Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Saga of The Inept. chapter 2

misadventure ensues when a broach is stolen from an unsuspecting skitty. Pascal, Ulivier, Richter, and Inrinara get involved in catching the devious misdreavus

Chapter 2:

Several Pokemon strive to apprehend a devious misdreavus

Jane felt particularly proud of the new satchel at her side; Pomeg guild was particularly gratuitous with their product, stuffing the little lime bag at Jane's side with everything from trail mix to nautical almanacs (Jane neither knew that she had a nautical almanac, nor did she know what the word “nautical” even meant). It was one of the many perks to being a member of a family highly under the hierophant's regard, Jane was thus quite clueless to everything because of the excellent job her parents had done with protecting the skitty. Thus, she could grin like a cheshire cat knowing that there wouldn't be a thing in the world threatening the little skitty.

As she wandered under the looming branches of the grepa berry orchards which belted Prinemport along with the hills, naked otherwise for the scrubbish grass. It was a good thing that the orchards had thick, broad leaves which made for good shade, because it was an otherwise searingly hot day. Jane was used to the shade, though. She hardly ever left her house, and hers was typically very well shaded. She therefore had an artificial sense that what little she had seen of nature was her home. She had probably only been outside her house for 9 times; she didn't care because of how large and mazelike her's was.

Jane's big, triangular ears suddenly caught wind of a rustling by a bush, and she turned her head momentarily towards the source of the noise, curious as to the identity of what it might be. A slate colored, floating miasma in the shape of a head with a pair of eyes began to hover towards her smoothly. It snaked towards the misdreavus, becoming translucent as it strafed across the illuminated apertures in the tree's shade. He grinned slyly, though the skitty was far too naive to percieve anything less than friendliness. Sure, in the back of the skitty's mind, she might have had some apprehension towards the mysterious ghost type pokemon, but in all honesty the little misdreavus wanted to be her friend. “Hello there,” it said with an unsettlingly gentle coo.

“Hiya.” chirped Jane happily; everyone around her deserved to be greeted with an equal degree of courtesy and tact. That was one of the things that her daddy taught her, and even though the misdreavus looked and smelled kinda foul, he meant well. “Who are you?” she continued, tilting her head coyly along with her tail.

“Me? I don't consider that all important.” explained the misdreavus, still quite as suave.

“Why did you stop me? I've got somewhere to be!” said Jane, wearing her heart on her sleeve as usual.

“You're busy? Well, that's quite typical of people from the Pomeg guild...” Jane's mouth widened in a gasp; the misdreavus knew just where she was from!

“H-how did you know?! I just came from the guild and I'm gonna go train before I can go on adventures with this really cool guy! And I'm gonna practice fighting and stuff and-”

“Just a moment, hun.” impeded the misdreavus quite urgently, “You aren't about to tell me that you haven't been trained in fighting before?!” the misdreavus' exclamation was watered down, so not to break his facade of goodwill. “There are some very, very, very scary people that might take advantage of you if you don't have the right equipment!” Emeril the misdreavus was surprised that he was getting this far.

“Ohmigosh!” the skitty yelped as she cowered from a suddenly fear of ambush around all sides. Her tail twitched cutely in anxiety.

“Tsk tsk. I've seen it happened many times before (Emeril wasn't lying about this part), and it breaks my heart every time to see a new adventurer waltz out with their dreams of being the next team Royal thrown in the toilet as someone pilfers their goods. I'll let you in on a little secret, though, ms...”

“Jane! Ms. Jane of house Apollinarus!” Jane tried to muster her hand to her forehead in a dainty salute; she was an adventurer, of course. “I'd love to hear a secret, sir!”

“Yes...” the misdreavus slid up beside the little cat ears of the skitty so that he could whisper softly to her “I'll make sure that your belongings are packed extra safe into your satchel, there~”

“Thankyou, mister!” chirped Jane quite loudly, nearly rupturing the ears of Emeril.

“A-alright...now all I need you to do is give me your bag, and I'll go ahead and organize what needs to be stowed away extra carefully. And If you have any jewelry hidden here, lemme know so that I can hide them even better~...”

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“Hey Pascal?” muttered Ulivier in between heavy, tired steps under the shade of a grepa berry orchard.

“What?” asked Pascal in reply, voice completely devoid of the appropriate, rising innotation of a question.

“What if that seamus guy doesn't give a damn about our letter?”

“Oh. That would probably be a problem.” silence ensued as the two marched on towards prinemport~

“It's not like we can't turn back at this point,” continued Pascal, “There's that Paul guy over there.”

“And Roland.”

Pascal shrugged “It'll be alright. We can't go wrong if we go to prinempport. It's a nice place from what I hear.”

“Wait...you've never been to this big city-” the two suddenly paused, as they spotted a critter on 4 legs staring intently at a little ghost. He was sorting through a little lime tinted bag meticulously. The two were just as curious as the little skitty was, and they approached the scene. “Pascal?”

“Hm?” he said, suddenly quiet to maintain a novel stealth.

“What's that?”

“A misdreavus. They're really rambunctious.”

Ulivier and Pascal were suddenly grimly curious as to what sort of rambunctious activity Emeril was engaging in. Agreeing spiritualy, they stood behind a grepa berry tree and eyed Emeril curiously.

“...adventurer's manual...compass...trail mix...” They realized, as they observed him, how dementedly he would list off all of the items, inferring that his enamorment with another person's items was a mite bit suspicious.

“Do you know that guy?” asked a skeptical shelmet.

“No. Like I said, I've never been around Prinemport...but I smell a huge rat about that guy.” the two continued to watch and wish for popcorn when they should have been apprehending the b*****d.

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“...and you're positive that there isn't any spare jewelry in the sides?” asked Emeril, his suave diminished and replaced with the meticulous obsession of a drug addict.

“Yep!” tweeted Jane, completely oblivious to the demented expression of the misdreavus. “But that isn't including this here necklace.” she raised her paw to a broach around her neck made of a silvery, sheeny platinum. Engraved in low resolution was a beautiful, detailed sculpture of Arceus, eyes made of a beautiful jade imported far from somewhere foreign. The misdreavus was instantly hypnotized.

“Y-yes...very pretty indeed...and prone to theft...” his mouth never shut, jaw laid low; he had hit gold. “You should g-give that to me so I can stow it away...somewhere very...very safe...” he smiled grimly, though his eyes were just as entranced with how beautiful (and expensive) the necklace would be.

