Email Address:
Password:
Forgot Password?
Advanced Search
Active Players on Sylestia
Category Total Yesterday
Players 2,541 413
Sylestia Pet Data
Category Total Yesterday
Pets 8,205,120 843
Generated 653,649 74
Captured 1,186,817 93
Bred 6,364,562 676
Statistics updated daily at midnight
Forum Index > Other Fiction > Spreading Glitches: Brighthawk's Leg...
Page 1  
Author Thread Post
Houndakragth
Level 60
Joined: 9/19/2015
Threads: 1
Posts: 14
Posted: 5/10/2017 at 5:16 PM Post #1
Foreword

So, I'm Nuzlocking a Pokemon game, starring Dag, foster kid of Crystal's mother in this odd continuity that isn't quite canon. I was planning on a screenshot, but then I got lazy. I hate doing screenshots, anyway. All that uploading, taking pictures, and stuff.

I'm posting this for the hell of it and because I'm bored, not because I expect this to be particularly interesting. Not sure I'll ever finish it, either.

Note that the story is likely to diverge - eventually - from the game that's being played. The game's luck of the roll will determine whether or not a pokemon joins a team, dies in combat, or otherwise, but Dag's not going to be necessarily fighting "Rockets" even though that's the plot of the original game.

Because Dag's not an ordinary trainer, this isn't a normal world, and the Rockets aren't the problem plaguing this world.

So, rules.

1. Standard Nuzlocke rules. He who faints, dies. First pokemon, first capture. No pokeballs clause. Duplicates clause.
2. Three-center visit.
3. No healing items on pokemon currently in-battle. If they're swapped out it's fine. "Battle Pocket" items available.
4. You can only have your number of gym badges plus three pokemon alive and captured.
5. Roll a dice each route. If a six, roll again to see which item(s) vanished. Active after Crystal's Pokedex.
6. Roll another dice each encounter. If encounter dice and route dice are both sixes, use level 100 health for next pokemon (immagoingtodie, immagoingtodie). Active after Crystal's Pokedex.
7. Dice rolls for certain events.
Edited By Houndakragth on 5/16/2017 at 11:23 PM.
Houndakragth
Level 60
Joined: 9/19/2015
Threads: 1
Posts: 14
Posted: 5/10/2017 at 5:18 PM Post #2
Part One: Wipe the Slate Clean

Fall down seven times, get up eight.
Starting overs hard.
This is a second chance.
Clean slate.
Good luck, Dag.


Three years ago...

They found me washed up upon the shores.

I had no name. No memory. No past. Just the clothes on my back... And a single, waterlogged note:

A second chance.
Live well, friend.
In memoriam, est.
~Shaira Brighthawk


It's been three years to the day. This world still seems strange to me. Somehow I get the feeling I don't belong here. There's a name on the computer. Crystal.

...It isn't mine. My guardian won't talk about it.

This place has been my home for the past three years. My guardian took me in. Gave me a roof over my head, food, and a bed. Taught me what I needed to know about this world.

She keeps making a dessert, a treat for someone. No one ever eats it; I don't really have much of a sweet tooth. It always ends up in the trash.

It looks like my neighbor wants me to run an errand for him. I've been doing a lot of that lately. It can take a few days, sometimes. That's how my PokGear got damaged in the first place.

Walking outside, a marill runs into me. I know most people become trainers here. But something still feels wrong about it. Not the training. The fact that nearly everyone does it.

...Never mind. I don't understand it myself.

New Bark Town. Quiet place, really. Biggest thing here is Professor Elm. And that if you want to go to the Pokemon League from Johto, the easiest passage is through the water here.

It's not as if it really matters. I'm not a trainer.

Enough staring out over the water. Time to run his errand.

Elm babbles something about having pokemon out of their pokeballs and research thereof. "I was hoping I could have your help with the tests," he says.

It's deja vu. Have I done this before? Been asked to raise a pokemon - to become a pokemon trainer - for a scientist. For someone? I dont know.

It's not something I really want to do, though. The idea brings up all sorts of emotions. Emotions I haven't really dealt with yet, even though they come up every time someone suggests becoming a pokemon trainer. I can't identify all of them, but there's reluctance and regret somewhere in that mess. He knows that. It's written across my face, after all, every time he suggests bringing a pokemon for protection.

He doesn't take no for an answer this time. Doesn't he have someone else to do this? Can't I just not become a trainer? I know the answer.

