ヽ(´▽`)/
SAMERRA
Arionne's willing love slave[M:-2599:0:0:]
Posts: 866
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Post by ヽ(´▽`)/ on Nov 25, 2007 10:43:17 GMT -5
Soren smiled as he sat on the soft grass. It was nice to find a place where Winter hadn't reached, and probably never will reach. The sun was hanging from the sky, shining over the endless grass plains.
"Come on out, you three," he said, letting his pokemon out to be able to enjoy the sun as well. "Don't stray too far now."
While Elsu, his Farfetch'd nodded and flew into the air, stretching his wings, Moris opted to fly small circles overhead, coming down to rest every few minutes. Allyra was cheerfully hoping among the flowers.
Soren smiled as he watched his pokemon play around. He soon found himself lying on the ground, watching the clouds, and the occasional pokemon, fly overhead in the brilliant blue sky. When he closed his eyes, he could still smell the Winter air, even though everything else felt like spring around here.
Deciding not to be too bothered by the weird mix of seasons, he let himself relax and soak up the much appreciated sun. His hair would be full of grass when he got up, and his clothes would be rather wrinkled, but he didn't exactly care too much at the moment.
Besides, it wasn't as if anyone was here to see him...
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Post by bran on Nov 25, 2007 11:17:12 GMT -5
His hair full of sun and his eyes full of ever-reaching awe, Hollister walked without aim and without purpose through the field. Or perhaps he did have a purpose; to escape. Escape not from someone hot on his heels with the desire to kill him, but instead from his life and all of the commitments that tended accumulate during the day or rather, several days. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just let himself be, let himself enjoy the sun and nature in general, and now it felt good to be able to walk through an area such as this and not have to worry about finding some place to bed for the night. He could just be and not go scoping out possible locales that would prevent him from getting eaten by Luxray or Ursaring--not that Ursaring lived in flat areas devoid of trees like this anyway as they were more for the mountainous and hilly forest areas--and that meant a great deal to someone who’d spent the majority of his life out in nature, enjoying this and that, talking to babbling brooks, and listening to the whispering wind. This was his home and this being the first time in a while he’d had a chance to just kick up his feet and relax, he was deadest on enjoying it all. Not that he didn’t enjoy winter, but there was nothing like looking out over green grass with the occasional speckling of bright flowers. Nothing like feeling sunlight beat warmly on to your skin, warming you from within and making everything feel alive in sharp contrast to the oftentimes violent cold of winter afternoons such as this. While he didn’t believe in perfection, this was pretty close, as close as he would ever get, and he was perfectly okay with that. But to set aside the pun, he walked about in brown shorts with an innumerable supply of pockets it seemed and a long-sleeved grey and maroon banded shirt with a somewhat open collar and the sleeves pushed back to his elbows. Pushed back even though his mother told him not to do that because it only stretched out the sleeves and made them pretty much useless so there was no point in wearing it anymore, but she wasn’t here to scold him now and while the mom was away, the boy would push back his sleeves and soak up some much needed sun.
Already a naturally pale boy, winter bleached his skin to the color of bone left to bake in the sun, and having been walking around for an hour or so, he was just starting to approach a nice healthy peach tone though he would definitely be freckling later on. He grinned at the Jumpluff he saw floating on a wind that tickled his legs with swaying bits of grass and waved to them, upping his speed to a light jog through the grass, his feet bare and slipping easily over the surface of the ground like a nymph of the land. Hand still waving, body moving with grace and nimble agility, he laughed the boyish laugh of the innocent and carefree, not feeling rocks that sank into the bottoms of his feet that only fell away again. The pain wasn’t worth missing out on it. The Jumpluff began doing aerial acrobatics, moving in arcs and swooping here and there, spinning like ballerinas of the clouds. Their skin cast off a brilliant hue and their seed pods emitted seedlings of downy white that, because of their rotation, fell in a spiral downward, dancing in time to the Jumpluff lilting in their movements above. It was a gorgeous sight and all of Hollister’s attention was drawn to them, drawn to that amazing sight unfolding before his eyes. Their voices blended into a gorgeous melody, one that carried over the flat land and seemed to get swept up into the grass itself as all five of them synchronized and harmonized and yet each held its own flair of originality, individuality. An individual in a crowd of others exactly like himself. His mouth canted open as they continued dispersing the seedlings all over the land for a moment, he felt himself grow still, his body stopping to watch. They were being carried far, and he felt a great sadness in watching them leave, but he couldn’t help but to feel comforted by the strains of their song that remained with him, stirring in the grass.
“Wow!”
That was all that he could say and it still seemed fitting. Something such as what he’d just witnessed deserved to be free from human description because, quite frankly, words were feeble in encompassing the full, spiritual movement Hollister had just experienced watching that display. How many others could say the same? Watching them until they became nothing but shadows in the distance, he sat down Indian-fashion put his chin in his hands while his elbows rested on his knees. Grinning evermore and watching with big, dark blue eyes that seemed so out of place in someone so pale and with hair the color of hay, he took a chance to at last look around and when he finally realized that he wasn’t alone, he fell back in fright! Who was that! Sitting back up and shaking his head, he smiled nervously at the stranger and waved, the movement was small…uncertain.
”Hello! The person was a good five or six feet off to the right at an angle, but the green grass wasn’t high and he could see him just fine so obviously you had to say hello or that was just asking for trouble. Unless of course he was one of those people who hated being talked to. In which case, an apology was owed. Flushing furiously, he averted his eyes and gulped. ”Sorry to bug you. Just thought I’d say ‘hi.’” Sheepish smile followed by a quick aversion of the eyes to the blue, blue sky absent of Jumpluff, but filled with a few fluffy clouds. Maybe they’d come back. And maybe this guy won’t punch my face in.
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ヽ(´▽`)/
SAMERRA
Arionne's willing love slave[M:-2599:0:0:]
Posts: 866
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Post by ヽ(´▽`)/ on Nov 25, 2007 11:35:13 GMT -5
Soren's eyes snapped open when he heard a human voice. It wasn't too hard to spot the boy calling him, for the grass provided next to no shelter. He got up, patting down the blades of grass that stuck to his hair and clothes.
He didn't trust that boy. Even though he never met him before, it was a human, and he didn't trust humans, no matter how friendly they might seem. His eyes narrowed into a glare, clearly showing his distrust. However, he might... maybe... try to get to know the person a bit better... It was nice to be with humans once in a while, even if they were disgusting.
He opened his mouth to reply, but Allyra, his spoink, was already there.