“Alright!” her apprehensile tail reached up to the back of the necklace, and followed the action with grasping it; and she then forked it over to a salivating Emeril. He suddenly noticed the breathing of two individuals at 6 o'clock. He gulped heavily, purple miasma beading on his forehead in anxiety.

“M-may I help you?...” he said as he turned around terrified but still stunned from the euphoria of hitting the jackpot of the necklace.

Pascal and Ulivier stood behind him, faces in subtle scowls. “We're fine.” said Ulivier passive-agressively.

“We were just curious as to what you're doing with her necklace...mind explaining?” his prissy, exaggerated french accent resounded through the suddenly incapacitated misdreavus. The lip quivered, and Emeril began to formulate a plan B in his head: run. “I'm afraid that you're going to have to give me an answer in 5 seconds, or else we'll make you.” no response, only stuttered, horrified laughter.

“five...four...three-” suddenly, a rustling from the bushes! A powerful, controlled yell! A figure lept from the shrub and kept his momentum up. It was time for plan B! He flew as fast as he could towards the forest, but to no avail. At an inconceivable speed, the humanoid dashed straight for the ghost and crossed him, his red glove bashing the thief and sending him careening into trees <<pursuit>>. The ghost was able to readjust himself after a short flight, and with his regained stability he stared with a scowl at the hitmonchan, phasing through a tree and speeding away with the broach! The other 3 weren't as stunned at the sudden escape of Emeril, rather, they were impressed by how impressively the fighting type was able to pummel the petty pickpocket. He looked down, grunting in disappointment.

“WOAHTHATWASOAWESOMEMRHANNIBAL.” said Jane as she yelped and hopped in standing ovation, “Youdidayellandgotthatguytorunandthenhedidbuthenyoupunchedhimlike-”

“The more important matter is that you were just robbed, ms. Appollinarus. I'm responsible for letting him run away with your belongings,” interrupted Mr. Tom Hannibal of Ludvale. He sighed once more “...I'm gonna have to fast for a week now.” (time to put getting kebbia berries on his schedule)

“You two!” the hitmonchan suddenly pointed towards Pascal and Ulivier, both suddenly taken aback. “Pursue the Misdreavus right now, I can't afford to return Ms. Appolinarus with an object missing.”

“B-but we were j-just looking-” said Pascal, somehow even more timid than Ulivier.

“Exactly! You could have easily stopped the misdreavus had you confronted him more aggressively. Clean up your mistake right now and I won't incapacitate you.” the hitmonchan cracked his knuckles, raring to use fire punch and ice punch on Ulivier and Pascal, respectively. The two were two intimidated to object, and set out into the woods with fear welling up in their throats. “I can't afford to delay ms. Appolinarus' training.” said Tom as the duo paced into the forest, coaxed to do so by the perfected intimidation of hitmonchan. He turned around to Jane.

“Why did you scare off that ghost? He wanted to help me.”

“I'll explain that to you later, Ms. Appolinarus; now we've to repack your satchel...”

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Richter had slept in. He was scolded for sleeping. Of course, the treecko resented punishment tremendously, but in his heart he knew that his mother meant him very well; farming on along the fringes of some of the more dense, overgrown riparian areas of Prinemport outskirts were how they made their meager living. If Richter had slept in every day, that would mean that their grepa berry harvest wouldn't be able to be sold up the nose to the snobby bourgeoisie of Arcadeau or Prinemport.

It wasn't exactly a stable living; the fat priests which used grepa berry juice as a panacea were very particular about what sorts of wines did the trick. Richter's family's poison leaned on the mediocre side of the spectrum, however, and the clergy would only accept the wine on terms that everyone in the family worked till death to make B- grade wine. One morning not spent monitoring the fermentation of grepa berry juice could spell bankruptcy for the entire Sylvenia family.

Richter's sloth warranted punishment, and he was to arduously pluck every weed off of the grepa berry trees, including the icky mushrooms and fungus. He kept them in a bag and planned to pawn them off to Marlene, the grumpig who ran a bistro for the high rollers of Prinemport. She had a knack for turning even the lowliest mushroom into something delicious. Otherwise, Richter utterly hated scrounging about for any weeds; he could be spending this time doing much more important things, namely being lazy. If he wasn't being lazy he was probably being the opposite and seeking self improvement. Usually this meant that he would educate himself; perhaps spending his pocket money on an outdated textbook or doing a few pull-ups here and there.

The treecko would probably spend the entire day working at purging pests from the bread and butter of the family: grepa trees, and then going into town to grab cakes made of more palatable fruits. No time for his hobbies, though~. This would be the last time that Richter would tucker himself out at night by sneaking out of the house to play cards.

The ears of the treecko suddenly detected a whirring from the left of himself. Over in a grass clearing zoomed the apparition of a ghost lacking a body, something shiny and probably valuable in his teeth as he manically fled from an unseen pursuer. The treecko didn't have to look to guess that Emeril the misdreavus was at stealing again. Richter didn't care to stop the petty thievery because it was petty, he was too busy to stop the thievery, and it was how Emeril made his living. after all; everyone needs a job. About 5 minutes later he caught glance of the people that were presumably after him: a drifloon and a shelmet cruised tiredly after a pokemon far superior in speed. They were closer to Richter, and at one point they glanced towards him.

“Excuse me!” yelled the drifloon, far away and with a detectable twang of French accent in his voice. Based on his accent, the drifloon was most likely the son of some snooty cleric, and his dad would probably be more than willing to patronize their vineyard if his son gave a thumbs up. Time to make a good impression.

Richter slid off of his trees and brushed off any dust or filth that might have accumulated on him. He ambled distinctly and proudly towards the duo, trying to be as professional as possible. “Welcome to Sylvia family vineyards; we've been in the business for 200 years and would be more than willing to serve you.” Richter had no clue how he was able to talk like a high-end sales clerk; it disgusted him nonetheless.

“Yeah, we need some help figuring out where a little ghost pokemon went, he had a broach with him and we're trying to get it.” Pascal explained, huffing under his breath; oxygen debt affects balloons.

“Oh...” Richter remembered that they probably had no interest in grepa wine. “The misdreavus went that way.” Richter extended a bluntish claw towards the forest. “It's probably pointless to follow him, though; he's gonna end up cornered in the nuzlocke village.”

*lightbulb *

“WHICH IS EXACTLY WHY I SHOULD BE AFTER HIM!” suddenly blared the treecko, scaring Ulivier and Pascal and going on all fours at ludicrous speed. He trailed off at least 40 feet ahead by the time that the snail and the balloon had realized that they were being challenged. They dashed just as quickly, Ulivier finding that he was suddenly very capable of moving fast because of urgency. All three dashed into the overgrowth of the dangerous, bug infested riparian west of Prinemport...

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Inrinara the nuzleaf was probably the underling most intransigent to nonsense in his village. Some of the elders fawned over his inflexibility to nuissance; it meant that Inrinara was devout to training and honing his body to rule in place of his elders which would soon return to nature. Others figured that Inrinara would be the end of the village, because he was inflexible. He refused to stick to anything other than the most strict of tribal ritual; avoiding berries with even the tiniest filth because his body wasn't worthy of “trifling additives”. The tribe could never live by Inrinara's standards, lest the only extant of Nuzlockian culture outside of the East be decimated by a tyrant. Favor always found some respect for Inrinara; there was a guarantee that people seeking the highest level of orthodoxy would find and worship that epitome.

Too bad that that demographic was a flock of seedot.

Inrinara lazed on a branch and grass whistled away, glancing occasionally to see his seedot practice balancing on a branch only a few inches thick. The newer recruits were all quite dissapointed in themselves; it was nigh impossible for beginners to waltz across what would be a cake walk for Inrinara himself; the more jaded and devout recruits could balance on the natural pole with relative ease, and Inrinara grinned; soon they might be able to be shown off to Yanagi-sama, who would be quite sated with Inrinara's capabilities in leadership; the nuzleaf would tuck the more inept aside, however.

“Good.” chirped Inrinara as an underling managed to cross the short chasm via the pole, which was quite rare. Inrinara's ears were serenaded by a shrill grunt of pain from the majority, who could not walk on the slender and smooth surface of the puny bridge. At one point, a particularly ailing seedot approached Inrinara, eyes tilted upward pathetically.

“M-may I take a break, sir? My back hurts and I-”

“Am a huge disappointment to my leader?” said the nuzleaf condescendingly smoothly,”I'll tell you what: my ears hurt after listening to your whining. I had to go through the motions, too, and unless all of you do the same, then your chances of becoming as established as I am are slim to none.” Inrinara's “pep talk” didn't motivate or soothe the seedot at all, but somehow, the seedot marched back to the bridge to start over. The nuzleaf didn't relish lecturing his subordinates harshly, but the ends justified the means in the pokemon's mind.

The march (futile for many) continued like clockwork, and it did so while Inrinara played away at his flute. Inrinara suddenly sensed a presence in a bush below, faint, but easily detectable by the honed senses of the nuzleaf. In the blink of an eye, what was once a flute was now stuck in the heel of Richter, who wasn't even close to sneaking by Inrinara. It pierced the side of his ankle and lodged him into the ground, and he groaned in pain as Inrinari hopped down to grab Richter by the chest from the bush. Intense eye contact from the nuzleaf ensued; Richter grinned guiltily, chuckling under his breath and praying to god that stuck-up would give him mercy.

“Who wants to watch me beat an outsider into a pulp?” addressed Inranari to his mass, the entirety of which chirped in glee, nodded, or did both. “Very well. Go ahead and form a barrier around all the exits.” Seedots rained down from the trees carefully and formed a blockade to the nuzleaf's expectations. Once this had occurred, Inranari dropped the treecko on the grassy turf, breathing deeply and getting ready to fulfill his promise to his posse.

Richter was in checkmate. He knew that he couldn't plead for mercy, lest the nuzleaf catch on to the idea that he was on business in the forest. Then there was a guarantee that the Inranari, named ' stuck-up' endearingly by Richter, would rush to catch the misdreavus and stuck-up would be able to say that he had overcome Richter as a white knight. Richter couldn't decline his challenge, so he stood up, took a deep breath and got ready to fight a clearly superior combatant. This wasn't the first time that Richter faced off against inranari, but this time the pressure was on; he'd have an allegiance of 6 year old seedots jeering him if he lost this match. In Richter's mind this was the ace in the hole; the treecko worked very well under pressure.

“After all...I'd hate to not deliver on behalf of my following.” at that, the nuzleaf charged: go time.

The two lept at eachother, both seemingly phasing out of reality as they clashed during this ephemeral lack of existence, Richter bashed the nuzleaf with his tail <<quick attack>> and Inrinari got close enough to the treecko's ears so that a clap would give the defender an instant migraine. Inrinari did so <<fake out>> and caused Richter to stand for a few moments, completely dazed. Inrinari stood still for a few moments, then focused, summoning razor sharp fragments or sharp from his palms and sending them flying towards Richter<<razor leaf>>. Luckily, the migraine lost its effect just as the blades started to fly, and Richter was able to back against a tree in a perfect pattern so to avoid any contact with the leaves, though it left him locked in that position; if he moved that could spell paper cuts on his arms!

Inrinari took in a deep breath once more, staring intensely at the treecko and clasping his hands. He inhaled, causing his body to bulk up in strength somewhat <<growth>> in addition to making it sturdy <<harden>>. His eyes flared up, turning bright yellow as he huffed out a yellow, sporish smoke <<nature power: tall grass>> towards Richter. The razor sharp leaves had lost some of their sheen, and Richter was able to sidestep the powder and instead get behind Inrinari; he clinched the nuzleaf under his arms and pushed him into the powder, causing paralysis in his opponent. Of course, the nuzleaf groaned, ailed suddenly with paralysis. Then, Richter flipped the nuzleaf around, placing him against the chopping block of the oak's rough edge, trying to pummel the grass type. Somehow, Inrinari avoided most of Richter's blows, though in between Richter's assault, the treecko had suddenly clasped the nose of the nuzleaf. “NOT MY F!#%!#$ NOSE!!!” sobbed Inrinari unhappily as he felt his life being drained from it <<absorb>>. It caused uproar from a majority of the preteen audience. The act of clasping a nuzleaf's nose was an incredible desecration and especially painful to one's ego. This was quite plainly Inranari's achilles heel.

The treecko, feeling suddenly very tenacious, toted a stunned Nuzleaf in his arms and began climbing up the tree rapidly, ignoring the fatigue of lugging up a woody shinobi completely. At the top of a branch, he laid Inrinari over his shoulders and hopped down; he had seen this technique used by throh's, and wanted to give it a shot. Being cocky was something that Richter was fond of doing, but he was bad at it.