There's a machine containing three pokeballs there. Chikorita, Cyndaquil, and Totodile. Grass, Fire, and Water. It's awkwardly familiar, as if I've been offered that choice before. No, not the three pokemon. The elements. I reach in, pick a pokeball. The smooth surface feels foreign on my calluses, the bump of the seal and the button even more so.

Even now... A knife fits better in my hands than a Pokball does.

I don't know who I was.

I don't know what I did for a living.

What I do know, is that the scars speak for themselves. These aren't scars that you get from scrapping, or getting into an accident. They're scars that you get from combat. There's a claw mark across my side, a thin line across my nose. Probably was lucky not to get my eye slashed out. I've got other scars, a big burn one across my calf, and I limp, sometimes. When it rains.

Cyndaquil. I've always picked fire, haven't I. There's flashes, of a great hound breathing fire, striped in orange and black. A majestic dragon, brilliant flames like the heart of a star spilling from a red maw and midnight-dark scales. Who was I, really.

They're all so tiny, all three of them. The cyndaquil barely comes up to my knee. I could break them. And some part of me murmurs about how. It's not as if it would be all that hard.

Meet Shyre. I can't say he's my first Pokemon, but well, I can say he's the first in memory.

I don't try to touch his back. Trust takes time, even if he has to extend some of it because I'll be his trainer.

Hopefully, we'll do well together and not die.

It happens. Pokemon die. People die. Sure, pokemon battles aren't really all that lethal. Pokemon don't aim to kill in trainer battles. But pokemon battles aren't the end all be all and outside of those mock battles, sometimes things can get dangerous. Humans and pokemon are tough. We're not one hit wonders; generally we can take as much as we can dish out. But enemies won't necessarily back off once they've won. Sometimes... sometimes, people and pokemon die.

...I'll try my best.

It's all I can do. Releasing him to the wild isn't safer than raising him. Harsh reality is that he'd have to fight for his food anyway, fending off other pokemon and fighting sometimes will mean death to the loser. Never battling isn't an option either. Some pokemon - some people will attack. Without attempting to reason, to boot. I'm lucky to have gotten away from most of them, fought off the others, even without a pokemon. Might be dangerous, but I'm... still rather dangerous myself.

It's a skill that most people don't learn in this day and age. It's not necessary. The roads are usually safe, and pokemon that aggressive are usually cleared out. For most people, worrying about that is like worrying about getting hit by lightning or attacked by a robber.

We've got an errand to do. C'mon, Shyre. Lets get going.

Even if it's starting to rain.

Finis.

Stats: Zero Pokemon Center Visits.
Pokemon: Shyre - Cyndaquil, Given by Elm at Level 5.
Edited By Houndakragth on 5/10/2017 at 11:59 PM.
Houndakragth
Level 60
Joined: 9/19/2015
Threads: 1
Posts: 14
Posted: 5/10/2017 at 5:36 PM Post #3
Part Two: Shadows of Route 29

Route 29. The road between New Bark Town and Cherrygrove City. There's no local gym in either place.

It's not a long distance between cities. Four days on foot or so. Less by bike, especially powered bike. Hour and a half by ponyta - even less by pidgeot. A long walk by some standards. Not so long by others.

Route 29 neither winds much nor was rough terrain, fairly flat through the woods that surround both towns. The trees grew tall and thick on the sides, barring passageway to the north or through to the south. There's not many people in the route, probably because the pokemon here were mostly rather common. Ratatta, Sentret, Pidgey - Hoot-hoot at night. The occasional Wurmple, an invasive species lately. Bidoof and Zigzagoon, other pokemon that had moved in. There's been reports of Minun and Plusle, but nothing really confirmed.

One might see a few Furret and Raticate around; those can be dangerous pokemon sometimes. Still, nothing really out of the ordinary.

But...

The trees should have been thinner, skinnier. Darker in hue and shade, closer to blue than yellow, less the color of spring and more the color of evergreen. The alcove ahead a little down the road should have had people in it, a waystation between the towns where the patrols can take a break. Three years past, and the route still seemed off. Wrong, not quite right.

There were almost people there, looking hard at the place. Transparent shades of people, indistinct faces and features, someone crouched over a not-quite visible camp fire. There might be a tent close up against that tree on the side, the small one that seemed like it could be shaken by a pokemon with a hard head. Someone nodded at a passerby, arm resting easily against the hilt of a weapon that was sometime a gun, sometimes a sword, and sometimes something else. Theres the quiet, not-quite-heard whimper of a growlithe whining to get out of the rain, and the indistinct chatter that didn't impact on the ear.

