Captain Jenno

Pokémon Noir - Goldenrod

Alright guys, you're all approved! One more person and I'll make a roster and get to work on the IC opening post.

Twenty Seconds to Sundown

...It's a different world, up here...

...In the amber glow of the noon day sun...

...Cast across the snow ridden rooftops of New London...

It was once said that the British Isles were the industrial marvel of the world... fast, efficient and finely tuned...
Their factories, and workers, were the envy of the planet, and companies would come from far and wide to attempt to learn their secrets.
But none succeeded.
Yes, things were looking good for the British work force: The Anti-Thatcherism movement had revolutionised the nation, and promised it a rebirth, to be born again as the gem of the economic world.
Once, everybody had wanted a piece of their product, and once, everybody was willing to pay through the nose to get it, too...
... but that was a long time ago...

The 2050 elections had seen the rise of a new political party the likes of which the world had never seen before, nor would they again.
Built upon the foundations of a powerful work ethic, the Operari party cared not for the petty degradation of arguing politics.
They didn't seek to keep the rich wealthy, or ensure the protection of the poor.
No, their interests were focused directly on what would be best for the entire nation: They aimed to keep the British industrial machine thoroughly oiled, and the workforce well fed.
Whilst the likes of The Labour and Conservative parties tore at each other's throats, and decried the insufficiency of one another’s policies, The Operari gave the public some very simple, very logical terms:
More work, for more pay.

And in a nation fueled by the growth of its workforces, The Operari saw massive influxes of support: People forsook the likes of the old parties, and their archaic politics.
Labour claimed to represent the people, but never did anything for their benefits, and The Conservatives simply sought to plunge the newly re-forged British superpower back into the dark ages.

By the time the election came to its close in 2051, a new prime minister was running the entirety of Britain.
A new Operari prime minister, by the name of John Bannoch Gunner.
For this, the public of Britain rejoiced, feeling as though they'd made the choice that would secure their future in the world of business... and for a time, it seemed like they had.
Because everything began to get bigger.
Cities began to touch the skylines, and entire villages were converted into mass living complexes for the rapidly growing British labourforce, which was made up not only of native workers, but men and women from all around the world, looking to work in what was now considered to be the land of opportunity.
The future was radiant: The Operari, people said, would lead them to their workman’s paradise.

But this was not to last.

It was shortly after the construction of the new capital of England, “New London”, that the Operari began to show their own colours.
With their majority in British parliament, and their figurehead as its leader, that The Operari established a new law: The Unos Decius Proclamation.
A law that guaranteed that the current prime minister, John Bannoch Gunner, could never be voted out of power.
He was to be a lifelong ruler: And Britain was to become a totalitarian state.
The Operari would remain in control of the British Isles for as long as he remained alive, and when he passed, his closest kin would assume his position in office.
This caused mass concern across Europe, as countries began to grow anxious regarding Britain's
sudden jump from democracy.
Some international leaders likened it to Germany in the 1930's, others to popular Orwellian novels...
But the British public didn't do anything to stop it. There were no revolutions, no rise ups: As far as the majority were concerned, it was in their best interest to be controlled by The Operari party.
The only politicians who had- up until now- totally adhered to their promises.

And so, despite The Operari’s essential dissolution of rival political factions, the gears of the second industrial revolution kept turning.
Britain continued to grow, most notably New London.
Its lofty skyscrapers and vast steel edifices were renowned globally for their exceptional size, and the city itself grew at such a rate that it soon surpassed its boundaries, until the entire county of London had become part of the massive superstructure.
It became a labyrinth of massive factories, of office buildings, research laboratories and prolific academies.
No country on Earth could boast to be nearly as advanced as the countries united under Britain, and all of this was achieved under the watchful eyes of The Operari’s leadership.

This caused a new movement: That of international political growth.
Quickly, the Operari formed parties in America, in France, and soon, throughout most of the globe. It seemed every nation wanted a piece of what Britain had: But this was their plan all along.
When the Operari party controlled the majority of the “first world” economy- their final conquest being their establishment of power in Communist China, overthrowing the old regime in the process- their plans suddenly underwent a change.
No longer would they pay people such impressive wages for the hours they worked, and no longer would work be an optional thing, either.
Every member of the public would need to work.
Every man, woman and child would be forced into office cubicles, factory assembly lines and industrial repair units, and paid only what they needed to survive, whilst the politicians and upper classes thrived on their efforts, and profited from the sweat of the poorer man's brow.
This, understandably, caused an uproar amongst the proletariat.

Revolution was impending, and the workingman, as one massive writhing organism, screamed for the head of John Gunner upon a silver platter.
Police forces around the world struggled to hold them back, and Operari diplomats began to falter under the bombardment of the political attacks they faced, coming from the nations that had yet to fall to their regime: The few that remained, such as Switzerland and Poland.
And so, when it looked as if the balances of power were shifting again, Gunner unleashed his ultimate weapon: The Servitutem Formula.
For as long as the Operari had been in power, they'd been feeding the British industrial beast for two purposes:
[*]Publically, it was to generate more income through the production of great-quality produce.[/*]
[*]Privately, it was to fund the scientific research necessary to manufacture their own virus.[/*]
Never had The Operari truly looked for the benefit of the British people: They simply used them for their own means, and told them exactly what they wanted to hear to ensure that they got what they needed.

But one day, it was inevitable that they would revolt.
And so, Gunner and his co-conspirators put plan Servitutem into action.
They would produce a virus that would relieve their workers of their independence, and render them as simple and pliable as machines, willing to serve for whatever they earned, and totally without qualms.
They would work only for survival, and they would like it.
And so, Servitutem was produced.
First, the amount created was small: But without even realizing it, the British workforce had been made to mass-produce different parts of the formula all throughout the nation, years prior to the party’s necessity for it.

And so, in vast amounts, it was carried by loyal Operari naval ships out into the English channel, where they had patiently waited for the revolution’s beginning.
Then, when the signal came- as it inevitably would- they began pouring the formula into the ocean, and allowing it to spread to the public.
With the water tainted, millions of workers became docile, and without a solitary inhibition.
In one move, The Operari had toppled their opposition, and re-established dominance.
They repeated this around the globe, until every Operari-controlled nation on the planet had been thoroughly sedated by their Servitutem formula.
They would march to their factories, and produce their worth.
Then, they'd take just enough pay to feed themselves for the evening, and repeat the cycle the next day.
And not a single one of them knew it was happening.

They lived out their own illusions of freedom, and imagined vivid dreams in which their lives were full of colour, and of joy: Totally blind to the reality around them.
And The Operari ruled over them, enthroned upon mountains of the labourforce’s produce, quite sure that nobody would ever question them again.
They did not, however, anticipate the formation of The Runners.
In 2063, a group of what had become known as Wage Slaves- Those subjected to The Operari’s will- inherited a defective gene that, when presented with the Servitutem formula, would reject it all together- sometimes violently- and render it’s host immune to the virus’s effects.
It didn’t take them long to piece together what had happened to society: How man had been enslaved by his own need to profit, and was now powerless to resist those who’d wanted to profit more.

