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Excitement. Apprehension. Fear.
Those emotions were saturating the air about the crowd of Pokemon gathered in front of the outpost guarding the entrance to the dungeon. They were becoming more and more pronounced the longer the Pokemon to which they belonged listened to the briefing given to them by a Charmander garbed in ghost-themed apparel. The lizard exuded a calm and authoritative sort of charisma, evident from the very moment he stepped onto the stage and shushed his audience effortlessly: the fact that his reputation preceded him aided this cause somewhat.
“Dungeons have a tendency to mess with your head. That’s part and parcel of dungeoneering, so as long as you keep your cool, you should be fine. That being said, don’t feel afraid to call out for help if you find yourselves in danger. Pride will just bring you one step closer to your graves. This particular dungeon is harmless for the most part, so feel free to…”
He tuned the rest of the speech out. Being the Pokemon that he was, Noir was naturally attuned to a special type of energy called Aura. He was not born an expert; like any other Riolu, he started out inexperienced and had to put himself through strenuous training in order to properly channel and handle the aforementioned power. Mastering Aura not only benefited him from a physical sense, but on a much deeper level in that he was able to easily perceive the emotions of other Pokemon, provided they do not possess any countermeasures against that kind of subtle probing.
“Tch, I should’ve waited until all the formalities were over and done with,” Noir huffed underneath the shade of a tree, gingerly rubbing the left side of his head.
The Lucario personally disliked the ability due to its passive nature: he could not truly ignore others despite wanting nothing more than to do just that. If that was not enough, the assemblage of emotions in his head more often than not culminated in an annoying headache. He had built up some tolerance over the years, but he still found it irksome to accede that he might have to bow his head and live with it for the rest of his life.
“May I ask what it is that is troubling you, my canine friend?” an annoyingly patronizing voice inquired.
Noir lowered his field of vision, meeting the gaze of his partner. The sight of the eccentric Quilava decked out in an all-black ensemble—shirt, top hat and cape—and concealing the entirety of his face save for his amber eyes behind a Glaile mask failed to elicit the tiniest bit of a frown from the former hitman. He had given on even trying to make sense of the Fire-type’s thought process.
He breathed out an exasperated sigh prior to posing Ryoma a half-hearted “Just what are you supposed to be?” The response he received caught him a little off-guard, so to speak.
“I am but a humble, vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both hero and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate,” Ryoma proclaimed with an outward swish of his cape. “This visage—” The Quilava indicated to his masked face. “—no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished.” His tone of voice became more passionate as he carried on, “However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition!” He promptly ignited his paw in flames and brutally swung his paw down diagonally twice—north-west to south-east and north-east to south-west—carving a flaming ‘V’ into the tree trunk. A giggle passed through his lips as he peered back up at Noir. “Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it is my very good honour to meet you and—” He doffed his top hat and gave a low bow. “—you may call me V.”
Sparing a moment to completely digest what he had just heard, the Aura Pokemon deadpanned, “You do realize that you really sound more like a crazy person now, especially if you force vocabulary like that down people’s throats.”
“Ah, but exhibitions of sesquipedalian loquaciousness do possess a hidden, almost alluring attribute to connoisseurs of dramaturgy.” Ryoma then shed the clothing and, by extension, the dramatis persona he was assuming. “Luckily for me, I happened to come across such a character not too long ago, one of noble blood to be precise.”
The leader of the Hunters team asked a nonchalant “And how did that turn out?” whilst appraising the mask he had loaned to Ryoma.
“Splendidly, I would have to admit,” the connoisseur to which the Sengoku lord was referring pronounced as he made his appearance known. “You should be honoured to have me select you to serve as my escort, boy.”
Noir did not take very kindly to the remark but Ryoma stepped in to both correct the noble’s misconception and prevent the former from undoing all of his hard work in impressing the ermine.
Ryoma formally articulated, “You misconstrue me, Lord Hetterich. You shall only have an escort in me as I only represented myself when I showcased my thespian talents to you.” The stoat then indicated to his blue-eyed teammate. “My colleague here would be too engaged in seeking an audience with the false king residing within the dungeons to offer his services.”
The noble went by the name of Reuben Hetterich, a Mienshao recognizable by a simple white cravat and fur patterns giving off the illusion of high-end clothing. Highly influential and shrewd in conduct, it was of no surprise that he somehow managed to gain clearance from the Guilds to traverse through the dungeon despite being a civilian. It was naught but child’s play for someone well-versed in the art of manipulation. While very capable of holding his own against the perils the dungeon might present, appearances still had to be maintained; hence, he personally requested to be provided escorts from the Hunters, the least barbaric of the three Guilds in his opinion.
