Joe Donkarasu's Story

The area around Snowpoint was vibrant as usual, however, something was off. Indeed, there were startling numbers of Murkrow, and, also, a larger number of trainers apparently looking for or trying to capture them. While most stayed out of reach and sight, a few were riskier. In any case, the Murkrow seemed to be looking for something.

"Caw! Caw!"

This was very weird. Murkrow were never this far north, let alone in such harsh conditions. Something was attracting them here, and they were looking for it, it seemed. Once they found it, they would leave as soon as they came. Or if too many of them were captured. Filthy Human scum.

"I wish I could play with you more, but I have some urgent business to attend to," he jeered at a tied-up Human girl, free to move about the room but still unable to leave. And fully clothed. Hey, it was cold up here! That much he was reminded of as Tungsten exited the safety of his hideout near Acuity Lakefront. Those scumbag Humans would be too focused on looking for Murkrow that they probably wouldn't take note of his illusions, his footfalls and rustling of grass muffled by the howling winds and the sound-absorbing snow drifts.

"Sneasel mentioned nothing about this," he muttered. Of course, he never reached out to the local population of them for information, as he had nothing to offer in exchange. Yet. Some chatter about how a Human celebrity had recently appeared in the area, but nothing to precipitate an outbreak of this magnitude. Or a swarm, as the Humans would incorrectly refer to it as. Swarming was something only certain bug-types did, after all! "There's got to be an explanation for this activity somewhere," Tungsten reassured himself. He knew he could take on a Murkrow by himself, but if they mobbed him? Depended on how many managed to pile on and how lucky they got with their sucker punches. Or air slashes. Or...focus on the job, damn it. "I've got to see who their leader is, if they have one. While they're here, I might as well try to make some new friends while I'm at it," Tungsten rationalized.

And so the hunt began...

As he left, any pathway he chose was pretty much under constant watch by Murkrow perching on branches, or flying overhead. They seemed keen on following him however.

The situation was getting bizarre, if not outright surreal. It was like they were watching him. Taking the guise of another Trainer would be futile at this point...not only did it seem like they were detecting him through the snow, but actively piercing his powers of illusion. Clearly he would need to work on that some more. But first, to do something about the eyes in the sky.

He took in a deep breath of cold air and spat out a stream of fire, targeting not the Murkrow but the tree he was sitting in, trying to smoke out a few of his buddies as well. Plenty of Trainer battles were happening in the surroundings for it to be written off as incidental.

The Murkrow scattered as one of them flew down to land in front of Tungsten.

PokeSpeak followed.

[

Madonn'! If a mannagge you want, a mannagge you'll git, but da boss wouldn't want dat. Anyways, da Boss is interested in a jamook like ya are, and requests your presence. Bring a goomah or two if ya feel like it, but keep your facia bruta out of anywhere it don't need to be, got it jamook?

Foilow us, an' we git you to da Boss.

]

The group of Murkrow all flew in a northern direction, a few of them keeping low enough so Tungsten could keep sight of them.

The thick Johto accent was almost too much for Tungsten's Unova ears to handle, but he managed well enough. He nodded back, but didn't dare try to speak in their dialect lest he butcher it. Or worse, offend them by acting like a Chatot spitting out some dumb stereotype. He spoke back in the native tongue of Pokemon. "Very well. You take me to your boss, and I will keep us safe from the Humans as you do."

As Zoroark were noted for their ability to fool whole groups of people with a single illusion, disguising the whole mob as a gang of common Sneasel was no big stretch of his powers as long as he cautioned the ones in sight to stick to the trees. Part of any illusion was role-playing, after all.

"All right, looks like we're safe from the Humans. I kept you from their prying eyes and their greedy snares. Now you hold up your end of the deal."

The Murkrow lead him straight to a small run down shack that they tore the door off of, and lead him inside.

To which he stood before a Honchkrow, easily double the size of the Murkrow, if not larger. Definitely could match him in size.

The Honchkrow raised a wing, and the Murkrow assembled to the sides of the room, as well as blocking the door out. Poke Speak ensued. [

So, yer the jamook who took over for da old boss den? Ya look a lot like 'im kid. But ya gotta tell me, is your borgata anyting to worry 'bout? Or are ya just smoke and mirrors? Unlike yer daddy, we couldn't see any goomah's layin' about, and ya didn't come wit any either.]

He raised his other wing. [

So, speak then, wat are ya tryin' ta be?

]

All right, Tungsten, he told himself. This is it. This is what you've been training for. Don't let them see you sweat. Sweating was bad in the cold.

"Damn right I am. Killed him with my own two forepaws. I didn't like how my old man was smacking around this one Human, even if she was trying to fight back. After that, I tried to take the gang in a different direction, but that Scizor didn't like it. He came at me, BAM, got a face full of spice. One by one, the rest of them left as well. So that's why I'm here alone."

He gathered his courage for this next part. "But I knew that I didn't want to carry on the family business. Not after getting to see their faces. When they were in the holding cells. When Ahriman dragged them back to his private quarters. Beat them. Bound them. Branded them. CLAIMED them." Tungsten was positively shaking with rage at the end of that statement, the only thing holding him back being the fact that a veneer of politeness was expected.

"The worst part is that I found out from an unnamed source that his brothers are crawling out of the woodwork. They aren't happy with the fact that their sibling just bit the dust. If Addanc and Nazar aren't stopped, it'll happen worse than it did with Ahriman. The beating, The stealing. The mating."

He paused for effect. "Yes. Humans impregnated with the seed of our kind. That is the dark legacy I seek to scour from my eternal soul."

The Honchkrow didn't seem particularly pleased.

So ya dink you can be better than your father eh? Very well, more of dem dames for the others than. Just 'cause ya don't agree does not mean he didn't have the right idea, see?

The Honchkrow ruffled his feathers and raised a wing.

Surely you have other tools though, right jamook? 'Cause me and yer daddy, we had our deals set up, but they needed the trading goods for it. If ya can't provide anything we like, we don't give ya any regard, and treat ya like an enemy, see?

Ya should learn fast, kid. Dis whole criminal underground business, it's a big thing, and ya got big shoes to fill.

"No shit," Tungsten spat in disgust, though he had more respect for the Don than to actually do the saliva thing. "The one girl I have is too young to be passed around in such a manner, though I believe one of my inherited possessions is still willing and able to serve in the role. And just so you know, if you see the local Sneasel ganging up, it's my fault. No need to worry about it just yet. They know the area better than I do, so they will assist me in finding what is needed for your particular economy."

A gust of chill air blasted through the open entrance, which had been widened to allow for the passage of the Zoroark's bulk. It was enough to send his long red mane swishing around. "Now, I must take my leave. Surely the girl must be alone and scared, perhaps pondering a means of escape. We can't have that, now can we, gentlemen?"

With a howl, Tungsten was off.

Through the thick, howling wind that would likely make most species of pokemon think twice about whether they wanted to venture further a lone, lithe figure floated through the air with grace. Of the species gardevoir, this pokemon's long flowing 'skirt' dragged behind them, fluttering gently in the bitter cold wind. Inhumanly thin legs dangled carelessly just below the skirt's hem. Oddly enough, the psychic pokemon appeared unprotected from the wind. A subtle bosom identified the humanoid pokemon as a female. She winced as particularly strong gusts of wind occasionally bothered her eyes, and snow had begun to gather on top of her mostly motionless body as a direct consequence of her lack of significant bodily movement in favor of levitation. She hadn't even bothered to try and brush it off her head, as if accepting her fate.

One had to assume that a pokemon would be somewhat more resilient than a human to the cold however; the worst she showed was a perpetual scowl on her otherwise stoic expression, though one wouldn't be able to help detecting subtle rage in her eyes directed at an unknown source.

As she advanced rather slowly toward an unknown destination, the habitat-displaced pokemon lowered her gaze down at the ground, her eyes hidden by her hair to all outside maybe ten feet of her, though if one got close enough through some shenanigans such as a convenient immunity to psychic powers they'd notice they were closed. She was seemingly allowing her psychic energy to guide her path for her for one reason or another, perhaps attempting to give her solid red eyes a rest from the wind-irritation.

Seamus ran full speed towards the docks and dove in face first, the ice and the cold acting as a sufficient cover for anyone that wanted to pursue him further. Maybe he could try being an explorer again some other day. Right now, all he wanted to do was pretend today never happened and rest after getting thrown around by that ungodly strong Abomasnow.