With their immunity yet unheard-of, they began to conspire to escape their workplaces, their prisons: To escape from the city.
As so many tall buildings had been produced, the skyline of New London- which, in some places, even pierced the clouds- was totally unoccupied, and unprotected.
After all, if everyone was a Wage Slave, why would The Operari need anyone sat in the higher offices?
They were the ones in control.
And because no Operari feared the threat of revolution- quite secure in the fact that, as far as they knew, the world was either beneath their thumb, or cowered from their shadow- they would never pursue those who escaped.
Yes, the skyline was perfect… the skyline was free.

By the year 2065, “The Runners Movement” had escaped.
Having painstakingly climbed their way (quite literally) to the roof tops, they began raiding the materials that made up abandoned and disused buildings, in order to construct their own shanty towns, and swore never to return to the land below the windows, so that the Operari may never discover them.
However, the Operari were more than aware of The Runners’ presence.
But their numbers were so few, and their insistence on remaining above was so solid, that they made no game of capturing them.
The Runners would be the exception that proved the rule: They would cower in fear, but ensured that the immunity wasn't passed further than their own little group, which meant the Wage Slaves would continue to work tirelessly.

Slowly, The Runners faded into myth, and lived by a simple code:
[*]They would never kill a Wage Slave, because they’d once been slaves themselves[/*]
[*]Stay out of sight, and out of mind, of The Operari[/*]
[*]If you are captured, sooner die than reveal our location[/*]

That was, until one renegade group dared to descend back onto ground level:
They had once, amongst their Runner compatriots, been known as “Sector O”, having occupied the eastern district of New London's roof tops.
However, one ill-conceived night in the late 60's, Sector O decided to attempt to assassinate John Gunner, and liberate Britain…
Whether the other Runners agreed, or not.
Having crept into the fortress that was now parliament, utilizing their unique, running-honed skills, Sector O had almost succeeded in taking the life of the PM: John had been distracted by the likes of his children- Churchill and Gilligan Gunner, respectively- and hadn’t seen them coming through his office window.
However, they were fought off by his private guard, and dispersed across the city.

Rapidly, they had returned to their roof top homes, but they were not warmly welcomed back.
Having defied the code, and revealed themselves to The Operari, they were forcibly cast out of The Runners' Society, and became known instead as The Omegas.
Blindfolded and escorted across the city, they would be left in a place of no significance, to thrive amongst themselves, and never again return to the Runner’s headquarters.
They'd experienced what it was to be reckless, and they'd enjoyed it.
Now, they felt no remorse: No Wage Slave had a right to life if they stood in the way of Omega business, and as far as they were concerned, the entire skyline belonged to them.

If ever they found Runners, they would take vengeance: And if the opportunity to attack John Gunner ever re-emerged, they would take it in a heartbeat.
This recklessness, when combined with John Gunner’s new fear for his life, motivated The Operari to leap into action: No longer would they simply tolerate the existence of The Runners. Instead, they would hunt them down.
They would end them, and their immunity, too.

They didn't discriminate between Omega and Runner, both were guilty in the eyes of The Operari: Both were bred from the same flock.
And so, they established a new authority, a police force that acted as Judge, Jury and Executioner: The State Spectres: parkour experts, and armed enforcers.
These officers- headed by John Gunner’s youngest son, Gilligan- would track down and kill Runners without remorse.
Sometimes, they would patrol the streets in the guise of a Wage Slave, and would give chase the moment a Runner presented himself.
Other times, they would simply take to the skyline… and hunt.

Now, The Runners were under threat.

With The Omegas on one side, and The State Spectres on the other, The Runners were being suppressed, and so, took up arms.
They had to defend themselves, their way of life, and what little freedom the British people still retained upon the rooftops.
But they knew deep down, that no matter how bad things got, they would never lose.
They were fast, they were smart, and the sky was their domain.
And if ever they were nearly done.
If ever, they found themselves on their last legs.
They needn't worry.
Because Runners have a saying, about situations like this.
“You may be down, but you’re never out... if you start running now, it's only twenty seconds to Sundown.”

Congratulations! You've survived the cruel territory of the New London skyline long enough to become a runner! You've got to admit, that's quite the feat.
But surviving a few scrimps and scrapes isn't the important thing, here: You've got to know everything, your enemy included.
So here're a few footnotes to get you going!

- Churchill Gunner

[The Operari]
The Operari were a radical new political and ideological movement founded upon the basis that the British workforce- which enveloped the majority of the population- should be put before any other interest, be it foreign policy or military.
Their main goal was to “nationalise” the economy.
Their name is derived from the Latin word for "Work", which is fitting because the political party that produced the Operari philosophy based their entire campaign upon the idea of a strong, nation-wide work ethic.
Of course, despite the popularity of this idea, when beginning their bid for power the Operari did employ certain political tricks, most notably making their spokesman and leader a charismatic and objectively handsome one: John Gunner.

And it worked swimmingly, thrusting the never-before-seen party into national acclaim, and soon, the prime-ministerial offices.
Shortly after they were voted into power, however, they removed the very electoral system that’d helped them rise to prominence, ensuring that Gunner and his kin would rule the nation until the end of their days.
This move caused much concern amongst the leaders of the European and American superpowers, but soon other countries began to follow suit, voting The Operari into power across the globe so that Gunner might control their work unions, too: After all, gross disregard for political process aside, their policies seemed to work.
Less than a year after their acceptance into the major economic powers of the globe, however, The Operari changed their policies, and degraded the rights of their workers to the most basic they could.

Their human rights were violated, their pay deducted and their living standards dropped: The Operari, now in control of the world, began to plunge it into the worker’s hell, as opposed to their paradise.
And when that caused an international uproar amongst the proletariat, they proceeded to introduce an artificially created virus into the water supplies of every nation under their jurisdiction, suppressing the public and rendering them mindless Wage Slaves.
It was this action, though, that accidentally created The Runners.

[John Gunner]
John Gunner is the current prime minister of Britain, and has been ever since he was elected in 2051.
As a representative (And the current leader) of the Operari party, he's been described as a combination of charismatic, charming and incredibly difficult to lie to.
It was with these precise qualities that he won over the British public, and eventually, the world.
It was him that issued the order to initiate Operation Servitutem: But it came at a cost.

