[X] My Assistant

[pancakes]

Furoh Entry #1

Dear Journal,

I arrived in Furoh the day before yesterday. I don't think I could have lasted any longer on one of my father's trade ships. I arrived late that night, with dusk long passed, and went straight to the Pokemon Center, which unfortunately, was full, but graciously offered me a sleeping bag and a spot on the floor. Sleeping on the floor in tight quarters was way better than sleeping on a wreaking ship for two nights in a row. All I'm saying is that I enjoy sleeping on a still surface.

My dad was being cheap with me, which was a first. He sent me to Furoh on one of his trade ships. The ship was transporting granite from Dewford Town in Hoenn. The ship wasn't like luxury ferries I have been on before. The boat's living space was very small, and cramped, and cold. Although, the crew told very amusing stories, but I didn't believe them. Sea monsters, really?

Early yesterday, Squirtle and I went for a swim at the beach. Squirtle is still looking strong. Getting Torchic to do his aerobics is a different story altogether. Simply said, Torchic is being stubborn, but give me a few days, and he won't be anymore. I joined an ultimate frisbee game on the beach because they were looking for another player to even out the teams. They barely ever passed me the frisbee though, so I left after a while. I enjoyed shopping on the Boardwalk. I bought a few extra spare sets of clothes, and an important town map chip that can go into my PokeGear.

I registered for the Furoh Pokemon League yesterday afternoon as the Pokemon Center. The Nurse Joy tipped me saying that the Furoh gyms are a lot harder than other regions as gyms were based off two types, not just one. I was completely unaware, and glad she told me so. Luckily, I was able to book a room for the night. I went to bed early that night, so I could get up and train.

This morning I woke and ran up and down the boardwalk. I went for a tough swim with Squirtle, who again today out swam me. She is a marine pokemon though so I'm not too bothered. Torchic did a little better with his aerobics again today, but still nowhere near satisfactory. Hopefully, if Torchic evolves when Torchic evolves, so will his stubbornness.

I'm about to go, officially start my journey around Furoh. I wonder if I will be able to make friends as easily as I did in Hoenn. Will Torchic shape up for the better? Will I be able to befriend pokemon as easily as I did before? Will I be safe here in Furoh? Will I be successful?

Sincerely,
Phoebe

The Serious Stampede

Phoebe closed her black spiral notebook, placing it in her black backpack with her skinny tanned hands. She threw on her navy blue low ankle sneakers with matching laces. She then pulled out a small hand mirror out of her backpack's small pocket.

Phoebe examined herself through the mirror. She made sure her hair looked good. She was satisfied with her hastily made loose bun sitting on the side of her head. Her emerald green eyes looked as rich as ever, deeply contrasting with the bland white wall paint of the room she was in. A quick check of her teeth revealed a short burst of white before halting to natural colored lips. Phoebe was sporting her usual white tank top with thin straps and a pair of navy blue shorts that reached a quarter down her thigh.

Phoebe put her mirror away in the backpack, then threw the backpack over her shoulders. Two reduced size Poke Balls hung from the right shoulder strap of her backpack. The top one contained her Squirtle and the bottom one contained her Torchic. Surprisingly, the backpack wasn't incredibly heavy even though it was packed to the brim. The headstock of her beautiful acoustic guitar stuck out of the biggest pocket, creating a rather comical sight. She walked out the door after checking she didn't leave anything behind. She walked out the door of the Pokemon Center, into the large crowds of shoppers, commuters, tourists, and locals. She made her way out of the downtown area on the large trainer route heading east.

The day before, Phoebe was informed of a large swarm of Tauros was gathering in the Open Fields of Estor. Phoebe, having nothing to do, having no one to hang out with, and certainly having no sense of direction, wanted to get lost for a few days. She saw this as the greatest opportunity this early on.