The old man standing in the thicker portions of the grass didnt seem to see them.

After all, they werent really there.

But...

There was a patrol, if one looked closely. Two men, bearing arms, a furret on the prowl beside them. Eyes sharp and alert, looking for dangers in the forest woods. There's mud on their boots and pant sleeves, rain dripping down armored vests, and the front of a tree can be seen through them. There are more - there should be more - here. Four days is a lot of ground to cover. A lot of ground where criminals can hide and escape.

The boy there, standing out in the open carelessly without weapon nor a pokemon sitting out playing sentry, didn't seem to notice the two men, eyes staring straight through them.

After all, the area didn't have any patrols.

But...

Halfway down the route, a brick gate house without doors, and no guards, though if squinting and tilting ninety degrees to the right, there were two solemn-faced soldiers facing outwards on either side. The rain kept pouring down, neither flinching at the tempest that sung out around them. Both have a single pokemon on their belt, and hands warily set on the devices. They called out to wave passerby in to take shelter, though no words ever escape their mouths.

There was a heavyset man that stood out in the open, under the downpour of water, not taking shelter in the nearby guardhouse. He lacked a weapon on his belt, nor was there any discernible armament elsewhere on his body. There wasn't even so much as a pokeball on him, nor a trained pokemon accompanying him. The wild ratatta that skittered off into the underbrush could have taken his hand off at the wrist - or sliced through his throat in a single, swift bite.

He ignored the soldiers' invitation, as if they didn't exist.

After all, the brick gate house was just a gate house, not important enough to have guards.

And...

There was a boy, sitting on a ledge just above the tips of the grass and near a berry bush. It could have hidden a predator in its depths, and few pokemon would refuse extra protein. There were pokemon that would be territorial over the berries sitting there. Night time was dangerous, yet he says, "I'm waiting for pokemon that only appear at night."

...There's something not quite right about this world.

Or perhaps, there was something not quite right about the viewer.

It was probably the latter.

Because -

"I get the feeling I don't belong here."

"There's a name on the computer. It isn't mine."

"She keeps making a treat for someone.
Nobody ever eats it.
It always ends up in the garbage."

"Even now, a knife fits better in my hands than a pokeball."

"Something still feels wrong about this."


Finis.

Stats: Zero Pokemon Center Visits.
Pokemon: Shyre - Cyndaquil, Level 6, Given by Elm at Level 5.
Edited By Houndakragth on 5/10/2017 at 11:38 PM.
Houndakragth
Level 60
Joined: 9/19/2015
Threads: 1
Posts: 14
Posted: 5/10/2017 at 11:38 PM Post #4
Part Three: Whispers of Trouble

Cherrygrove. There's trouble in the air. I can feel it. I'm not sure when or where, but there's going to be problems.

No pokeballs. They haven't gotten a shipment here in a while. Shyre prods me to buy something anyway. I take a few antidotes... and they cost double the price. Something's wrong. It gets explained to me that half the shipment keeps going missing. They can't seem to find the culprit, and they tell me they've tried. It's been months, and they still haven't managed.

The old man here gives me a Map Card, and an Old Rod. He's the one who pulled me out of the water.

He also keeps evading my questions.

He knows something. I don't know what.

When I turn to go, there's a sudden weight in my back pocket. ...A black knife? What for? Something seems familiar about it. I turn it over, but it gives no clues. Just glints in the afternoon sun, like any other knife.

He's gone. I don't know where to, and there's still that errand to run. It's an hour or so down the road on my bike. I'll get there by evening, if I move quickly.

There's a few aggressive pokemon around, but Shyre takes care of them handily. If he hadn't, there's still a few potions in the pack. And he's somehow learned to spew smoke. Nice, especially with the sunskrit around. Not good for a fire pokemon to get hit by bubble. Shyre took a few nasty hits there.

Mr. Pokemon's house. Cynthia. The Sinnoh Champion. What is she doing here?

I don't understand. I'm starting to feel like there's more to this. This errand isn't just an errand, is it.

And why'd she give me an Eevee? Saying something about a debt? I don't even know her.

His name is Keeran. Male eevee. No odd colors. Just an eevee, as rare as one was. He's obedient enough. Doesn't seem to have been too attached to the champion, waving goodbye cheerfully and then licking me on the nose when I kneel to examine him.

And when I enter the house...

It's you.

The woman looks a lot like my guardian. Same hair, same face. They could be siblings. Relatives, at the very least. And she knows me. Somehow.