He'd sired two sons, who had been present when Sector O had launched their attack on the PM’s private parliamentary residence.
For fear that they might attempt to join the newly established Runner threat in their teens, before they were of suitable age to succeed their father in office, the new Operari parliament demanded that they be sedated with the Servitutem formula themselves, and made- temporarily- into the likes of Wage Slaves.
This idea horrified him, however, and so instead he came up with a method of providing them a physical handicap in place of a mental one.
To eliminate the risk of them ever becoming Runners, he had both of his sons anaesthetised, and- on live television, before Operari representatives around the globe, and in full sight of the house of commons- he had their legs amputated, rendering them incapable of walking, never mind running.
Currently, he resides in parliament, which- following Sector O’s attempt on his life- has been rapidly rebuilt in the shame of a massive, walled fortress, the grounds of which are prowled by spectres.

From the comfort of his own home, he issues commands to his lower downs through the likes of telephones and cameras.
Nobody has visited him directly in five years, save for his son, Gilligan.

[The Runners]
Runners are the result of a genetic defect that created a generation of Wage Slaves immune to the Servitutem formula dropped into the water supply.
Fast and fit, they live among the roof tops of New London, in cities and shanty towns of their own creation: Their peculiar genetics have made them more than adept at surviving on the thinner air of the upper city, and given them the ability to thrive at the normally unliveable altitude in which they’ve established their homes.
Runners are divided into two groups, ‘primary’ and ‘liberated’.
Primary runners are born within Runner established compounds (such as the legendary “Sundown”), and trained from youth to utilise the grace and precision that their society has become known for, making them more than physically ample for the rough life of a rooftop renegade.

However, "Liberated Runners" are far rarer in common Runner society: They’re the result of a recessive anti-Servitutem gene suddenly becoming activated in later life, meaning that they can be triggered as late as middle-aged.
Although they’re welcomed into the Runner fold with opened arms, they’re much harder to train- given their physical dispositions being less than ideal for the high-action demands of Runner life- and often they suffer great illness within the first few years of their liberation, as their bodies reform and readjust to the upper atmosphere.
There have also been rare incidents in which Liberated Runners have actually been freed from Servitutem’s grasp through a biological approach: It’s known that the Operari possess another formula which terminates the drug’s effects, and, every so often, a party member with a guilty conscience might just use this formula to free some unfortunate soul from their bonds.

Both types of runner are trained extensively in the art of CQC, but ordered only to utilise this training when it’s an absolute necessity. This is part of the moral code to which all Runners are expected to adhere.
It reads:
[*]Never fight when you can run.[/*]
[*]The ground is forbidden, unless it’s imperative you go down.[/*]
[*]We were all wage slaves, once: Stay your hand, they’re all potential Runners.[/*]
[*]Relationships and families are permitted: But you are a Runner first. Never forget your loyalties.[/*]
[*]Never kill, unless it is kill or be killed. Mercy is our ally.[/*]
[*]Our territories are our most precious secret: You should rather die than reveal their locations.[/*]
[*]And never be afraid… if you start running now, it’s only twenty seconds to Sundown.[/*]

Although it’s generally forbidden to descend to the ground-level of the city, certain Runner sectors have been known to do so when a matter of grave importance arises, such as the capture and subsequent descent of another Runner sector, or when very important resources fall from the rooftops and need to be collected.
These occasions are rare, as Runners struggle to maintain their breathing upon the ground: But if the Elders sanction it, it is sometimes permitted.

Also, despite this being the city of New London, many Runners aren't British: It's not uncommon for foreign workers, or their descendants, to have developed an immunity, nor is it unheard of for the Runners of other nations (such as Russia, or the Netherlands), to make their way to Britain in the hopes of combatting the Operari at their source.
Furthermore, although Runners might sometimes inhabit large makeshift societies, such as that of Sundown, the more physically capable are often divided into concentrated groups known as 'Sectors'.

It's these individual sectors- each territory using its own naming scheme- that are tasked with important tasks, such as acquiring resources, or protecting their territories, often with their lives.
Some of the more well-known sectors would be Sector O- a group of Runners that would later found The Omegas-, Sector X, an elite squadron of militant Runners who’re sanctioned to use deadly force whenever the Runner capital comes under direct attack, and Sector V, a group of young Runners currently tasked with protecting the city of Sundown and it’s colonies.

[Wage Slaves]
Wage Slaves make up the vast majority of the public in what remains of the first world nations.
They have no self-control, no dreams or aspirations, and most importantly, no self-perspective.
Working day in and day out solely for their own survival, they're completely ignorant to the reality around them.
It's believed (but unverified) that, instead, Wage Slaves live in their own self-produced fantasy, in which they inhabit an early 21st century society, where their work is aptly paid for, and they enjoy lives of none-existent leisure.

Wage Slaves have displayed knowledge of The Runners' presence (in fact, a small percentile of them have become Runners themselves), but usually pose no threats, instead dismissing them (ironically enough) as figments of their own imagination, or tricks of the light.
As long as Servitutem continues to be ingested by a Wage Slave, generally through the water supplies, they remain docile and without qualms.
However, if their supply is cut, they will break out in a seemingly uncontrollable psychosomatic rage, before eventually wearing themselves out, and finally calming down.
After this, their body will begin to produce its own chemicals, which actively reduce the effects of Servitutem withdrawal until it's next ingested.

This was a common method of rehabilitation that Runners once utilised for the purposes of recruitment, before it was deemed "Too cruel" by most (but not all) aspects of Runner society.

[The Omegas]
The Omegas are a territorial group of Ex-Runners that once went by the title of "Sector O."
Having attempted to assassinate the prime minister in their youth, it's Sector O that inadvertently created The State Spectres, as their near-success seemingly pushed John Gunner to produce his own elite police force for the purposes of his own protection.
Little is known about them now, save for the fact that they work outside of the moral code, and will attack other Runners who trek into their territory, whether they're aware of it or not.
Their location, the collapsed ruins of what was once “Old London”, is totally unreachable without prior knowledge of the traps and decay that surround it.

[The State Specters]
State Specters are the ultimate threat, to Runners and Omegas alike.
Trained to run like Runners and fight with both firearms and hand-to-hand combat, Spectres blend in with the Wage Slave populous, keeping an eye on the workers as they lie in wait of any Runners unlucky enough to cross their paths.
Often, State Spectres are a rare case in which those immune to the formula are located before they become Runners, and are instead indoctrinated through the use of mind-altering drugs and psychotics, the effects of which are then reinforced with LSD trips.

It’s also been observed in the past that captured Runners- those that, for whatever reason, weren’t killed upon capture- have been reconditioned to serve the role of a State Spectre, to the point that they forget their past alliances, and regard their reformation as them having simply “Changed to a more justice-orientated lifestyle.”
Often, they are hard (and sometimes near-impossible) to spot until it's too late, as they are trained extensively to give off the outward appearance of having been totally indoctrinated whenever they’re hiding amongst the Wage Slaves.

However, they're also quick to turn, and can begin the chase the moment they recognize a Runner, often apprehending them if they catch their prey by surprise.
They can spot a Runner a mile away, which has immensely detrimental to our numbers in the past.
It's unknown how many Spectres there are currently serving, now, but it's a well-known rule of thumb that Runners should always watch their backs when travelling at night: Spectres generally begin their roof-top patrols at dusk, and cease at dawn, often garbed in all-black.