By midday, Phoebe was a two hours walk away from Barley. Phoebe had reached what must have been a large route junction. A couple dozens of trainers were just hanging out in this intersection. Phoebe grabbed the canteen out of the side of her backpack. She squirted the ice cold water into her open mouth. The ice cold water felt refreshing as she felt it running down her windpipes. Phoebe didn't need water, and she was definitely not sweating. Girls didn't really sweat, especially Phoebe. Even in the most grueling exercises, she usually doesn't sweat. Plus, she comes from Hoenn which is one of the hottest regions around.

Several Pokemon battles were going on all around the intersection. Phoebe noticed a large crowd around a strong looking Makuhita owned by a large, muscular trainer taking on a little kid with nothing other than a Zigzagoon. None of these battles looked overly exciting. Street vendors were selling everything from Poke Balls to water bottles. Phoebe had mass quantities of both. She turned and twisted to see every detail of all the battles all the time. Soon enough, when she decided it was time to move on, she didn't know which she came from. All of the roads looked the same, as it was just flat land.

Not worrying, as it was her ambition to get lost, she simply stopped where she was with perfect feminine posture. Phoebe hoped somebody would approach her, introducing themselves, and tell her where they were going. Hopefully, if she met a couple of people and knew where they were going, she would be able to determine in what way Estor was.

This post has been edited by pancakes: Feb 3 2011, 11:01 PM

[Troy Bolton]

"Sure, that's one way of looking at it. But it's totally wrong." Set scene - early morning, post jog. Beside one tall, red headed boy in short red running shorts emblazoned with "Arasam Soccer" slouched two puffing Pokémon - both spherical in shape and splayed across the ground like roadkill. They're gasping for air as if just rescued from drowning. He's holding his phone with one hand, the other holding two fingers too his neck to count his pulse. The conversation he's having is a serious one, by his tone.

"No, listen. They both need each-other. It's interdependency, y'know?." He listens. "Oh. Maybe you don't." He begins to stretch, starting with wall (well, tree) stretches and segueing to back stretches. His movements are slow and certain, as familiar as air.

"Well, yeah, I know that. He does awful things to Tom. Nasty, hell's bells, even sadistic things. But that's fine, as long as that's what Tom wants. No, listen, in the Tom and Jerry Show, they live toget- Deadly Premonition, that's why. It's a great game, Kat, don't know why you haven't played it." More silence as he listens to the phone, now stretching triceps.

"Because Swery is a genius. He took the budget he had and embraced it - the appeal isn't in the graphics or the combat. It's in the story. It's in Agent York. Actually, hold on a sec." He gestures to the two Pokémon that he's moving again. They both affix him with looks of agony, and sighing, he returns them to their Pokéballs, cradling his phone in the crevice between neck and ear. "What was that? Yeah, Kat, I'm back..."

`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`

The boy's path ended on a busy street, where trainers bristled for battles and vendors preyed on the profits. For the boy, it was a nice way to get a couple of dollars and cool off after a run. As he strolled through the street, carefully avoiding the puddles from the runoff of the weird Carcosan weather to the east, he winked at the old man who he'd become acquainted with over the past three days. The man was an artisan, a believer in quality over quantity - Woodrow liked him a lot. Cigarettes were crushed underfoot, and the trainer walked in perfectly slow 4:4 time, simple enough to allow for anyone to catch up to him.

"Hey, you! When our eyes meet, you can't deny my challenge!" Woodrow Spencer turned around slowly, where a kid with a turned-backward hat and a pair of shorts was pointing at him. His Rattata was growling viciously (as much as a tiny rodent could). Woodrow supposed it made sense - he only wore two Pokéballs clearly on his person, where the Young Kid had six proudly shined capture units on his belt. Most Joggers usually preferred weak-but-speedy Pokémon, or they just forfeited when challenged. The Young Kid had made a terrible mistake, though - Woodrow was no jogger.

Fiddling with his arm-strapped iPod unit, Woodrow Spencer retrieved his third Pokéball - denoted as an Ultra Ball by its yellow-and-black pattern - and dropped it on the ground. A serpentine Pokémon sprung from it, wriggling around agitatedly through the air. It was mostly blue, with a yellow underbelly and segmented spots. On its head was a three-point dark blue crest, with a gaping mouth of (oddly enough) only four canine teeth.

Gyarados roared, shaking the ground Woodrow stood on with its resonance. He blinked calmly. "I select Aegis the Gyarados as my first Pokémon. Since I am the challenger, I will accept your graciousness and select the first move. Aegis, Hyper Beam." This wasn't the first time a kid had tried to cheat the actor out of some money. Hopefully, the Kid would follow the same tactic as his peers.

The prediction was at once proven correct, as the Rattata cowered behind the Kid, who began to babble at the mouth for Woodrow to please-stop-oh-god-oh-god. Technically, the physical and thus more powerful counterpart to Hyper Beam was 'Giga Impact', but the prevalence of the highly successful documentary "Search for the Red Gyarados" had ingrained the Gyarados : Hyper Beam idea into common society. The Atrocious Pokémon in that film had razed a few buildings overlooking Johto's Lake of Rage with the move before a lone child rode out into the lake to capture it. That child used nothing but their first Pokémon. Woodrow's Gyarados had taken thirty minutes and six deployed Pokémon to capture.

Woodrow grinned. "As you forfeit, I'll take, eh, let's call it $630. Don't want to rob you." After the kid paid, Woodrow turned, a spring in his step, as Aegis swam through the air behind him.

Gyarados and Woodrow had gained an understanding ever since the former's capture. The trainer had (unknowingly) snuck onto a farm. The owner was a bit of an arse, and so Woodrow did not intercede (not that he could) when the Atrocious Pokémon had proceeded to eat a sickly Tauros whole. After that, it mewled like a kitten and let Woodrow rub its belly. An agreement was made - obedience and tolerance for delicious meat. It wasn't difficult to find dying buffalo-esque Pokémon like Tauros and Miltanks in the wild. Nature was running its couse, and Aegis didn't seem to mind if it were recently dead or not.

He'd taken a preference for the invading Unova Pokémon. In a way, it felt like a civic duty to the people, and Aegis had developed a taste for Audino and that thing with the afro (no, it didn't matter what the scientists said about it being a natural helmet - it was an afro).

Woodrow strolled toward his particular vendor, fistful of dollars clenched tight. The old man doffed his newsie's cap, sweeping into a deep and elegant bow. "Mr. Spencer, always a pleasure!" The trainer sighed, shaking his head. He hated when Steward did that.

"Steward, I hate when you do that. Call me Woodrow, okay?" Chuckling, the old man put his hands into the air in a 'what can I do' gesture. "The usual, then?" Woodrow slid the paper money across the counter, and the artisan went to work, preparing one of the greatest breakfast cheese sandwiches ever conceived. When he finished, he carefully wrapped it in today's funny papers, also passing the trainer a can of Ribena pop. Woodrow at once popped the cap and downed a third in one swig.

"It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, the Swablus have beaten the Snovers for the first time in about twelve years. I'm enjoying myself, Mr. Spencer. Save the money for a bauble for your girlfriend. You got a girlfriend, doncha, Spence'?" After confirming that he did indeed have a girlfriend, Woodrow pressed the money directly into Steward's pocket.

"You deserve three times that per sandwich, easy, Steward. Least I can do is give you that much." The old man doffed his cap again, and Woodrow bowed deeply.

"See ya, old timer."

"See ya, Spence."

The sandwich was perfection in every degree - crunchy, crispy sourdough bread, a combination of gruyere, fontina, and mozzarella cheeses, freshly roasted red peppers, as well as a hint of grey poupon mustard. To Woodrow, food always tasted better when you could eat it with your hands. The black currant drink was an excellent contrast to the salty flavors of the cheeses. The comic pages were always an added benefit. Yes, all in all, this sandwich was fit for a king, but for the price any pauper could afford.

