Into the Unknown - a Pokemon Quest
- Thread starter Sol's Rock
- Start date
Bro—what the heck… it's so over. Whispering forest voters are cooking… Like; this is genuinely very well written, and it does drive a home a lot of good rhetoric for the diversity of Whispering Forest—honestly? I'm content with either Haunted House or Whispering Forests winning at this point. I still struggle to see an argument made for Moonshine Beach, though.
[X] You decide to visit Moonshine Beach.
Vote concluded I think!
A Series of Unfortunate Events
Winning Vote: Moonshine Beach
There is a stark difference between a smart idea and a stupid one. What you plan on doing is definitely the latter.
"One pokeball," you say firmly, sliding your life's savings across the counter. You maintain eye contact with the cashier and steadfastly ignore the way your heart is beating rapidly in your chest. In the back of your mind, you wonder if passing out in the middle of a convenience store would get you in trouble. Still, the clerk looks back at you like you're trying to pull one over her head. Oh, right. You need to use manners. "Please?"
You think she's about to kick you out of the shop based on the glare she's giving you. Just as you're about to ask again, she swipes the cash into her hand and manhandles it into the register.
Phew. You're thankful that you don't have to fight over your purchase. There's only so much conflict you can handle before you start crying.
"One pokeball," she mimics as she hands over a shiny red capsule. It is cold and smooth between your fingers. "Have a great day."
You don't run out of the store. It is a brisk walking pace because of your excitement; definitely not because you can feel the cashier's gaze on your back until you exit through the automatic sliding doors.
Step one: complete.
-
"This is definitely stupid," you acknowledge, trudging through the grainy sand of Moonshine Beach. The wind is practically howling in your ears, and you have to cover your eyes to avoid getting anything into them. That doesn't even take into consideration your uncovered ankles, which are getting rubbed raw by a veritable deluge of sand.
You are thankful that the winter has been mild so far. If you had to deal with freezing temperatures on top of an already bitter wind, you definitely would have given up. It was already a close call, with how much you want to prove that Granny Alba's house is definitely haunted.
But alas, Moonshine Beach is exactly the place you need to be. You haven't seen another person since you cut through the path near your house to reach the open shore. The haunted house definitely would have people wandering around the outskirts.
"Now, if I were a pokemon, where would I want to hide…" You keep close to the bank for two reasons. First, to avoid getting your shoes wet. Nothing is worse than a pair of waterlogged socks. Second, because it's where the beach foliage has grown the most. To your right are stalks of marram grass that have grown past your waist in height, braving the winds much better than you ever could.
You won't be jealous of grass. You won't be.
…
Fine. You admit that you are jealous of the grass. It just looks so easy to sway back and forth all day.
-
The first pokemon you encounter is an accident, really. It is so small that you almost miss it. You think you can recognize the downy white wings, wrapped in blue bands around the middle. The yellow beak on the front of its face is so long that it might as well be half of its entire body.
A wingull. A baby, isolated wingull waiting to be scooped up into a pokeball and spirited away into the world at large. The pokeball in your pocket burns with a desire to be used, and likewise, you have a burning desire to use it. The only reason why you haven't already is because of the way the wingull is looking at you now.
Its large, inquisitive eyes betray its naive nature. You don't want to admit it, but you know that it likely has parents still taking care of it. Stealing it away from everything it knows because you are greedy for your own pokemon feels…wrong.
"Sorry," you say instead. You awkwardly rub up and down the side of your arm with your hand. "I didn't mean to almost step on you."
Wingull chirped. You don't know if that means you're forgiven, or if it is calling for its parents to swoop down and protect it. You take a moment to glance around the dunes to make sure there's no mama or papa pelipper coming to deliver a reckoning. You like being alive, after all.
"Good luck growing up," you finish. "Get big and strong, or something like that."
As you walk away, conveniently hunching your shoulders to make curling into a ball an easier action, you feel a bit lighter. Maybe you'll have better luck on the next encounter.