[Twenty seconds to Sundown]
Sundown was once the biggest factory district in New London.
Standing massive and resolute, the buildings were constructed by Sundown Cola in 2054, a French soft drinks company that was seeking to turn a hefty profit in industrialized Britain.

The Sundown facility is not only nine hundred meters tall, but also quite a few hectares wide, making up about a quarter of the north-eastern district of industrial New London.
However, as the facility was so spacious, Runners soon moved in post-Servitutem, and constructed their own capital city there.

The size of the city is simply breath-taking in comparison to other Runner territories, and so as a means of protecting it, instead of Sundown being built on top of the disused buildings, it was instead built inside of them, invisible to any prying eyes, saves for the occasional visit from an incautious Runner.
The city is well known in Runner communities, regarded as the centre of their society, even abroad, and is currently watched over by both Sectors X and V.
It's been dissected over the years, and split into various departments, including the market place, present in the chamber that houses the old ingredient silos, the sleeping quarters, which can be found within the old office-building section, a training court yard built on top of the old parking lot, and many other facilities.

It's also where the Runners keep young recruits, and the old cellars- which is where “Sundown Premium” had once been brewed- is where Wage Slaves had, in the past, been kept during their re-conditioning, whilst suffering the withdrawal effects of Servitutem.
The fact that Sundown is so well hidden, and filled with so many competent recruits, has caused to begin thinking of it as a perfect haven, and their metropolis above the clouds.
And so the saying was born, "You're never too far from safety... if you start running now, it's only twenty seconds to Sundown."

[Your Runner]
Great work, Runner! You've proven you're smart enough to keep your head above the water, and you're trustworthy enough to protect Sundown!
Let's just get you signed up, and you'll be good to go!

(Runners)
Name:
Age (16+):
Gender:
Nationality:
Years as a Runner:
Description of appearance (and outfit):
A brief bio (complete with personality):
Melee weapon:

(Specter)
Name:
Age (16+):
Age when enrolled as a specter:
Identification number:
Gender:
Nationality:
Years as a specter:
Description of appearance (and outfit):
A brief bio (complete with personality):
Melee weapon:
Unarmed training:

(Omega)
Just a brief note: Having broken off from the Runners, the Omega have developed a somewhat clan like mentality. As such, they more closely resemble a tribe, in the sense that they've added a sort of vague spirituality to their violence, so it doesn't seem unprovoked. This is the reason they have things such as 'given names', titles earned from elder Omegas.
This is not to say that they’re deep into the philosophies of life and nature, but more to assert the fact that positions in Omega society are reinforced by brute strength and respect, as opposed to internal politics (as one might see in Runner society.)

Name:
Earned name: (Nickname or Title)
Age (16+):
Born Omega/Turned from Runner:
Nationality:
Description of appearance:
A brief biography:
Runner rival:
Specialty: (Close combat, marksmanship, climbing, running, disguise)
Melee weapon:
Long range weapon (not mandatory):
Brutality: (Not great, modest, frighteningly so.)
Goal as an Omega: (Optional)

[Runner Roster]
Churchill Gunner - Captain Jenno
Klaus & Marina Hoffen - Pumpkin Prince
Kenna Vagen - SuperTitch
Eva Janssen - Vivid Daydreamer
Melanie Caine - Empath
Henry Goodman - Blandman
Acacia Ridder - BerryBuns

[Omega Roster]
Tabitha Reynard - Pumpkin Prince
Roark Swallows - Captain Jenno
Dominick Sutherland - Blandman
Ruslana Oryol - Zordon

[Spectre Roster]
Gilligan Gunner - Coming soon
Aleta Arabella - Pumpkin Prince
Thomas Daniels - Blandman

Twenty Seconds To Sundown Artwork

Mission #1


Mission #2


Dawnway Skywalk


Midnight Skyline


Sundown Cola Logos



Gilligan-Zero Vs. Gunnerman Church


It's Only Twenty Seconds to Sundown - by Super Titch


Precious Cinnamon Roll, Too Good For This World, Too Pure

Pokémon Noir

Fantastic!

Pokémon Noir

Is anybody still here?

~Majora's Mask: Oathkeeper's Dawn~

Baklava said
Lynette's reason = totally feasible.

I'm not sure what I just watched.

Pokémon Noir - Goldenrod

Trainer’s Papers

Trainer name: Shawn Wesley Caster

Gender: Male

Date of Birth [Age]: 12/5/93

Region of Origin: Kanto

Physical description: Being a farm-boy in both breed and behaviour, Shawn stands at an imposing six feet, with broad, squared shoulders.
His facial features are sharp and defined, boasting a square jaw and high cheek bones, but are softened significantly by the presence of his eyes, which are a hazy grey embellished with a yellow ring of sorts in each.
Although his clothes regularly circulate, he tends always to wear a black leather jacket, slightly worn with age but embellished by the presence of a golden Pidgeotto's silhouette on the left shoulder, which marks the rank of a Kantonese Ranger.

Occupation during war: A front-line Kanto Ranger

Post-War Occupation: The barman at a speak easy called “The Houndoors of War.”

Brief Biography: Shawn was born shortly after his older brother, Elroy, to a simple farming family living far off of the beaten path of route 14.
They were a good family: Proud of their good morals, and even more-so of their farm, which boasted the densest population of Miltanks ever to have been settled in Kanto’s south (after being imported from Johto, of course.)
Because of this, he was raised a good, honest farm boy: He did his workload each day, helped around the house, respected his elders profusely and, once a month, took the milk the Miltank’s produced to Fuschia City, to be sold in the local Pokémarts.

With this in mind, then, nobody was quite sure how he and Elroy ended up moonlighting as petty crooks.
The story goes that, during one ordinary journey to the city, when he and his brother were young adults, the pair came across a representative of Team Rocket, who- noting their strong builds, and simple country sensibilities- enticed them into a life of light crime as one of Team Rocket’s local grunts.
And of course, being young, impressionable and keen to do something new after spending their lives on a farm, they were more than willing.

Thus began their new lives as small-time thugs.
Elroy and he would do all sorts: Threaten shopkeepers for protection money, and- failing that- shoplift the equivalent price’s worth in goods, or simply demand that younger kids hand over their Pokémon- as they were, after all, equipped with twelve Miltanks at the time- and all other manners of despicable (but relatively none-violent) crime.
Elroy had always had a better eye for it than Shawn did, however, and it showed.

After a few years- and against the boisterous wishes of his parents- Elroy was promoted from a Rocket Grunt to a local captain...
And it all went downhill from there.