“Fascinating,” Reuben responded, flicking his wrists to wrap his whip-sleeves around them as he stroked his whiskers. “Spectating the downfall of royalty is an entertaining thought, but alas, I have my priorities.” The Mienshao adjusted his cravat and gave a short bow. “May we enjoy a pleasant excursion, Lord Sengoku.” He then manoeuvred his presence elsewhere.
“Is that how you nobles talk to each other?” Noir drawled, turning his head away from the disappearing form of Reuben. “Seems so unnecessary.”
Shrugging, the Quilava swept a paw through his hair and snickered, “Just another one of my guilty pleasures.”
“Of course…” The jackal rolled his eyes and tossed his head back down, meeting Ryoma’s amber eyes. There was something on his mind, and he promptly vocalized it. “You never struck me as the type to offer to be someone else’s bodyguard. What makes him so special?”
“Nothing in all honesty.” Ryoma slipped into his lab coat and straightened the collar. “I’m just using him to improve our standing in the guild.” Wrapping a green scarf around his neck to complete his look, the Iaponese Quilava elaborated, “As it is, our team occupies a neutral position, a position which gives off the impression of impartiality. Impartiality invites both trust and scrutiny. I very much prefer the scale to be tipped ever so slightly towards the white end of the spectrum. Grants me a bit of peace in conducting my experiments, grants you more opportunities in your pursuit of power—a win-win at the end of the day.”
Noir acceded that Ryoma’s words carried some weight behind them but held his tongue in favour of musing his sights beyond the dispersing crowd and on a poster depicting the supposed king who claimed the Guilds were encroaching his territory. “A descendent of the Whiscash who sunk the Old City?” he pondered, smirking slightly. “Let’s see if you can walk the walk.”
“Are you alright?”
Lapis blinked and glanced up at Grayson. “Y-yeah, I am,” he replied, smiling weakly. “Why you ask?”
Grayson plastered on a bored expression, unimpressed by Lapis’ amateurish attempt at lying. Sighing slightly, he indicated to the empty plate between them. “You just downed all ten moorkops in one go,” the Zoroark pointed out. “You want to put yourself in sugar shock without even going through the dungeon first?”
On cue, the Shiny Noibat’s face creased with worry as he tipped his head down, wiping his mouth clean of whipped cream. “I’m not…trying to, no…” He shook his head and rubbed his stomach, fighting the urge to vomit out his breakfast in tandem with the pastries he had just eaten. “I guess I’m kinda nervous…and a bit scared…”
“Scared?” Grayson echoed quizzically with a tilt of his head, finding the notion quite odd. “This after you guided several Ghost-types from the Honehedge to Andalusst by your lonesome, in darkness no less? What makes the dungeon so different?”
“Icantseethesky” came the rapid response from Lapis, his whole body shivering.
The Zoroark raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
Lapis exhaled a shaky breath, forcing himself to relax as the tremors died down. “It’s…just that I’d feel boxed in,” he explained slowly. “Every time I feel that way, I can just go outside and look up at the sky to get my mind off it. I dunno if it’s the same with other Pokémon that can fly, but it comforts me in a way. It gives me a bit of an escape, you know?” The bat tugged the collar of his vest, nibbling the insides of his cheeks. “In th-there—” He pointed towards the dungeon entrance. “—the sky won’t be there for me. If I look up, all I’ll see would be a rocky ceiling…and the world in there won’t be very…um…open. I…can’t exactly fly everywhere I want because there are only a few exits. I might not even make it outta there.”
Grayson lingered his gaze on the small Pokémon, a tender smile drifting across his features as he questioned, “Is that such a bad thing, Lapis?”
“Huh, what do you mean?”
“Fear,” the patissier said, planting his paws on the ground and stretching his back like a feline. “Everyone has something they’re afraid of. That’s just life. People think being brave means not being afraid. Even you, yes?”
“…” Lapis fiddled with his claws. “Yeah,” he admitted with a nod of his head. “If it’s not that, then what?”
The Zoroark lay himself down sideways on the mat, tossing his young teammate a lopsided grin. “The exact opposite,” he told Lapis. “You shouldn’t be afraid of your fears. They’re not there to scare you. They’re there to let you know that something is worth it.” Grayson reached out and patted Lapis’ head. “Simply put, bravery means conquering them. That may seem hard, but you’re on the right track. You did acknowledge that you have fears after all.”
