Someone on the art thread suggested that the exiles would be the Elite Four, which I think is a great idea, and I had my idea for Prospit and Derse on the previous page, but there's nothing besides that.
Hi guys i have a ficlet. This is assuming they aren't carapace peeps. And yes, this series does focus mainly on Aradia. What can I say? She's my favorite. Feel free to pitch in suggestions for this.
Journey of the Ram part 1
==> Aradia: Wake up
You're already awake. You have been for a while, and you just finished getting dressed.
==> Do a weird dance
Why would you do that? You are a very busy girl and you have much to do today!
==> Examine calendar
Okay. You walk over to the calendar on the wall. It is Friday, and you are now 13 in human years. Your silly guardian and you have agreed that you are old enough to go on a journey now. You have to stop by the lab to get a pokemon from Professor Willow Quinton-Kingsley first though. After that you are good to go.
==> Go downstairs
You are now donwstairs. It seems your guardian is gone, but they left you a note.
That was sweet of them. You are kind of sad that they won't be here to see you off though.
==> Exit home to go to the laboratory.
You exit the house. The sun is shining, but not nearly as bad as it is in your home region, Alternia. The wind is crisp and clear. Some other townsfolk are standing about, enjoying the fine day and their pokemon. It is your sixth solar sweep, your thirteenth year, and you are about to go on a journey of a life time.
"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." - Robert Frost
You are quite sure Robert Frost said that. Quite sure.
==> Leave already!
Okay, okay! Sheesh! Frowning, you walk to the neighbor's house. Isn't is so convenient, living in such a small town, where there is like, five other houses? Although having to rely on shipping from the next town is sort of a hassle. Oh look, WQ is already waiting for you.
Aradia stopped for a moment. Professor WQ, as she was called, waved her over silently, with a slim smile. The girl quickly ran over, holding her hat down on her head.
"A fedora? It suits you," the professor said.
"Thank you. I got it just for today," Aradia smiled.
The taller woman adjusted her lab coat and walked inside the lab, Aradia following.
"Did you know in other regions, starter pokemon are limited to just three out of the many in that region?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, Willow continued. "I don't like doing that. I think it limits trainers very early on. I have a variety of types- ghost, electric, fire, water, grass, flying... What would you like, dear?" she turned to look at Aradia.
"Well, ghost types in general are interesting, as are psychic... But I want a mareep." Aradia told the professor.
"Ah, I should have known." Winona smiled.
The older woman typed something into the computer, and began typing something. Within minutes, the empty spot beside the computer held a pokeball. Willow handed Aradia said pokeball with a very serious look on her face.
"Aradia, before you go, there is something I must tell you. Team English is getting far more open with their crimes, and there's been talk of the leaders of the Derse Corporation. Its becoming more dangerous out there. You have to be careful. But even more so, you have to look after this pokemon. He'll protect you, if you protect him, but I want you to stay out of trouble." Winona said grimly. "Do you understand?"
Speechless, Aradia nodded. Winona smiled again, ruffling the girl's hair under her hat.
"Time to take the first step, then."
You give Professor WQ a smile and a nod, and tuck the pokeball into your bag. As you walk out, you notice a tall, serious looking man who you recognize as Diamonds Droog of Derse Corp. You wonder what he is doing in a small town like this, but otherwise choose to ignore him.
==> Aradia: Be Clubs Deuce
Diamonds Droog, you got it.
==> D Exposition.
You notice the girl as she notices you. She looks you right in the eye before going on her merry way. Brace, isn't she? But you have bigger fish to fry, and you have business with one of the leaders of the Prosperity Initiative- Winona.
==> Well, get on with it then!
Listen, person at the keyboard, only one man has the authority to talk to you like that and you'll be damned if its some kid at a keyboard with nothing better to do. Got it?
==> Got it.