All too soon, one half of the sandwich and most of the Ribena was gone. After nipping into his day-rent apartment on top of the Pokémon Center and grabbing his backpack, the trainer headed outside, already opening up the Map app on his phone. He was nearby Estor, some tiny town he'd never personally heard of before. As good a place as any. He wandered in the crowd, Aegis' intimidation warding off any other potential Young Kids who wanted to fight. It was looking more and more like the taming of the Gyarados had been a greater provenance than earlier thought.

Woodrow was only human, and only male. He could not help himself his vices, and certainly a wandering eye was much better than being a drug fiend or an alcoholic. So when his gaze cast upon a brown haired girl in a tank top and shorts, one can only toss their hands in the air and recount that old saying, 'boys will be boys'. And despite the trainer's insistence that he was a man now, in a thousand ways he was still just a kid.

While there were several things Woodrow prided about himself, none were more relevant than his ability to read faces and body language. As a matter of fact, he had completed several term papers about the latter subject, and was something of an expert. This girl ached for companionship - clear from the awkwardness and lack of comfort in her stance. Well, who better than a dashing lad like Woodrow to say 'hello'? Unhooking Aegis' Pokéball from the iPod armband again, he returned the Gyarados, other hand already grasping Otoro's Pokéball. Gulpin cheered happily at Woodrow as he was summoned, and kneeling, the trainer gave him the sandwich crusts. "C'mon, bud, you're my wingman." Picking up and cradling Otoro under his left arm (much like a soccer ball), Woodrow made his way over to the girl.

"Hello," he chirped, voice rising a third-octave past its usual position to be more pleasing to the ear, "I'm Woodrow. You seem a bit lost - anything I could do to help?" His stance was straight, one leg cocked slightly off-center. The trainer grinned an easy smile, and he scratched Otoro's back idly. The Gulpin gave a happy gurgle, but otherwise remained quiet, just as poised for response as his friend.

[pancakes]

Phoebe was standing by herself, not interacting with anyone. See was just plainly pondering. She had just arrived in Furoh. Phoebe had no idea the population of Furoh was so large. She was simply blown away. After staying two days in the port of Barley, she left this morning and walked out here. She found herself in a large junction, which was a hotspot for trainers. She had lost her direction, and she had no idea the way to Estor.

"Hello," said someone with welcoming voice behind her. Phoebe turned around to see an older looking boy. Not just older, but by a couple of years. The boy was standing up as straight as she was, maybe even better, which Phoebe found curious. Before, a stereotype that no boys had even the slightest posture, but now she was proven wrong. The boy had some welcoming appearance to him, less with his messy chestnut hair and his cute smile that never seemed to wear off his face but more with his comfort and confidence. The boy was cradling a Gulpin, one of the many Pokemon she encountered in her travels across Hoenn. "I'm Woodrow. You seem a bit lost - anything I could do to help?"

"Hey Woodrow, thats a rather unique name," she paused for a couple of seconds. She debated to herself what to tell this boy. She didn't want to tell him too much because he could be a pervert only interested in her looks. Numerous times has such a thing happened to her. She glanced at Woodrow, who looked more occupied with his Gulpin than her. "Anyway, I'm Phoebe, its nice to meet you." Again she paused. "What a lovely Gulpin you have there!" Phoebe decided to avoid the question he asked, and she maybe, depending on what Woodrow is like, will answer.

Phoebe let her green eyes wander over Woodrow's shoulder in which a large fiery battle was taking place. A heavy, immobile Torkoal was blasting colorful fire left and right at the lighter, quick Houndour. The Houndoor was avoiding the turtle's attacks, but wasn't able to move close enough to his foe to lay any attack on him. A large crowd was gathering around the battle. The crowd then obscured her vision of the battle. In return, Phoebe returned her concentration back onto Woodrow, who was beginning to speak.

[stbyleth]

He stared at the two girls trailing ahead of him. He was tired and no one needed to be a rocket scientist to figure that out. They had been walking for hours. Couldn’t they find a train or a bus or something? It surely wouldn’t have been that hard! They had all the money in the world – or a considerable portion of it, that is – and here they were, walking. He did not like it one bit, especially since he had to travel with two girls – one his twin sister and the other a childhood friend – and no one to talk to… It upset him, to say the least.

As fat tears began to well up in his cloudy grey eyes, the Minccino on his shoulder tapped on his cheek. “Min!” he said firmly, “Min, min, mincci… no!” It was as if the pokémon was speaking to him. The man clad in mostly purple brought his hands to his face – slender hands, womanly hands, this is only a minor reason as to why he had been picked on as a child before being withdrawn from school – and wiped away the collecting water and glanced over at the chinchilla pokémon.

“I’m fine, Treble,” the man explained to him. “Just… thinking…” His voice was soft, yet it still hitched and cracked slightly, which is why he shut his mouth after the final word. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve again, Treble’s tail swooping his trainer’s heliotrope hair from his eyes and face. The curly strands just fell back into their original positions, however, making the white pokémon frown slightly.

“Llewellyn!” the violet haired girl – the man’s sister – snapped, glancing over her shoulder. The black haired lady next to her glanced back as well, peering over the frames of her slick, expensive sunglasses. “Come on, you’re lagging behind!” the first girl continued. “If you go any slower, Rachelle and I will leave you behind! I mean it too!”

It was entirely true. It had happened before once, at a fair. Llew never dared go near ferris wheels again after that.

Llewellyn almost tripped because of how fast he was now running to catch up with them. Almost getting smacked in the face by Rachelle’s umbrella, he ducked just in time. However, Treble was not as lucky, and he fell off his trainer’s shoulder, twisted midair, and landed flat on his face. Tail swishing in the air, Llew picked him up and tottered off once more, standing between the two females.

“Oh, j’ai une idée!” announced Rachelle after a few minutes of silence. By then, Treble was back on his master, but he was on his head rather than the shoulder this time. Gilbert, the other and final girl’s name, rolled her eyes – not another one of Rachelle’s foolish ideas. She really did have terrible ideas. Ones that wouldn’t work. Ones that put her in favour. Et cetera. Dorian, her Zorua, rolled his eyes as well.

“Why don’t we part ways?” resumed the black-haired, placing a finger on her cheek thoughtfully. “I mean, of course we’d meet up again… but why don’t we go do our own thing for awhile and… then se revoir somewhere else in another time?” She smiled big and wide at her traveling partners, like she had just won eight awards. “Oui? Sound good?”

Gilbert laced her hands behind her head, thinking about it. “… That’s a good idea, actually. I guess we could do that.” A nod.

Llew looked hurriedly back and forth between them. “… But! By myself? I-I—”

“Oh shut it. You can do it.” Gil reached over and pinched her brother’s cheek gently, resulting in him wincing and pulling away. “You’re a big boy— oh, stop crying!” She huffed, halting her walk. Rachelle, oblivious (she was still high on her idea, you see), continued walking, and Dorian went with her to make sure she didn’t, you know, accidentally fall off a cliff or something. It was possible.

Llewellyn rubbed at his eyes that were already rimming with red. “I-I’m not crying! I-I just don’t want t-to go by myself!” The boy had abandonment issues, really. He hated being alone, even though he really wasn’t fond of strangers or people. Sure, he could boss them around and perform during contests, but he really He enjoyed being with his sister and Rachelle, and he clung to the two like they were life lines. He couldn’t be separated from them, even for a short period of time! This was horrible! He was vaguely aware that he sank to his knees, his Minccino hopping off his head and snuggling into his stomach, trying to cheer him up. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, choking up on the oncoming sobs.

Gil crouched down, putting a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing it. “It’s alright… Hey, you’ll be fine! Don’t worry… I’m sure you’ll get a Ribbon before me, too… Maybe I’m holding you back, huh? You’ll be fine… I’m sure Calamity will eat anything that tries to hurt you.” Calamity, Llew’s Zorua, was infamous for eating and destroying Gil’s stuff whenever she pleased, but she always disappeared from the scene of the crime. “So… stop crying, come on…”

This was routine for them. Llew wasn’t exactly the, er, manliest around. Very few things couldn’t make the twin cry. He sat there for several more moments, the choking sobs slowly dying down to nothing more than sniffles here and there. After another moment or two, the sniffles died out altogether and he was silent. He looked up at Gil. Rachelle, having caught on that she was alone, stood behind her, looking worriedly down at him. His sister wore a small, comforting smile, dropping her hand from his shoulder.