He nowhere near expressed it enough, but Lapis was truly grateful to Grayson for always knowing what to say to get him out of a slump. At first, he was wary of the fox due to his kind’s predilection for being dangerous tricksters, but that doubt had all but dissipated. “Th-thanks…,” the bat squeaked, blushing a bit. “For looking out for me and all…”
“Yes, I’m just that awesome,” Grayson replied with a snicker, effectively ruining the moment.
“And no less smug,” Lapis mentally noted, his left eye twitching.
Grayson merely simpered at the reaction he evoked. He was a Zoroark after all. Being deep and thoughtful was both tiring and boring. He promptly peered at the dungeon entrance where he spotted the Lucario that Lapis’ idolized diving into the darkness. Nodding to himself, the Zoroark stood up and dusted himself off.
“I’ll be heading off first if you don’t mind.”
“E-eh?!” Lapis stared up at his teammate incredulously. “Wha—why? We’re not travelling together?”
In response, Grayson wagged a claw in the Noibat’s direction. “No matter how long you train someone to be brave, you never know if they are or not until something real happens,” he remarked sagely. “You did tell me that you wanna learn to be independent, yes?” He noted that fear was threatening to paralyze Lapis again, prompting him to assuage, “Don’t worry so much. I’ll be watching over you from a distance. When have I ever let you down, hmm?”
That did not make Lapis feel any better, but he supposed that he would just have to trust the dark-furred fox. “I…I’ll haunt you if I die.”
With a parting wink, Grayson took off.
Those emotions were saturating the air about the crowd of Pokemon gathered in front of the outpost guarding the entrance to the dungeon. They were becoming more and more pronounced the longer the Pokemon to which they belonged listened to the briefing given to them by a Charmander garbed in ghost-themed apparel. The lizard exuded a calm and authoritative sort of charisma, evident from the very moment he stepped onto the stage and shushed his audience effortlessly: the fact that his reputation preceded him aided this cause somewhat.
“Dungeons have a tendency to mess with your head. That’s part and parcel of dungeoneering, so as long as you keep your cool, you should be fine. That being said, don’t feel afraid to call out for help if you find yourselves in danger. Pride will just bring you one step closer to your graves. This particular dungeon is harmless for the most part, so feel free to…”
He tuned the rest of the speech out. Being the Pokemon that he was, Noir was naturally attuned to a special type of energy called Aura. He was not born an expert; like any other Riolu, he started out inexperienced and had to put himself through strenuous training in order to properly channel and handle the aforementioned power. Mastering Aura not only benefited him from a physical sense, but on a much deeper level in that he was able to easily perceive the emotions of other Pokemon, provided they do not possess any countermeasures against that kind of subtle probing.
“Tch, I should’ve waited until all the formalities were over and done with,” Noir huffed underneath the shade of a tree, gingerly rubbing the left side of his head.
The Lucario personally disliked the ability due to its passive nature: he could not truly ignore others despite wanting nothing more than to do just that. If that was not enough, the assemblage of emotions in his head more often than not culminated in an annoying headache. He had built up some tolerance over the years, but he still found it irksome to accede that he might have to bow his head and live with it for the rest of his life.
“May I ask what it is that is troubling you, my canine friend?” an annoyingly patronizing voice inquired.
Noir lowered his field of vision, meeting the gaze of his partner. The sight of the eccentric Quilava decked out in an all-black ensemble—shirt, top hat and cape—and concealing the entirety of his face save for his amber eyes behind a Glaile mask failed to elicit the tiniest bit of a frown from the former hitman. He had given on even trying to make sense of the Fire-type’s thought process.
He breathed out an exasperated sigh prior to posing Ryoma a half-hearted “Just what are you supposed to be?” The response he received caught him a little off-guard, so to speak.
“I am but a humble, vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both hero and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate,” Ryoma proclaimed with an outward swish of his cape. “This visage—” The Quilava indicated to his masked face. “—no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished.” His tone of voice became more passionate as he carried on, “However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition!” He promptly ignited his paw in flames and brutally swung his paw down diagonally twice—north-west to south-east and north-east to south-west—carving a flaming ‘V’ into the tree trunk. A giggle passed through his lips as he peered back up at Noir. “Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it is my very good honour to meet you and—” He doffed his top hat and gave a low bow. “—you may call me V.”