Captains were expected to perform far more violence-indulgent jobs on behalf of Giovanni (who, it is fabled, had taken a liking to Elroy), such as attacking “peoples of interest”, and robbing moving cargo trucks.
And whilst Shawn- still a grunt- began to cower away from the life his brother had begun making, Elroy thrived on it.
He loved the adrenaline, the freedom and the sensation of power it gave him…
Right up until the end, when Team Rocket attempted to invade and empty the safari zone: Elroy had gotten himself into a scuffle with an armed squad of Jennies (the colloquial term for police officers), and- without a firearm of his own- had been totally blown away.
Team Rocket didn’t care. Giovanni didn’t even offer to pay for a funeral.

But Shawn cared.

The news gave him an epiphany, and shortly after the ceremony (held on the family farm), Shawn denounced Team Rocket, and swore that he’d become a force of good, to counter the evils of both himself and his brother.
A fond believer in the cosmic balance of the universe, Shawn threw himself totally into his farm work- almost to a worrying degree, as if it were his coping mechanism- until the year 1911 arrived: And with it, the war.

Shawn was one of the first Kantonese soldiers to sign up to fight in the alliance. Horror stories regarding Sinnoh’s attack on Orre’s west had chilled him to the bone, but something had told him that this was his chance for redemption.
Both of their chances.

He was deployed in Gateon Port the following year, as a member of a preliminary protection force, in the event that Sinnoh’s forces should continue their attack from the west.
And whilst that was a naval success, the ground-based battle was a catastrophe: Gateon Port was lost in 1913 to Sinnoh air-strikes, and then rebuilt by the occupying army for the sake of importing more soldiers.

Next, he was transferred to the mountains surrounding Pyrite Town, in the hopes of flanking any invasion force attempting to take Phenac City.
This movement was a success, as the Kantonese foot-forces took Sinnoh’s by surprise shortly before the invasion began.
However, that was all that went right with the plan.
Using superior weaponry, the Sinnoh armed forces ensured that the fall of Phenac was a lengthy and painful one: Save for encountering a few new friends, the entire campaign was a total failure for Shawn.

He was returned to Kanto only a few years before the war’s conclusion, and took with him an orphaned Growlithe he encountered during the sacking of Phenac City.
Having tasted the outside world, however, he found himself weary of farm-life, and decided instead to move to the “big city.”
Having heard that the city of Goldenrod was filled with vacant jobs during a scheduled trip to Vermillion City in order to negotiate the trade of his family’s milk, he caught the soonest train he could for the adjacent region.

It was Goldenrod, or bust.

Legal alignment: Lawful

Trainer Inventory: Two pokéballs.
A service revolver, circa 1911.
A wallet.
A map of Goldenrod city.
Three boxes of pokémon treats.
An umbrella.

Pokémon’s Papers

"Reynard"

First Pokémon (primary partner)
Name: Reynard
Species: Growlithe
Gender: Male
Type: Fire
Physical description: For the most part, Reynard resembles an everyday Growlithe. However, his left ear is noticeably missing a notch of flesh- the result of a shrapnel grenade landing too close for comfort- and around his neck he wears a royal blue ascot.

Met: Shawn first met Reynard on the battlefield of Phenac City, during the closing years of the war.
Reynard looked to be the pup of one of the enemy’s war-bred Arcanines, who’d followed his mother out into battle without a clue in the world.
Needless to say, the Arcanine did not survive the battle. Reynard however, did.
As he sat whimpering by his mother’s form, Shawn just so happened to have been making a speedy return to the safety of the Kantonese barricades in the city’s east, and scooped him up in the process.
The plan had originally been to train him up to become an Arcanine of war, much like his mother was: However, he made the fatal mistake of giving him a name, and soon grew too attached to him to bare parting.
Reynard became his primary partner throughout the rest of the war- Shawn and he saved one another’s lives many a time- and afterwards, his closest friend.

Brief personality description: Reynard, having never truly had an Arcanine to look up to, has yet to advance out of the “pup” stage of his life.
He is very agog about the world as a whole, sometimes dangerously so, and painfully naïve of the intentions of other Pokémon and trainers.
He’s playful, energetic and totally carefree, for the most part.

Relationship with trainer: All this said, he harbours a burning loyalty for Shawn, and still embodies the innate grace and pulchritude of his species.
If Shawn is in danger, this canid will bare his teeth: And if ordered to attack, he will do so fiercely.
When not in battle, however, he is as faithful and true a companion as any dog, and often pesters Shawn to play games with him in their spare time.

Move Set:
[Reversal] [Flamethrower]
[Agility][Takedown]

"Gawain"

Second Pokémon (secondary partner)
Name: Gawain
Species: Gallade
Gender: Male
Type: Psychic/Fighting
Physical description: Gawain is slightly thinner than other Gallade in the waist, and his crest has been chipped away very lightly, as though it was eroded.
Around his neck, he wears a red neckerchief and a set of rusting dog-tags.
Met: Gawain was actually the Kirlia of a fellow soldier during the sacking of Phenac City.
When a particularly problematic charge was made upon the Kantonese/Johto barricades that’d been erected in the city's east, however, his trainer was fatally wounded by a Sinnoh soldier’s Weavile, and taken quickly to the hospital wing of their encampment.
Upon his death bed, he expressed regret that he’d never been able to evolve his Kirlia into the “knight that [he] had always known he was”, and in his desperation, Gawain sought Shawn out, as- having rescued Reynard- he’d developed a reputation for assisting troubled pokémon.

Hearing the soldier’s concerns, Shawn agreed to seek out a Dawn Stone, and eventually acquired one in circulation around the camp, sacrificing his month’s cigarette rations in order to do so.
Returning to the hospital wing, he triggered the Kirlia’s evolution into a Gallade, and in doing so granted his trainer’s dying wish.
The soldier entrusted Gawain to Shawn’s care with his final words, before departing this world due to his fatal wounds.

Gawain, grateful for Shawn’s assistance and respectful of his master’s wishes, joined his arsenal of pokémon. He never, however, grew as close to him as the others did, and took his old trainer’s dog-tags to remember him by.
Despite this, he has no qualms with wearing the traditional cloth Shawn tends to issue his pokémon.

Brief personality description: Although once a lively and playful Kirlia, the events of the war and the loss of his partner have weighed heavily on Gawain’s mind.
He has become pensive and distant in these years, and suffers from very mild PTSD. He loathes the sight of blood, and rarely, if ever, makes a sound.

Despite this, however, he’s a determined and honourable battler, embodying what one would expect from a traditional fencer: Because of that, he’s developed a very strong moral code, which he will defend without hesitation and until the end.

Relationship with trainer: Gawain is not as affectionate as Shawn’s other pokémon, but for what he lacks in affection and emotional investment in his trainer, he makes up for in a mutual respect.
In his eyes, Shawn is not his trainer, but a fellow soldier with whom he’s agreed to journey. The two consider one another equals because of this.
They both share a new, strict moral code.

