This world is inhabited by creatures that we call pokemon. People and pokemon live together by supporting each other, but now the scourge threatens the safety of the entire region. Kohaku has become a dangerous place, where children stay at home and only brave souls go adventuring.
Welcome to KOHAKU. Come for the nightmares. Stay for the tea and crumpets.
The season is SUMMER. It is easy for survivors to forage for food from the land, as there are entire abandoned farms ready for harvest. On the downside, you can smell the corpses.
swarms
GRAND OPENING !
Welcome to KOHAKU REGION's grand opening! If you're interested in joining, come check out our grand opening giveaway!
It's a different day, at a different time, under different circumstances. Natu is gone, graduated from whatever 'strict' regimen he's had it on all this time, and it's tiring, irritating seeing zorua's nose as it sticks it up at him, time after time after time. So he takes a different approach, apprehensive, index finger and thumb on his chin.
The Gible sits there. It moves slightly, ever three seconds, plucking at grass, poking things, showing teeth as it grins at something shiny in the distance. He snaps, and its pupils flicker over to him, not really saying much, just watching, staring. Shifting, he points to the tree beside him. "Remember what I told you before all of this?" A nod, and he lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding, then steps back. "Go for it."
It reaches up both paws and scrapes at the fin on its head until both gleam in the weak sunlight that peaks through the leaves, then runs headfirst and crashed into the tree, leaving a sizeable dent. Not the most impressive out of what he's seen, but the pokemon has strategy, and that's what they need to work on. "Do that again." He pauses, then relents, adding a "Better, this time.", the only hint the pokemon's going to get.
"into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely."
He isn't sure why he's chosen to take someone like it to a place like this. The way Zangoose stands there, confident, sharpening its claws on each other like a pair of cooking knives certainly doesn't do much to reassure and quell his doubts, if not enhance them signifigantly. Yet he still persists on behalf of his own pride, staring straight at the creature and wondering if he even has to say anything, or if Zangoose just knows.
"Well..." He coughs, holding a stopwatch in one hand and high expectations, not bothering to start off slow. And it feels good as he points to the tree - somehow, it's always about trees, trees trees, he guesses his mind's just not very creative - and narrows his eyes, scrutinizing every last detail, from the way zangoose shifts to a better suited stance and narrows its eyes in anticipation. "See this? Destroy it. As quick as you can." Quickly, efficiency is what the scourge demands, and he can't help but trail his eyes to the normal-type's claws as Zangoose lunges, and he starts the timer.
When the stopwatch clicks again, there's sawdust pooling around his feet and zangoose is grimacing, shaking the stuff off where its gotten into its fur. Reverse, rewind, Jayden eyes another tree in the distance. "Again," He says.
What they need is practice, and there are always trees to fit that need.
"into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely."
"You'll never get stronger the way you are." It clicks its jaws together, loudly, like she's hit a nerve, but she can't tell, not when its eyes are the same and there's always the same expression plastered to its teeth, lips nonexistent. She chooses to ignore it, crouching down, prodding at the dirt with a finger and wiping it off on Trapinch's pincer-like head. It feels like normal dirt, to her - hard, unbreakable - but pokemon are different from humans. She is not a pokemon, so she wouldn't understand how they do what they do.
Points to the ground, a thick roll of tape measure in her hand (when did that get there, she wonders?). And when all she gets in return is a blank stare, she pokes at her lips and tries to explain this strange way of training that she just feels might work. "Try to pull up as much of this as you can. I'll measure the depth and see how you do." Depth means everything, because while an inch or so might not mean much here, it's sometimes the difference between snapping off an appendage and simply causing a wound, life and death. "Pretend it's something you hate." She says, when it doesn't budge.
Trapinch complains about a sore jaw after it's all over, but it managed to add another inch to its initial total, and she's satisfied with that.
"into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely."
She isn't sure what she's doing here. All she knows is that, when she asked some people about how to get stronger, they told her to fall asleep in this strange place, so she did. Ratatta is here too, standing on its hind paws and sniffing at the air, so she must've done it right, but now she's not sure what happens next. It doesn't help that it's staring up at her funny, either, like it knows something she doesn't, because she doesn't know what that something is, and it makes her feel uncomfortable.