"Spoink!" she said, bouncing on her tail over to Hollister. <Heeeey there!>
Soren wanted to glare at his Pokémon for being so careless, but found it hard to be angry at the Spoink.
"Hi," he said, uncertainly.
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Post by bran on Nov 25, 2007 12:15:54 GMT -5
A tense silence had settled between the two of them and Hollister felt somewhat off-balance when his greeting was met with stoic rejection. There was something to be said about a quiet refusal to acknowledge someone’s existence, but none of them were nice and so he decided to not think about that. Maybe instead, the boy simply hadn’t heard him! Yeah! That was a possibility, right? After all, who went around being sulky and angry and grumpy and really, really mean to people that they didn’t know at all? He recounted back to his neighbor, Old Man Hank, and thought that it was very much possible to be mean to someone you didn’t know as Hank had showed on numerous occasions. The man was a terror, a horror, and downright mean to anyone and anything that got anywhere near his carefully-bounded lawn, snarling and roaring like a beast set free on the rest of civilization by some deity who thought it funny to watch people be terrorized by a four feet man with a slump in his back and brimstone on his breath. Hollister sincerely hoped that this wasn’t one of those situations and cautiously watched the stranger out of the corner of his eye with a wary fear twisting and knotting over and over in the pit of his stomach. Oh boy. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. He was going to get eaten or chopped up and fed to wild Poochyena or something like that! Which, now that he thought about it, was really the same thing, but those mistakes could be overlooked when one’s life was on the line, right? Darn right. He licked his dry lips, feeling their tender fullness and sighing in relief when they were at last wet and moist as opposed to dry and aching as they always did when he became nervous and fearful (which, if you knew anything about Hollister, was quite often) , and he glanced out over the horizon. If the got attacked, so be it. All of this worrying was only going to make him sick and today was far too pretty to be sick.
Pretty and full of random surprises because the moment he stopped watching the stranger, he got himself a nice little headpiece. One that caused him to blink at the sudden addition of weight to his head and to crane his neck and eyes upward to see just what it was sitting on his head. A Spoink! There’s a pearl on the head of the Spoink on the head of the boy on the ground on the Earth in the universe in the… Yeah. He found it infinitely amusing and laughed a bit at the odd, but not altogether bad greeting, waving up at the little pig with the coiled tail as if it were perfectly natural to wave at people sitting on your head. “Well. Hello to you too.” Cheeks filled with smiles and face filled with good nature, Hollister felt all of his previous apprehension drain away. Pokémon had that effect on Hollister, always putting him in a positive mindset and making everything worthwhile. They always smoothed his ruffled feathers and put everything in his mind back right. He could feel the majority of Spoink’s weight being transferred to his head, but it wasn’t much to contend with given its small stature so he didn’t complain, letting it remain in place for a bit longer though it wasn’t long (maybe ten or so seconds) before he finally grinned a bit and lifted his hands to transfer Spoink from his head to the ground, still eager to have it near him, just not on his head. Now that he could fully study the little piglet, he found it even more endearing! It’s pearl got the sun just right and give off a pale, lavender sheen, it’s charcoal grey, smooth coat glistening with stray bits of flower petals along its side complimented the adorable snout that he knew to be quite powerful in terms of smell. ”Aren’t you just the friendliest thing.” His voice was soft, gentle as he stroked Spoink’s side with his thumb, smiling down at it. Far from the condescending baby talk that some used to address those they saw as intellectually inferior, it was simply a voice devoid of pretense. A voice meant to communicate on a basic, unpolluted level.
And somehow, in the middle of it, a shadow darkened his world and he looked up, squinting somewhat, to find the boy from earlier standing over him and the Spoink. ”Oh,” he murmured softly, ashamed. Obviously, the stranger didn’t like others touching his Pokemon--Hollister was assuming that this was the trainer of the little Spoink--and now he’d done TWO things to make this guy mad! Great! But before he backed away entirely, he smiled his most sincere smile, hand lightly clasping Spoink’s paw and shaking it gently up and down. ”Your Spoink’s a real livewire. Seems really friendly.” He released Spoink’s hand and stood, extending his own hand now to the trainer as he’d been told to countless times growing up and deciding to do it now rather than face a guilty conscience over it now. ”By the way, I’m Hollister. Hollister Holt.” So far so good. Unless this guy didn’t do handhakes, then he’d be standing there looking like a complete and total idiot. So he used his other hand to pull two poke balls from his belt and nimbly toss them up into the air, letting the ivory light spill from the balls and on to the grass before he caught them again, nearly fumbling one. And from the flickering white beams of light emerged a Weedle and a Meditite. Both stretched, but Meditite quickly scampered over to Hollister’s ankle, immediately not comfortable with his unfamiliar surroundings (though that would change soon enough) while Weedle… well, Weedle scoped out the field then slowly slithered over toward Hollister, apparently wondering why oh why his nice nap had been interrupted. ”And this is my team. Guys, say hello!”
Meditite, being far friendlier and open to meeting new people, beamed and began bouncing around energetically. “TIIIIIITE!” Spotting Spoink, he tackled it to the ground and indulged in a overly enthusiastic hug to show just how happy he was to see her and naturally since fighting types tended to be a bit strong for their ages, the grip was undoubtedly uncomfortable. Weedle, however, only climbed up Hollister’s leg, rested on his shoulder and boredly watched the exchange. Taciturn couldn’t possibly begin to describe the little bugger, Hollister thought to himself and only sighed. Maybe one of these days, he’d outgrow that arrogant streak of his…maybe.
“So! What brings you to paradise?”
I really hope he shakes soon, my arms' getting really tired.
[OOC: I PP'ed a tiiiiiiny bit with a Meditite hugging Spoink. Feel free to it or have Spoink pry him off. =) Whatever works for you.]
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ヽ(´▽`)/
SAMERRA
Arionne's willing love slave[M:-2599:0:0:]
Posts: 866
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Post by ヽ(´▽`)/ on Nov 25, 2007 13:04:05 GMT -5
Soren looked at the boy for a few seconds.
So, he was the kind that pretended to be your friend first, before showing his true nature? Well, he guessed he could pretend to be oblivious to that fact and act friendly as well...
"Soren," he muttered, barely audible. "From the Jinn Clan."
Hopefully, the human wouldn't know about the clan, since said clan was known for being Swellow morphs and he certainly was not one of them. The human blood running through his veins prevented him from being like everyone else, and he hated it.
Slowly, he walked over to shake the hand, trying hard not to shudder at the touch. He couldn't believe he was actively touching a human... He released the hand rather quickly, retreating it back into the folds of his clothing.
"And that's Allyra," he added, cocking his head over a bit to bring attention to his Spoink.