Sparing a moment to completely digest what he had just heard, the Aura Pokemon deadpanned, “You do realize that you really sound more like a crazy person now, especially if you force vocabulary like that down people’s throats.”
“Ah, but exhibitions of sesquipedalian loquaciousness do possess a hidden, almost alluring attribute to connoisseurs of dramaturgy.” Ryoma then shed the clothing and, by extension, the dramatis persona he was assuming. “Luckily for me, I happened to come across such a character not too long ago, one of noble blood to be precise.”
The leader of the Hunters team asked a nonchalant “And how did that turn out?” whilst appraising the mask he had loaned to Ryoma.
“Splendidly, I would have to admit,” the connoisseur to which the Sengoku lord was referring pronounced as he made his appearance known. “You should be honoured to have me select you to serve as my escort, boy.”
Noir did not take very kindly to the remark but Ryoma stepped in to both correct the noble’s misconception and prevent the former from undoing all of his hard work in impressing the ermine.
Ryoma formally articulated, “You misconstrue me, Lord Hetterich. You shall only have an escort in me as I only represented myself when I showcased my thespian talents to you.” The stoat then indicated to his blue-eyed teammate. “My colleague here would be too engaged in seeking an audience with the false king residing within the dungeons to offer his services.”
The noble went by the name of Reuben Hetterich, a Mienshao recognizable by a simple white cravat and fur patterns giving off the illusion of high-end clothing. Highly influential and shrewd in conduct, it was of no surprise that he somehow managed to gain clearance from the Guilds to traverse through the dungeon despite being a civilian. It was naught but child’s play for someone well-versed in the art of manipulation. While very capable of holding his own against the perils the dungeon might present, appearances still had to be maintained; hence, he personally requested to be provided escorts from the Hunters, the least barbaric of the three Guilds in his opinion.
“Fascinating,” Reuben responded, flicking his wrists to wrap his whip-sleeves around them as he stroked his whiskers. “Spectating the downfall of royalty is an entertaining thought, but alas, I have my priorities.” The Mienshao adjusted his cravat and gave a short bow. “May we enjoy a pleasant excursion, Lord Sengoku.” He then manoeuvred his presence elsewhere.
“Is that how you nobles talk to each other?” Noir drawled, turning his head away from the disappearing form of Reuben. “Seems so unnecessary.”
Shrugging, the Quilava swept a paw through his hair and snickered, “Just another one of my guilty pleasures.”
“Of course…” The jackal rolled his eyes and tossed his head back down, meeting Ryoma’s amber eyes. There was something on his mind, and he promptly vocalized it. “You never struck me as the type to offer to be someone else’s bodyguard. What makes him so special?”
“Nothing in all honesty.” Ryoma slipped into his lab coat and straightened the collar. “I’m just using him to improve our standing in the guild.” Wrapping a green scarf around his neck to complete his look, the Iaponese Quilava elaborated, “As it is, our team occupies a neutral position, a position which gives off the impression of impartiality. Impartiality invites both trust and scrutiny. I very much prefer the scale to be tipped ever so slightly towards the white end of the spectrum. Grants me a bit of peace in conducting my experiments, grants you more opportunities in your pursuit of power—a win-win at the end of the day.”
Noir acceded that Ryoma’s words carried some weight behind them but held his tongue in favour of musing his sights beyond the dispersing crowd and on a poster depicting the supposed king who claimed the Guilds were encroaching his territory. “A descendent of the Whiscash who sunk the Old City?” he pondered, smirking slightly. “Let’s see if you can walk the walk.”
“Are you alright?”
Lapis blinked and glanced up at Grayson. “Y-yeah, I am,” he replied, smiling weakly. “Why you ask?”
Grayson plastered on a bored expression, unimpressed by Lapis’ amateurish attempt at lying. Sighing slightly, he indicated to the empty plate between them. “You just downed all ten moorkops in one go,” the Zoroark pointed out. “You want to put yourself in sugar shock without even going through the dungeon first?”
On cue, the Shiny Noibat’s face creased with worry as he tipped his head down, wiping his mouth clean of whipped cream. “I’m not…trying to, no…” He shook his head and rubbed his stomach, fighting the urge to vomit out his breakfast in tandem with the pastries he had just eaten. “I guess I’m kinda nervous…and a bit scared…”
“Scared?” Grayson echoed quizzically with a tilt of his head, finding the notion quite odd. “This after you guided several Ghost-types from the Honehedge to Andalusst by your lonesome, in darkness no less? What makes the dungeon so different?”
