The LAVENDER Team

The purplish blush on her face was only visible to those who looked hard enough, but the way the dragon and the others just jumped into battle like that. She was the one who brought the bats to this group, but she wasn't trying to get on there bad side, she just didn't want to be alone anymore. She tried to get up, barely making it to her knee's, only to cough up blood. The blood had a mix if purple to it, but the Riolu knew it was the poison. She didn't have much longer.

She stumbled to her feet, her eyes focused to the ground. The Riolu was weak, but not out for the count. Her breath catch in her throat when she heard a small chuckle. She looked up to see the Golbat that had poisoned her. By this time, blood dribbled from the Riolu's mouth and her body could barely move. The bat seemed to be amused that she was fighting the poison. The silver Riolu stared at the bat as it screeched. The fighting type gripped her ears as the Golbat slashed the air.

At first, she didn't feel anything, but then a cut appeared down her chest and she was smacked with Air Slash. The Riolu screamed in pain as she was slashed into the rock wall. The Golbat lurched forward, it's fangs glistened with poison. The small Riolu's fist started to glow a soft orange. Once the bat was close enough the Riolu raised it's hand and used Force Palm to smack the bat away. Then slammed her hand into the rock wall. The tunnels shook and rocks started to fall. Some landing on the bats and others blocking a few of the tunnel exits and entrances.

The Golbat got back up, but it's wings were torn to badly for it to fly or use it's flying type moves. It screeched in rage as the Riolu looked at it wearily, with a soft smile on her face. The bat came forward, only to be crushed under one of the falling rocks. The Riolu sighed, as her body pealed from the rock wall and landed on the ground with a thud. The Riolu was out cold.

(Sorry, crappy post is crappy)

With a yelp the blind Smeargle leapt backwards as if an electrical current had passed through his still slightly damp fur.
The scent of leathery wings and the bitter rotting scent of undead flesh is a thick reek in his sensitve nose and it is all he can do not to turn tail and flee like a little puppy.
Only the scent of the other living, getting ready to defend and remaining keeps him steady.
There are far too many new scents here for him to be comfortable in his position but the Painter Pokemon resolutely stands his ground.
The swarm of flapping shreiking things pour into the cave and the Smeargle flails blindly at them as they confuse his scenses of touch and smell.
He can no longer tell where the other living are, if there were any left in this cave at all.
He uses his Foresight again and again but all he glimpses as the ragged edges of whirring wings in the ever shifting movement of the flying undead.
Blows rain down on his back, his meagre store of Detection worn out within the first few minutes.
Making up his mind the Smeargle pulls himself to his feet, purple tipped tail at the ready and head held high as a whistling blade of air slices towards him and catches the small canine firmly in the chest.
He is hurled backwards, gasping for air as he is winded.
For a few precious moments he can only lay on the wet stone and gasp for air before slowly, laboriously, he pulls himself upright and slices his tail through the air.
The solid blade of the attack gouges a gaping hole through a Golbat's wing.
"Sketch, gotta love it." Cketch mutters under his breath as he clutches his aching ribs and feels the wetness of blood oozing from the cut in his chest.

((OOC: Cketch has just sketched Air Slash but has been rather injured by the attack...))

Chaos.

Things where just so much easier when there was chaos all around. Made staying out of sight all too easy. But then again, who would care to look at the ceiling of a cave anyways? Just a bunch of stalagmites, perfect to watch others from.

With so many pokemon around, I could barely control myself. That urge that always rose up making me want to forget everything that wasn’t related to destruction and feeding. But I was a civilized woman, I kept my composure for the true prize. A wonderful new face I would gain as soon as I chose the right one.

A large dragon, so exotic, surely a face like that would get all sorts of suitors to look at her like she used to. But that on would not do, it was far too rugged and rough, not befitting her gorgeous body at all…

That cubone on the other hand did raise some questions. I could not even tell what its real face would look like, it was far too covered up. For all I knew it could be disfigured beyond recognition. Yet…if it wasn’t, then the skull mask would have kept it flawless and safe all this time. Maybe even baby smooth too. Oh how that thought brought Goosebumps to me.