Said Spoink seemed to rather enjoy being manhandled by that Meditite and simply bounced around happily, letting out cries of "Spoink!" every so often. She seemed to like the psychic/fighting Pokémon quite a bit, actually, and tried to show her affection by using a Splash attack.
Soren eyed the other Pokémon. A weedle. Even though small now, it would be a formidable opponent in the future, once it evolved into a Beedrill.
He took a deep breath and forced a smile. It looked rather awkward, but it'd have to do for now.
"Winter's rather cold on the First Route, so I came here to warm up a bit," he said. "My Pokémon also enjoy flying in a warmer environment."
Looking into the sky, he saw his Wingull, not too far away, flying back down to land on his shoulder. He called his Farfetch'd over with a whistle and the bird Pokémon slowly flew over, going from a small black dot in the sky to a well-defined bird. He seemed to have found this... stick, which he held in his claws.
"And here they are. My team."
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Post by bran on Nov 25, 2007 14:00:33 GMT -5
”Soren,” Hollister rolled the word around on his tongue to try it out. It felt foreign and the absolute definition of strange, different from himself, but he had no problem with that. It was like discovering some new treasure locked away for all of his life that he had accidentally stumbled across. This new word, this new collection of letters and their interlocking sounds brought to the light yet more possibilities for the spoken language and the ever expanding mystery that was communication widened up a bit more when Hollister spoke the other trainer’s name with a small smile staining his lips. His handshake was brushed aside by Soren, sure enough, but he felt newly encouraged to continue being friendly and smiled happily at making a new acquaintance, completely ignoring the fact that Soren was about as frosty as Route 1 that first day he’d set out and he eased his hands into his pockets, pushing out his pelvis just slightly and tilting his torso backward just slightly. Such a boyish stance, such a childish and carefree body composure, but they’d shook hands and that was as good a promise to be civil as any peace treaty. Take a man at his word, but bind him at the handshake. The words whispered to him by his grandpa as he sat on his lip almost ten years ago still rang true and as one bright-faced boy smiled at a somber youth, they were never truer to Hollister. “Well, Soren, it’s nice to meet you.” At that moment, two bird Pokemon, summoned by a shrill whistle that had only made Hollister smile more though this time it was in polite confusion as he had known what it was directed at landed lightly on Soren’s shoulders and Hollister stared in slack-jawed amazement. Such control. Such a bond. He instantly felt jealous of it because no matter what he did, his Weedle only sneered in disdain at him and continued on doing whatever it was doing in the first place. And Meditite. Well, Meditite was barely in one place long enough to be told what to do so he didn’t really count. It was impressive to say the least and Hollister laughed softly to show his utter amazement.
”Wow. That’s a cool trick… how long did it take you get them to listen to you like that?” His inexperience showed painfully, and he was taking a big risk revealing it to a competitor, but Hollister didn’t believe in hiding things like that. What threat did this guy present to him? The lack of killer instinct was both a godsend and a curse for him, but he was oblivious for the most part to his lack of foresight and continued to gawk openly. One day, it’d all come back to bite him in the rear, for sure, but for now, he was just curious. Weedle, however, only watched its trainer with sheer frustration and annoyance, circular eyes drawing into narrow and fine hairs standing on in. He gave an almost inaudible hiss and vibrated his body segments in sheer annoyance. What if the enemy attacked here and now?! He would know that they were inexperienced! Know that they were untested in battle and snuff them out accordingly! This idiot of a human, and Weedle grew more and more aware that he’d been stuck with and idiot trainer as the days wore on, had just revealed their entire hand to the foe! What a moron. Young as he was, there were certain things bred from instinct and not revealing your level of skill to someone who could be a grave threat was one of those things. Bluffing was universal and Weedle knew it like a good friend, but apparently this dope knew nothing about it! He plunged his feet down into Hollister’s shoulders, digging in as deeply as he could, warning him to run away, but apparently the fool thought it was funny and only laughed and squirmed before brushing at him. Feeling frustrated and wanting very much to retreat before someone got hurt (if he was going to get stronger, he had to protect these fools from harm), Weedle began scratching at Hollister with his barb, not secreting poison, but definitely poking enough to cause discomfort and if idiot thought that it tickled, there’d be hell to pay. ”Cut it out, Weedle.” Hollister brushed Weedle’s barb from his cheek with a small grimace of pain, wondering just what had gotten into his companion. Maybe it was the fact that bird Pokemon… ate bug Pokemon? Oh! He hadn’t thought of that! But it wasn’t as if they were attacking or anything! Weedle was just being Weedle again. Insistent, spoiled, and stubborn. Frowning a bit, he transferred Weedle to the ground only to have it wrap around his wrist. ”What’s gotten into you?!”
“WEE-DLE!” [/I] Why coud the fool not see the danger present?! Why was he being so thick about all of this?! It wasn’t that hard of a concept to comprehend. Us good, them bad, we run. No wonder his species was so heavy-handed and heavy-footed in everything they did! Subtly was completely lost on them! ”So sorry about my Weedle,” Hollister apologized, smiling weakly at Soren and standing with Weedle still wrapped around his arm. Weedle looked scandalized at being apologized for and tightened his grip, nibbling on Hollister’s fingers which only caused the boy to giggle and chuckle. ”Gah! Weedle! That tickles! A final huff of frustration from Weedle and then he slid down Hollister’s arm, back to the ground and wrapped around his leg, watching Soren and his Pokemon with narrowed eyes. Eyes that missed nothing. He didn’t trust them. There was something not right and Weedle didn’t like it. Meditite, however, had on such misgivings and bounded about with Allyra, still attached to her and giving what could only be construed as a giggle in the Meditite language. He spared his trainer a second glance only once before letting himself go and reveling in the making of a new friend. He loved all things new! He loved being in the fray of things, when anything and everything could change in a moment! What was the point with doing the same thing over and over again? He couldn’t wait until he got a bit older so that he could get into some of the more interesting situations he’d heard about, but for now, he was content with catching a piggyback ride from this Spoink. That seemed really nice and like himself so that made it all the better. But as he glanced back to where the others stood, his ashen face grew still and he blinked. “Tiiiite…”[/I] Patting Allyra lightly on the back, he pointed in the direction of their trainers and fellow team members. “Tite!” He didn’t want to miss anything tugged lightly on Allyra’s ears, not enough to hurt, but just enough to let her know that he wanted to change directions. From where they were, he could see Weedle coiled around Hollister’s leg and knew that that meant one thing and one thing only: trouble. Prompted to roll his eyes, because Weedle had a habit of blowing things far out of proportion, he squealed and giggled some more. Trouble or no trouble, he was enjoying himself.