-
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You shouldn't have jinxed it. Your legs are screaming to stop for a desperate break while your lungs can hardly keep up with the amount of oxygen you need to continue sprinting.
You can't go one hour without getting into trouble. Hell, it isn't even noon yet!
A giggling, childlike sound sings from behind you. From your peripherals, you can see the golden yellow sand bleach underneath the influence of a red, plastic shovel. You knew better than to walk near abandoned sandcastles, so why did you do it?
"Please don't eat me!" You regret opening your mouth. The wind doesn't care if you're running for your life–it still deposits grains of sand directly onto your tongue and around the gums of your teeth. You sputter and try to spit it out, only to remember that you are supposed to be running faster.
Something grabs your leg as you are sprinting up a dune, and it feels like icy water from the ocean has doused you entirely. With everything you have stored within you, you throw yourself forward, cresting over the lip of the embankment and tumble all the way down the steep mound of sand. You feel something in your arm give way as you roll, and suddenly you prefer the chilling numbness compared to the heat that sears from the socket of your shoulder.
You fight through the tears forming in your eyes to see the small shovel head poke up from the top of the dune. At the center of its mass, a small hole opens up in the form of a wicked smile. It looks amused; sated at the pain you're in for daring to step so close to it.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" You don't care if it hurts your pride to beg. You care more about staying alive and getting to escape your small, stifling town to see the world at large. "Please don't possess me! I can't even lift your shovel with my arm like this!"
The sinister smile falters. The encroaching otherness that has been bleaching the sand a stark white retreats back into the sandcastle's lumpy body. You reckon it is because you've lost any usefulness that it could get out of you.
Sandygast warbles out a grainy, unnatural sound, and the shovel on its head beckons back and forth as though to scold you. You never imagined that you would be chastised by a child's toy on the top of a–to be quite frank–horrifying nightmare of a ghost.
"I won't come back. After this, you'll never see me again!"
The ghost narrows its shadowed gaze at you. You know instinctively that you are being judged. You just hope you're not found lacking.
The oppressive aura around the sandygast eventually drops, allowing you to suck in a deep breath of untainted air. You never even noticed the cloudiness that swam through your mind. You know, right then, that it could have drained you until you were nothing more than leather and bone.
You got lucky.
"Right," you stutter out. "I'll just… be on my way."
For the second time today, you almost-but-not-quite sprint out of the presence of someone who scares the ever-living shit out of you.
-
You don't know how it happened, but you've somehow ended up lost in the middle of the dunes. Never before have you wandered this far down Moonshine Beach–having always been watched under the keen eyes of your mother most of the time–and you're starting to regret not having a reckless streak to your personality.
That's a lie, you admit to yourself. If you didn't have a reckless streak, you would still be at home mourning the fact that you couldn't escape from under your parents' wings.
The all-consuming pain that once resided in your shoulder socket has dwindled to a dull, constant throb. You know because of the fact that you can't lift your arm that it is dislocated. Even worse, you don't know how to pop it back into place, and by the time you somehow manage to get back into the town proper, you'll need to find a doctor who is willing to help you.
You warily stare at the sky, watching as the sun finally begins to drop back down from its apex. It'll only be a few hours until sunset, and being stuck in the wilderness at night sounds even worse than being injured during the day.
"I can't retrace my steps, either," you grumble. You plan to honor the agreement you made with that sandygast. Plus, you won't be able to tell if it placed you under that weird mind compulsion again. That is something you wanted to avoid at all costs.
You decide to walk north. Heading east will only lead you back to the beach, and going west means going into an even more unfamiliar place. South meant continuing the hunt for a pokemon–something you eagerly want to do, but know you can't. Fixing your arm is too important to delay.