Though that Marowak was definitely off limits….The mask and the face where practically fused together, no way to cleanly get it off, and I wasn’t looking for a mask, much less a face that looked like a mask….

And then that Eevee and that Riolu. The eevee had an innocent look to it that could make her look so much younger, and the Riolu was of a different color, such a thing would make her stand out. But they were both furry…. She had dealt with faces with a lot of fur before, all they ever did was grow worse and fast. Sure if she could find a place with exquisite shampoo and conditioner she could make it work, but it was best to not deal with them….

And finally that Mawile. Something was different about this pokemon, different than the rest at least. She could tell that much. But her face, it was so beautiful, she had a charm that made me swoon, and a spunk that would be just perfect for me. How I wanted that face…..Maybe the cubone or the riolu would also do, but that mawile was just too good to pass up.

She had her target, it was risky since it looked like it could defend itself and she was in a group, but that didn’t deter me, only made me more anxious to get it. But I waited this long for her face to come along, I could wait a little more, least long enough for her to get away from the rest of the group…

The bats flew at him mercilessly, screeching and biting at his tough hide. Noir screamed from his back, alerting the older dragon of his presence. Torrent cursed, reprimanding himself for going into battle with the small child still riding him. Still, it was a little too late to go back now, and the large dragon took one large hand to grab the little cubone, then placed him in the strong coils of his large tail. "Stay there, Son," he muttered before continuing to kill bat after bat.

((Short post is short. :\))

"Stay there, Son."
Noir hung from the embrace of the Dragonites' tail and nodded, his eyes going every which direction, trying to find a target to thwack with his bone, but he found none. He was low enough now to not get hit by any of the bats, whose attention seemed to be drawn to the towering, brawling dragon.

The Cubone sighed in frustration and clung to his plushie with a low brow.
I want to help! How come I can't!? He thought, frustrated with the type disadvantage and his 'height problem'. But his annoyance soon turned to surprised curiosity as his eyes fell on the unconscious pale Riolu, crumpled up like paper against a rock.

As he continued to watch, the corpse of a Golbat, with its' wings shredded beyond use, lurched towards it determinedly. Noir gasped and quickly squeezed out of the gentle grip the dragon had on him, running towards the Golbat with his club raised high.

With a quiet growl, he kicked the bat from behind, making it tumble away from the unconscious canine. The Golbat screeched and hissed, trying to bite the little Cubone. Closing his eyes and gripping his club tight, he swung with all of his strength. He felt it connect, heard a crunch and a sudden silence in front of him.

Noir opened his eyes slowly, looking for his antagonist, but saw nothing. He laughed quietly, shocked that he was able to do what he just did. Snapping out of his temporary shock, he picked up Pika where he had dropped him and ran to the side of the white Riolu, gently touching her shoulder.

"Hey...! Are you okay?..." He whispered, his eyes wide. When she said nothing, his worried gaze turned back to the others, silently begging for help.

(OoC- Yue will wake up soon, she's poisoned and unconscious still)

[ooc: Skip. I am very low on time and not caught up with the team. Will do a leaving post next round.]

Eris was amazing!

She moved from bat to bat, beating them down with little to no effort! It was sooooo cool! At one point, she was attacked by a larger swarm of them, and a few managed to bite her, but she spun a couple times really fast, and it got rid of them all. Trey was really glad she was on his side.

Moving away slightly from his little fluffball sheep, he apporoached the mask-boy and the silver-girl. Silver-girl was sleeping though, so he didn't want to wake her up. But wait... Something about mask-boy's face... Oh no. Oh no no no no no. She wasn't sleeping, was she? Trey's face dropped significantly, sad for the friend he never got to meet. Silently he Wished she was better. It had worked for him when he had scraped his knee against a rock when they first entered the cave... Maybe, just maybe...


((OOC: I'm not really sure how Wish would work here, but Ana, feel free to either have it work or not. XD))

The blind Smeargle carves a great arch through the swarming bat pokemon with a flick of his tail that severs the air in front of him and as he keeps a hand over the cut on his chest.
If he were undead he knew the sheer scent of blood could be driving him nuts and by the rapidly fluttering of wings he could tell that a few adventurous undead thought he was greatly injured and as they swept in for the kill the great blades of air slashed straight through them and the tiny corpses fell straight to the ground.
He is blind, even more so that usual. All he can hear is thousands of discordant echolocation squeaks, all he can smell is rot and leathery wings.
The others…were they even still here or had they left him to die facing the swarm?
Cketch’s attacks get wilder and more destructive as with each stroke of his tail he paints a bloody masterpiece over the cavern walls. With each wingless or torn in two corpse that thumps to the ground Cketch can feel his control over his new move growing more precise and his wound begin to heal by degrees.
Even with the stink of old dead blood rapidly rising to fill his nostrils the undead keep on coming, to determined or too stupid perhaps to care about the massive losses they are sustaining from all sides.
Wherever one fell it always seemed there was another to take its place.
Among the falling debris of Zubat and Golbat he can hear an occasional discordant note. Not all of these pokemon had been wild, he surmised. Some had previously had trainers and therefore too had items to hold. They are what make the different noise when they fall.
Carefully still twitching his tail to send great arches of wind slashing upwards he reaches down carefully tries to smell what is at his feet through the stink of bloody bat corpse. Most of the air just stinks but if he concentrates hard he can smell, yes, that’s it. Swiftly reaching down with care that one of the still twitching dead does not deal him a disease filled bite he hooks up the berry with one of his short claws.
It is small and hard skinned with two long leaves, torn by where the Golbat’s claws had held onto it, but the tantalizing smell is of the thing the Smeargle desperately need right now.
After one last thorough sniff he digs his teeth into it and feels the juices of the Leppa Berry restore the strength of his Air Slash.
Joyously firing one long slash of wind into the air the press clears enough for him to catch a whiff of dry bone.
Therese!
He fights his way forwards into the tiny space cleared by the battle only for the other scents to reach his nose.
Bone but not Therese’s scent, newly washed crisp fur and another almost metallic furred scent.
This was Noir and…someone else.
He doesn’t have the time to fully identify the other scents but he does think to carefully roll the half-eaten core in his paw towards them as his tail flicks again in a complicated figure eight and the sharp tingling sensation of once again being able to discover more of the word through Sketch peaks inside him.
“Leftovers.” He says over his shoulder. He keeps one paw held close against his wounded chest, the other holds his tail to attack. “Eat some, it will help.”

((OOC: A gift of Leftovers, not much good to the unconscious but bound to come in handy right?))

The distractions where starting to dwindle down, if I did not move now, then I’d likely lose my chance. But I had to be careful, if that face got damaged then who knows if I’ll find another as good. Being patient was good a good thing, I still remembered that even with my memories starting to….slip away. But being too patient can be bothersome, and it looked like the time was right to begin the process of making myself beautiful.

Guillotine. My mo0st favorite attack, made getting a new face all the more easier. It could behead a pokemon with one sweep if it hit, but the move had a high chance of missing, which was why I am using it in the beginning, when the advantage of a surprise attack can help me get that dastardly bewitching face with less work.

I launched off the rock, the attacking of the swarm of bats cleverly masking the sound of my descent from the hanging rock. Just one little Guillotine in the right place and that head of that mawile was mine, mine to do with as I please, and to use until I see fit. The mere thought was like a drug to me.

My claws were screaming for joy, they wanted blood, I wanted beauty, if things went right in the next few moments, all would be happy. They only downside would be if she damaged that wonderful face.

((Sorry for the delay, essays are the bane of my existence >.<))

It took a while for Torrent to see the gliscor amidst the ranks of the damned undead bats. The flock thinned, revealing the larger threat to the observer as its ugly head turned his way, a faceless skull with unblinking eyes and a permanent grin facing him and the ones he was protecting. A chill ran down his spine as its claws clacked together, and his teeth bared in response. This ugly thing wasn't going to get the better of him or the others.

"...C'mere, you great ugly thing," he growled, electricity still licking at his balled fists. Water rushed around him in a sudden whirl as he prepared another attack. Wings open, neverminding the dull pain in his gimp wing, he lunged, using his Aqua Jet move. It took him speedily into the air, ready to hit the undead gliscor at full speed.

((Left the attack open~))

Beating away the onslaught of bats with her Bone Club, Therese let out a low snarl before tackling a nearby Golbat to the ground, opening her maw before ripping away it's tainted skin, feasting on the rotting flesh inside. It wasn't as delicious as the Marowak had expected to be, especially with her cravings for the meat of other Pokemon, but soon enough the bat had been devoured completely. What only remained were small chunks of it's body and a pool of blood, simple vestiges of what it used to be.

About to bash a Zubat's skull in, Therese looked away for a split second when a rush of cool air buffeted her, drops of pure, clear water landing upon her dry skin. The Marowak looked at Torrent's target, a Gliscor, and rushed towards their feud, bludgeoning the bats around them in the process. "Torrent, I got your back!" she shouts, voice cracking near the end of her sentence as she turned to face the growing mob of bats surrounding them. Swiftly, she began to pick them off one by one, swinging her Bone Club in all directions.

Noir picked up the core that had rolled into his foot, nodding gratefully at the blind Smeargle. He turned to the unconscious Pokemon, anxious confusion on his face.
What do I do?...he thought, his eyes falling to the leftovers in his small claws, as if they held the answer.

The little puffball padded closer to them, his grin fading as he looked at the unconscious Riolu.
"I...I don't know what's wrong..." He whimpered to the Eevee, clutching at the fruit core. The little fox said nothing to him, but his eyes glazed over and a hopeful light shown on his face while he stared at the fallen Riolu.

Noir watched with wide eyes as a faint white light enveloped the larger canine before quickly flashing out, as if it never happened. He tilted his head in confusion before looking at the Eevee.
"...Was that you?..."

But before he could hear his answer, a faint groan came from the pale Riolu. Her eyes crunched together before slowly flickering open.

Noir looked at the Eevee before quickly pattering to her side, placing his paw on her shoulder.
"You're oka-!"
Her paw whipped around, grabbing the small Cubone and rolling them, effectively pinning the young ground type.
Noir let out a small squeak as he stared up at the Riolus' brilliant golden eyes. The Riolu stood over him, poised, and ready to attack.

(OoC- sorry it took so long OTL. SO BUSY.)

Trey's eyes widened at the slight glow that surrounded the fox-girl. Had his wish actually come true?! Eris always said that never happened, but, it was almost as if it had! The little skull-boy asked if it was him, but he didn't know for sure. "I... I think so..." He squeaked, jumping slightly when the girl began to move again. Grinning madly once again, the little Eevee was glad to have been of help, as he had been so scared for the little creature just a few minutes ago. When she attacked the poor skull-kid, however, he jumped up, his grin fading to a glare. "Hey!" He shouted. "That's not nice!" He had just worried over her so much, the least she could do was thank him!

((I'm very sorry for the shorter-than average late post, but... School just started a couple weeks ago, and everything's in full gear now. >.<))

The blind Smeargle was horribly disoreintated. The air chopped up by the many beating wings assaulted him with the scattered fragmented scents if disease and blood and leathery wings. In here he is worse than blind, the myriad of tiny squeaks from the bloodthirsty legions have left him deaf too.
Cketch hunkers down low, trying to make himself less of a target and blindly lashing out at anything that moves.
As quick as he had found them he loses track of the others and is once again alone surrounded by enemies. Even if his wish were still to run he had nothing to go by. The harsh high pitched squeaks assailed his sensitive ears, made even more sensitive by the years of using them instead of his eyes and makes him feel more surrounded than ever.
“Torrent!” He barks out, casting his head around in a desperate attempt to locate the dragon. "Make some noise, these things rely on sound, they are almost blind!" Just like me...The Smeargle yells, trying to drive off an enemy he can't detect. His sensitive nose struggles to filter any discernible scent from the undead horde.

((OOC:Excuse my previous derp, Cketch's ability is Own Tempo, not Technician ^^;))

I was so close, I could practically envision myself in that new beautiful face, maybe even be able to court the men in the group right into my stomach. So close, only to have it ripped away from me by that brute of a dragon. It was bad enough that his face would never be a candidate for me, but now he was getting in the way of by beauty by attacking before I got to the Mawhile.

Water…..it would do quite a bit of damage to my once gorgeous body if it had hit, especially since it help a lot of power behind it. Dodging that straight forward attack was easy, but taking that guy out would be trouble. He was big, and radiated sheer power. If it was in another life, I may have even allowed him to be one of my many suitors.

But that brute lacked something; he didn’t have any finesse or even any grace to his attacks, just charging in like a tank. But I on the other hand have lived my whole life with grace, with the flexibility of a human ballerina, and with enough finesse to do Acrobatics in midair, gracefully dodging the attack and getting behind the water enveloped brute and prepared my own attack of Nightslash, aiming for the wings specifically. You can’t catch what you can’t reach, and the graceful beauty just outside everyone’s reaches suited me perfectly.

((the bulbapedia page talks about acrobatics as a move that causes an afterimage, thought this was more sensible, but can change it if needed.))

He'd missed.

A growl escaped him as the skull-faced gliscor floated out of the way, his speedy attack for naught. When he reached the ceiling, his powerful claws and limbs held him up there, almost a hilarious sight. He was perched on all fours upside-down, glaring at the bat that had been so graceful in her dodge. However, she flung two attacks at him, one creating a weak illusion of herself. He quickly decided that taking the damage from the Night Slash she lunged at him with was worth hitting her with an attack of his own.

Charging another Aqua Jet, he charged once more, his limbs and wings close to his body with the stream of the attack. He silently thanked his trainer for her years of conditioning-- if he were any weaker, he doubted he could have survived this long...

((Left the attack open. Try, since they're in close proximity, if she hits him, he'll probably hit her. PM me if you wanna do something else. :3))

Therese leaped as high as she could in the air, grabbing a Golbat by the wings and using her weight to drag the bat down, slamming it onto the dirty gravel of the cave floors before gorging on it's eyes. Slowly ripping away at it's rotting skin to bite of chunks of it's flesh, chewing and swallowing one of it's tattered wings before leaping to bring another of the undead down. The hunger in her was increasing, stomach growling and snapping as it ordered her brain to find food, living or dead, and ingest it.

Her eyes scanned the living around her. Perfectly fine and delicious living. Her consciousness was screaming at her to attack them, to kill them and feast on their corpse, and she grit her teeth in frustration as she forced herself to push the urge away. Directing her attention back to Torrent and his dual with the Gliscor. 'Arceus... I hope he'll be alright,'

The small Cubone stared with terrified eyes at what he thought to be someone like him. Her large eyes, devoid of emotion stared down at him blankly as her grip suddenly tightened around his neck. The ground-type frantically scratched at her paws gasping for air, but none would come. His tiny lungs burned for oxygen, his heart beating faster and faster and his eyes crunched shut in pain.
Why is she doing this?! Why is she hurting me!?
Thousands of questions ran through his head as he struggled against her insanely strong grip, his mind slowly becoming hazy from the lack of oxygen.

______________________________

"Hey! That's not nice!"
A squeaky, childish voice shouted at her from somewhere, breaking her gaze from the small Cubone in her grip. Her blank gaze snapped to the little Eevee, who was glaring at her angrily, and then back to the dying ground type in her grasp. Confusion suddenly clouded her eerie gaze as she suddenly pulled her paws back from the little ones' neck. The masked child coughed and gasped, falling over onto his paws as he recovered from the assault.

Yue shot to her feet, shaking as she held her paws up to her face.
"Run-tse duh shang-dee, ching dai-wuhtzo...!" She cried, her voice high-pitched and broken, and her eyes frantic and wide. Tears flowed from her golden eyes as she stumbled back and fell into the dirt, her paws clamped to her face and her legs curled up to her belly.
"I...! I can hear them! They're everywhere, they're all inside me and they're all saying NOTHING!" She whimpered, her body rocking back and forth.