”So! You have three Pokemon? That must be a handful. My two are driving me up the wall…” Glancing down at Weedle wrapped around his ankle, he chuckled lightly. ”But I’m having a blast. Still. Three! And two are flying types. And a Farfetch’D to boot. I don’t see a lot of those around. How’d you come across that one?”
When all else fails, ramble, ramble, ramble.[/font][/size][/color]
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ヽ(´▽`)/
SAMERRA
Arionne's willing love slave[M:-2599:0:0:]
Posts: 866
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Post by ヽ(´▽`)/ on Nov 25, 2007 15:19:45 GMT -5
It felt weird to have someone say his name normally. Or at least, without spitting it out as if it was something nasty or using it to taunt him. It sounded a lot better than "Half-breed", at any case.
"I have my way with birds," he told Hollister. "They seem to understand what I want..."
He didn't mention that it was thanks to his Pokemorph blood. The less people that knew about it, the better. It was the few gifts he had kept from being only a half morph. That, and being rather sensitive to the air and the changes in the wind. Those were the only things he inherited from his father. Sometimes, he wished it was more, so that he too, could fly in the air as a graceful Swellow. Instead, all he had was this ugly mark, branded painfully on his forehead when he was four and his father realized he was incapable to do anything.
As the weedle attacked his trainer, Soren found it hard not to laugh at the rather amusing scene. Meris seemed to find it funny too as she let out what could only be a laugh.
"It's all right," said Soren. "I'm sure he'll listen to you more as you get to know each other better."
"Spoooinnk?" The pokemon turned her head as the Meditite pat her back. She let herself get led until she was facing the two boys and their pokemon. "Spooink!" She giggled with the little Meditite. Even though the situation seemed a bit weird, if her friend was laughing, then it had to be funny!
"They aren't too bad," answered Soren. "Allyra can be a handful sometimes, but these two aren't too bad." Meris flapped his wings while Elsu, standing at Soren's feet, stuck his chest out, proudly, holding his stick in his wing. "I got this little one at a giveaway."
He really hoped that the boy would stop rambling. This had to be the most consecutive words he had said to a human in his life. He didn't even talk to his mother that much! Well, she wasn't that talkative either, so that did explain things, but really... How much can one person say?
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Post by bran on Nov 25, 2007 16:02:51 GMT -5
Weedle was not amused. Far from it. He was growing more and more disconcerted that he and his comrades were going to get dragged off into the forest somewhere and eaten alive or worse yet, pounced on right then and there, ripped limb from limb (for a Pokémon with as many body segments as Weedle, this was a scary thought), and then fed to the birds, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. No matter what he did, no one seemed to take his warnings seriously. As if they knew better than he did! As if they had been snatched from their home by some invading force! As if they knew what signs to look for and knew the wisdom in being cautious! What did they know? Bitter anger and resentment filled Weedle’s mind and he only wrapped tighter around Hollister’s ankle. The fools didn’t know anything and they were about to get themselves killed because of it. This was not a game. This was survival and here they were carrying on and laughing like Caterpie and for goodness sake, everyone knew what fools Caterpie were. Helpless, spineless fools. And what was worse was that Weedle could see it, just see it, and there was nothing he could do to get the message out. He’d tried everything! His eyes wandered from the trainers to the Pokemon, lingering warily on the birds especially as an instinctual fear welled up in his digestive tract. Those things were trouble and he knew that the moment his trainer turned his back, he was dinner. Just great. Not only were his trainer and fellow Pokémon about to get destroyed, but he was going to be dragged down with them. Honor and duty and a desire to be stronger kept him bound to this deadweight of a living thing and only the royal blood pumping through his capillaries kept him from being a coward and fleeing, reneging on his loyalties and deserting them both there. No. He could not do it. They may have been stupid, but they were his teammates. Sometimes, his unflagging loyalty and commitment made his life far more difficult than it had to be, but at least his code let him know where he stood in the world. Gave him a path to follow which is more than can be said for some. BUT THIS! REALLY! There had to be some kind of clause for extenuating circumstances right? Glaring up at his trainer for but a moment, he turned his attentions to Meditite, eyes widening at what he saw…you had to be kidding. ”WEEE?!
Meditite was still riding on Allyra’s back when they arrived on the scene and grinning as per his usual habit. ”MEDI! Up they went, hit softly upon the ground only to spring back up again, his laughter mixing with hers as he hugged and squeezed her tighter. ”TITE!” Hollister was sure that translated to a squeal of some sort and snorted amusedly at the sight, shaking his head as he did so. Weedle only glared, having now regained his dignity to the point of being able to feel disgust both for and at Meditite for riding on the enemy. How…common could you get? Hollister only grinned at the sight, happy that Meditite’s normally over-the-top antics were being well-met by the Spoink he now knew as Allyra. He watched them with his head tilted just off to the side for a few seconds before he turned his smiling countenance back to Soren with whom things seemed to be going well. At least he wasn’t bleeding on the ground crying for his mommy, right? That had to count for something! ”Really? That’s so lucky! I hear they’re endangered because of the large number of people hunting them down these days,” he intoned sadly. It was true. The constant growth of the human and Pokémon populations, while a good thing because it meant both were thriving in new and exciting ways, had lead to a shrinking of available living space so naturally, the level of interaction between the two was higher than ever and this of course at times had it’s negative consequences. More poaching and blackmarket dealings being the primary contributer to the slow dwindling of Pokémon species such as Farfetch’D and it was a shame because they were such nice creatures to watch. Such peaceful beings and truly enigmatic. But there had been whisperings of a recovery effort over in Kanto where a successful breed and release program was growing quite rapidly, but with conclusive data still in low numbers ( no one knew just how long those Farfetch’D bred in captivity could survive in the wild quite yet as the program was still in its early stages and the data was still coming in) it was still a waiting game. Still. Hollister was optimistic about it as some of the brightest biological minds of this generation were on the case and he’d had the pleasure of working with one of them very closely. Dr. Rhanjay, a former assistant of Hollister’s mentor Dr. Stone, was at the forefront of his field dealing with the breeding of very rare PokeSpecies and releasing them to the wild. Yes. There’d be a solution one of these days.
