Before the symbiosis, the world was one of uninhabitable extremes. Humans slowly tamed pokemon, turning the world into a paradise. But they also harnessed power, and two organizations, the League and Team Omega, have very different goals for the future.
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Sorence wrote:can you give me a back story for Zaptos? I need a little something to work with.
Deep within the walls of the fort called Trace Italienne are several long hallways. Some of them lead to traps, the others, to dead ends. They are decoys. Amongst them all is a long hallway. The ceiling is not tall, and there are no elaborate paintings, or carvings. Those only serve to weaken the structure. But the scale remains grandiose, the walls solid, as if representing the iron grip of power. Within that hallway are numerous guards. Mightyenas and houndooms lie at their feet. There are two more of the trainer-and-pokemon hound companions at the end of the hall. Their eyes stand attention at a door, their hounds looking fiercer than the rest. Beyond that door lies a single mahogany desk, a rare piece considering the lack of the requisite local flora, where everything else was mostly comprised of stone.
Pacing back and forth beyond the desk is a man. His face is deep with thought, implied with schemes unsaid, not through the emotions he betrays, for in his face, there are none. An arcanine sits next to the fireplace, its large muscular form and brilliant fur basking in the warmth.
He hears three deep knocks at the door. Despite modern technology, League Chief Peter Reckonin preferred the lost old fashioned archaisms of the past.
The man enters hastily, glancing once over the tall figure of the Chief and his neatly pressed League uniform, the circle band on his breast symbolizing unity, and salutes sharply.
"At ease," Reckonin says.
The man says only three words. "Chief Reckonin, Zapdos".
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Chief Reckonin strode up on the parapet of the great fortress, alone, his arcanine absent from his side, putting distance between him and his loyal guards, much to their dismay. If possible, he would exude as much a non-threatening gesture as he could. Trepidation crossed his face, but he doused it with a dose of determination. The storm raged overhead, drenching the Chief and his guards, the houndooms looking miserable. Conductor rods around the parapet channeled the lightning into peripheral bolts that streaked, barely missing the people on the roof, the only thing that protected them from the lethal element.
No doubt Zapdos was angry. The storm was a testament to that. Reckonin was beginning to doubt his initial notions. But he had to make sure, even if he had to put his life on the line. He didn't want to be one to provoke an unnecessary conflict that could kill millions.
The air bristled with static. Reckonin felt his shirt grow closer to his chest, his hair standing out against the wind. The rush of energy warped the visible electricity outside the conductors. Zapdos, landed, perfectly balanced on the end of one of the conductor rods, sizzling with energy.
"I am League Chief Reckonin," he spoke, voice strong. "What is the matter, Zapdos?"
"Reckonin," the bird spoke. The voice was a raspy metallic that stung in the Chief's ears. It seemed as if there were two voices speaking at once. "How polite of the highest member of the League in the immediate vicinity to address me personally. It is very naive of you to approach me so. I admire your resolve."
The bird-form took its time in the mockery of its statement, before shifting onto a serious tone. Zapdos bent down as a plume of electricity extending from the bird took the form of a ghastly mask, sparks igniting the edges to produce a luminescent glow that arched over the two figures.
"I am Finar, Zapdos is merely my vessel."
The guards' hounds bristled. Reckonin motioned for them to stay quiet. The Chief was beginning to sweat, not entirely because of the heat from the sizzling electricity.
It continued, "This city has grown complacent. It has been destroyed twice before and will be done easily do again. Those in the countryside will die while you hide inside your fortress of shame, behind layers of dead rock. This fortress will be a testament to their deaths, as it has been for the deaths of many in the past. You will watch them die, and then I will come after you."
The Chief raised his hand slightly. The crack of a single .50 bmg round echoed in the air. A spark of electricity. Under the Zapdos-Finar's talons fell the deformed round.
"A pathetic, useless attempt. How impolite," the metallic voice extruded. The plume of electricity that was Finar retracted, as Zapdos' eyes sprang into focus.
A wave of electricity enclosed one of the guards in its grasp, before shocking it with multiple blasts of lethality, the guard falling to the ground like a puppet. The other guards rushed around the Chief, defending his body. The pokemon followed in formation, the mightyenas in front of the Chief, while the houndooms stood at a distance, blasting the bird with multiple flamethrowers, but unable to penetrate the bird's light screen. Zapdos took off from the rod, flying off into the sky. Smoke trails of guided missiles rushed towards it, only to be deflected by electric fields, falling towards several buildings in magnificent explosions of flame and smoke.
Reckonin spoke, his voice throaty with smoke, "Alert the residents...send them into their bunkers!"
His voice was drowned out by the multiple bolts of lightning and crashing thunder that fell from the sky, as they swept the streets like giant arms.
Drake Nightwing wrote:I apologize for not posting that often--just haven't been able to think of anything interesting to do, though I DID note nonClemence might have something for Tekno to take part in. That and I've been distracted with other things...
I believe you said his bike might come in handy? :3 That will be interesting.
Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.
Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.
Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.
Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.
Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.
Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.
Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.
Tip jar: the author of this post has received 0.00 INK in return for their work.
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