(OoC- she speaks both english and chinese, so that's what you see up there. :3)

Dazed and confused, his senses reeling and failing in the sheer rapid movement of so many bodies around him Cketch is fighting blind in more than his usual sense of the word.
He can feel himself growing stronger yet at the same time weaker as no matter how many of the foul bat things he manages to fell there are always two more to seamlessly fill in the gap.
He is running low on the power to paint his masterpieces, before him the sweet lines in his mind that told him how to paint his moves were fading and becoming bitter.

Almost at his limit the tiny canine pokemon stumbles backwards, caught off guard by a buffet of air from a purple wing tip and falls over backwards, making the sound of a very small dog in a lot of pain as the deep diagonal gas across his chest becomes an oozing "X"against his white fur.
Self-preservation instinct alone manages to get him to scramble upright before a deeper scar gouges itself into the rock beside his paw.
He was going to die, ignobly, without any trace of lingering glory unless the bats were driven off and soon but...he was so very tired.
The disorientating flood of scents and sounds hurts him worse than any of the others, the blind Smeargle can barely tell where the ground is any more.
“Torrent! Therese! Noir-” he manages to coarsely call in hopes that one of them would answer him before a heavy blow he had failed to Detect smashes hard into him and the Painter Pokemon goes down under a flailing pile of wings, teeth and claws.

Cketch fights for his life, reduced to a pathetic Struggle that hurts him about as much as it hurts the bats each fighting each other to be the first to suck his blood. His blunt clawed paws lash out at everything they can reach as he howls unintelligibly in pain and fear. His desperate thrashing struggles manage to prolong his last few moments of life as the undead's fangs struggle to get a grip on more than a few wiry strands of white and tan fur.
He can't see the piggy look of greed in the dull red eyes but he can smell the stink of their rotting jaws with the warm breaths that waft across his face and he can feel the lap of pointed tongues at his wounds as a few lucky zubats nip in to lick the blood from his wounds. All the while he is being cut to ribbons by the frantic golbats squabbles with each other, the breakdown in their terrifying cooperation being the only thing that has spared his neck so far.

Cketch can only fight against them all the harder as the sharp wing tips accidentally gouge shallow cuts across his face, paws and arms. His own metallic scented blood running warmly into his face Cketch feels he is dying. His desperate tail twitches as he desperately tries to recall the instinctive way he always knew how to paint the unique patterns of a new move. His tail merely twitches without releasing any of the powers he knew it could, the patterns dry and tasteless in his mind.
He can't even take one of them down with him...
In his last panicked throes Cketch's thoughts go to the warm scent of bone and earth and the kindness he had been shown. Would she miss him after he died?
Then a particularly sharp blow of a blade of razor sharp air across his body blocks out the rest of his thoughts.

A loud scream echoes across the entire cavern, a sound too powerful to seem to have emanated from something so small. It makes stalactites vibrate in the ceiling and is filled with such a powerful undeniable agony it penetrates straight through the eardrums into some primal part of the brain.
It is a sound filled with a deep, deep horror and a unique form of disgust and it rises to a pitch that drills into the eardrums like a corkscrew is being pushed into the ear.
The bats clustering around the fallen Smeargle are the closest to the source and take off immediately, abandoning the painter pokemon as he slumps back onto the cold floor.
Blood spills over his paws like a macabre waterfall as tears stream endlessly down the white furred cheeks.
In his hands he clutches his long tail, the purple oozing tip down speckled with red as is hangs by the merest shred of skin.
'My tail...' he thinks numbly, unable to process the true horror of the moment. "My tail has been cut off'

This dragonite would have made a very fine suitor indeed, maybe even one for me to boast about in public about. Weaker and lesser men would have turned tail and run away, the cowards, but this one, oh how I was enjoying this one get riled up in a fight, abandoning all self-preservation to get an attack in on me. I wanted to keep teasing this big oaf some more, a reminder of what I used to do on a daily basis with multiple men, but he was indeed very strong.

The ripe smell of blood in this cave made me lose concentration from this fight. New, untainted blood, ripe for the taking was heavy in the air, someone had gotten hurt from all the bats, and I wasn’t around to cause the pain…..The smell arose something in me, a primal instincts to feed slightly that for this moment was more important than to cover my face from the world. And the charging figure of the dragon heading straight towards me, ignoring my attack and hitting her dead on with another aqua jet made me salivate, for the stronger the prey, the tastier the blood.

The pain would have been excruciating if I were alive, if anything I was more worried about the oaf damaging my figure than getting hurt. But I had dealt with worse pain before, the amount of dedication and time I spent on years of harsh yet effective beauty treatments made me familiar with pain. He feeling of having my ribs crushed as the attack made impact with the hard ground, hurting me from both sides was now only just slightly above the pain of all those self-inflicted injections all for the sake of fighting the tests of time.

Don’t know how, but I wiggled free of there before he could follow up the attack with another one, those water attacks would do a number on me if done in succession. But something was off….

I looked down at my poor body to see what exactly that brute had done to it, my robust chest slightly flattened from the pressure, and even the broken end of a rib bone sticking out, threatening to pierce the skin at any moment. That would not do at all…So doing what only felt right for one in my position, I dutifully popped the bone back, not fixing it at all, maybe even doing more damage to my organs, but at least there was no unsightly protruding anymore.

“Urgh-fect” ((Perfect))

I could feel my one of my lungs collapsing from the bone puncturing it, my breathing become really ragged all of a sudden. Good thing I didn’t need air though, really only a remembrance of what I used to do, and everyone knows to attain true beauty one must cast away earthly bounds.

So flashing a lipless smile to the dragon, I waited, this time letting him come to me first.

((came out a lot longer than i thought it would >.< figured if the aqua jet came from above, it would not stop until it collided with something, this time being the ground .-. But can change it if you wish >.<))

The fight was getting to dangerous.

Something... Something had come out of the darkness. Whatever it was, Eris didn't want it getting to Trey. She needed him whole, or she would lose her trophy. Running back to where she had left him by the water, she let out a soft hiss. "Trey!" She called, beckoning with her jaws. Pointing, she lead him back the way they came, hoping to once again find their way out of the darkness. Trey followed obidiently, sad to leave his friends, but happy to be heading back to the sun.

((leaving post. May come back at some point, but these guys need more work. >.<))

She had barely heard Cketch's call, buffeted by the fluttering forms of the countless bats in the cave. These irritating creatures seemed to be infinite, with every undead killed even more would take its place. Although they all provided a great feast for her, the filthy taste and dry flesh was unappetizing, and Therese soon had found herself simply killing them. The Marowak's concerns were to the Smeargle, however, as she slowly forced a path though the barricade of flapping monstrosities.

The sharp swings of their wings threatened to slice her thick, mottled skin, lumbering slowly past both re-animated and lifeless bodies around her. Therese snarled, opening her mouth to roar only to find Zubats swooping in to nip at her tender flesh and tongue. Crushing them in her bony jaws, she spat them out. "There's no end to this..." The very edge of her vision caught the sight of Cketch suddenly being bombarded by their foes.

A scream ensues.

As if time had paused for a moment, the floor rumbles with the echo of pain, the undead near the tortured Smeargle stopping to regain their bearings. Therese panicked, eyes wide as she saw a speck of what remains of Cketch, numbly situated on the debris with a severed tail--his severed tail in his paws. He seemed mortified, lifeless almost, and the Marowak's instincts instantly kick in to rush over to him, batting away at the monsters whom tried to retaliate.

"Cketch, CKETCH! Are you alright? Talk to me!" she was screaming, sincerely concerned for her painting friend. Therese's round, reddening eyes were fixated on his battered form, the stub of the tail that was left still hanging to his body. "Oh Arceus I'm so sorry..."

(OoC- sorry, I'll skip my turn because Sui needs the computer)

Blood.
The thick metallic scent is all around him and all over him and it overpowers even the confusion caused by the multitude of fluttering bats.
Blood thick and warm was on his paws and pooling on the stones around him and it eliminated the world to the merest background to the deep urgent scent of warning even a drop could convey.
Blood, his blood.
It defined his fore paws with its harsh scent that cut like a knife through the thick fog of all other smells and it kept coming.
The soft white fur of his chest rose and fell to the strangely echoing sound of his own laboured breathing.
A Smeargle's tail was designed for an immense precision in movement, to create many different patterns. It wasn't like the tail of any other pokemon, save for perhaps Aipom, because it contained muscles far more delicate and complex than a human arm.
It also contained a major artery that had been severed clean through and sprayed a bright metallic scented fan of his life in the air as the rapid beating of his own heart emptied his veins.
His ears echoed with a shrill ringing and all sounds seemed to come to him fogged through his own personal trauma. He can't even feel any pain yet, denial forcing back the agony. At the most it feels like he has been given a sharp rap across the tail but under his fingers he can feel the clean divide straight through his flesh.

The blind Smeargle's pink tongue lolls from the corners of his mouth as it became harder and harder for him to breathe. He struggles to compress the wound, feeling the hardness of the severed nub of bone in the ragged wound of his bleeding stump of a severed tail.
His tail...
The plumed tuft of fur, the pale lavender of the fluid it leaked completely lost in the sharp scent of blood lay limp and unresponsive. His confused thoughts trace themselves in circles. He could sketch something to fix it but he couldn't because...because...
Denial reared its ugly head. Despite his blindness he had never truly felt disabled before now; he could hardly miss something he had never had. A Smeargle's art was more than their greatest talent, it was their reason for existence. A Smeargle without a tail would be better of born deaf, dumb and blind.
Cketch struggles to breathe. Why was there always so little air in here?!
His chest rises and falls rapidly as he gasps for breath. He felt so lightheaded it seemed he might actually lift off the ground and float away like a Driftloon.

There was blood sharp in everyone of his senses, spraying from his tail and matting the fur of his paws and chest.
"Therese?" He asks muzzily as the sound of the Marowack's voice filters through his confusion and he picks up the earthy warm, if slightly marred by traces of decay, scent of the Bone Keeper pokemon.
Blood oozes out from between his fingers and from the shallower slashes across his chest, limbs and face.
"What happened?" He asks Therese with bright blood smeared across his paws and pooling around his feet.
In so far as one could tell he is pale, deathly pale and his skinny shoulders tremble. Beads of sweat dampen his fur.
The expression clear on his face is a deep confusion as his mind struggles and fails to process exactly what has happened.
Through the speckles of warm blood clear on his cheeks a single tear traces a long path.
He can't have lost his tail...could he?

It was almost over. He'd managed to hit the hideous gliscor with an Aqua Jet, hurling her back down to the craggy floor. From his vantage point above, he could see the entire battle, the bats quickly lowering in number. Good. However, because their cries were thinning, he could now hear what was happening to his comrades down below. A scream, Therese's concerned cry, Noir's... Noir? The dragonite scanned the ground for the little cubone, only to see nothing. Yasille was gone, the light in the cave with her. What had happened in the short time he'd been dealing with the damned gliscor?!

Keeping himself aloft with his barely capable wings, he weighed his options quickly. If he didn't finish the gliscor quickly, the others would be in danger. If he didn't make sure the others were ok, there was no need to finish the gliscor. Snarling at the conundrum, he went with his gut instinct. He could take care of the gliscor later-- the others needed him more. Allowing gravity to take its toll, he went to Noir first, seeing the grey riolu he'd left earlier choking the former. Something snapped. He'd had his little Ievah taken from him, Yasille had disappeared, some snot-nosed little brat wasn't going to take Noir so fucking easily!

Landing just behind Noir, hiding the little one with his large, muscular arms, there were no words to speak to the fighting type. He opened his mouth and roared, not feet from her face, his fangs completely bared in a show of ruthless dominance. Noir would not be harmed, not like all the other kids he'd fought to protect. He stared her down, eyes alight with rage, daring her to defy him, to give him a reason to kill her.