Realizing that he’d zoned out and grown suddenly dour, Hollister grinned looked to the sky which was quite sunny and still just as blue as ever. ”But I’m sure they’ll rebound. Look what they’ve done for the Lotad population in Le Grand Pont after that truck polluted the lake with sludge ten years ago. It’s better than ever, right? Yeah. PokeBiologists are on the breakthrough of some pretty amazing things!” Nodding slowly in affirmation to his own thoughts, he pursed his lips for a moment before deciding that this was a topic of conversation much to dour for the two of them, two people who had only just met and met randomly at that. ”On a more positive note, you picked a gorgeous day to come out here. Taking a break from the ‘ol journey ‘en seek?’” The blue sky called to him and he watched it slowly fill with white clouds, casting them all into a cool, lovely shadow filled with light breezes and whispering blades of grass and flowers. ”How long have you been out? Traveling, I mean.” Stretching his arms above his head and stretching out the muscles in his back and shoulder, he heard the bones pop and felt them shift which prompted a sigh to slip out of his mouth. A soft chuckle raced out after it and he felt more relaxed than he’d been in a very long while. ”Funny how you don’t know you’re tense until you have a moment of complete and utter relaxation, right? Man, didn’t know I was so worn out until I came here.” Weedle, who had felt his trainer move and had flinched, glanced between the two quickly before coiling his body closer to Hollister’s leg. This was not going according to plan, this was not going his way, and this definitely had all the markings of an ambush. He hated this. HATED. And look at Meditite, rocking back and forth like some idiotic clown. That’s what he was, a clown! They were all clowns! Weedle’s temper flared and he poked Hollister’s leg yet again with his barb which caught the sun and glinted threateningly when he withdrew, hissing again in that barely there tone. Like air sifting over a dried corn husk. He felt danger, impending danger. Hollister hissed when he felt it slip into his skin and nearly jumped ten feet in the air from the shock! What was wrong with Weedle today? Normally, the Pokémon barely listened to him or paid him any attention whatsoever and now he was acting like a spoiled baby! Glancing worriedly at Weedle, he pulled out the Pokemon’s poke ball and was about to recall him when an interesting thought struck him. Hm. Maybe that could work.
”Say, Soren. How about a small battle between Weedle and your Farfetch’D? Maybe he’d mellow out after. Nothing too strenuous. Would that make you happy?” The last part was directed in a soft voice at the little worm wrapped around his leg, concern knitting his brow. Was that it? Did Weedle want to battle and didn’t know how to come out and say it? Meditite only stared on in awe. WHAT?! A BATTLE?! WITHOUT HIM?! NO! NO! NO! He pouted at Hollister from atop Allyra’s back, but Hollister only shook his head. Which prompted Meditite to nod. And Hollister to sigh in frustration and glare at the little Pokémon.”Er… could we make it a double? Meditite and Weedle against Farfetch’D and…whoever else you want?” Weedle slithered to the ground, defeated and Meditite hopped from Allrya’s back and danced happily over to stand next to his teammate. Weedle could only roll his eyes, wondering just how his trainer could have possibly thought battling the people that were out to EAT THEM would make the situation better! The very thing he was trying to avoid! Joy. Joy. Joy. Hollister only smiled, happy to see that he’d finally fixed things. Man, he wasn’t such a bad trainer after all.
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Post by ヽ(´▽`)/ on Nov 25, 2007 16:28:36 GMT -5
As Hollister talked, and talked, and talked, Soren simply waited for the boy to breathe and nodded at those points, pretending to be even remotely interested. Seriously, why did he assume that he cared about what he was saying? Sure, some of the information seemed interesting, but he had already heard of most of that. Did the boy assume him to be... uncultured?
Allyra seemed to be having a lot of fun, at least, with that pokemon on her. She had an incredible balance, able to hop around with not only a pearl on her head, but a moving weight as well!
As Hollister started asking questions again, Soren was forced to actually reply again.
"I haven't been traveling for too long... I've been on the road for no more than a couple of weeks," he said, before going back to his silent nods. He didn't really notice Elsu and Meris both eying the weedle as if it was a nice juicy berry. Although Meris hid his desire a lot better than Elsu did, only glancing at the worm once in a while, Elsu was already wondering how the Weedle would taste like. He figured that it'd be pretty crunchy on the outside, and possibly extremely savory on the inside...
"I'm not too familiar with Double Battles, so I'll go with a Single, if you don't mind," he said when the boy asked him for a battle. It'd be also a great way to see how Elsu battled, as he'd never used any one of his pokemon. "Elsu, are you ready?" he asked his pokemon.
The bird pokemon raised the stick into the air, letting out a <Yes sir!>. Meris seemed disappointed that he wasn't going to fight, but Soren reassured him, telling him that he'd get his chance soon.
"Allyra, be careful not to get hit in the crossfire," he told his Spoink, taking a few steps away anyways. The pokemon seemed to nod at him, but with the constant bouncing, it was hard to tell. Meris stayed on Soren's shoulder while Elsu stood in the grass, stick in wing, ready to fight the Weedle. Maybe it'd be able to somehow eat the pokemon and call it an accident?
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Post by bran on Nov 25, 2007 16:49:53 GMT -5
”You heard him, Meditite. Now, go on.” He could almost FEEL the disappointment oozing from Meditite and the resentment as he sulked off to the sidelines, but he didn’t feel too badly about it though he did refrain from smiling. Too much anyway. And the moment his little blue friend stood behind him, leaning up against his legs with his arms crossed, Hollister exhaled slowly. This was their first battle together that went beyond a few practice drills and this would be their first real test. He’d done simulators before and engaged in a few playful battles with Pokémon that had been around the lab back home for exercise, but this was something else entirely and knowing Weedle’s already fickle nature toward him made this especially challenging. Add in the fact that he was at a type disadvantage and this seemed like an insurmountable challenge. But Weedle was brave and didn’t give up, had a good head on his… thorax, and was quick so things weren’t as bad as they first seemed. They could make it through this. And it wasn’t as if they were going to be going for the kill. A friendly match between two people to pass the time. Nothing more, nothing less. Thinking that was all that he could do to quell his nerves. Eyes snapping open, he exhaled, and rolled his shoulders. This wasn’t going to be cakewalk, he thought to himself with a small smile, but it was going to be fun.
“Weedle, let’s start off with a Poison Sting!” Weedle nodded and in a flash launched himself upward, feeling the energy build in the cone-shaped barb on his head which began to glow eerie white. And in the one second it took for Weedle to rise up, he began firing hundreds of sharp, white needles from the cone not at the bird, but into the ground directly in front of the bird, throwing dust clumps of grass and soil upward in a brown cloud and creating a screen in between them that obscured vision and Weedle came lightly to the ground, alert, body coiled. “Follow that up with a string shot,“ Hollister called just as Weedle landed and found his command met with Weedle spraying a white mist out over the dust cloud, hoping that Farfetch’D fleeing the dust so that it could make a counter attack properly would become snared in it. Raising up on his last two body sections so that he could get maximum height without actually jumping again, Weedle emitted the ivory mist that was in all actuality composed of thousands of individual silky strands, sticky by nature the moment they hit the air and in a way, both a distraction and a further barrier. He’d propelled himself back with that first jump, widening the initial gap of a foot or so to three feet in little more than two seconds and was continuously (now) emitting his string. He had the distance required to give himself enough time to wiggle and hoped that he’d be ready. For what? No clue. But WHATEVER CAME HIS WAY, HE WAS READY FOR!