She leans down and touches it on the head, ruffling some of its yellow fur - it turned yellow after that thing the professor gave her, she's not sure how she feels about that just yet - as it twists around and tries to paw her off, front teeth hanging in front of it. "I wish you could talk." Lacey mumbles, pouting. And she doesn't see why not, either, because its a dream, and she can do anything in dreams, right? She can't make herself more creative, though, and she taps her head, trying to dislodge an idea. Stronger, how to get stronger -
She perks up as the idea hits her, smiling as she squats down and tells Ratatta to chase its own tail for a bit, as she counts to ten, twenty, thirty, and when it stops, it looks kind of dizzy, swaying. Lacey only claps her hands together. "Good job!" She squints at something in the distance, then points to it. "Try running to that tree and back, now. It'll test your balance and endurance!" It's not a straight path there, but Ratatta tries hard, and she decides that she likes this place, and that they're definitely coming back. Soon.
"into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely."
Under normal circumstances, he sleeps with a pokemon in mind that he wants to train, hand curled lightly around its pokeball and, under normal circumstances, it stands, poised beside him when he wakes in the strange, fantasy-dream world. Flip is not here today. He wonders if he took the wrong pokeball, then shakes his head, because he doesn't makes mistakes.
Skarmory works best alone, and he feels compelled to respect that, for some odd reason. Zoroark refuses to get along with any of the other pokemon - contrary to belief, evolution has done nothing to quell the pokemon's bitter disposition. It's too soon and too fast for Xatu, who has just begun to understand the new power that he's been pushing it to gain and now accept. In Flip's place, stands the two remaining members of his team, and he wonders, as he lets out a sigh, how they've managed to twist it so that they now choose who trains, and who doesn't.
"Go against each other." He says, heavily accenting each word until Zebstrika's excited hoof clatters fade into silence, and Gallade's eyes harden in determination. "Exploit each other's weaknesses. Look for opportunities and take them." And as they spar and pit against each other in a fashion that is just the right amount of severity and lenience that shows that they are strong, now, he can't help but wonder if he's just like them, or miles away and just deluding himself into thinking so.
"into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely."
He hasn't dreamed in a long time. Sleep comes in waves now, black crashing into white and gray and then nothing-ness, more out of necessity than the need for relaxation. He's searching for answers, for strength, for her, and the fact that all of these things are right in front of him, but out of reach is the most frustrating thing of all, causing a slight headache.
Jayden lifts up two fingers to the bridge of his nose, rubbing, massaging as he stares at them - they've started to come in pairs, they have, and sometimes he takes the reins, but those times have been dwindling and dwindling, until there's hardly a time when he's not surprised anymore. This time, skarmory stands to his right, plucking at some feathers with a sound that only metal on metal can make. To his left, Zoroark is sharpening its claws on a tree trunk, leaving thick, long gauges. The worst possible pair. Jayden clears his throat. When they both ignore him - skarmory's gaze lingers on him for a moment, but it goes back to what it was doing without a second glance - he whistles, sharp and brittle.
Some part of him thinks that this all started when he started to care about their feelings, because the him that left home and the him that took that pokemon from that man is not the him that stands there, eyes narrowed, irritation prickling everywhere. "You're going to have to work together, eventually." He snaps out, punctuating each word. "And what you're doing right now's going to get us killed one day. So go at it. Don't kill each other." They stare at him. "We're not leaving until you two learn the meaning of teamwork." And that gets to them, so they look at each other awkwardly and start to spar, not sparing him second glances.
Jayden sits on a stump, staring at them. The scourge work in teams. Not working in teams can only mean death, in the end.
"into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely."
He can picture it - the tree they worked with last time, bark peeling off in strips and sawdust pooling at his feet, the click of a stopwatch. It's so fresh that he almost can't believe that they're the same pokemon who stand in front of him now, sharpening claws, grinding teeth, both staring him down like he's their prey, except he's not. If it was him in the past, he would've glared. Instead, he rubs at his temples at the onset of a headache that's never actually there, but never quite gone, either.
They pay each other no mind. It worries him, especially when Zangoose gives that look at garchomp when the creature clicks its teeth and roars, impatience radiating from the stance it adopts to the way it twitches from side to side. The tree with the dent is stronger in his mind, overlapping sawdust with memories of intense training and premature evolution. Garchomp is still a baby, and dangerous. He wonders if he's made a mistake as he snaps, out of habit, and instead of stopping what they're doing to stare at him, their gazes sharpen, in expectation.
"Not today." Zangoose's claws flex, and Garchomp makes a noise like its trying to whine, but can't. "Don't start that with me. You're not suited for each other and you know it. Now," He jerks his head at Garchomp. "Remember last time. Do it again." There's no trees around - only a misty, foggy, endless battlefield, and Garchomp may not understand, but Zangoose certainly does, from the way it adopts a fighting stance and flexes its claws, eyes gleaming.
"Don't kill each other." He's been repeating that a lot, lately, but its crucial, if they want to get anywhere. At least, this way, he still feels like he has some form of control.
(I'm just testing out something, don't pay this any mind!)
"into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely."