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This is what remains of the region after the outbreak.
Undead pokemon lurk behind every corner, infest every city, haunt every cave.
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.//desdume

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2KB

Age : 19
Posts : 93

.//desdume

Post by 2KB on Mon Nov 24, 2014 4:14 pm

.//this could be destiny
everyone is played in the palms of fate -- or so it's believed. instead of fate, why not call it destiny?
"With this concept, humans have a hand in events, but only to get the ball rolling."



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2KB

Age : 19
Posts : 93

goodbye pure

Post by 2KB on Mon Dec 01, 2014 2:15 am

.//goodbye innocence and to what they call pure
a recollection of a story that passed on from one pokemon to the next. she was nothing more than a small bitter memory that was part of a sick love triangle




   The area was just a flurry of white, the snow rained hard on the slowly rotting corpse of a Sawsbuck, struggling to crawl forward. The Sawsbuck was in spring, her flowers drooped and withered. A red scarf stood out on her dull and dead body, battered up and beatened, it still hung tight around her neck like its life was depending on it.
    Where was this Sawsbuck going? What other purpose does she have now other than to wait for her body to stop functioning? Her brain was still intact, but she can feel it. She can feel death just waiting by her side, waiting for her to give up and take her to the underworld.
    Her name is Pure. Pure like truth, clarity, innocence. And she held none of those qualities. Dirty, disgusting, tainted. Why did Pure have to be undead? Everything would have been better if she didn't get bit, if her elder brother didn't get infected, if the apocalypse wasn't upon them. But at the same time, Pure was glad it happened, everyone was such a killjoy anyways.
    After the events of Iccirus, everything was a blur. Casanova? That playboy of a Zebstrika? He ditched Pure the moment he got a chance. Ran away with his tail between his legs as undead chased after him. They ignored Pure. She was one of them, they had no business or food to pick from her. The Season Pokemon simply travelled, she had no business with Paladin and Prince no longer, they were gone. It didn't take long for Pure to notice she was already in a different region, a place she didn't recognize.
    Of course, she was intelligent enough to eavesdrop survivors. She was in Sinnoh. Musharna can teleport objects -- or rather a pokemon -- that far? Hell, Pure didn't even notice that Musharna could learn teleport.

    Out in the distance, there was another Sawsbuck in the snow. Pure sees it. She was unlike her: green like the summer. It was weird seeing it in contrast to the winter snow, but Pure stared long and hard at the other Sawsbuck. Ah.
    She had flowers hung around her neck. A mix of spring and summer? Pure wanted to laugh and cry. That Sawsbuck was gorgeous even from a distance: refreshing and bright like summer, a new beginning and clean like spring. She was nothing like Pure who was the opposite of her name. She wouldn't have been able to witness this beauty of a Sawsbuck slowly approach her. That Sawsbuck... She must be frightened, scared, Pure's undead after all, it would be no surprise.
    But Pure herself was in a bit of a shock as the Sawsbuck was only one foot away in a matter of seconds and still getting closer. She sat inches away and stared at Pure with pitying eyes. Pure wished she could cover herself or hide, she was disgusting. The world is ashamed that she existed. But pity would be something Pure was, a pity if anyone were to be in her position.
    "You..." The other Sawsbuck murmured, "You must be tired." Her voice, it was dry, but Pure could tell that her voice would be like flutes whistling in the wind -- soft and beautiful -- if water wasn't so scarce. She had emerald green eyes with a mix of earthy brown. It was clear to Pure that the other Sawsbuck had a good personality, a very kind-hearted soul.
    I am, Pure wanted to respond, but said nothing. Her vocal cords rotted away long ago.
    "I... I am sorry things ended up like this," She said softly.
    What's there to be sorry for?
    "I'm sure we could have been good friends if we met under different circumstances."
    Ha! I had and still have a horrible personality. I believe otherwise, I assure you.
    "..."
    Maybe. Just maybe...
    At this point, Pure wish she had the strength to cry. A stranger to witness her downfall. It was weird, but damn, she was glad that someone out there would know that Pure existed, that she is now dead. Nothing more than a bitter memory.
    "Shall I sing for you?"
    The question was sudden. A song? From her? Arceus bless this Sawsbuck, her voice was already a holy choir by itself. Did she feel obligated to do so as Pure was dying again? Did she believe that Pure would blessing her in the afterlife? Regardless of the reason, would it be too much to ask from her to sing a song for this sinful character? Though nothing said, Pure stared at her with her tired eyes; Please do.
    It was as if a wave of peace and sincerity washed over Pure, everything is done, everything is a blessing. Even in this cursed world, she was glad to be a part of it. All because of a simple song. As if Arceus had sent down this Sawsbuck to lull her to sleep and to her final resting place.
    Amara watched the undead Sawsbuck stop struggling, the final petal from its horns flew off. To finally meet its peace, she was glad she was present for this moment. That red scarf caught her attention from afar, moving inch by inch. Amara was sure that only an undead would be moving this slow in the cold. Surely when that undead was still alive that it treasured that scarf. Just as how Amara treasured her necklace.

   She bid adieu to the spring Sawsbuck, the cold drove her away and it would soon be night. The snow would be the undead's natural grave and Amara regrets that she could not give it the proper burial it deserved. Her only comment of that fated meeting would be that Sawsbuck was pure like snow. In a way it was honest and open, many would think otherwise just because it was undead, but Amara surely thought regardless of it being undead or not that the Sawsbuck would do no harm.




A note from your's truly: so what of pure? how did she die? what became of her? she is now dead and was taken away by natural circumstances. this was written as an explanation of what happened and destiny bringing her together with what should be a replacement of sorts. this takes place a few months ago from Amara meeting the Burned team.
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2KB

Age : 19
Posts : 93

the king and the merchant

Post by 2KB on Mon Dec 01, 2014 11:46 pm

.//and so the higher-ups decided that merchants are a higher class than the knights




   She watched the aftermath of her bargain from a cliff above, the repetitive screams of No! slowly getting swallowed up by flesh being ripped apart and carnivorous bites and swallows. The scent of blood was heavy in the air, but the Musharna showed neither concern nor empathy, rather that she was more disappointed and bored.
   "You never fail to amuse me, merchant."
   A corrupted voice, like death and despair decided to pay a visit. The Musharna turned to the harbinger, a smile crept up to her lips. It wasn't the smile she would play when making a bargain, but the smile of accomplishment, "I put on a good show for you? I am but a living, yet the king of all dared to show up before me? Surely you must have lots of time to spare if not reaping those who failed to become proper pawns of this accursed game."
   "Jest the details, merchant," The opposing psychic-type waved his hands as if shooing away the subject, "I just kept an eye on you after the events of ###, you make an excellent plot device."
   "A lovely comment from the king, I'll take it."
   An dull, bloodied up, and rotting Alakazam floated next to the Drowsing Pokemon. Tentacles hung from the sides of his mouth, the razor sharp teeth that normally covered it now obscure from view. Despite the disheveled appearance, the undead was intelligent compared to others, frighteningly intelligent. Knowing too much can be both a curse and a blessing. Mardröm preferred to call intelligence an obligation.
   The harbinger looked at the scene below with unfazed eyes.
   "They were a bit late on payments," Mardröm pointed out, "quite the shame they had to pay through cheaper means."
   He nodded in a certain understanding. Out of all the harbingers of death, Mardröm knew that he would enjoy playing around with his food rather than swallow it whole.
   The screams died out. The body was being mauled away by undead. She sighed, hoping it would be longer. Alas, everyone lived on top of the world when it came to the delusions. Mardröm, frankly, was but a mere merchant.
   In a way, she was similar to the Alakazam. However, she wasn't satisfied with eating pokemon, she simply enjoyed watching them have at each other's throats for more delusions. She enjoyed the meals of dreams they had. That enough was pleasing.
   "Yet you struggle."
   "Yet I struggle."
   "It seems business isn't fairing well for you lately," He murmured, wrapping one of his tentacles around his claw, "Do you require assistance?"
   She laughed, "Deary me, and what benefits do you gain from helping me? In fact, business is only working well in the apocalypse. I am bound by no morals or laws, simply survival."
   The Alakazam darkly laughed along, "Nothing. There is nothing gained but self-satisfaction. Your business is nothing to me but entertainment."
   Of course, she finds the apocalypse just a fun game. Pre-epidemic, everyone was such a sore ass and held pity dreams at best: to be the best pokemon trainer, to defeat whatshisface at the champions... She gagged at it, how disgustingly cute.
   She had to thank the epidemic for giving some spice to the desires, many wished to get back what they had once lost. At times the Musharna had to resist the laughter of how naive some can be, how have they not realized you cannot bring back the dead? They are giving into temptation by taking up her offer of delusions, she feels a sense of pride in her work.
   But who could resist the offer of a good bargain?
   "How about this, king,"
   "Hmm?"
   "If you do find customers, do me the pleasure of bringing me to them," she proposed, "It's tiring having to float around and search for them, but since you seem so willing to help out, I'll let you do the honors of gathering up potential customers."
   "...Well there is one place I have in mind at this very moment, or would you rather wait till I gather up more?"
   "Oh please, there is no break in business, make haste and bring me there."
   "Yes, yes, your majesty" He grunted. Alhoon raised his arms, he focused his powers at the imagery of a ominous tower, the base dug deep in the earth, how the only escape from the graveyard was up.
   A few clicks of the tongue, Mardröm looked at him disappointingly, "Merchant, harbinger, merchant."
   And with that she was off.
   What a picky merchant she was, but she had more snark than any the psychic-type had seen. Though he had no favorites, he would like to keep her under his palm for the time-being or at least a close eye. She had no motives to do what she was doing now other than entertainment. He had to admit that there was not much to do in the epidemic when everyone is too busy dying.
   He teleported her to the last place he was at, recalling the pokemon he had cooped up in the tower of the dead in Sinnoh. They were experiments of his, how he stole away their memories locked tight in a box. He gave only some back earlier, sending them straight to the bottom of the tower again. Yes, she shall be there. It's perfect.  They have part of their memories; to want is something strong in them.
   