Hollister clenched his hands lightly into fists as the silver string shoot rose and fell like a small drizzle of rain over the area near Soren and his Farfetch’D, Weedle giving it off like a firehose that eventually widened out at the end and fell down. Forcefully ejected from his Pokemon’s mouth, he knew that it wouldn’t cause any actual damage, but, hey, every bit helped when you were already--theoretically anyway--down and didn’t know what was coming next.
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Post by ヽ(´▽`)/ on Nov 25, 2007 17:05:40 GMT -5
Soren was caught completely by surprise. He really did not expect anything like this to happen in his first battle! He was extremely inexperienced, seeing that he had never actually had a pokemon battle before.
"Elsu, counter it quickly with a Sand Attack!" said Soren, unsure of what he really wanted to do. The pokemon promptly backed up a few steps, avoiding most of the poison stings, and started to kick some dirt into the air as well. It served a dual purpose, as it not only stopped most of the String Shots in reaching the Farfetch'd, the tiny wisps of white saliva not nearly thick and strong enough, it also made it harder for the Weedle to see where the bird was. Thanks to Elsu's keen eye, he was not affected at all, able to peer through the cloud of sand and dust.
"Try a peck," said the boy. "Fly over and use the attack, and be careful not to get caught in a string shot!"
The flying pokemon was too happy to oblige. It threw the stick into the air and flew up after it to grasp it with his claws. He wasn't about to leave his stick somewhere unattended, where he could lose it!
"FAAARRR!" The pokemon cried as it flew over the cloud of dust and took aim at the Weedle. Once aligned, which didn't take too long, he attacked, beak aimed at the bug's thorax.
And at the last moment, Elsu opened his mouth to try and gobble the pokemon down for a snack instead.
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Post by bran on Nov 25, 2007 17:31:07 GMT -5
”Weedle, incoming, stay calm!” Weedle wondered what in the living Hell had gotten into its trainer because there was an angry bird headed its way with a hungry gleam in its eye, but he coiled his body, ready and steady, watching the bird swoop in from above, but as it descended, Hollister’s plan became clear in Weedle’s mind and it became less tense. The peck attack encroached further on the bug’s territory and in the dangerous beak was just a hair’s breadth away before Hollister gave his command. ”String shot!” A command that Weedle knew was coming and thus was not caught flatfooted by. Immediately, he forcefully sprayed the silver jet of string and thread at point-blank range into the face of the bird Pokemon who was at point-blank range and slid beneath it’s body, his own going straight in the small space allotted to him by the curvature of the duck’s flight arc and the linear nature of the grass ground. “POISON STING!” The second part of the plan clicked into place as Weedle channeled more energy into his head, but instead of issuing a narrow stream of needles, he emitted them in a wider area, all along the underside of the duck’s belly as well as a half a meter beyond in both the front and back so as to catch his flight pattern no matter where it lead the bird since they were so close as it was. He’d almost not trusted Hollister, almost given in, but as he pushed more and more needles from his head and above with his eyes closed, he was grateful that he had. That attack had struck a bit too close to home.
Hollister exhaled in relief, but felt far from at ease. That had been a narrow miss and if he hadn’t noticed the way Farffetch’D had swooped down like that, this match would have been over and he’d be short one Pokemon. Thankful for the lucky break he grit his teeth and tried to look for another opening. No trees around meant that using his string shot to make his already speedy Pokemon faster and harder to hit was definitely out and along with it, any chance for cover. He just had to bank on being able to maneuver into the openings handed to him by the sloppy movements of his Pokemon and make some magic happen. He’d been working with Weedle and Meditite both and his ability to think quickly and outside of the box was a real asset here, but he could only wonder just how long that would last and as he watched the white-hot needles fill the air, they weren’t the fastest things, but at the close range they were in, with Farfetch’D’s body just barely grazing over Weedle at the moment of impact, they would do. But this battle was far from over, he mused with sharp eyes again searching for an opening, planning and plotting for the retalliation he knew would come next. He’d put his Pokemon into a vulnerable position with that last move and here was hoping that he wouldn’t pay too heavily for it.
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Post by ヽ(´▽`)/ on Nov 25, 2007 17:54:19 GMT -5
Elsu let out a cry as the attacks hit him. Not only was the string shot holding him down and making it really, really hard to move, the poison stings were digging into his feathers and they really hurt. Okay, so maybe he should have focused more and simply pecked at the pokemon, instead of trying to eat it... now he had disgusting white goop in his mouth!
He clicked his beak as the pokemon's wings tried to carry it high enough to get away from the spiky needles that attacked him. It was a miracle he wasn't poisoned from the hit, but the damage was not negligible.
"Elsu! Hang in there!" cried out Soren, hands clutching a part of his huge cape. He bit his lower lip as he wondered what he should do now. His pokemon obviously needed to get free of that String Shot, but how?
"Try a Steel Wing! Cut those treads and attack that weedle!" he said. As the Farfetch'd stiffened his feathers until they were as hard as steel. The needles stopped penetrating, and thus stopped hurting Elsu, and the sharp edges also ripped the String Shot, freeing the flying pokemon.
Elsu didn't waste any time before diving down to attack the bug pokemon once again, wing aligned to the opponent's body to slash it.