Wait, what?
Who the hell are you?


You don't need to know. You're the kid with the Brighthawk note.

The note. No one's told me anything about who "Shaira Brighthawk" was. I'd asked. There's something strange about this.

...What of it?

Four years ago, Brighthawk broke a distortion over Cinnabar.
No one who went in with her came back.
Including her.
The only thing left was a volcanic crater.


I had no idea. For me, Cinnabar had always been that way - a volcanic formation, crater. I knew vaguely it'd been a city, once. My knowledge of the world had some rather gaping holes in it. But that doesn't explain why she's interested in me, of all people.

What does that have to do with anything?

There were reports of the dead rising from the grave. People and pokemon gaining impossible strength.
Personalities twisting and changing.
Twisted bits of reality, impossible physics.
Were getting the same reports now.


That... sounded ominous. Looked like I needed to be careful out there. Probably would run into an unusually strong pokemon out there, or effects that I wasn't going to like on Shyre.

Thanks for warning me, but that's still not explaining anything.

Kid, you showed up a year after the fact with that note.
A year after her presumed death, and with her name on it.
She's the only one who would have any idea how to fix this.
And you're the only one who might know where she is.

...Look. Here. My old Pokedex.

It'll help keep you safe. Hopefully.
If you stay alive long enough,
you might remember something.


...Crystal? Who is this woman? It's what's written on the Pokedex, but that really doesn't tell me much. I don't really know much of the world, after all. I didn't have any idea what that was about.

...Who the hell was I? And why did no one tell me anything about Shaira Brighthawk?

I mean, she was a friend, according to that note of mine. Someone that thought of me as important enough to save, give a second chance or something. Sure, I was eleven at the time, but that shouldn't have barred me from getting answers. Having answers, especially if she was that well known. I don't understand.

Mr. Pokemon, and his egg? Practically an afterthought. Especially after that bombshell. It wasn't as if he'd discovered the secret to pokemon reproduction or something.

Stats: Zero Pokemon Center Visits.
Pokemon: Shyre - Cyndaquil, Level 7, Given by Elm at Level 5, Keeran - Eevee, Given by Cynthia at Level 5
Edited By Houndakragth on 5/10/2017 at 11:44 PM.
Houndakragth
Level 60
Joined: 9/19/2015
Threads: 1
Posts: 14
Posted: 5/10/2017 at 11:47 PM Post #5
Part Four: Reflections of Yesterday

"You know, five years ago I thought I'd have retired from this heroing business by now," was the sardonic comment of the woman, dressed in a professional looking jacket and pants, white with dark violet-grey.

The man snorted. "You'd think so, wouldn't you. Then you discover that the Gym Leaders aren't just people who hand out badges, Lance isn't just the head of the Elite Four, and it really makes things worse when Ho-oh likes you rather than any better." He fiddled with a red sleeve on his heavy jacket and shifted his gold and black clad legs.

"Or you end up in here after pissing off the Rockets trying to help Suicune." She huffed.

He grumbled inaudibly, then sighed. "I got some papers across this morning from Lance. Red's missing."

"What's new?" Her voice deadpanned. "He's been missing since before the Cinnabar incident. You know that, Gold."

"I don't mean 'up in the mountains missing', Crystal. Look at the papers," he retorted as he handed them over.

"Holy Arceus ******! His pikachu came back without him? What the ******! " She said as she saw the report.

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"Pika's incoherent, to boot? That's going to be a pretty mess to sort out." She continued flipping through the papers.

He nodded. "Yeah, well. We've got other problems. Look at the national park page."

"...That's going to tank the economy, if we don't get some hands on that right away. Quarantine, you think?"

"Probably." Was the response. "Not our business, not directly thank Arceus."

She grunted an agreement, then frowned. "This thing sounds horribly like that Cinnabar incident that Brighthawk stopped last year."

"Don't remind me. We lost two agents in addition to her in that mess. The place was scrambled to the point the volcano exploded." He said irritably. "You're right, though. We've been having these incidents all over the place, just like what happened with Cinnabar before things got really bad. And we spent two years trying to get rid of the distortion when she went in and disrupted it somehow, from all reports. But she's gone, and we'll have to find something ourselves." ****** people who didn't leave good records. Really. Brighthawk's remaining gear had nothing but fragmentary writings.

"Not by this report. They found a girl washed up two weeks ago on the shore of Cherrygrove. She had a note on her that was from Brighthawk." She fished out the paper's statement. "No memory, though, but we might want to keep an eye on her."