This was no exception. Midway through the descent, Inrinari had lost his paralysis, and realized that he was headed straight for the ground. The nuzleaf was far more jaded to aerial grappling then Richter and regained control right before the ground, Jumping up and stomping on Richter just before the two hit the grassy floor. Inrinari wiped his hands and turned around to reface the treecko, though was suddenly very confused. There was an imprint of the treecko on the floor, creating a spot of sundered soil in the middle of the grass, but the Richter was absent.

Or was He?! Richter suddenly materialized from behind and lunged with a viscious kick straight towards the Inrinari! <<quick attack>> , causing him to stutter in his stance. Richter followed up with a fierce uppercut <<pound>> and a leaping haymaker aimed at the Inrinari's head <<pound>>. After he was struck twice, the nuzleaf grew wise to Richter's attacks; as the treecko aimed for Inranari's noggin, his fist was suddenly cut with a sharpened leaf. The two could reassume offensive stances, though Richter had somewhat of a cut hand.

Inrinari punched <<pound>> the hand of Richter, who intercepted his with another punch <<pound>>. The two continued pounding at eachother's attacks until Inrinari stepped on Richter's foot, clapping in his face to stun him! <<fake out>> Standing dizzy for a few moments, the treecko didn't see Inrinari breathe deeply and clasp his hands once more, his eyes flaring with fury as they turned opaque and white. He lept into the air and put his hands apart, and suddenly they filled with a green, glowing sphere of energy. “�"れは私の先祖の力です!!” yelled Inrinari as he let the energy ball fly straight for the treecko, who was not conscious enough to evade it <<nature power: forest>> and was sent hurling into a juvenile oak, breaking it in half. On the other side stood a particular drifloon and a shelmet to boot. They stared at the small army of seedot, quite confused. More than anything else, Inrinari was angry, and Ulivier and Pascal could sense that quite well. As such, they high tailed along the stream which they stood adjacent to. The seedot stood very, very confused.

“Don't just stand there! get the intruders!!” and the seedot did their best to trail after the tracks of a balloon and a gastropod. Inranari stood still, he had yet to deal the final blow to Richter. Alas!, the treecko was not in his place. Inrinari wasn't keen to fall for another quick attack, and he stood ready. He didn't notice the sound of munching. Inrinari looked up. The treecko had just gorged himself on oran berries. Rule number 1 of fighting: never forget the white mage or its replacement. Richter darted off to reach the illustrious misdreavus, and Inranari followed to settle business...

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Now, the shelmet really wasn't sure how he was able to run so fast. All he had was little stumps to waddle down with at most, but for some reason he was able to reach a speed quick enough to avoid pursuing seedot. Granted, they didn't do a very good job at following Ulivier and Pascal. Some couldn't hop over a log, several other collided on the log and caused a traffic jam. Some forgot that there was a creek to the side and accidentally ran in its current, causing them to be swept away. The particularly incompetent simply fell flat on their faces because they ran too quickly. There were a plentiful amount of seedot, though, at least 30 going running, at least 5 posing a real problem because they weren't adherent to the mentioned stupid little mistakes. These were always right on the tail of the two, causing Ulivier to run ever faster and Pascal to float faster.

One of them latched onto the adornment of Ulivier's hood. Startled, he instinctively turned around and spit purple poison over 5 of the particularly adept members of the seedot squadron <<acid>>, causing them all to trip and others to trip over them so that they formed a huge blockade next to the stream. Some managed to hop over the wall and continue pursuit, others had fainted, and some even drifted on unconsciously in the stream. Ulivier and Pascal still weren't exempt from running away.

They could, however, let up on the pace, they could hop over logs more quickly, and were also immune to the pointy stones that stood up ahead on the bank of the river. The seedot weren't as lucky, about half of them couldn't surpass the minefield of sharp rocks and hopped around away from it. Those that realized their pain midway were the most unfortunate; they had the furthest distance to go before they weren't on rocky ground!

As the two of them coursed on, however, they suddenly reached a dead end. A sharp cliff separated them from higher ground. The shelmet couldn't scale it. Alternatively, they could ford or move up the stream, but it raged and the current would only set them back! They were in a tricky situation indeed. The sound of charging seedot loomed in the distance. And the herd was quite plainly visible. “W-we're trapped!” frantically yelped Ulivier as he stared face to face with the stampeding horde of low level seedot.

*lightbulb *

“No we aren't.” said Pascal, quite calmly and matter-of-factly. “Just stand still...I have an idea.” said Pascal, growing ever more anxious as the horde grew closer and closer. The two could hear the ferocious (but adorable) war cries of raging seedot. At the last second, though, Pascal inflated and then blew a gust of wind on Ulivier, causing both of them to fly to the sides. The seedot weren't quick enough to stop, and rammed into the wall. A snowball effect ensued, and the seedot piled up against the cliff, crashing again <<gust>>. The catastrophe also acted as what could be used as a makeshift staircase!

(Pascal has advanced to level 9. Ulivier has advanced to level 6.)

Ulivier took heavy damage from the gust of wind, in spite of the fact that Pascal tried to mitigate its harmful effects as signficantly as possible. Ulivier was still nearly fainted, however, and after Ulivier had taken the gust of wind, Pascal the drifloon approached him. “Are you alright?” asked Pascal, with an air of concern in the back of his voice. Ulivier nodded feebly. “Can you make it up those stairs and get out?” again, a nod, this time accompanied by Ulivier standing up and walking feebly towards the massive pileup. Ulivier scaled the enormous pile of inert grass pokemon and then stood atop the grassy cliff, ready to move along to pursue the misdreavus. Pascal floated as well. The two looked over the mess they made, and then laughed with eachother; they could walk now and they hadn't realized how unbelievably tired they were up until now.

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Lucky for Richter, he had felt the sensation of tree branches coursing underneath his feet below. He was used to clambering through canopy; he had been exposed to doing so and it was in his instinct. Before the days of harvesting grepa berries endlessly for the Sylvania family, Richter spent time climbing around on grepa trees and bushes. It was his own jungle gym; every treecko alive was instinctively partial to taking to trees. Little did Richter reckon that it would ultimately be necessary to him in situations like this, when he could hear Inrinara pacing beneath him on grassy ground, visciously taunted Inrinara.