Move Set:
[Night Slash] [Psycho Cut]
[Leaf Blade][Teleport]

"Alba"

Third Pokémon
Name: Alba
Species: Swellow
Gender: Female
Type: Normal/Flying

Physical description: Alba’s right wing is wrapped in a makeshift scarlet bandage, made from an old red scarf. Otherwise, she resembles any other Swellow, save for the fact her crest is slightly longer due to Shawn’s recurring failure to bother tailoring it.

Met: When Shawn found Alba, she was an injured Tailow that looked to have been abandoned in the stretch of wilderness between his farm and Vermillion City.
A foreigner in this stretch of the region, it had been immediately targeted by a flock of Spearow, and was fortunate to have escaped with nothing but a heavily damaged right wing.
Still, her original trainer- or captor, at least- was nowhere in sight, and when Shawn rescued her from the forest floor, there was the genuine concern that she’d never fly again.
But that didn’t mean Shawn would stop trying.

Now, two years later, Alba hasn’t only taken flight again: She’s evolved.
Having recovered her strength some months afterwards, she refused to part with the makeshift bandage Shawn had given her- as it retained some sentimental significance to her- and continued to wear it long after her wing had healed.
She also began to train fiercely in order to repay the favour: A year after they’d first met, she evolved into a Swellow, and since then she’s been his loyal raptor.

Brief personality description: Alba is a creature that emanates the very air of nobility and grace.
She sits with her chest puffed out proudly, and wears her wing-scarf proudly as a sign of her strength.
Unlike Reynard, she’s also very dignified, calm and collected. She attacks when asked, stops when asked and returns to her pokéball when it’s requested of her.

Relationship with trainer: All of that said, she’s by no means detached: She’s very affectionate towards Shawn, and worries for the wellbeing of his other pokémon like a mother hen.
Furthermore, she’s obedient and very well trained, no doubt as a result of the fact she feels eternally grateful towards Shawn for putting the time into helping her recover and fly again.

Move Set:
[Aerial Ace] [Fly]
[Steel Wing][Quick Attack]

"Ethelinda"

Fourth Pokémon
Name: Ethelinda (or "Ethel")
Species: Dratini
Gender: Female
Type: Dragon
Physical description: Ethelinda is somewhat skinnier than the average Dratini, but by no means emaciated: This is simply the physical echo of an abusive early life.
Furthermore, her head-fins are angled ever so slightly in a backwards direction- as if she’d been made intentionally less air resistant- and the last sixth of her tail is a brighter shade of blue than the rest of her body, indicating that it’s relatively new by comparison.
At the interval in her tail, at which point the pigment gets brighter, she wears a blue scarf.

Met: Following his honourable discharge from the Kantonese/Johto alliance, Shawn returned to Kanto, and- for a short spell- resumed his duties and responsibilities on his family’s farm.
During this time, however, he took a liking to the nearby city of Celadon, and visited it frequently, more often than not for the sake of burning away some of his hard earned military pokédollars.
On one outing, however, Shawn opted that- instead of visiting the department store, as he usually would have- he would instead give the new-fangled “Games Corner” a try.

He didn’t have much luck.

Having spent the funds he brought with him for the day in a matter of hours, Shawn re-emerged out onto the streets of Celadon after dark, and- when he was preparing to go home- heard the sound of some inexplicable struggle in the alley behind the Games Corner’s main building.
It was then that he realized that the worst had come to fruition: The casino was a Team Rocket facility, and behind it, two grunts were mercilessly beating a small, helpless Dratini- The runt of her litter, and ‘unworthy’ of being a prize- to death.

With the help of Gawain, he managed to fight the two off, and sent them running for their superiors.
However, the damage had been done: The tip of the Dratini’s tail had been sliced off, and her fins looked to have been damaged pretty seriously, too.
Shawn, feeling great sorrow for the poor creature, and having developed a habit of rescuing unfortunate pokémon, immediately captured her and rushed her to the nearest pokémon centre.

To his surprise, she made a miraculous recovery: She regrew the tip of her tail (As reptiles are wont to do), and her fins eventually healed up, as well.
However, they would remain angular forever more as a constant reminder of her experiences, and her tail’s tip would never match the rest of her body’s pigment again.

The Joy on staff referred to her as “A noble serpent.”
Shawn named her “Ethelinda.”

Brief personality description: Ethelinda is a meek and docile soul, fearful of anything bigger than herself and quick to hide in Shawn’s shadow whenever danger strikes.
That is, unless it’s Team Rocket.
Upon seeing a rocket grunt, the metaphorical “red mist” descends over the little dragon’s eyes, and she falls into the throws of what could only be referred to as a dragon’s rage.
However, this usually just gets her and Shawn into more bother, as- despite what she may one day evolve into- she is still a very small, very fragile pokémon.
Relationship with trainer: Although she is a generally timid creature, in the presence of Shawn she acts more akin to a cat than a pokémon, constantly looking towards him for protection, and in return showering him with affection. She never wanders too far from him, and is always prepared to battle when he asks her to, putting her 110% in.
Sadly, though, her 110% isn’t all that much.

Move Set:
[Dragon Rush] [Dragon Rage]
[Aqua Tail][Extreme Speed]

~Majora's Mask: Oathkeeper's Dawn~

Somebody had once told Anemos that humans were the most complicated of creatures, prone to sporadic lies and deception whenever it best suited them: And, in his opinion, nobody authenticated this belief with more pinpoint accuracy than his father, Arichias.
All his life he’d told people he was human, but- quite clearly- he was actually some form of miraculous man-spider.
Because, when Anemos had finally waded his way out of the crowd, and reached the point at which his dad had finally stopped his sudden and unprecedented distancing between himself and the prince’s cavalcade, he hadn’t found the older man standing still, not at all: He was climbing.
Quickly.
With fluid, articulate movements, and a surprisingly lively and versatile set of techniques, he’d begun an on-spot ascension of the closest set of scaffolding to him, a wooden tower which clung tightly to the stone of an aged building, and- despite its apparent stability- had clearly not been constructed with spontaneous scaling in mind, based on the distance between the bars.

Despite his age, however, he looked to be spry and full of gusto: He’d managed to conquer it in a matter of minutes, seemingly without too much effort, and perched himself quite comfortably at its top as he stared down at the Prince’s procession.
Anemos sighed, his hands impatiently pressed against the sides of his hips as he glared up after him.
He shouldn’t have been surprised, really: Arichias had borne the title of Gales long before he had, and had only passed it on so early because an unfortunate fall during one particularly heavy training session had rendered his left shoulder broken in such a way that it would never fully recover.
Still, having watched his climb, one might have dared to think the injury hadn’t been so detrimental: Indeed, it only flared up in times of intense movement.
It was a shame that most of Gales’ acrobatic repertoire was made up of dynamic movements, then.

