[center][h2][color=ed1c24]Redorchard[/color][/h2][/center]

[@Rune_Alchemist] [@tex] [@Lasrever] 

The three of you walked through the eerily quiet forest. The sound of crackling leaves underfoot served as music to your slow, silent journey. Not a Pidgey made a whisper of a tweet as you made your way forward through twisted bend and around thick oak. Those with keen eyes would note something particularly interesting. Two vertical lines, sometimes in sets, running up the trunks of the massive trees about you. They were not as commonplace as the trail you might’ve found before, but there were many more markings per tree. There were no distinctive patterns between the trees, no trial to follow, only the skyward ascent of scratches along bark. And just as you might approach these trees to take a closer look, a furious noise took to your ears.

The sound of burning rope, skidding, assaulted your senses. More rapid than your glance, Quill was lifted into the air with a bundle of leaves. A thick, dark mesh of rope surrounded the Sneasel on all sides, containing it within a rising net. The sack of rope made its way upward until it collided with a swinging, metal pulley. The Pokémon and the trap hovered ominously above you all, at least ten feet in the air and just below the first network of branches. A voice continued to berate the silence.

[color=fff200]“Just my luck.”[/color]

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[img]http://i.imgur.com/CTrvbkv.jpg[/img]
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From behind a distant tree came a uniformed individual, with black overcoat and grey dress shirt. Upon his chest he brandished a gold and purple pin, a body with a wing of each color. His smug look was just a s unamused as his voice. He hardly took any note of the three of you as he made his way around the tree. On his black, leather belt you could notice two Poké Balls, also purple and gold in color. The bottom of one appeared to be held ajar, as if it were empty. 

[color=fff200]“I don’t know why you’re all out here, but you need to turn around. Route’s that way.”[/color]

He brandished a knife from some hidden pocket in one hand, and pointed west with the other. He still failed to directly face any of you, rather approaching a strained rope directly connected to the pulley up top. He was moving slowly and was still some ways away, walking at an almost nonchalant pace. There was plenty of time to ask questions or act.