   Alhoon will give them the privilege of fulfilling those desires.




A note from your's truly: non-canon, but i assume that if mardröm and alhoon were to meet, they may have a civil conversation on how stupid everyone is. or maybe alhoon might compliment how mardröm does a better job than her harbringers on spicing up the story. maybe also serve as a reason why mardröm can float to multiple teams with ease without wasting too much energy. that's just me though. John wanted it canon, so there you go, it's canon now.
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2KB

Age : 19
Posts : 93

his name was jack

Post by 2KB on Wed Dec 03, 2014 8:31 pm

.//i loved her
the mind of a bird who lost a sense of who he was and sees reality as nothing more than a sick joke




   Jack.

   A single word, a proper noun, a name.
   It rings in the eagle's ears. The name was odd to him, reminiscent, a sense of pride, yet it sent chills down his spine. A blessing and a curse of a name. He loved it, he hated it. He treasured it, he threw it away. A name filled with love and regret.
   Of course he recalls that much, he is no idiot. It was a name given to him. What was her name again? Therese? Melodis? Cleffe? Desdume? The- Thi- Thim- Thien Kim. That was her real name, one that she never shared publicly. She went by many aliases, many identities as she travelled to various regions. She was well-known for being one of the strongest trainers. The pressure crushed her. He remembers her tears, her desperation, her need for reassurance.
   Jack remembers how she could no longer recall who she was. How she could barely crawl out of bed in the morning. How she sobbed and cried herself to sleep. He remembers.

   Déjà vu? Is that the term?

   It takes him that long to realize how pathetic he is. It takes him that long to realize how pathetic she was. He could have helped here, there were so many ways, so many ways to prevent her death.

   Arceus, does he miss her sorely.

   Maybe it was divine punishment. Jack knew it himself. He held such feelings towards a human, his trainger out of all people. Many would find it sickening. Human and Pokemon? In that way? It was but a far-off dream, a desire, a lust.
   And maybe that's why the best way to punish him was to take her away.

   Jack was no fool.

   He knew long ago that she died protecting him. He saw it before his eyes. He just chose to deny it. Nothing more than a mere dream, a nightmare. Her body torn to shreds when her blood splattered on him. Fake. Her life leaving from her eyes. Illusion. Her very death. A falsification.
   It wasn't true, it wasn't true, it wasn't true, it wasn't true, it wasn't true.

   This is all just some sick fantasy.

   Yes, that was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Thien Kim is waiting for him to wake up. There's not more to it than that. This is not reality. This is not reality. This is not reality.
   The epidemic was nothing more than punishment to all the sinners. Jack was merely one of them.
   And because of that they took her away. They took away his hopes. They took away his dreams. They took away his dignity. They took away his life.
   
   It's been one month since then.
   He's grown accustomed to the name of Ruffles. No, Ruffles is very comfortable with Ruffles. Ruffles met so many pokemon, he met a pretty bird, pretty swellow, and... Arceus, he's so hungry.
   
   ...
   
   Who?
   
   ...Silence is the harbinger of death, not the undead.
   
   No need to worry. Ruffles will protect Ruffles's friends. Ruffles will always be here. Ruffles will take good care of you. He nuzzles a Natu before letting the tiny bird climb on his head. Her tiny claws tickle him. Her voice is like an angel. And her sweet smell is... overwhelming.
   
   And there's nothing but screams.




A note from your's truly: in a way, it's saddening that jack (commonly known as ruffles) had a tough time dealing with thien kim's death to the point where he created a new identity for himself to cope. his true feelings for her are very much apparent.

    Current date/time is Sun Sep 24, 2017 10:18 pm