Certainly, the nuzleaf would never stoop so low as to try to resort to using healing methods; that was the only thing that stood in his mind. The lowly invader had stooped so low as to undermine his honest style of combat. It kept his feet going faster and faster. He lept to the side of a tree, then narrowly to another in order to climb higher to the rapidly moving richter. He lept off of a tree and did a reverse somersault, nearly striking Richter and causing him to roll <<pound>>. Richter stood, facing Inrinara for a few moments, catching his breath. Inrinara paced towards the treecko slowly. “Go ahead...eat another one of those berries like a coward.”

“Naw...I've got a friend of mine who'd probably be more interested.” Richter cast the berry on the ground, causing it to bounce back up. A horde of yanma followed, creating a loud buzz and a barrier between the two. Richter turned around and stuffed another berry in his mouth. “Seeyah ruhnd long-nose!” he mumbled loudly, mouth full of yummy oran berry.

Inrinara couldn't handle himself anymore, he phased along a tree, striking it and causing considerable damage to each tree he vaulted off. He lunged and grappled Richter, causing the two to fall under the canopy and plummet downward. The two struggled to gain control, though Richter suddenly clenched the chest of Inrinara, and drained the energy as fast as he could <<absorb>>. He then reached for a grepa berry and placed it in the nuzleaf's mouth, overwhelming the pokemon with the bitter, fermented taste of the berry. Taking the opportunity to leave, Richter stood atop Inrinara midair and leaped up for a branch unbelievably quickly <<quick attack>>. “I can't save them all for myself!” and he coursed off along the tree branches.

Richter thought he was safe, and he took a slower pace along the thick overgrowth. He felt the jostle of Inrinara catching footing on a branch, and twitched his head around to see just how pissed off stuck-up was. He shouldn't have. Another green ball, twice the size of the first one, was forming in front of the nuzleaf. “�"れ�'取る、あなたが�'種!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” and it let loose straight towards Richter<<nature power: forest>>, who only barely had enough time to leap up and dodge it. From there, the ball crashed into an enormous tree, causing an entire family of burmy and venipede to scuttle out and pursue Richter, who presumably caused the property damage. Time to run.

Richter pushed himself to his limit as he scurried up the enormous tree, more and more inhabitants came from the woodwork and pursued him. He got to the top of the evergreen and took in the hills for a moment, seeing the lighthouse of Prinemport in the distance. It was pretty, but he realized that about 10 venipede were growling at him from behind. Sliding down the rough bark of the tree wasn't an option, doing that would hurt profusely.

He suddenly heard the intense hopping from tree to tree of Inrinara, causing many of the venipede to look down in horror as he burst through the top. His salvation came in the form of his enemy. It proceeded to grab Richter (who had entirely asserted victory through luck at this point) and suplex him backward, causing his scaly body to collide with several branches as he fell down. Inrinara then pursued him, jabbing at his body in stomps as the two suspended in air. “おれ が かくされ た ちから だ !!!!” roared Inrinara as several, brown orbs of energy surrounded himself. The nuzleaf hurled them at Richter, causing the treecko to be propelled even faster at the placid (and thankfully quite deep) reservoir of the stream <<hidden power: fighting>>.

Richter was underwater, likely drowning for a few moments. Just as he began to paddle to the surface he was grabbed by Inrinara on the edge of the pool, he breathed air heavily for a few moments before he was slapped by the nuzleaf once more <<fake out>>. “Let's see you try to be underhanded now, punk...” hissed Inrinara as another, green ball of energy flared up in his left palm <<nature power: forest>>...

----------------------------------------

“Well now what?” whined Ulivier to Pascal as the two had set off about 2 minutes from the seedot stairs.

“I think we were after a ghost type...and it had a necklace and a broach. Probably.” said Pascal in reply.

“So you're implying that you're foggy about the details?”

“Not at all.” Pascal was too occupied with running away from the seedot to remember exactly what happened. By luck he was right.

“Where did he go to?” Ulivier continued.”

“I dunno.”

“Well now what?” asked Ulivier once more, pissed greatly and somewhat impatient. “I wasn't paying attention to the details!”

“Who's problem is that?!”

“Ours.” whimpered Pascal, grimly aware of the magnitude of the situation. The two stood silent as they scaled a log.

“Alright...let's think about this logically, then.” began Pascal, trying to maintain a calm decorum. “We're boxed into this hill, which means that whoever had the bracelet couldn't have gone further than the inlet. If we just explore there then we'll be fine.”

“Whats to say that we don't wind up at the start of the forest?” Pascal muttered pessimistically as he stumbled through a patch of leaves. Pascal had the advantage of floating. “Why are we even going this far? Can't we just turn around and avoid that boxer thingy?”

“I'm...not sure, actually.” retorted Pascal, losing his momentum just as he had started to object. “He might be inside Prinemport as we speak. What if we bump into him? Then we get our lights put out.” Ulivier nodded affirmatively in reply. “We might also win some favor with him if we do what he says...” Pascal laid low as he dodged a prickly, thorny arch of rosebushes.

“And? What good will that do us? Its not like we live in Prinemport or anything.”

“I'll tell you this much; it isn't pleasant living like a hermit and sleeping tied up to a willow...it gets chilly.” Pascal and Ulivier realized that they were under a sort of pathway, overgrown by roses everywhere. It was probably a shrine of sorts.

“Hey Pascal?” said the shelmet, hoping to alert his compatriot.

“What.”

“Are we in a garden?”

Pascal looked around, realizing that there were remnants of symmetry in the rosebushes and a circular mural mosaic of a red flower on the floor. “Probably.”

“Cool.” the two continued, sometimes glancing and pondering what the aesthetic of the place could have been in its glory days.

“We could also be lost; that might be a reason to keep going on.” said Pascal absentmindedly.

“What?!” Ulivier suddenly turned, wide eyed and spooked that Pascal was ambivalent to their location. “How are we supposed to get out?!?”

“That's a piece of cake; we just follow the stream out of here. It was somewhere over...” The maze looked all the same. They were lost in the roses, and both had realized this. “Oh dear.”

“Now What?!-”

“Shut up!” said Pascal, annoyed by Ulivier's questions but simultaneously blessed by them, they yielded critical thinking from the Balloon. “We can solve this easily; all I have to do is float up and survey the forest from the canopy. Ulivier looked up.

“But there are thorns on the ceiling.” Pascal sighed.