As you start your trek back home–which you hope is in that direction, at least–you hear a crash of lightning boom from above. A flash of black and gold clips through the air as you try to follow where the blast came from, streaking too fast for your eyes to handle. Behind it follows three smaller streaks that are easier to identify, gliding just slow enough for you to recognize the species causing such turbulence in the clouds.
A trio of wattrel. Following their mother, presumably. You think about calling out to see if one would want to join you as a partner, but by the time you open your mouth, they're already dots on the horizon.
All you can do is sigh. If only finding a pokemon who wanted to be your friend was easier.
-
Somehow, you manage the impossible. You send a mental prayer of thanks to whichever deity might be listening to you, because the crowd of makuhita and hariyama doing their sumo practice are a godsend.
It was the ground shaking that initially caught your attention. Against your better judgment–which has been failing you quite consistently recently, now that you think about it–you decided to check out what was causing all the commotion. Lo and behold, you stumbled into a practice ring surrounded by fighting types pounding against each other.
You are vaguely aware that the makuhita line are some of the more companionable pokemon found around Hoenn. They make for stalwart defenders all across the region, and you even know of a few shops in town that make use of them as bodyguards whenever their doors are open.
It is by a sheer stroke of luck that one of the hariyama saw your arm dangling uselessly by your side. It motions you forward with a large hand, which is so big that it could easily wrap around your head and squeeze you like a peanut. You hesitate–unsure as you are, you would rather take a chance with the fighting type to avoid having a serious conversation with your mom about why your arm is useless.
"Will it hurt?" You already know the answer to that. Of course it will. "Disregard that. I'm ready."
You are shocked by how gentle the hariyama is treating you. Your hand fits onto one of its fingers effortlessly, and with a precise contortion of your limb, you can feel the ball of your shoulder slip back into its socket. It feels like you were pinched by a corphish, but you manage to keep the yelp from escaping out into the open.
"Thank you." You don't know of many ways to express your gratitude. Hugging does not seem like a good idea, so you go for a pat on its finger. The eye-smile you get in return is worth it. You sense that now would be a good time to ask the important question you've been saving since finding the crowd, anyways. "Do you think any of the makuhita would want to go with me?"
Hariyama pauses at your question. It then turns and drums out a beat on its stomach, which catches the attention of all the makuhita nearby. A few of them ignore the prompting and go back to training, while two in particular take the time to waddle their way over to where you stand.
One sees you holding your arm carefully to your chest and immediately turns back around. The blatant rejection hurts more than you care to admit. You refuse to let that show on your face as you turn to the only one left, who is even more intense in its scrutiny.
It leaves too.
Now, you feel the tears welling up. Today has been the worst day of your life, already. At this point, you're ready to go home and accept that you're stuck being alone.
"Thanks for asking," you manage to choke out. Hariyama gives you a pitying glance and steps back. You should probably do the same. You don't want to be outside anymore. "Enjoy your training and stuff."
You wonder when it was your chest that started hurting instead.
-
By the time you see some houses in the distance, the sky is yellow and steadily transitioning to a deep orange. You are dehydrated, hungry, and exhausted. That doesn't even begin to address the disappointment you're feeling at not being able to secure a pokemon partner. At this point, if you manage to make it home before dark, you will be content to never touch sand again.
The issue is that you are still on the wrong side of the inlet. With the appearance of high tide, what should have been a clear-cut path across is now submerged beneath a couple feet of water. You are not dumb enough to try and cross without any protection. Not only would it be freezing cold, but you would also be exposed to any pokemon hiding beneath the ocean's murky surface.
If you hurry, you might be able to wrap around the perimeter fast enough to avoid being out at night. You don't even want to imagine how much worse the nocturnal pokemon are, compared to those that were awake and terrorizing you during the day.
(Once again, you are lying to yourself. You're only afraid of that sandygast. Every other pokemon has treated you just fine.)