"Let me see that," he grabbed the report. "...No DNA, no fingerprints, not even a photo match? Who the hell is this girl? And she's, what, fourteen? Brighthawk was bloody well twenty-eight when she disappeared. How the hell would she know some girl like that? Why the hell would she know a girl like that?"

Crystal lifted a shoulder and dropped it. "Eleven, actually. Not that makes it any better. But it's a lead. Probably a dead one, but it's something."

"I'd say. We'll manipulate things, see if we can't get her into New Bark Town where Elm can keep an eye on her. Your mother's a good choice for a foster, I think." He looked up, "If you could-"

"Gold, I'm not talking to her and convincing her to take the girl in. What would I say? Sorry I haven't said hello in the past five years?" She retorted.

He sighed. "Fine, we'll just use our existing assets. So, next thing. Incident reports. We've got an incident report in these places. Think your team can take care of it?" He moved on.

She examined the reports. "Something in Union Cave causing trouble, pokedex won't identify it, psychic gone crazy and the local Jennys can't take her out, and a few reality scramble events you want me to check on? Sure, we'll take those. Kinda worried about the scramble events. They're the same glitches in reality that happened on Cinnabar."

He nodded. "Parse through the rest of reports and tell me which ones you'll take. I'll get mine to farm out or run the rest. Pass a copy on to Silver when you see him."

"Yeah, sure. Why do we keep him on anyway?" She flapped a hand, sitting down to read the rest of the reports.

Gold shrugged. "Lance says he's a useful asset. He does give good information on the pulse of the underworld. You heard about the rumors of Rockets, right?"

"Mmhm," she answered, "Still don't think he's worth the trouble, but I might be prejudiced, especially after being on the opposite side for nearly a year."

"After Lance thrashed him, his attitude took a good one-eighty, though. Still, he's got sticky fingers." He shook his head. "Not so much with pokemon anymore, but he'll still take things without thinking."

Crystal snorted. "We have to work with him, so that's that. Heaven knows why Lugia took a shine to the man."

Gold grunted. It was a mystery why Legendaries picked people to associate with, so he didn't particularly have a smart comment to that. "Good luck, Crystal. I'm headin' out."

"Good luck, Gold."

Stats: Zero Pokemon Center Visits.
Pokemon: Shyre - Cyndaquil, Level 8, Given by Elm at Level 5, Keeran - Eevee, Given by Cynthia at Level 5
Houndakragth
Level 60
Joined: 9/19/2015
Threads: 1
Posts: 14
Posted: 5/11/2017 at 6:39 PM Post #6
Part Five: Thief Hunting

Sometimes, I wish my instincts weren't that accurate - because here comes trouble. Elm's call at 4:32 PM on a Saturday holds nothing but bad news.

(That doesn't sound good, Dag.)

No, it doesn't, Shyre. Sounds like a break-in.

(You're not going to get back in time.
It'll take nearly a day to get back to New Bark Town.)


By foot, it would take a day to get to Cherrygrove. Day and a half, if I went at a sustainable pace. Mr. Pokemon's house is about thirty miles, at twenty miles a day. But then again, I'm on bike.

I can get to Cherrygrove in an hour.
We can hitch a ride there.
Get in, Shyre. We've got to try.


Powered bike, at that, so I'm not going to be exhausted when we get there. Sustained speed of 15 miles per hour, top speed of thirty and with the power assisting me more than enough to get me to Cherrygrove.

It'll take me five hours from there to get to New Bark Town. Too slow, and both of us know it. That's not the only option available to us, though. I narrow my eyes and squeeze myself for a more aerodynamic profile. A ponyta would get us there in two hours, faster we ask for a quick delivery. They've got a sprint speed of 128 mph and a sustained run at 65 mph. Rapidash have a top speed of about 150 mph - but their sustaining top speed is actually nearly an hour, instead of the maximum of twelve minutes a ponyta can manage. Or for that matter, most pokemon.

As we all know, pidgeot can hit Mach 2. That means about nothing, because that's after several uses of Agility. Agility enhances speed; it can be applied a total of 4 times. Tailwind will double that. Don't ask me why it stacks like that. It just does. But Mach 2 is 1540 mph, which makes for unenhanced speed of about 192 mph at top sprint. Speed scales down to just a tad under 96 mph at normal pacing, which is an hour and a half.

That's why I'd prefer a ride by pidgeot, although I'll take ponyta as well. Rapidash is optimal, unless I can persuade the pidgeot into using Agility to cover the distance.