“Then we just have to find a clearing in the roses.” Pascal set off ahead, and Ulivier trotted quickly behind him. “It shouldn't be that difficult.”

about 30 minutes passed.

It was simply too hard to make sense of anything when one had no light (save for the supple rays which penetrated the rose ceiling) to discern where to go. What was once a set of hallways was suddenly realized as a vast and sprawling hedge maze! At most, Ulivier and Pascal could only remember two turns before their previous navigation became all Greek to them. Further and further they went, with no opening in the thorny ceiling, no sound of a river, and no escape from the walls of green peppered with fragrant red flowers.

The duo huffed for air, tired of walking nonstop for the past half an hour. Finally, Ulivier fell flat on his bevor. “Can we take a break?..I feel like we've been walking in circles.” Pascal looked up in reply to this. For once, the circular mural on the floor was a sign that they recognized a place in the endless in the maze: where they had started.

Pascal groaned in dismay. “Don't tell me that we've walked for an eternity to wind up back at square one!”

“We did.” Ulivier said bluntly, misinterpreting slightly less blunt rhetoric.

“I didn't ask for your stupid opinion!”

“Since when am I stupid?! Aren't you the one who stepped into the maze first?” said Ulivier indignantly.

“I can't remember!”

“My point exactly! We're probably gonna starve in here because of one of us!” continued Ulivier in a dirge.

“Have fun with that; I'm a balloon; they don't eat!”

“Well...you'll go insane without any company!” between their acidulous accusations, the two suddenly heard a murmuring from the outcast end of the hall to their left. Pascal floated madly, chuckling like a deranged psychopath in glee;

“THE EXIT!!!!!” he wailed in joy for the presence of the way out, though he couldn't see what lay at the end of the tunnel because of an ablative fog; but he didn't care.

“And like that the marbles are lost.” thought Ulivier to himself as he followed with disgruntled steps; he was less expressive about his eagerness to exit the forest.

Pascal zoomed, picking up velocity as the fog cleared less and less. He was free! He wasn't stuck in the maze any longer! He was-...in the middle of a clearing surrounded by more bushes. There was an open ceiling though, which was good.

But the drifloon forgot about this momentarily as he realized that the clearing was far from clear. It was chock full of foldable, white wooden stools and seats, all facing towards the end of a brokenly maintained altar. There were statues of Celebi flanking either sides, carved in marble and slowly dissolved. Pascal was particularly entranced by one statue, who stood open armed but with a face long evaporated. Pascal longed to see the desire of the embrace engraved on the face of the Celebi...all to no avail. The earth below him was mangled and littered with the occasional agaric, and he realized that the ablative fog still loomed in the room. Everything seemed extremely somber, a chandelier that was once festive and joyous stood in the center of the room, barely dangling and begging for help. Standing in front of the altar was a green figure, hands extended and awaiting to be placed. He hadn't noticed the rabid cries of salvation from Pascal, and seemed preoccupied with something serene, though weighed down and somehow desecrated by the faded atmosphere of the wedding chapel. Pascal approached further, could smell a corrupted and mourning cologne on the Roselia's body, and could hear the whisperings of the somber sprout. “...Through life and death...though death did us part...” Pascal could notice the residue of tears on the little, black and vandalized eyes of the Roselia. His voice played like an untuned flute: “Please...tell me that you do...for my sake...” There laid 2 wedding rings woven from little red roses. Two Rings; not one.

Pascal had gotten too close, and the Roselia suddenly slammed his flowery fist on the marble, rustling some of the petals off. “Why?! Why are you here?!!?!” Pascal could sense the sudden bitter ferocity on the Roselia's tongue quake all over him. The corrupted bouqet of his voice scared the balloon and made him utterly guilty.

“I'm Lost!”

“SO AM I!!!” The roselia knocked half of the petals from both of his hands on the marble, destroying his hand as the Roselia groaned from the sting. The grass type turned towards a slowly retreating ghost type. Cackling composedly in hysteria every now and again as he glared at Pascal. “We've...been engaged for 10 years...and Amber died 5 years ago!!! LET US BE WED IN PEACE!!!!” and at that the Roselia hummed lowly, summoning a heterogeny of rosebuds, sharp leaves and thorns from either side. They radiated a sheen of purple and then flew towards Pascal <<magical leaf>>. Pascal shrunk his body as miniscule as he could <<minimize>> deflating and laying on the floor, lacking the air that sustained his afterlife.

Ulivier grunted to himself as he looked inside of the wedding chapel, “See Pascal? This isn't an exit at- OH S**T!!” Ulivier was late to realize that Pascal was under attack, and saw him on the ground, quick to run towards him and apply first aid (he lacked the skill, though). Only moments later did he realize that the roselia loomed over him, with his rosy palm extended towards him, a thorn at its nucleus ready to fire. In a split second though, Pascal reached out for a wedding stool, using it as a shield to protect them from the bullet of poison aimed right at the flesh of Pascal. It stuck halfway through, a hissing noise sounding as it corroded the painted mahogany of the stool <<poison sting>>.

Ulivier clamped shut, and Pascal ballooned up (minimized) to the hind side of the Roselia in a flank. Ulivier felt an instinct inside him to march toward the grass type without fear, and he abided by it. With his mask shut, he began a steady march to the Roselia, steadfastly taking the yellow, incapacitating pollen from the flowers on the Roselia's hands <<stun spore>>, the ensuing bullets coated in poison <<poison sting>> unaffected by it, and even the irradiation from the roselia which returned to it, restoring only a fourth of the life it should have absorbed from the stalwart shelmet <<mega drain>>. “Get Ready, Pascal!” yelled Ulivier as he picked up the pace and roared lowly in a battle cry. Pascal nodded, inhaling deeply and expanding to in preparation, also yelling and preemptively preparing to strike where the roselia would hit. Ulivier roared in fury as he bashed himself into the groin of the roselia, sending him flying backward <<bide>> as Pascal yelled ear-piercingly loud, flaying the Roselia just as tenaciously and causing him to become dazed. “

“I-I'm sorry Amber! I'm sorry!” wailed the Roselia as he covered his face, too scared to retaliate. As he propped himself up to hopefully block a fatal blow, the roselia stood surprised. His shock was not only to the lack of focus on himself that Ulivier and Pascal shared, but also to the fringing horde of budew which now stood all around them. The roselia smiled, however: backup.