"Might as well get walking," you say out loud with a proverbial sigh. You hope that mom hasn't bothered checking to see if you were still in your room. She normally leaves you alone most of the time, but that small inkling of a chance still makes your ears flush and your stomach twist with anxiousness. An angry mom is not a nice mom.
The first few minutes of walking go by quickly. It's actually quite peaceful, getting to see the dunes and the sparse trees in their natural state. You have been so focused on looking for a pokemon that you didn't think of basking in everything else. Even the wind has petered down, sparing your cheeks from the biting chill that has numbed the rest of your face since you started exploring.
With little else to do than sightsee, you start to hum. You are by no means a competent singer, but you can carry a tune well enough if it doesn't have words.
When you start hearing someone trying to harmonize with your pitch, however, you fall silent. You freeze in place as you look around to try and spot the culprit. Nothing seems out of place, at least until you look at the inlet that has ringlets of ripples whisking outward hardly five feet from where you're standing.
You blink to see if the ripples are actually there or if you are starting to hallucinate. You've never heard of anyone hallucinating after a single day of walking, but considering how you've handled today, you wouldn't be surprised to be the first.
"It's nothing," you speak out loud, hoping that it manifests into being the truth. "I am simply going crazy. I am going to go home, close my eyes, and forget that I ever saw a ripple where there wasn't one."
Once again, you start humming. Maybe it's to distract yourself from being scared? Who knows. You just want to be over with this entire thing. You can practically see your mattress in your head, wanting to consume you under its hoard of sheets. What a lovely image.
That same voice! This time, you whip your head as fast as you can to the water.
More ripples. You are suspicious, though unwilling to get closer to the shallows. You've already learned your lesson not to approach anything you cannot see.
This time, you hum while directly facing the water. You don't know if whatever's under the surface can tell where you're looking. You let your voice rise higher and higher, keeping your eyes peeled directly at where the last set of ripples came from.
Aha!
From out of the water comes a pair of jaws easily the length of your forearm, bearing serrated teeth capable of tearing through your flesh as easily as you could bite through a sandwich glint against the refractory sunlight bouncing off the surface. Deep blue scales make it almost impossible to tell where the ocean ends and the pokemon begins, differentiable only because they shimmer with the setting sun. Most damning of all is the pair of blood red eyes that are focused directly on you, watching you just like you are it.
You…
Your thoughts screech to a halt as you stare.
That's. That's a totodile. Not just any totodile, either, but a Hoennian one. Your voice tremors for a brief moment, but there's no other option than to keep humming. You don't particularly want to become an appetizer.
There's a very specific reason why the totodile line are rarely seen in Hoenn, and it's not because they're caught quicker than they can repopulate in the wild. No, it's because they are so notoriously violent that they end up killing their siblings before being able to grow up. Only the most vicious and violent survive, and those turn into the nine foot behemoths that scares even Gym Leader Wallace.
"I am humming!" More like screech-singing at this point. The semantics do not matter at the moment. You're just glad that the totodile seems intrigued enough to listen to your best impression of an off-tune altaria. "I am humming, and you are not eating me, because you think I am better off alive!"
Totodile starts clapping its tiny hands together. You hope that's a good sign.
"I am Hunter," you sing, because humming is not enough. "I am desperately trying not to get eaten, and I really wish you would stop looking at me like that."
The totodile harrumphs and continues staring. You think it might be getting bored. You're already running on steam, and you don't know how much longer you can keep going before passing out.
You don't run when totodile approaches. You can't. Your legs are like jelly.
"Just… please don't eat me?"
The blood rushing through your head sounds like a roaring river. Your entire body is pulsing to the beating of your heart. You can feel your stomach steadily dropping lower and lower with each step that the small reptile takes to where you are petrified. When it comes to a stop just in front of you, jaw opened slightly, you can only hope that it won't hurt.
You don't expect a smack on your shin from its tiny hand.
"...What?"
Another smack, followed by a clacking of its teeth. It then reaches its arms up to you, as if waiting for you to pick it up.
