Zero-Zivan

Berry had been expecting to have some difficulty finding the Ardent Cinders’ leaders so close to the border between Dos Village’s staunchly opposing rings; she’d noticed that not very many of the Inner Ring’s residents preferred to live near the bordering walls of their sanctum which would of course mean that the Cinders had to move deeper into the center of the island to gather any information about the place. As luck would have it though, both the fire-type and her Rattatta companion had circled back to the main entrance from the docks, where the two guilds had ridden ashore on their arrival earlier that day. Nuri was engaging with the defense procedures, offering her insight to the arrangement and functionality of the traps on hand when Berry and Darwin approached her. Wren, not far off, had been reaffirming the intel on the Jawbreakers’ string of dangerous faces, glancing her way when the Nidorino passed by. She smiled to him, waving a signal that she would like to speak with him,

At first, Evals wasn’t so worried about the kind of work she’d be put through when Jay and Tiva declared home improvements for this place – “Outer Dos” or whatever. That weird smell that made her think there was some kind of rotting food she had never smelled or tasted before was more likely to wear her down before any kind of muscle work did. That was then, though. The kind of stuff she was being put through right now had gotten her reconsidering pretty fast. “MȦ̶̧̨̨̢̬̹͕̦͍̫̜͓̮͊́͑̕͜I̴̯͖̗̍͒̆̀̒͋̄̎̓͛̊̈́̑͛͒͝N̸͙̭̦͓̯̹̝̣̒̀͆̒͘͘̚T̷̢͔̰̪̮͈͉̓͆̌̅̿͌Ả̵̯̂̅͒̏̋̌̾̓̾̎̊̚͠I̷̧̢͎̗̜̳̼͙̮̼͔̠̱͒͜͠N BALANCE. SEC̸͓̟͔̐̑ͅÛ̸̡͖̖̤̳͉̪͉̭͇͙̰̽̀̏͠ͅR̵̰̠̣̳̙̪̠͒͂̈́͊͗͒͗͛̍̈́̿̚̚͜ING NAILS NO̸̻̻̤̺̒͋̈́̆̐͆̈͐́͒̀̄̒͊͜͠͠W̸̧̱̪̻̿͒̅̃̓͆̇̈́̃̽̓̄̀̃͘͠.” Sen started pounding at the hooks where the top of the new door Evals got told to haul over to the old fogey’s house met with the legs – or the “arch”, according to what Sen was calling it. Evals was taking on a lot more weight than she was used to carrying, and having to stand with her arms over her head – and trying not to cut into the metal on top of it all – was HARD. Twerp was helping a little, though with his wings

Those who milled about Dos Village, be it the scrap piles of the Outer Ring or the Inner Ring’s grand stadium, all moved about with purpose – a clear goal set in their minds. This would have been apparent even without the myriad of errant thoughts wafting in the sphere of the mind from which Edge could pluck his intel on a whim. No, what drew his interest in this unfolding scene was the exact nature of those goals. As he watched the milling bodies pass to and fro, he detected the very clear footsteps of travelers wary, ever prepared to step aside for another but without breaking their own stride. He had seen this before, in many of his dealings in the underground circles as well as topside. It was an immutable fact of life that sometimes the truth would only rouse hostility. These people wanted the others to feel at ease, to not draw the impression that something was amiss. And it was not just Rift City’s youths who were showing their hands in this way. Those who bore the green

“I smell something about this place,” Jaina had said when Gordie was still ferrying them through the narrow openings between tons of waterlogged metal and trash. The smell then was making Berry wince and cover her nose. “You mean the trash?” she asked. “Uh. I guess yeah, but it’s… something else. Something wild.” Jaina hadn’t seemed excited when she said that. She seemed suspicious, as though there were something about the outskirts of the village that she didn’t like. Berry couldn’t place what was bothering her then. And she didn’t have the faintest idea now, either. She was more concerned with the task at hand; how difficult it was to get any response from the Pokémon of Dos Village that was more than suspicious dismissal. “If you need help with somethin’, you can talk to the Admirals. I got no business with you.” The Makuhita slammed the door to her home shut before Berry could explain any further. She groaned quietly – this was the third time that Team Tinker had been

It was only day two of the guilds’ next march down Iclyn Mountain, and they were making decent time, in spite of the animosity growing between the amaura and heatmor in the lead of their company, the pair shooting daggers around at just about any possible opportunity. “Who ya think’s gonna t’row da first punch?” “What?” Jace turned his head away from the fire- and ice-types to look at Evals, stunned – did she spot something in the trees or something? “Da bosses,” Evals explained as she hefted an arm to point back to where Jace had been watching. “Dey been heatin’ up for a fight all day.” “I’m rooting for Jay!” Twerp had been buzzing along overhead, eager to keep his wings strong as he put it, though Jace was expecting him to switch to underground digging soon, like he had the day before. "Nobody beats Jay in a fight, so why not him?" “My myo’bins’re on Nuri,” Evals grinned. “It’s da quiet ones, y’know. Seen ‘em snap on the guards back on the farm before, way crazier den

The unorthodox trio of Pokemon had spent many days in their uneasy alliance by now, gradually coming to know one another in their trip toward Asteria - though the familiarity was still not enough for them to really trust in one another. Hamen had worn his attitude toward others on his sleeve - he wasn't and had never been a good guy; his only goal in coming to Huana was to make sure that Jasaac Ashdown would be kept safe from his past. A past he never knew about, of course, but one that was coming for him anyhow. Because of that, the two others never seemed to be willing to trust him enough to turn their backs on him, not however you'd call it in the moment. Especially when they went to sleep - he always knew one of them was awake with him to keep watch. Either the tall, wide-eyed guy or the sharp, piercing woman were alert and ready for trouble. Not that he was surprised by that. They already explained to him how they had history with the Gigas Hands, so out of anybody they knew

Xeaklinn braced her fingers under the latch to the truck’s rear door and heaved it up, the steely sectioned bars rattling along the rails as it slid out of her way to reveal the load of construction material and equipment inside, somewhat strewn about in the aftermath of the trip it had taken in the journey from the warehouse to this place. Deciding that she needed another look over her quarry, she stepped to the side, leaned around the back end of the truck and eyed the worn down husk of an old corner hut, the place resembling the small midtown corner shops that she saw inhabiting many of the “modern” and “technological” worlds. Though of course, this one was stripped bare, the old sign that had once adorned the overhang removed, leaving only a pale stain in the cement where the rest had faced long seasons of weather and dirt. The interior was even less decorated, looking as hollow and empty as the training room from Castle Destruction. She decided that