“Kill them! They interrupted my wedding!!” bellowed the Roselia as he pointed towards them. The budew then charged at the duo, but before contact. Could be made, the entire lot of them stopped and turned towards the entrance. The seedot which the duo previously evaded were corraled by an invisible wall of disbelief which prevented the seedot from pursuing. All eyes were on the snail and the balloon.

*lightbulb *

“They're on our side!” yelled Ulivier at the top of his lungs.

It worked; out of confusion, the budew turned around and assaulted eachother at full force. It was complete madness. The Roselia was now more concerned with fending off the horde of seedot, and the seedot struggled to offend the Ulivier and Pascal to no avail. They attacked furiously, some fainting on the initial impact and all mauling eachother into fine pulps. They bashed heads, the budew sapped life from the seedot, the seedot doing what they did best: tackling their opponents into submission. A few clever ones used the chairs to their advantages, standing on top of them and pouncing on to those who had the lower ground. The truly bold locked their opponents and moonsaulted them. some shot up and careening towards the ceiling or walls from the impact of the clash. As they flew to the sides, some of the budew and seedot collided with the wall and punctured the rose maze, yelling in agony from all of the thorns that they implanted themselves with, but they walked out like troopers ready for another go. Ulivier and Pascal tried to back into a corner, a seedot and a budew charged at the duo in tandem. Just in time, Pascal had grabbed a statue of a celebi and bludgeoned the two in an arc, and they rolled backwards, colliding with and incapacitating 2 other seedot and budew which had tried to charge at them. Another 6 came, taken care of when Ulivier sprayed acid over them, causing them to instantly faint <<acid>>. It seemed like they would fare fine if they could capitalize off of the confusion between the two, but then...

“What are you twats doing?!?!” yelled the roselia, instantly causing the group of confused combatants to stop and pay attention to the commanding grass-type. “You should be attacking them!” he pointed adamantly towards the shelmet and drifloon, who looked on sheepishly at the crowd as they all shifted towards the duo with scowls on their faces. They yelled as they charged even more heavily.

*lightbulb *

“Hold on to your a*s!!” yelled Pascal as he wrapped his tendrils around a scared stiff shelmet. Pascal lifted up with all of his might and flew upward, losing his balance and leaning forward. Ulivier was only an inch or so above the nucleus of the mosh pit, and instantly sprayed acid everywhere <<acid>>, causing a good fraction of the group to faint. Once Pascal had regained his footing, he was able to expand and fly straight up, hovering above the chapel in triumph. “We did it! See you round, nerds!”

This pushed the Roselia beyond off the edge; he was as far from a nerd that one could get (fabulous, to name the descriptor). He backed up and fired poison stings at machine gun speed towards the sky which the duo floated in <<poison sting>>. After doing so, he collapsed on the ground, next to his pair of rings, realizing that life was fading from him. With his last bit of energy, he reached for the altar and slid on his ring, coughing profusely in the process.

“...I-I did it for you...we can be together...now...”

He shut his eyes and let go consciousness, the blaring of acid encoated seedot became quieter and quieter. That would be the last time that Dalton Raphael Pewterpipe would ever faint.

The flying duo was less sentimental; they had an innumerable supply of poison darts flying towards them. “MERDE!!!!” screeched Pascal as he minimized <<minimize>> as small as possible to dodge the barrage. He did, but it the expulsion of air caused him and his luggage to zoom off into another clearing by a stream. The landing wasn't pleasant; both pokemon were instantly overcome with the agony of fall damage. But then, Pascal opened his suddenly lighter eyelids, he was conscious. He checked over himself, giggling exhaustedly as he realized that he hadn't sustained any serious injury “On l'a fait!! Ulivier!! On l'a fait!!” he yelled, french accent blaring as he shook the shelmet from his sleep.

“Shut up!” and with that, Pascal's burst of ecstacy had suddenly dissipated into thin air. Bummer. “What the hell are you even saying?” said Pascal grumpily as he stood up and shook the dust off of himself. They looked at the peaceful clearing together, feeling uncannily unified...

(Ulivier advanced to level 8. Ulivier learned bide.)

-----------------------------------------------

For what seemed like an eternity was now over...Emeril's mad scurry to the end of the forest was now finished. He seemed to be in a clearing of some sort. The grass stood tall, but was utterly absent of any wild pokemon; Emeril knew this because of how quietly and unabruptly it rustled. No matter; time to appraise the loot.

Emeril cackled lowly and spitefully as he prepared to observe the loot. Under his breath he mumbeled: “This can't be any better...who cares if I won't be able to pawn off all that other garbage in that rich chick's scum...this'll buy me enough loot to guarantee that I'll forge a spot in the mafia!” he admired how shiny and pristine the necklace was. “It's gonna be awesome...I'm gonna be able to stomp over that dipshit wannabe squirtle like he's a pair of crocs, and everyone else! So much for Emeril the terrible, once I show this to Marquis Albus... I'm gonna be able to evol-” what was going to be a triumphant explanation was suddenly halted. Emeril looked ahead. A nuzleaf was about to shove an energy ball down a treecko's throat. To his left were those pokemon who tried to buzzkill his thievery. Was he trapped? Probably.

All four of them were focused on him suddenly, and he was red handed with the broach. “Get b-back here with that necklace...Mr...” the shelmet collapsed, far too exhausted to try to apprehend the criminal. The treecko, however, escaped the grapple and flew across the stream like an acrobat, Time to act smooth. “H-hello, sir...” sheepishly whimpered Emeril as the treecko paced ever closer to the misdreavus. “I don't believe I've seen you in these parts-”

“I don't believe your bullshit, kid.” ironic; Richter wasn't particularly older than Emeril, but he had a tendency to act haughtily when it came to administering justice. “Lemme ask you something, pal,” Richter knelt down confrontingly, “Where were you an hour ago?” Emeril was completely speechless, lip quivering like a guitar string.

“I-I was helping an elderly Azumaril at the park over by second street-” Emeril was slapped like a baseball, and could feel life draining from him as Richter clasped his forehead <<absorb>>. He laid down and sobbed, feelin the effects of a lack of unlife.

“Try again.”

“Fine! I was running away from those two because I stole this broach.” Emeril continued to wail like a 3 year old deprived of a lollipop.

