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Tonkin has been drinking. A lot.; Sorry for the long delay, you lot.
Topic Started: Oct 31 2007, 01:02 PM (523 Views)
Foxy
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It's time to take off the little boy gloves!
Setting: Unclearable Fog Marsh in Murmur Valley.

A match flares in the cold morning air, a solitary flame hovering over some familiar apothecary. Sucked down, a bubbling sound, and silence stands without a care. I sigh out the wispy remnants and draw in some more; groping, always groping, for that familiar escape Ive come to adore. Puff, puff, never enough. Ill be chasing the high until the day I lay down and finally die.

Weve only just begun our descent into the marsh and already feel trapped by the fogs squeezing hands. It seems that no amount of fans could clear the fog from these swampy lands. My squinted eyes peer through the mist, searching for signs of life that I may have missed. Nothing here; just a deserted frontier.

In front of me rests a small black box. The fact that someone remembered my birthday was quite a shock- but how could one forget, when it rests on a day such as this? My grubby hands bring it close, hoping it is bereft of ghosts, and steadily untie the ribbons that hold it composed.

I peer inside, expecting a note of some kind, but instead I find that the cubicle contains a pokeball that is well-confined. A piece of parchment sticks out from beneath, and I pull it out from underneath. It is postmarked from Deepwood town; a long way from the marshes of deadened black and brown.

I wish you all the best; may his skills aid your quest.

Scribbled underneath is my fathers name.

Posted Image

I take the orb in hand, weighing it in my palm, and toss it a meter or so away. It cracks against the ground and erupts out a glowing red form. When it reforms into a solid shape, I have to stand up to see it properly.

Whats your name? I say. I find it a shock to hear Doc in my mind with little delay. So your name is Doc. Lets meet the crew, shall we?

I procure the gangs orbs and toss them at my feet. Its the first chance Ive had to see Nims incomplete fist, so I am excited to see how hes taking the new twist; will he be somber or will he be pissed? As soon as Gillian forms and notices Doc, she squeals with excitement and rushes to meet him. Nim stays still and examines his hand, then tugs at my pants with an obvious demand. I nod and withdraw some stags, handing one to the monkey and lighting mine with a long drag. Nim puts his to his mouth and effortlessly lights the end with his tail. The sweet smell of tobacco seems to calm him down.

I stare at the impassive Kadabra and Gillian hugging one another; they both belonged to my father, so Doc must seem like her brother. My match is still burning so I bring it to my lips. Happy birthday, I say, and blow it out without a wish.

(Interesting mods only, please. My last thread was a complete disaster of generic bullshit. Thanks!)
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We gonna run run run to the cities of the future.
APL=~17.5

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SuperSephroth13
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Semi-Constructive Criticism
0.3 Aww :]

Somebody had enjoyed the fine dinings of the evening. Strolling through the dense thickets of bushes there came an interesting looking character. A HootHoot, but not just any Hoothoot, it was a cultured creature. It wore a monocle...how it got it's hands on such a item I can never tell, nor do I know. The creature carried itself as a well-to-do bird, with an upper class flare. His saunter was filled with intellectual tastes and a snobbish, uptight demeanor. The bird was something of an epicure, and looked to enjoy the finer things in life, such as wine, good food, and expensive tailoring. He is also an aficionado of the arts, including opera, classical music, theater, and antiquities. The bird waddled past the birthday boy and his celebration, two Pokemon hugging and a dwarf blowing out a "candle". The bird saw the small man and his make shift candle blown out. It had seemed the fire haired man was enjoying himself a fine tool for smoking, the bird showed some interest.

The bird seemed to be something else, he carried himself differently then other birds of his stature. He looked extremely pompous and verbose, the bird made a bow to honor the birthday boy's age. It had seemed he put the pieces together that something was up, a present box and a joyous gathering of Pokemon. Either that or the bird was prone to making grand, melodramatic declarations regarding his intentions and making the most of every opportunity to make a spectacle of himself. The bird stood up straight and bulked out his chest, making himself appear more round then usual. The bird waddled forward and procured a card, handing it forward to the man. Perhaps it said "Gil Nile Chesterton, Attorney At Law." But all the card read was "hoot." How appropriate. The bird seemed to be making "small talking" by introducing himself, with only hoot on the card. How he came across business cards and a monocle I'll never tell. I swear it.


:hoothoot :ml
30/30
~Making small talk with the commoners.
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GEXP: 12.0
Pokemon: Charmeleon, Munchlax, Luxio
APL: 22
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Foxy
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It's time to take off the little boy gloves!
.2

If there's one thing I hate the most, it's the Man. Always bringing us down with his crooked plan; what I really can't stand is his orderly scam. Driving around in his expensive Lexus sedan, or his gas-guzzling van, all he does is ruin what's good and right in our green land.

The business card is what did it for me. So I call Gillian over to deliver our righteous decree.

She confronts the bird with a bold shove, then does the only thing she can think of. She screams white snow, radiating with a silvery glow, right into the Man's peckish face.

She then splits into many, grinning with a crooked smile, and surrounds the Man, all the while without a care; if any.

---=---

:snorunt :fl
31/31 :hp
<Blizzard + Double Team>
Need I remind thee that it is superadoo effectiveroo?

Vs!

:hoothoot :ml
30/30
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We gonna run run run to the cities of the future.
APL=~17.5

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SuperSephroth13
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0.2
Whilst rarely heeding the advice given to him by others, Hoothoot himself is full of advice to impart, and offers the benefit of his counsel to the extent that he frequently meddles in the affairs and relationships of others. The bird's meddling - and the adverse consequences it frequently leads to in his life - is not intended maliciously, however; he is extremely well-meaning and eager to please, and desires nothing more than to be liked and popular. On the whole, he genuinely does desire to help people and is a fundamentally good and kindhearted person. But the little...cone...smiley...face thing, had other plans for the flight given "man".


The ice stung like a night after sleeping with a dirty tramp. The bird toppled over and fell, his monocle fleeing from his face and landed a mere inches from his carcass. The bird laid beaten and battered as a group of laughing faces watch him fall into his sleep. The vision would haunt his dreams forever.


.09 :exp to Gillian.
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GEXP: 12.0
Pokemon: Charmeleon, Munchlax, Luxio
APL: 22
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Foxy
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It's time to take off the little boy gloves!
.1

When everything is over with, I recall Gillian and Doc into their orbs, into the peace and quiet of their red and white worlds. What more could one ask but for a few walls and some clean floors? However, it just so happens that our stuff is becoming a burden, so I leave Nim out to shoulder the pack as our new stuffwarden.

'A marching tune!' I propose with some flair. 'So we may reach our destination quite soon. Take those stones in hand and clip-clop away, and I too shall take up my instrument and play.'

My bapipes produced, I lay down a tune, and Nim and I walk into the oncoming day.

The mist starts to thin as we slope downward into a particularly misty valley, and quickly enough something awesome looms in the fog. A castle, out here, in this green and white land? What kings stayed here and what bards sung in their lonely band? What tales were told that inspired the bold, and what wars were fought here in the ice and the cold?

My head is spinning as we approach and halt outside the castle walls. Nim's clip-clopping fades to a halt and my piping tune falls. I pause, then call out in a deep baritone call, 'Who is the lord of this castle I see? What remnants of people might dwindle so free?'

To my surprise a head appears, peering over the castle ramparts. A Frenchman! He's wearing gaudy armors and a shiny pointed helm. There is no escaping his insults.

'Who are you, yooou filthy Celtic kerrrrsnibbet! What brings you to my conspicuous le castllle!?'

I am outraged.

'My name is Tonkin Knox, son of Dimitri Knox, and I request that you take me to your master with no delay! You see, I am in search of my muse, but I doubt I would find it here among such a cliche.'

The Frenchman makes a most outrageous face. 'In search of a muse, you say! Typical stinky Celtic fishmongering lies! A muse! Ehh, you see, we how you say, already have one! It's very niiice-uh.' I am quite shook. 'Well can't I at least come and have a look?' The Frenchman is quite clearly mad. He sputters, 'No! The muse is very secret! We would never let a vagabond sideshow act such as yourself into our ouuuutrageous castle!'

'Fine, I've had enough. Let's go Nim, before this gets rough.' I turn and begin to resume a lively hum on my pipes, and Nim follows carrying our stuff and knick-knocking the stones together.

Heading into: Mist Valley
Destination: Sinklands 1.
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We gonna run run run to the cities of the future.
APL=~17.5

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SuperSephroth13
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0.3


The blank landscape, a dense fog. All the theatrics for a climatic battle in instruments. Well, I say to you sir. Challenge accepted. Through the silence, came a simple creature. Shaped like a mushroom with a very small stem came from a shrub. Looking at the orange hair dwarf and nodded. Pulling a leak flute out of hammerspace and nodded. Funny thing about hammerspace, ever hear about it? It refers to the use of a character's inventory in games such as these, which can often contain more items than is physically possible for the creature to carry or are simply too large, without any visible means to hold or transport them. Possibly I could suggest that this shroomish was carrying around some kind of invisible mystical bag where he could keep everything without fear of encumbrance and could pull out any item at will. Thus comes in with a leak flute.

He looked at the leak flute and then blew into it, an awkward noise emitted and sadness overcame him. The flute dropped because the charade that Shroomish had hands as passed. The Shroomish looked up with a pout and blinked. Unable to comprehend a thought of what to do. He couldn't summon the ability to play an instrument let alone hold one. What say you sir?


:shroomish :ml
36/36
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GEXP: 12.0
Pokemon: Charmeleon, Munchlax, Luxio
APL: 22
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Foxy
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It's time to take off the little boy gloves!
The piper produces a feeble attempt, but clearly with musical intent, and the playing intrigues me to no end. Perhaps I shall teach him and make a new friend? A companion, perhaps, to aid me on my quest. I steady my song in hopes that the minstrel will play along, and continue my march as Nim motions for him to follow along. The tune is simple, one I hope he can play, so I think he'll pursue without musical delay.

Our merry band marches along, following a path toward an area less misty; Nim's beat resembles that of hooves, clopping and knocking and far from wispy.

---=---

Does the Shroomish follow along? Heading into the Soggy Dirt and out of the thread.
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We gonna run run run to the cities of the future.
APL=~17.5

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KaiserTheDragon
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Dragon of Cerberus
The shroomish looked up at you with glee, it seemed to be happy that you wanted it to tag with thee. Follow you, it did, through the marshy ground and towards the less foggy area. At last you made it to the Soggy Dirt.
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(click the pic to go to my profile)
APL = 5.8
G. EXP - 0.5
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Foxy
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It's time to take off the little boy gloves!
There is a disheartening dampness about this place; a chill hangs like a beaded curtain, suffocating all of my breathing space. Spiders duck in and out of my dreams, and faces, just faces, whisper past and vanish into the falling fog, only leaving their sticky spidersilk webs to try and ensnare me. The strands flick about for a moment before shriveling into a cathedral of cobwebs dripping with hideous black arachnids.

Im in my darkest place here. I can feel smoke and ash in the air, feeding off of my ficklest fears and sniggering sneers. My dream is devoid of cheer, a piercing veneer leaves a feeling of dripping- Im dripping beer in this lonely world where numbers are king and words start to disappear.

My eyes budge awake in the dark. Blink, blink. I shake my head, reminding myself to try not to sleep. My nightmares are too vivid and distressingly deep. I contract upward, pushing off the soggy dirt with a groan, and glare around at the musty gloam. Im quite alone.

Fuck this, I hiss, and stand up to piss. Something has been calling me east, so to the east I have chased the beastly muse I miss so much. My troupe has been at rest, all caged up so they cant resist what I intrinsically insist; a journey from the mist, out of the Gods test.

All done, I mumble. Take that! I grumble, and zip up my britches.

Its going to be a cold day when morning wood is soft as clay.

---=---

Goofing off in the Soggy Dirt.
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We gonna run run run to the cities of the future.
APL=~17.5

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Jolt
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Reach for the stars, and you'll hit the roof.
.3 (I think the Soggy Dirt is still in the Murmur Valley, you can't really tell on the Area Map. If its in a different area, take this mod with you when you go... so... here it is.)


Tinkle tinkle toc, the squirrel ran up to the cock. Covered in piss, the rodent felt it had been dissed. Not wanting to sit and comply with such an act, the squirrel growled in your direction, warning you to move on with you and your pack.

Pachirisu had been going through a bad day. Not only had it just been pissed on, but someone had stolen its pay. Out searching for nuts to stuff in its mouth, thigns had gone south. Another pokemon, a bug to be exact, beat it to a pulp, and stole its snack. Such a bad day for a squirrel. Now, it was gonna give fighting you a whirl.

The rodent followed you into the soggy dirt, unwilling to let the meeting go on without a flirt. It hopped in your path, ready to make you feel its wrath. Covered in piss the squirrel glared with intensity, meanwhile all around you the fog was losing its density. Passing through without handling this squirrel was not an option. Now was the time for action.

:pachirisu
:fl
level 18
36/36
*Has piss on it. You accidentally pee don the rodent... or maybe not so accidentally, whichever.*
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APL - 68.4
Crobat, Rhyperior, Kingdra, Houndoom, Persian

Excuse me, is your refrigerator running?
Because if it is, it probably runs like you - very homosexually.

-Peter Griffin

Your mama wears cowboy boots to bed.
How do I know?
I had sexual relations with your mama.

-Steve Carell

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I'm a dude, playin' a dude, disguised as another dude.
You a dude that don't know what dude he is!

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