Good. You walk into the lab when no one is paying attention. Professor WQ merely greets you with a polite hello. You ask how her husband is doing. She says good. She asks why you're here. Always a lady of business with you, isn't she? Shame she's married. You tell her that the big shots of Team English are targeting professors such as herself. She asks why you care. You say you don't, but if she gets kidnapped by those punks, they'll have access to more pokemon than you're comfortable with. It's bad enough that these brats all over the place have them. She laughs.
==> Tell her why else you're here
You don't. That'd be stupid. You've given your warning, and you have business elsewhere. With a curt goodbye, you leave.
Also I'd like to throw in an idea for Eridan, based off of this one fanart:
He had a Seadra, and was trying to trade it and get it turned into a Kingdra. He got duped and ended up with some Magicarp/Febas deal that he can't even train.
Karkat walked out of the professor's lab, a little less angry but that wasn't saying much. He'd somehow been convinced by Professor Harley to take Oshawott with him, which was why a little blue otter could be seen tailing Karkat, like an obsessed stalker or one of those shy schoolgirl types in the animes. Harley had said that Oshawott's several minutes of quivering in fear at Karkat had made Oshawott imprinted itself on him. Whether Karkat liked it or not, Oshawott was stuck with him.
"Might as well make the best of it..." He mumbled as he headed for the outskirts of town. "Come here, fuckass!"
Oshawott cautiously stepped out from behind a telephone pole. He wasn't quivering in fear of Karkat now, which was a good sign that he was beginning to like him.
Dredging up old memories of inspiring yet cheesy movies he used to watch with John, he began to give his new pokemon a little pep talk. "Look fuckass, I don't like you and you're afraid of me. But you know what, we can make this work!" He grabbed Oshawott by his tail, and lifted him into the air so that they were looking at each other eye to eye. "Yes, you may be a wimpy fuck ass who'll probably get eaten by seviper the moment we leave this gog forsaken town, but that doesn't matter! When I'm done with you you'll at least stop being a wimpy piece of shit and become a marginally competent piece of shit! Got any problem with that, fuckass?"
It was a pretty good speech, Karkat thought. The kind of inspiring drivel you made to boost incompetent boobs' self-esteem. Yup, he can make this work.
Karkat's face was blasted with a torrent of water. At least it came out of Oshawott's mouth.
"So that's your pokemon, eh Vantas? It suits you."
Oh gog, not this asshole.
Standing behind Karkat was a young man, whom, if you looked up 'douchebag' in a dictionary you would have his smug grin plastered as a definition. Appropriately enough, if you also looked up 'cool kid' his face would also be plastered on the page. The two terms were synonymous anyway.
"Good afternoon to you too, Vantas." Dave adjusted the shades on his face, the smug grin on his face never leaving. On top of his head Dave's Murkrow shifted the glasses on his head with his wing. Gogdamn Dave and his douchebag asshole glasses, and gogdamn Dave's Murkrow with his equally douchebag glasses.
"What do you want, Strider? Can't you see me and fuckass here are having a little heart to heart?"
"Yeah, having your pokemon hit you in the face with a jet of water is a real good way to bond with your little dick chest otter thing."
"Shut the fuck up, Strider, you don't know the first thing about inspiring wimpy pokemon into becoming total badasses!" Karkat snapped. "Go make your horrible remixes or whatever the hell you do when you're pretending to be better than me! Which you aren't!" He added.
"Well if you're so confident in your inspiring skills." Dave removed a pokeball from his belt. "What say we have a battle?"
"Bring it on, you douchebag!" Karkat threw his Oshawott down, who quickly stood up and began to shake uncontrolably. "Go, Fuckass!"
"Snivy." A green snake pokemon came out of Dave's pokeball. He smiled condescendingly, a mirror image of its master's own smile. He looked down on Oshawott from under his shades and tsk'ed. This piece of shit was not worth Snivy's time.
"Fuckass, water gun!" Karkat commanded. Oshawott looked at his master, then at the enemy in front of him. Since he was more afraid of Karkat than he was of this smug snake, Oshawott let out of a jet of water at Snivy. At least he might not yell at him.