“Give it to me.” Richter extended his claw in front of the misdreavus expectantly. Emeril was conscious to the request, but feigned sadness in order to avoid giving Richter his broach. “Right now.” again, no response. “I'll make you give it to me, if you'd like.” said Richter, grasping Emeril by his beaded necklace and putting his fist back. The misdreavus dematerialized and scurried off, seeing an exit going up the stream.

“NEVER!!” he yelled hysterically, still enamored with his prized haul of a necklace. He got 5 meters before he slammed into the brown torso of Inranari, who's eyes flared as stun spore powder encoated every last bit of Emeril <<nature power: tall grass>>. Inranari then approached Richter confrontingly.

“Some opponent you are.” demeaned Inranari to Richter, who was suddenly incensed by surprise.

“Why aren't you stopping that misdreavus?!”

“Why on earth did you take that distraction of mine as an opportunity to escape? This is perhaps the 7th time you've fought me dishonestly within a span of 20 minutes.” Inranari turned around to generate even more anger from Richter. “You aren't worth my time if you're that dishonest.”

Richter growled lowly “I had places to be! That misdreavus over there stole someones broach!”

“Why did you care if he stole a necklace, it isn't your problem.” Richter was being checkmated again; time to come clean, though not after much discomfort and debate in the Treecko's own mind.

“Because if I didn't you would be 5 steps ahead of me in catching him.”

“Aha!” Inranari pointed smugly at Richter, indulging in the joy of checkmating his rival. “So you were vain enough to outdo me in something as menial as stopping a thief? I didn't think you were that pathetic. That makes how underhanded you are even more despicable. You were using them as a means to an end to try to avoid a chance to gain honor.” Inranari turned around and smartly went on: “The end justify the means only when used for a noble cause~. “ Richter wanted to object for his life, but he was too furious to; he simply stood there too weak to retaliate. “Furthermore, I wouldn't have cared in the slightest about arresting a thief outside of prinemportian law. But now I see it as necessary in order to trump you.” Inranari turned around and approached the misdreavus. “Go ahead and hand me that broach, infidel. I will turn you in and your stolen broach to its rightful own-” interrupted by Richter, who had pounced on stuck-up from behind, he rolled over and tried to defend the tackle.

“It's my catch! I wanted to arrest him first!” said Richter as he rolled around in a heaping mess of a tackle with his rival nuzleaf.

“Really now?! I think you were motivated in both senses of vain!” retorted Inranari, regaining control.

“Vain?! Look who's talking, big-nose!”

“DON'T EVER INSULT MY NOSE ON YOUR LIFE, CLOD!!!!!” Richter immediately regretted insulting a nuzleaf's nose at close range.

Fortunately for Emeril, the paralysis powder had worn off. It was time to make a run for it. He had reached the near edge of the clearing, about to float down the stream to Prinemport, but just as he reached its borders, he had made the mistake at glancing directly at the engraving of Arceus in the center. He was stunned momentarily, a pain coming from everywhere around him and yet nowhere at the same time.

“...Move no further...” came a deep, demanding voice from nowhere, tired of Emeril's hooliganship. Emeril was coaxed to oblige, feeling an inescapable radiance assault him everywhere <<judgement: ghost>>. Emeril was too overwhelmed to yell in pain, or collapse, he simply stood still in utter astonishment, confusing Pascal as to why he was so inactive. Nonetheless, the balloon and the now capable snail took the advantage of Emeril's lack of ability as a chance to regain the broach. Pascal clenched it in his tendrils and the two hobbled down the stream back to return the broach, leaving a decimated misdreavus and two quarreling grass types behind...

------------------------------------------------

Jane watched in awe as Tom Hannibal punched clean through a 2 foot piece of oak wood, causing it to split in half. Most of their lesson had consisted of demonstrations of a similar manner: the hitmonchan would perform a feat paragon of his skill level while the skitty would watch on, attempting to attain that level of competence through fundamentals.

“Howdya do that?” Jane asked in a cheerful chirp.

“It's not exactly high science if you practice enough; that's why I want you to give me 20 more tackles on those sandbags.” Tom pointed his glove towards the green bag, which was not only the smallest bag, but the lightest and easiest to tackle. In about 3 weeks, the skitty would be moved up to the yellow bag. Progress would be moderate, but that was why Tom practiced in front of Jane, so that he could instill a yearning for high achievement in the skitty. It was working for the most part, but Tom was versed enough to know that Jane would be out of gas after those 20 tackles. Jane was.

The skitty collapsed on the floor, after which Tom chuckled warmly and approached his huffing student. “You did very well today.”

“D-did I?!” yelped the adorable cat-pokemon.

“Quite well, in fact.” Tom set the skitty up on her feet, after which the cat looked up towards her superior keenly. “I'll look forward to working with you again, Ms. Appolinarus.”

The skitty almost left at that, but suddenly remembered: “Where'd my necklace go, Mrs. Hannibal?!”

Tom looked down and hummed in reply, crossing his arms. “If my intuition is right, the two should be here just about...” Pascal and Ulivier came bursting through the clearing, both out of breath and Pascal fortunately with the broach in hand. “Now.” once more, Tom Hannibal chuckled.

“W-we're sorry that it took...so long.” grunted Pascal, very tuckered out from walking: an artifice not meant for shelmet.

“No worries,” said Tom happily, “You came right on time for Ms. Appolinarus' lesson to be finished.” Pascal lethargically lurched the broach towards Jane, who was elated to see that her possesion was back in her hands.

“Thankyou!” twittered Jane gladly as she started to walk away down the same path to Tom's clearing. “It was cool training with you, Mr. Hannibal! See you Thursday!”

“Yes! Take care and make sure to never trust strangers again!” said Tom, hoping that his wisdom would shine through to the skitty. Jane heard the hitmonchan and probably would because of how fondly she had grown of her trainer. After all, he was the coolest hitmonchan for miles!

Ulivier and Pascal watched the skitty fly by as well, though turned to Mr. Hannibal afterwards. “Are we free to go, now?” asked Pascal in between tired breathing.

“Absolutely not.” The two of them froze, their hearts skipping several beats as they nearly collapsed. “I've still got to give you my end of the deal.” The two groaned in dismay and yielding laughter from Mr. Hannibal.

“Wait...since when did you promise us something in return?” asked Pascal, still somewhat upset from being deceived.

“Isn't it common courtesy to give back to someone who just went through hell to meet your expectations?” after a pause, the two nodded at Tom's smooth reasoning.

“What do we get?” asked Ulivier.

“Answers!”