“Dad!”, he called, glare unwavering, “Hey, Dad!”
Arichias dropped his gaze southwards, and waved down to his son as though what he’d just done had been the most natural thing in the world.
“Dad, how old’re you?”
He thought for a moment, and then shrugged, “Much older than I think I am, judging by your tone.”
“That was really dangerous. Why did you wander off?”
“No reason.”
“Dad.”
“Adventure?”
“Dad.”
“The view’s better up here, is all! I didn’t wait all these years to get a glimpse of the prince, son. Imagine! Two decades, and I can’t even see him through people carrying their children on their shoulders!”
That brought a smile to Anemos’ face, at least: It was an innocent reason, and he could appreciate it.
He smiled fondly, “You know, you used to put me on your shoulders.”
His father paused, and gestured to himself in surprise, “Did I?”
Anemos nodded, and Arichias chuckled, “How insufferable we must’ve been.”

His countenance brightening slightly, Anemos threw a glance back to the crowds- which were growing, and indeed, obscuring the view- before turning again to his father.
“Hey, dad, clear a seat! I’m coming up!”
With a slight bouncing in his heel, Anemos grasped the scaffolding’s framework with both hands, and began to scale the structure himself: The bars were quite inconveniently spaced, with some being very close together, and the others being at nearly a full arms’ length away from its predecessors and successor, and as he climbed it became all the more clear to Anemos that it’d been constructed hurriedly, no doubt in anticipation of the approaching carnival.
Still, though, it was of little detriment in the end: If Arichias had been able to scale it, Anemos certainly could, and did.
When he reached the top, he found that it was actually quite a firm and sturdy wooden platform, and sat himself down beside his father as he glanced down at the distance he’d covered.
It was, at most, about twenty feet, and more than enough to allow a clear view of the ceremony.

He leaned back on his palms, as he stared down at the armoured celebrities that Clock Town now celebrated as if they were their own.
His father’s tutting caught his attention moments later, however.
“Tsk, tsk…”
“What?”
“That was very dangerous, Anemos. Climbing that scaffolding like that.”
Anemos creased his brow in genuine confusion, before Arichias rolled his eyes sportively, and jabbed his son playfully in the shoulder, “That’s my boy.”
“Shut up, dad,” he retorted, albeit in good humour.
“There’s your mother again.”

Pokémon Noir

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Pokémon Noir

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Pokémon Noir - Goldenrod

It’s 1924, only a year after the bloodiest war this world had ever seen had finally come to its end.
The decade long conflict that gripped the planet came as a surprise to most, if not all, of its inhabitants: Even its hosts, in the now desolated desert nation of Orre.
In the times before, Orre had been renowned for its idyllic countryside, and vast, prepossessing views…
However, beneath its verdant fields, and hoary august mountain ranges, it harboured more than simply aesthetic value: Massive, fruitful veins of exceedingly rare ores, for which the region had been named, lay un-excavated and in slumber, left intentionally untouched, for Orre had no native inhabitants of which to speak, and those who had settled there- in an attempt to escape the industrial revolution that had claimed the civilised world of the 1800s- had deemed the land far too captivating to soil.
And this, in the end, made little difference: The people to which Orre played host were simple ones, who cared for little more than to live their lives in peace.

That is until the year 1904, in which the nation of Sinnoh- a region which, until then, had held the honours of being both the planet’s most technologically advanced country, and it’s most prominent mining nation- announced to the rest of the world that it was suffering a severe shortage of the rarer ores, such as gold, silver and platinum.
As such, they were willing to offer the denizens of Orre a lucrative and generous series of payments in order to acquire the rights to mine beneath their virgin land.
Orre’s citizens- a conservationist people- refused, much to the chagrin of the Sinnohan powers.

However, refusing Sinnoh was no task done with confidence, and shortly after negotiations between those two regions collapsed, Orre- lacking its own substantial military of which to speak- sought the protection of others, in anticipation of what they perceived to be an inevitable war.
And they found this protection in the world’s oldest allies: Kanto & Johto, the lands from which most of Orre’s inhabitants hailed.
An entente was formed, between these three nations: An agreement, which guaranteed the support of the Kantonese-Johto alliance, in the event that Sinnoh- or indeed, any other power- should attempt to lay claim to Orre’s soil.
Unbeknownst to this tripartite, however, Sinnoh had summoned the leaders of a fifth nation, Hoenn, with the hopes of striking a similar- albeit, more furtive- alliance.

Sinnoh desired the support of Hoenn’s venerable naval fleet, the size of which had established it as the leading maritime power of its day, in the hopes of attacking Orre’s Eastern shore from the ocean, enabling them to take the continent by surprise.
It was storied, and vaster than any sea-based force before it: In its genesis, it had ensured strong trade routes with nations so far as Kanto, but now served only as a means of defence, should any tempest batter it’s harbours, or alien ships advance on its shores.
And a defensive fleet it would remain.
To the irritation of Sinnohan ambassadors, the equatorial power of Hoenn had insisted on abstaining from the conflict, having forged a loyalty with the “classical” continents that now swore their combined military might to Orre’s service: As such, they would offer no naval support towards Sinnoh, no matter how many pokédollars they were willing to pay in order to acquire it.
Following these tense negotiations, which had begun in 1905 and ended the following year, Hoenn alerted the tripartite to Sinnoh’s intentions, leading to the peaceful occupation of Orre’s East, effectively barricading it from Sinnohan advancement.

This wasn’t to stop this particular mining superpower, however: If Hoenn wouldn’t lend Sinnoh its ships, then Sinnoh would construct its own maritime fleet.
By 1910, a sizeable marine armada had been constructed upon it’s distant shores, and almost as soon as it had been completed, it was launched with the intentions of waging a war.
However, Sinnohan generals knew that, even with superior firepower, they stood no chance if they struck the (more lucrative) Eastern shores of Orre, and so instead launched an alternative, stealthy approach on the Western coast, where the verdurous mountain forests would provide them with cover.
And perhaps this would have worked, had the employees of a newly established greenwood pokémon laboratory, investigating the migration of bug-types to the equatorial territories of Hoenn, not detected them.
One small disturbance in the behavioural patterns of nearby pokémon- whom, it is fabled, could sense impending disasters, sometimes even years in advance- alerted the scientists present to the existence of antagonistic forces on the horizon…

The allies were promptly informed, albeit without the knowledge of the Sinnohan fleet, and quickly arranged a naval blockade at Orre’s most prominent Western ports, most significantly the region’s trade capital, Gateon.
This caught Sinnoh’s water-based forces by surprise, and they retaliated poorly, resulting in the tripartite alliance of Orre, Kanto and Johto claiming the port in early 1911.
1911, however, is also the year that the shooting started.

Kantonese special forces sent to investigate the presence of Sinnohan soldiers in the western forests were caught off-guard by the willingness of Sinnoh’s ground-forces to resort to guerrilla tactics, and were resultantly flanked from all sides: Although they fought valiantly, they were no match for the enemy’s tactical advantages, and were killed in a violent and virulent firefight.
Gateon Port having been won by speed, those lost in the “Battle of Verdes Forest” were the first casualties of what would, in years to come, be known as “The Great War.”