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Post by bran on Nov 25, 2007 18:16:12 GMT -5
“Weedle, move it!” Hollister wasted not a second in shouting the minute Farfetch’D wobbled further into the sky. Weedle complied quickly, happy to be out of his vulnerable position and somewhat pleased that he hadn’t been eat just yet. But with nowhere to run, he was still not out of the clear and it was only a matter of time before retalliation came around. Though not having anywhere to run made defending kind of simple, didn’t it? He would have to face whatever came head on and knew that when it came, it would come fast and brutal. Watching the bird Pokemon climb, Hollister looked for any sign of weakness and was pleased to see it a bit slower, but still not out, as he’d expected. “Weedle--” he started and then blinked as he watched Farfetch’D again come down though this time, the bird seemed to have the hang of the situation instead of blindly charging in and without a move pool of only two attacks, Weedle’s selection of attacks was kind of limited, but Hollister sighed and focused, watching the speedy critter slide toward his Pokemon, eliminating the possibility of going beneath because it would probably just angle its wings to catch Weedle once it was below and that’d be the end of it. But he wasn’t quite done yet! “Weedle,” Hollister called, now ready with his orders after watching the duck shoot down from the sky, “I want you to use string shot again except make it thicker!” Weedle ejected yet another burst of the threads though this time they came out as a single rope and shot beneath the duck as it came in towards Weedle, looping out around back and where it stuck fast to a large stone firmly embedded. Shaking its head quickly, Weedle began causing the braided rope of threads to rotate which sent them ‘round and ‘round the stone and in a flash, he’d craned his head up, looping the rope high above Farfetch’D’s body, but the circle was so large that it didn’t close out in time to stop the attack from the steel wing which sent Weedle flying backward…
And as he slid backward along the ground with his eyes clenched, the string still attached to his mouth went and with it the slack in the circle that had been drifting in the air around Farfetch’D’s body, drawing it swiftly inward like a draw-string around the duck Pokemon and Hollister hoped the surprise tactic bought him some more time. “Now. Let’s see another Poison Sting!” Pulling his mouth back to further the tension on the string shot, Weedle aimed his head forward lie a spear and loosed another barrage of brilliant white needles, which whizzed quickly through the air, rapidly approaching their target. It’d been a sacrifice move to get Farfetch’D close and to use the momentum of the attack as part of the trap so that he could again get in close enough to pull off another powerful attack. He stood no chance if he allowed Soren’s bird to swoop in and out at his leisure and had to keep the match on close quarters or he’d end up getting his but whooped and in quick time. But Weedle was brave and held his ground even if it meant waiting until the last possible minute to dodge and sometimes not with much success.
“Dig in, Weedle. We’re in this for the long hall!”
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Post by ヽ(´▽`)/ on Nov 25, 2007 18:45:07 GMT -5
"Good job, Elsu! Now dodge those poison stings and try a fury cutter!" said Soren enthusiastically. This battle was going pretty well... better than he thought it would have! Since he thought he'd get completely creamed thanks to his inexperience, that one hit was enough to get him excited.
However, his orders were easier said than done, as the Farfetch'd tried to escape the barrage of needles by flying higher up. The needles grazed his stomach and his his scaled claw, almost making him drop his stick. That would not do... That really wouldn't do...
Angry, the farfetch'd circled the weedle in the air, flying high enough to have time to dodge any immediate attacks. When he felt it was a good time to attack, which was really when he started to get impatient with himself, he swooped down for the Fury Cutter, ready to deal multiple attacks in one shot.
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Post by bran on Nov 25, 2007 19:03:46 GMT -5
“That’s a bug type attack…” Hollister said to himself , somewhat confused as to why Soren would go with that selection when it would have been better to follow it up with something less… obvious. But far be it from him to question a gift as Farfetch’D again rose to great heights to dodge his attacks before turning and making its way back down. And instead of having his Pokémon spit more thread at the moment or even shoot needles because he knew the speed of the attack would be too great to fend off with Poison Sting, he simply smirked and let the attack come. He had a plan, but it again required that Farfetch’D get in close. This battle was slowly starting to develop a pattern, a pattern that Hollister saw and planned on exploiting, especially with Farfetch’D moving slower than ever. “Over its back, Weedle!” Pushing itself up just like it’d done with it’s first attack, Weedle propelled himself forward and up, slipping just over Farfetch’D’s body as it struck out with it’s leak and where Weedle -had- been was only a silky patch of sticky string from all of his earlier efforts to snare Farfetch’D and shoved his head at the Pokemon’s feathery back, and charged yet another Poison Sting. “Do it!” He focused the full intensity of his attack downward into Farfetch’D’s, using the pain from where he’d been struck by the steel wing to push even more needles out in that silvery shower of needles. And over he went, using the momentum of his jump to land on the ground behind Farfetch’D where it turned it’s attack, never once letting up, fatigue building up in his cells and searing him from the effort. Feet dug into the ground and he concentrated all that he had into it. This was it! The climax! The turning point. Where Hollister and Weedle asserted their control over this match. “GIVE IT ALL YOU GOT, WEEDLE!” And Weedle obliged, loosing a greater torrent of needles from his head that grew thinner and thinner, faster and faster as the attack went on.
And after he’d given all he had for the moment, Weedle panted, glaring at the soft brown cloud of dust surrounding his opponent. Come hell or high water, they’d face it together. “Get ready, Weedle.” Reaffirmed defensively, they prepared, hunkered down, Weedle seeking to rapidly recover from the effort of his last attack, it’d been a doozy.
[OOC: Shoooooooooort. Sorriez.]
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Post by ヽ(´▽`)/ on Nov 25, 2007 19:24:04 GMT -5
The Farfetch'd never expected anything like this. Nor did Soren. Hollister was truly an exceptional trainer...
Not only did his attack miss, the weedle was sending his poor pokemon to the ground like some rag doll. However, there was a determined glint in the pokemon's eye as it refused to give in, even as painful needles were driving into him and sending him to toward the ground. The moment the weedle hopped off though, the bird pokemon used an attack, despite not having gotten an order. Hey, it wanted to win this battle, and if his trainer didn't do anything, he will!
Just as the weedle was landing on the ground, he quickly beat his wings as fast as he could to regain altitude, also using a sand-attack in the process. Hopefully, that'll blind the worm for a few seconds, giving Elsu time to recuperate... and dodge those needles.
"Good thinking, Elsu! Go in for another peck attack, now!"
The Farfetch'd's reaction was a bit slower as it felt weaker by the second. It couldn't be... did that last barrage of needles poison him? If so, he had to end the battle as soon as possible...
A loop in the sky was flown to boost his confidence a bit before he went back down, straight into the cloud of dust and sand.