Even so, we're not going to make it in time to fix anything. Probably make it in time to help with the cleanup, but that's about it. I kick the bike into gear anyway, activating its motors with a twist of my wrist. Shyre doesn't talk, not that I really understand much beyond the tone of his squeaking noises.

It's an hour later that we arrive, and I swing the bike around ninety degrees. It skids, and the smell of burning rubber hits my nose, dirt stinging my legs as it sprays. Shyre makes a sound of protest, but I ignore it, scooping him up with one arm and jumping off the bike.

I'm already moving to head for the Center before my feet even hit the ground. Two steps forward and cutting my speed -

OW!

You're the one who got a Pokemon at the Lab.


Who, what, who the ****** is this guy? He's planted himself in front of me - probably why I bounced off him like he was a brick wall - and looking at me as if I'm some gum scraped off the bottom of his shoe. He really doesn't like me, for some reason, and it's clear it's personal. I don't understand it at all, but it sounds like -

What a waste.
That's a Pokemon that's too good for a wimp like you.


I narrow my eyes; he doesn't know anything, does he? He doesn't know anything about who I am, despite his words. I'm not angry enough to reach for that black knife, but the way he's standing, the way he's positioned

I could gut him like a fish. He doesn't know anything important, does he? He reads my confusion quite well, but doesn't read any of the other thoughts that pass through my head. Absently, I remember that, for all that I've been here four years, there are a lot of ways this world beyond just the fact that I don't know much of it, is foreign to me.

Don't you get what I'm saying?
I, too, have a good Pokemon
And I'll show you exactly what I mean.
Totodile!


Oh. Oh. That's one of Elm's pokemon, it has to be. I recognize those colors, those scales, that form. That explains a lot. The totodile looks reluctant and somewhat apologetic.

You're rather ignorant, methinks.
THIEF! Someone, THIEF!
Shyre, knock the 'dile out!


I can't use anything lethal on him. Not if I want to stay out of jail. So, the knife's out of the option and bareknuckle has never been my forte. I lunge for his face anyway with a shout for someone to get the police. He's a slippery ******, I'll give him that and he nearly slips out of my grasp even though I'm - well, I think I'm trained for this.

Then again, I'm trained to kill the hell out of anything I'm fighting, not to incapacitate. I don't exactly know how to knock him out. I could kill him the way I'm sitting on his back right now, but aside from smashing his head into the ground again, I don't know how to stop him from struggling. But he's not having an easy time of it. I'm not light, he's not that strong, and my grip is like a vice. But then Shyre squeals in pain, and my head snaps around.

He worms free of the pin he's in, sending me sprawling in my moment of distraction. I lunge for him, but it looks like he's not interested in smashing my face in and has given up on the fight. A red light lashes out at the Totodile, and I twist to block it, breaking out of my lunge. Damnit, he's smart, and he knows that he's got to run. Especially with my shout.

I grab for the pokeball, but he dances out of reach and tries again. Shyre hits his opponent again hard...

And then the light flashes and retrieves the Totodile. Damnit, he's going to run.

But I've got his -

And now I don't. I've got his name, at least: Seoul. Odd name, that.

Ugh. He's too far for me to catch up now. Nothing to do about it.

I check on Shyre; he looks okay, if a bit bruised up. I'm not happy, but I pat him on the head and give him some praises. He's been a good boy. He deserves them, even if the outcome isn't good. After all, I might have taught him a few tricks, but a trainer is supposed to order their pokemon in battle. I failed in that.

You did good.
It wasn't your fault.
We'll just have to try a bit harder next time.

I look at the Center, and sigh. Well, it's not going to hurt at this point. The guy's already off and running. Shyre's not got a long range technique. I'll report to the officers when they actually get nevermind, they're here. Time to give my statement.

Stats: Cherrygrove - 1.
Route Rolls: Route 30 - No Encounters, Route 29 - No Encounters
Pokemon: Shyre - Cyndaquil, Level 7, Given by Elm at Level 5, Keeran - Eevee, Given by Cynthia at Level 5
Edited By Houndakragth on 5/11/2017 at 6:40 PM.
 
This Page loaded in 0.011 seconds.
Terms of Service | Privacy Policy | Contact Us | Credits | Job Opportunities
© Copyright 2011-2024 Sylestia Games LLC.
All names and logos associated with Sylestia are Trademarks of Sylestia Games LLC.
All other trademarks are the property of their respective owners.
For questions, comments, or concerns please email at Support@Sylestia.com.