You have to be hallucinating now. There's just no way.
"You… you want to become my partner?" At Totodile's nod, you can only let out an exasperated laugh that might be your soul returning to your body. "Erm, okay! I guess I didn't waste my money, after all."
With shaky fingers, you prime the pokeball you've been keeping in your pocket and let Totodile inspect it first. You're not sure if it knows what the purpose of the capsule is, but it still ends up pressing the end of its snout against the primed button. It vanishes into a thin stream of red light, rocking back and forth from the inside.
It clicks.
You cry. And laugh.
And promptly pass out.
What is the first thing you do when you wake up?
[ ] Ask Totodile what their gender is! You don't want to be rude to your starter now, do you? Plus, you're not quite past the fear of getting eaten, yet.
[ ] Give Totodile a nickname! Names are important, and maybe if you show that you truly value having Totodile as a partner, they won't be tempted to eat you whenever you inevitably piss them off.
[ ] Keep Totodile in the capsule and sprint home. You can deal with the fallout after you sneak back into your room. You don't know what would be worse: Totodile's anger, or your mom's!
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[X] Give Totodile a nickname! Names are important, and maybe if you show that you truly value having Totodile as a partner, they won't be tempted to eat you whenever you inevitably piss them off.
How does everyone feel about giving them the nick name of Gubby. It's cute and it'll fit them when they get bigger.
How does everyone feel about giving them the nick name of Gubby. It's cute and it'll fit them when they get bigger.
- Location
- Earth
[X] Ask Totodile what their gender is! You don't want to be rude to your starter now, do you? Plus, you're not quite past the fear of getting eaten, yet.
Our mom's already gonna be pissed, so we may as well find out more about our new friend.
Our mom's already gonna be pissed, so we may as well find out more about our new friend.
[X] Ask Totodile what their gender is!
[X] Give Totodile a nickname! Names are important, and maybe if you show that you truly value having Totodile as a partner, they won't be tempted to eat you whenever you inevitably piss them off.
Gubby is a good and cute name
Gubby is a good and cute name
[X] Ask Totodile what their gender is! You don't want to be rude to your starter now, do you? Plus, you're not quite past the fear of getting eaten, yet.
Gender so we may craft an appropriate nickname after a character development moment.
I for one would like a nickname to be earned over the course of the story, right at the beginning can lead to awkward moments later on.
Something like Razormaw and it ends up being a super gentle pokemon or Bubbles and it ends up a vicious killer would be awful.
its gotta be thematic!
Gender so we may craft an appropriate nickname after a character development moment.
I for one would like a nickname to be earned over the course of the story, right at the beginning can lead to awkward moments later on.
Something like Razormaw and it ends up being a super gentle pokemon or Bubbles and it ends up a vicious killer would be awful.
its gotta be thematic!
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[X] Give Totodile a nickname! Names are important, and maybe if you show that you truly value having Totodile as a partner, they won't be tempted to eat you whenever you inevitably piss them off.
Gustave.
Gustave.
[X] Keep Totodile in the capsule and sprint home. You can deal with the fallout after you sneak back into your room. You don't know what would be worse: Totodile's anger, or your mom's!
Critian Caceorte
Currently Suffering from Space-Time Narcolepsy
- Location
- Washington State
[X] Give Totodile a nickname! Names are important, and maybe if you show that you truly value having Totodile as a partner, they won't be tempted to eat you whenever you inevitably piss them off.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Hunter is so charming, i felt like cheering him on the whole time. Each pokemon encounter was very interesting and I really enjoyed how much personality each one showed - especially Totodile!
[X] Keep Totodile in the capsule and sprint home. You can deal with the fallout after you sneak back into your room. You don't know what would be worse: Totodile's anger, or your mom's!
[X] Keep Totodile in the capsule and sprint home. You can deal with the fallout after you sneak back into your room. You don't know what would be worse: Totodile's anger, or your mom's!