“Let’s go.”

○○○

He really, really, really shouldn’t have just taken out a map and put a finger on a random spot with his eyes closed to determine his location. He didn’t know where he was now. Barley? No, according to the map card of his POKéGEAR, he was just south of it. A day or so away from it, at least. Maybe less if he ran. But he wasn’t going to run. He just wanted to sit.

And sit is what he did. Trotting gently over to a tree, Llewellyn sat down, sliding down the bark smoothly. Well, not smoothly. His sweater vest got attached in some places and knotted and that really made it difficult. Once he was properly seated on the ground, he sighed, leaning his head back against the tree. Treble pounced on him playfully. He could tell his trainer was not in the best of moods, especially since the trio hadn’t seen each other for awhile. Retrieving a laugh from the trainer, Treble chuckled himself before settling down next to him.

“Mm… I think we can make this wor—AAAAAAAAAH-” He abruptly burst into tears and stood up, leaving Treble confused, and began brushing himself off. Small puff balls of yellow fell off of him, skittering away, and others just crawled further up him. After doing some sort of funny dance, all of the yellow things were off, and they all scattered away. He shuddered and continued flailing about for a few more seconds before taking a deep breath. Treble stood in front of him, head cocked slightly to the side. Llewellyn brushed off himself once more for good measure before wiping away the streaks of drying water from his cheeks. He took another deep breath, grabbed Treble, and began flat out running away from the tree.

Never. Again. Would he sit next to a random tree. Ever.

○○○

Llew was still shuddering slightly when he reached the intersection that held a lot of people. Why exactly were there so many people? It seemed to be a midway market of some sort, with street vendors, as well as a gathering place for lots of new and old trainers willing to test their pokémon power against other trainers. The purple haired man was interested in neither of these, and when his POKéGEAR beeped, stealing a glance, he realised that a whole new town had popped up on the map. Tilting his head slightly, he saw that the town – Estor – had a lot of open space around it. There was also the fact that it was closer than Barley was. Maybe he could get something to eat there… That would be good –

His thoughts were interrupted as a large, blue, snake like pokémon swam through the air in front of him, nearly knocking him over. The Minccino huffed and yelled at it, but it just ignored him. Soon, the Gyarados was returned to the pokéball that it presumably came from and a Gulpin was taken out instead. Losing interest in it quickly, Llew turned and huffed, stomping off. He leaned against a street vendor’s shop.

The vendor stared at him. A fat, plump man with more than enough food stains on his white shirt, the vendor slowly turned over the hot dogs he was cooking. A Cranidos, the man’s pokémon, stood next to him. He had the same disposition as his trainer, and thus, he just stared at the newcomer. After a few minutes, the vendor piped up. “Oi, you gonna buy anythin’?”

Llew jumped, squinting over at him. He failed to notice the Cranidos and shook his head. He turned away again, still leaning against the vendor’s fine establishment.

However, in just a few short seconds, he was flat on his face, a dirt trail of where he had been behind him. His legs flopped to the ground before he could roll over, and he came to a halt right before the man who had had the Gyarados out before. His eyes watered as he stared at his feet as well as the girl’s he was speaking with. He stood up, the Cranidos who had hit him returning back to his trainer’s side, and rubbed his bottom. He stared at the ground and wiped his eyes, not wanting the strangers to see that he was crying.

Today was just not his day, it seemed.

I have been given permission from Ganymede and Darkrow to use Gilbert and Rachelle (still without a profile...) in this post and the final post, when they will meet up again.

This post has been edited by Cavalcade: Feb 7 2011, 09:06 PM