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Post by bran on Nov 25, 2007 19:42:30 GMT -5
Hollister growled in frustration when he saw Farfetched push itself up, taking advantage of the cloud created by Weedle’s attack by using it to push sand into Weedle’s eyes. What was it going to take for this to be over? They were reaching the end of their rope and Weedle didn’t have a lot left in him. But they couldn’t give up. They WOULDN’T give up. They’d done far too much already to just roll over and play dead and so Hollister watched Farfetch’D rise, rise rise and wobble a little. So. He and Weedle weren’t the only ones feeling weak by this point huh? Weedle shook the sad from his eyes and stared with narrowed slits at the sky, following Farfetch’D’s path more closely than it had before and Hollister too watched. Contrary to their earlier strategy, Hollister didn’t wait for a last second dodge tactic, he couldn’t afford to let that peck land when Weedle was already on his last leg, and pointed up at the rock it had used earlier. “String shot!” Weedle shot a white tether out and wrapped it round the rock, which wasn’t overly large, and then lifted it’s head up, dragging it from the ground and flinging it in between himself and the oncoming bird. “Poison Sting, let’s go!” In an instant, Weedle set a stream of needles into the rock, crushing it into four smaller portions that spend on toward the bird while steady more needles flowed along side them all. Farfetch’D could dodge some of the rocks and some of the needles, but he wouldn’t get around all of the rocks and all of the needles. Weedle’s face was contorted with the effort of heaving the rock upward and from the needles and he was glad for his earlier success of his attack because he knew it would limit the bird’s maneuverability. And still, because he hadn’t moved out of the way as he was prone to do, he wasn’t as safe as he had been on all the other ecounters.
But still. Peck had its price too, right? You had to lead in with your face which made you more prone to attack, but in this battle of constant up-and-downs, Hollister wasn’t willing to bank on it. “Weedle…Hold it together for a bit longer!” He urged, knowing that the reserves of powers and determination that his Pokémon could draw on were thinning, but he wouldn’t let things go so long as they had the power to fight ahead. He watched as the rock debris escorted by the sharp, sharp needles sped in the a cloud of white and brown toward the duck that had swooped in hoping to end this with a decisive close-quarters combat. Terms that he would have welcomed just moments before, but know he sought to keep from occurring for the simple fact that a bird in close quarters was more dangerous than Weedle. Still. If it came to that… he was ready. Hollister clenched his hands and grit his teeth, thoroughly enjoying this and still ready to pee his pants in anticipation for what was to happen next. His breath caught in his chest and his eyes ached from the strain of trying to see EVERYTHING while Weedle’s body shook from forcing even MORE needles from his body right after he’d just sent out more than he’d used in his entire LIFE. Leaping back and panting, Weedle shook the sweaty secretions from his body and stared with steely determination ahead.
”WEE!” [/size][/font]
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Post by ヽ(´▽`)/ on Nov 25, 2007 20:08:25 GMT -5
The Farfetch'd couldn't believe that this weedle was pulling. There HAD to be a rule against something like that SOMEWHERE! Throwing rocks? Unfortunately, the pokemon didn't have that much control in his flight, due to his relative inexperience -he was only level five! What did they expect from him!- and was hit by most of the hits, including on piece of the rock. Still, he didn't stop, he still kept flying straight at the weedle, despite the pain that was sprouting everywhere. The needles barely slowed him down as his beak was aimed right at the weedle.
They were so close now... there was no way the weedle could get out of this one! Despite that, the Farfetch'd knew that he wouldn't last too long... The poison was making him ache and the continuous onslaught of needles weren't helping him either.
Soren watched his pokemon, almost in awe. He didn't know what to say, what to command! The air around him was a mess and it shifted every time Elsu made a move. The determination in the bird was really something he hadn't expected to see though. The pain was obvious in those tiny eyes but the pokemon refused to stop, refused to give in.
"You can do it, Elsu! Give him all you've got!" he yelled. If that attack hit, then it should bring down quite a chunk of the Weedle's health. Even though Hollister was a wonderfully ingenious trainer, Soren really didn't think that the weedle would be able to dodge the attack... Elsu wasn't slowing down and it would barely take a second before they collided.
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Post by bran on Nov 25, 2007 20:28:13 GMT -5
“WEEDLE! BRACE!” He called, it was al he could call. He hadn’t banked on this, hadn’t banked on this. Hadn’t banked on this AT ALL! He had anticipated a crafty withdrawal or a less than graceful swerving to evade most of the hits, but to take THEM ALL just to get into a better position. All without a single command from the trainer… what a bond they must have had. Here he was commanding and dictating Weedle’s attacks, attempting to pull of a win and those two were perfectly able to communicate without a word. He hoped that someday he would be able to commune that well with his Pokemon, but for now he was content to watch Weedle dig in and take the brunt of the attack, he may have been a fast Pokemon, but he was that fast. But what he made for it in a lack of speed, he made up for in flexibility and sheer guts and because of that, he was able recoil with the force of the attack, spreading the force out over a longer interval of time which consequently created an impulse, lessening the devastating effects though he wasn’t out of the woods yet. The attack sank in a Weedle winced before pointing his head directly at Farfetch’D’s right wing and fired his Poison Sting yet again at pointblank range though there were considerably less needles this time, the attack still sharp and still fast, but far from the level of the last two. Holding on to Farfetch’D’s face with his hands as best he could, Weedle gave a cry and then growled fiercely, determined not to give in until his foe was vanquished. Pulling himself away from the bird, he staggered off to the side, pain rippling up through all of his body segments and his movements less than graceful and speedy, and then shot from his mouth another powerful stream of string though this time, it was directed at the bird’s feet, not his face or wings. These things were done without Hollister giving a command and he hadn’t a clue what was going on until he saw Weedle squirm and fight, flailing on the ground weakly with bruises lining his inner thorax where both of the blows Farfetch’D had landed had been dealt, to get some distance between himself and the duck. And after a few seconds, he wrenched himself up on his hind most legs and stared defiantly at the bird. Thankfully, he’d been fortunate enough to dodge the bird’s attacks, but the two that had been landed? They hadn’t been fun to stomach. At all. His vision doubled, spun, and his stomach lurched and flopped. This was it. This was it.
“Weedle!” Hollister didn’t want his Pokemon to suffer and at the rate things were headed, they were going to end up that way. And yet if he withdrew Weedle from this battle, he knew the little guy would never forgive him. Not after all of the scraping and fighting they’d done tooth-and-nail to get to this point. Looking around for anything that could help him, for anything, and after not finding it, he narrowed his eyes. So this was it, huh? This is how it all ended? All because of the guts of one little bird, he’d been brought to the brink of defeat and had only been saved by his Pokemon’s natural gift, natural ability to roll with the punches and even that hadn’t bought them much time. Dust and dirt littered Weedle’s sides and body, a body that ached and shook and swayed. He’d fought hard, Hollister knew, and he couldn’t have been more proud. It’d be selfish to ask him to hang in there, but it’d be stupid and even more selfish to ask him to quit. So he did only what he knew he could. ”You can do it, Weedle. You can do it.” Weedle narrowed its eyes and positioned its head, ready for whatever came its way. A warrior to the end, that was the way of his family. The only way he’d ever return to them. Some would him a fool, but Weedle knew the truth.
He was brave.
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