rueful smile before heading out to start the day. ‘I guess it’s true. No good deed does go unpunished.’.



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Author's Notes
-My primary goals for this FF were to expand my dimensions as a writer, branch out and make the story more real than I have up to this point. I tried a few new things here: the locational shift between main plot and sub-plot, expanding on the personalities of the Mons, showcase what they do out of the house on their own (for the most part), how the more trickery-minded Mons take the initiative, as well as leaving their Handler in the dark and trying to really show what Pharus could do as a Ghost-Type. I like to think this FF helped give some of the Mons their voice and made the read more enjoyable. It’s not so much character improvement, but it was definitely for personal improvement.

-As a few people have hinted during discussion, it was Gemini that was following them. I was tempted to have her do something at the warehouse fire scene as well, but with her Ice Typing decided against it. The final scare scene from Pharus was a combination of flame control on its wick, a bit of petty prankery with the bootlaces, a light play of Will-O-Wisp and a final Astonish at the end.

-Now for the fire. Saltpeter, aka Potassium was used as a food preservative in medieval times. It also heats up extremely quickly when exposed to water, and in large batches can even come off as explosive. More information on the material can be found below in case the reader is interested. A side note, this is also the secret behind the street magic trick of lighting a cigarette with an ice cube. Placing a very, very small amount of Potassium on the end of the cigarette before doing the trick in public, the street magician then places an ice cube against the same end until the heat from their hand melts it enough to trigger the reaction.

- Deposits of niter (potassium nitrate) are formed by decomposition of organic material in contact with atmosphere, mostly in caves; because of the good water solubility of niter the formation of larger deposits requires special environmental conditions. It occurs in nature as a mineral, niter. It is a source of nitrogen, which derives its name from it. Potassium nitrate is one of several nitrogen-containing compounds collectively referred to as saltpeter or saltpetre. Major uses of potassium nitrate are in fertilizers, tree stump removal, rocket propellants and fireworks. It is one of the major constituents of gunpowder (black powder) and has been used since the Middle Ages as a food preservative.

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W
 Posted: Jun 16 2018, 06:13 AM
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Senior Handler
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Okay, so first, before I start, everything I say here is constructive criticism. I did, indeed, read your notes so that I know what your aim was / is, but do know that there’s several things that I wanted to note so you know for next time.

I’ve already stressed this to you once, but I highly, highly, highly suggest re-reading and proofreading your posts for the future. The great thing about free forms is you can be “finished” with it, but you also don’t have to submit it the moment it’s ‘finished’. By letting yourself not rush ahead, you can go through and reread to catch grammar mistakes and missing words (both of which were littered in your posts which sometimes made it hard to follow).

As for realism, I do want to point out that in Navdia Crater, most of the houses would be standalone, so that while a fire might start, the chances of it spreading are pretty rare. Likewise, most of the buildings are stone or adobe, so the rare fire of houses (or a warehouse?) are slim. Also, I found it strange that Denzil was getting close enough to this fire to splash water on it. Even though he’s been near fire before because of his forge work, that’s completely different than being next to a raging fire.

Also, if the Slowpoke could take care of the fire with literally one move, why did they wait so long to do it? I understand wanting to showcase the use the guy’s Pokemon, but at the same time, it just doesn’t really make any sense realistically? If your entire storage of food, goods, etc., was on fire, you’d want to put it out as soon as possible.

As I said when I started, everything I said is constructive. Overall, despite the flaws in realism and the grammar point, this thread was rather interesting, and I think you covered your goals relatively well. Therefore, I’m awarding Denzil 3 exp for this thread. That brings him to Level 06, 4.2/10 EXP. He does not level up. For this thread, I’m awarding Dorian and Jacob 2 EXP, Gemini 1 EXP and Pharus 3 EXP.

This brings Pharus to 7.5/8 EXP. Dorian moves to Level 15, 1.5/6 but learns no new moves. Gemini remains at level 05, with 3/4 EXP. Jacob levels up to 06, 0/4 EXP. He learns no new moves.

As a note, the burn on Denzil’s arm will not be permanent, but he will now have a rather obvious discoloration from the fire. He’s also missing 45 gold, as even though the thief didn’t steal it all, he wasn’t stupid enough to not pocket some of it.

As usual, if you have questions, don’t hesitate to let me know via PM.


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Aneirin "Nirin/Nye" Vaughan
profile | travels | dev | training

ArkBoaz "Ark" Reuter
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