“Icantseethesky” came the rapid response from Lapis, his whole body shivering.
The Zoroark raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”
Lapis exhaled a shaky breath, forcing himself to relax as the tremors died down. “It’s…just that I’d feel boxed in,” he explained slowly. “Every time I feel that way, I can just go outside and look up at the sky to get my mind off it. I dunno if it’s the same with other Pokémon that can fly, but it comforts me in a way. It gives me a bit of an escape, you know?” The bat tugged the collar of his vest, nibbling the insides of his cheeks. “In th-there—” He pointed towards the dungeon entrance. “—the sky won’t be there for me. If I look up, all I’ll see would be a rocky ceiling…and the world in there won’t be very…um…open. I…can’t exactly fly everywhere I want because there are only a few exits. I might not even make it outta there.”
Grayson lingered his gaze on the small Pokémon, a tender smile drifting across his features as he questioned, “Is that such a bad thing, Lapis?”
“Huh, what do you mean?”
“Fear,” the patissier said, planting his paws on the ground and stretching his back like a feline. “Everyone has something they’re afraid of. That’s just life. People think being brave means not being afraid. Even you, yes?”
“…” Lapis fiddled with his claws. “Yeah,” he admitted with a nod of his head. “If it’s not that, then what?”
The Zoroark lay himself down sideways on the mat, tossing his young teammate a lopsided grin. “The exact opposite,” he told Lapis. “You shouldn’t be afraid of your fears. They’re not there to scare you. They’re there to let you know that something is worth it.” Grayson reached out and patted Lapis’ head. “Simply put, bravery means conquering them. That may seem hard, but you’re on the right track. You did acknowledge that you have fears after all.”
He nowhere near expressed it enough, but Lapis was truly grateful to Grayson for always knowing what to say to get him out of a slump. At first, he was wary of the fox due to his kind’s predilection for being dangerous tricksters, but that doubt had all but dissipated. “Th-thanks…,” the bat squeaked, blushing a bit. “For looking out for me and all…”
“Yes, I’m just that awesome,” Grayson replied with a snicker, effectively ruining the moment.
“And no less smug,” Lapis mentally noted, his left eye twitching.
Grayson merely simpered at the reaction he evoked. He was a Zoroark after all. Being deep and thoughtful was both tiring and boring. He promptly peered at the dungeon entrance where he spotted the Lucario that Lapis’ idolized diving into the darkness. Nodding to himself, the Zoroark stood up and dusted himself off.
“I’ll be heading off first if you don’t mind.”
“E-eh?!” Lapis stared up at his teammate incredulously. “Wha—why? We’re not travelling together?”
In response, Grayson wagged a claw in the Noibat’s direction. “No matter how long you train someone to be brave, you never know if they are or not until something real happens,” he remarked sagely. “You did tell me that you wanna learn to be independent, yes?” He noted that fear was threatening to paralyze Lapis again, prompting him to assuage, “Don’t worry so much. I’ll be watching over you from a distance. When have I ever let you down, hmm?”
That did not make Lapis feel any better, but he supposed that he would just have to trust the dark-furred fox. “I…I’ll haunt you if I die.”
With a parting wink, Grayson took off.
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Next >> Part 2
The first part of my take on the first dungeon exploration task.
NPC Cameos
- Lumen the Charmander © ChillySunDance
- Reuben Hetterich the Mienshao © Luvaci
Team Applications
Unchained Hearts
Solemn Vow
The first part of my take on the first dungeon exploration task.
NPC Cameos
- Lumen the Charmander © ChillySunDance
- Reuben Hetterich the Mienshao © Luvaci
Team Applications
Unchained Hearts
Solemn Vow
© 2015 - 2024 Nox-Nemoris
Comments14
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I'mma join Coda here on the "Ryoma must die" bandwagon; that Quilava is by far one of the MOST infuriating characters I've ever come across. Though, him cosplaying as V was pretty fun. Wonder who he'll cosplay as next, Rorschach?
Though, I imagine there must be a mirror-universe Ryoma who's equally as verbose and pretentious, but so hyper-saccharine that he's also equally as punchable, XDDDDD
I think Coda hit a lot of the major points, and while I would comment on the use ofludicrously pretentious vocabulary, it's pretty much part of their (Ryoma's and Noir's) character, so yeah. The characterization's pretty damn good, and so's the interactions, ^_^
I think Coda hit a lot of the major points, and while I would comment on the use of