Snivy sighed. Definitely not worth his time. Snivy danced around Oshawott's water gun and slapped Oshawott's face with his tail, several times in fact. This causes Oshawott to panic, and he began to fire water guns frantically at anything he thought was a threat. About half of these shots were aimed at Karkat. "Weak man, Snivy's not even trying." Dave said.
"Shut up, douchebag!" Karkat yelled. "Fuckass, get your act together!"
Oshawott wasn't listening. He was too busy being afraid of Karkat and Snivy.
"Welp, this is getting sad." Dave said. "Snivy, finish him off. Vine whip." A length of green foliage grew out of Snivy's arm. He wrapped Oshawott's leg like a lasso, threw Oshawott into the air and smacked him on the ground. Repeatedly. When Snivy finally got bored of abusing Oshawott he retracted his vine and stepped towards his master. "Good job." Dave fished out something from his pocket, and handed Snivy a copy of his douchebag shades.
Karkat's left eye was twitching again. First battle he ever fought, and he lost.
"Well Karkat." Dave and his Murkrow took off their shades. "Looks like Snivy here kicked your pokemons........."
"Grass. Then shades."
"Oh fuck you Dave Strider."
Dave didn't say anything. He and his pokemon put back their shades, and walked away. "Smell ya later, Vantas."
Above the grunts and their sub-bosses are the sixteen Admins, i.e. the Felt. Their number is not, however, indicative of their rank: Snowman and Doc Scratch share the highest position, while Eggs and Biscuits are the lowest in the hierarchy.
Eggs and clover would be Jesse and James (or their counterparts in different generations) and biscuits would be meowth/wobuffet. I mean, he already pops out stupidly and loudly at unusual times.
Oh, fine. But you were having the most delicious dream. *sign* Your name is TEREZI PYROPE. You are a native of the sun-scorched Alternia region. You are intimately familiar with the region's high solar exposure, since that is how you were BLINDED. Fortunately, your guardian has been able to teach you to employ your other senses to more than compensate. In any case, today is six sweeps (or, in more common terms, 13 years) since the day of your birth (sort of. It's complicated, and furthermore you don't know that yet.) Today is the day you start your POKÉMON JOURNEY.
Smells like Thursday! But that's because you have yet to update your scratch-and-sniff page-a-day, which you do so. Mmm, Friday fresh.
>Assemble supplies for journey.
You have already assembled most of your necessities into a backpack. The backpack is wonderfully, deliciously RED. So to are your stylish glasses, which you go nowhere without, because your RADIATION-SEARED EYES are also solid red, and many find this SOMEWHAT DISCONCERTING.
In any case, you are soon through your morning routine and prepared to see the local Pokémon Professor, Winston Kingsley-Quinton.
You head downstairs, finding a marked absence of any sort of note, handwritten or otherwise. Given the nature of your guardian, you are not in the least bit surprised or disappointed. Still...
Hell no. You refuse to engage in such a pointless display of self-pity.
You shake your head, clearing it of meta-referential shenanigans, and proceed to the lab.
>Terezi: Examine surroundings en route.
Neura Village, Town of Thought and Flow. A small community, as tightly knit as axons in a cortex. Research is its lifeblood, and science is its passion. Especially that one fat guy who smells like fry oil and never shuts up about technology everyone already knows about. You steer well clear of him.
The lab is centrally located, indicative of its importance in the local public mind. And, considering one half of the famous Kingsley-Quinton research team calls it home, it certainly deserves that kind of esteem.
Oh my gog...
The smells of SCIENCE waft through your nose. Unlike some grape-flavored hipsters you could name, you're not exactly obsessed with science, but the zesty tang of scorched air, the cherries-and-cream color scheme, and the promise of loyal minions combine to make your terrestrial vascular system sing.
"Oh! I'm sorry, Professor, I hadn't realized you were in."
The researcher gave the girl a warm smile as he rose from his desk. He was a big man, a naturally stocky frame layered with the results of years of fieldwork. Pokémology was a demanding discipline for those who wanted it to be, and Winston Kingsley had demanded more than most. Nowadays he carried a fair paunch, a testament to his more passive work in recent years, but his mind was a sharp as ever, and his collection of reference works was even more impressive now that he was no longer constantly on the move. "My word, can you already be thirteen?"
"Yes, sir. And I'm here to get my first Pokémon."
"Of course, of course. So tell me, my dear, what had you hoped to get?"
Terezi projected all the innocence her acting talent could muster. "I was hoping that I could get... a Dragon-type?" This last bit was said fast enough that it might have been mistaken for a sneeze.
"Oh ho. I see." The professor looked to the ceiling, the very picture of solemnity. "What you ask, Ms. Pyrope, is no small thing. Dragons are among the mightiest Pokémon known. Lightning and flame shy from their scales. A geyser is like a garden hose. Concentrated solar energy merits little more than an unimpressed yawn." The young troll's grin widened a bit more. "Do you really think," concluded Kingsley-Quinton, "that you could command that kind of power with no prior experience?"
The grin vanished with the innocent facade. Terezi looked as serious as the professor had even seen her, even more than the time she was confronted with the bald-faced injustice inherent to Team English "I do." Sightless though she was, she looked him directly in the eyes. "If I can't command a dragon now, then I'm not ever going to be able to. If I can't do that, I don't want anything to do with these things."
"Very well then." He moved to the rows of Pokéballs on the back wall of the lab. "I am afraid that I have no dragons who would obey you. Indeed, whether they would even acknowledge you is debatable." Beneath the storage spheres, there were several variably colored and sized eggs. From these, he selected a blue-and-red patterned shell the size of the girl's head. "Given that, I will entrust this to you."
Terezi didn't hesitate in taking the egg, but she clearly wasn't happy about it. "I heard that you need to have Pokémon with you to hatch an egg. How am I supposed to get whatever wriggler's in here?"
"Ah, true." The professor grinned to himself. "Now, it is customary to offer a choice of three remarkably rare Pokémon. My wife, on the other hand, prefers to keep a wide variety on hand to suit individual tastes. However, even she doesn't give more than one to a starting Trainer. If you'd like, Terezi, I could provide you with a different Pokémon and, when you are a little more experienced yourself, give yooooOOOOO!"
This exclamation was engendered by the girl kicking the respected researcher and pillar of the community in the shin, grabbing one of the balls on the back wall at random, and fleeing the lab.
You think? You abscond like there's no tomorrow, and if you hadn't been careful to cultivate a grandfatherly affection in Kingsley-Quinton over the past few years, there probably wouldn't be. At least, not for your journey. As is, he's still going to be pissed. Probably best to stay out of Neura for a few days. If not months.
...Yes. Yes she is. Though you doubt she'll identify herself as a Troll. Ruin Maniac, probably, but not Troll.
Oh. Well, that's not going to happen anytime soon. It's not like you've got an instant messaging client in your glasses or anything. Maybe when you find your way to another town.
>Check contents of ill-gotten Pokéball
"Ill-gotten" is such an ugly phrase. You prefer "dubiously acquired." Especially when that giant block of vanilla-scented tweed had tried to trick you into learning some kind of lesson. Pfft. Alright, what've we got?
A floating blueberry blob as sightless as you are. There's probably some kind of karmic appropriateness in your having a Zubat...
>HB: Ponder girl
You've got to admire the kid's moxie. If she knew what Kingsley had done back in the day, it's take some serious guts to give him one to the shin. In any case, Droog'll probably want to know about this, especially given his history with Quinton. And especially if that egg is what you think it is.
Bluuuuuh. I shouldn't write when tired. Oh well. It doesn't seem too bad.