This wound to the entente was punctuated further by the rapid expansion and advancement of Sinnoh’s military throughout the region.
Although Gateon was held fiercely, even after the gunfire began (following the events of Verdes Forest, in late 1911), frequent and thorough air-strikes orchestrated by Sinnohan bird pokémon made the area totally unliveable for the likes of the tripartite soldiers, and too risky and expensive to be worth maintaining.
In June 1913, the port was finally lost in “The Battle of Gateon”, which saw one of the bloodiest battles of the early war. The wounds would remain, even as a decade passed by.
This loss was a significant turning point in favour of Sinnoh, as it provided them the ability to mobilise troops from overseas with great ease.

Having rescinded orders to attempt to retake Gateon, the Kantonese/Johto alliance focused instead on two other areas of significance: The largely defenceless, massively rural territories of Agata (which consisted almost solely of farmlands), and the region’s capital city of Phenac, the “Jewel of the East.”
In order to ensure Agata’s protection from the approaching Sinnohan invasion, a third of the Kantonese-Johto alliance’s infantry, consisting mainly of Kantonese Rangers, were stationed in the dense woodlands of Agata Forest (1914), in the hopes of doing to Sinnoh what Sinnoh had to them, back in 1911.
The other two thirds were distributed between the capital (a protective force constructed almost solely of Kantonese/Johto infantrymen and officers), and the neighbouring “Pyrite Mountains” in November of 1914, amongst which they constructed a small shanty-town in the hopes of flanking any advancing forces from the West as they approached Phenac.
Those who inhabited this newly established ‘Pyrite Town’ were mainly Johto Rangers, although some Kantonese and Orrean soldiers who’d proven skilful on the battlefield were selected in order to bolster their numbers, which were dwindling following their defeat at Gateon.

Both strategies were tactical successes in their own rights.
When Sinnoh began to mobilise their footmen from Gateon and Verdes Forest in 1915, and attempted to march upon sylvan Agata, they were fiercely combatted by the Kantonese Rangers that lay in wait there.
The suddenness of the resistance, combined with ill-prepared and quickly-trained troops on the part of Sinnoh, meant that territories such as Agata Forest and the surrounding villages were seemingly preordained victories for the Kanto/Johto alliance.
This fortune stretched only to the inhabited regions, however: The Agata Valley and the surrounding mountains were quickly won on behalf of Sinnoh, and used in order to ensure that the entente’s soldiers remained inside of the territory they’d been protecting, rendering them effectively incapable of being called to assist other troops in Phenac or Pyrite.

Following this, Sinnoh’s forces advanced towards the capital, and- as ordered by their commanding officers- began to enforce a scorched earth policy, charring the country beneath them black as they advanced past Agata’s borders, and moved steadily into the wake of The Pyrite Mountains.
This was done so that, in the event their defences stationed in Agata’s mountains faltered, and the Kantonese soldiers present there escaped, they would be incapable of living off of the land if they attempted to launch a fringe attack on the soldiers advancing eastwards.
Furthermore, it would make the inevitable mining of the territory far easier.
The country they scalded would never recover: In the years to come, it would become a barren desert, inhabited by few and loved by none.

The resultant flames were not well concealed, though, alerting the tripartite military to Sinnoh’s presence in their territories days before their arrival.
The flanking manoeuvre conceived in Pyrite Town was, much like the defence of rural Agata, a massive success, as the Johto Rangers caught Sinnoh’s advancing infantrymen totally by surprise (as it’d been presumed that all of their available forces had been sent to reinforce Phenac City), and thinning their numbers substantially in the ensuing conflict (“Operation Hush, 1917.”)
This wasn’t enough to halt the progress of Sinnoh’s invasion force, though: Although it bought Phenac City a week or so of extra time, in which those involved in Operation Hush assisted in the thickening of the city’s walls, and helped establish guard-towers and medical bays, the halting of Kanto’s best soldiers in Agata meant that there was nobody to suppress Sinnoh’s importing of troops in Orre’s west.

By May 1917, the siege of Phenac City had begun.

Although the six-year battle has been described in many words, soldiers on all sides concur that the “Sacking of Phenac City” was a disastrous campaign, fraught with needless bloodshed and violence.
Despite having been well prepared for the attack, the allied forces were little match for Sinnoh’s army, which- whilst inferior in training- was superior by means of technology and pure numbers.
The Sinnohan special forces moved around Pyrite- fearing another stab in the back awaited them otherwise- and arrived at Phenac’s Eastern entrance on the same day as their regular soldiers arrived on the West, and all the while they’d been scorching the landscape black.
This gesture chocked allied trade routes- meaning supplies needed to be dropped with great inaccuracy and infrequency by quickly trained flying type pokémon- and the destruction of the environment also ensured that the entente could produce no food of its own on the battlefield.

Attacked on both sides, the Kantonese/Johto alliance quickly evacuated the citizens of Orre, sending them to safety along with Orre’s anaemic armed forces, in order to find refuge in Johto: More often than not, these evacuees would escape on the back of an alliance soldier’s flying type pokémon, and- upon returning- that pokémon would be shot down.
They were forced into a series of small trenches and segregated camps established within Phenac City’s walls, and from there they valiantly fought the onslaught until 1920, at which point Sinnoh pushed its way through the city gates, and seized the South-Eastern quarter.

As the battle continued, their territory grew as the alliance’s dwindled: Once revered sandstone artistry was turned to concrete dust before men’s eyes, brothers were parted by hot lead, or the cool graze of wartime pokémon’s claws, and the “Jewel of the East”, Orre’s political and economic capital, was reduced to naught more than a crimson, dusty crater in heart of a motionless black desert.

By 1922, most of the Kantonese armed forces had been killed in action, and what remained of Johto’s military might was rapidly moving in the same direction.
They controlled only the North-Eastern corner of the city, and even that was subject to sudden change whenever a night-watchman who’d already done three shifts that week grew too weary to focus.
By this point, it was clear: The war was lost, and Sinnoh had left very little country worth saving.
By 1923, the Kantonese/Johto alliance officially surrendered, withdrawing their troops from Phenac, and- after lengthy negotiations- finally freeing the Kantonese Rangers from their internment from Agata (which, as part of a post-war contract, Sinnoh swore to leave untouched.)

And that, truly, was the bloodiest war this world had ever seen.
Even now, in the year 1924, it persists in some forms: Those of Orre’s inhabitants who didn’t flee to Johto when the war turned sour remain, fighting a lengthy revolution against the imposing Sinnohan military.
But that is not our story.

Goldenrod City was once a beacon of hope for the struggling nations of “The Great War.”
It boasted the title of being the largest city in the world, and flaunted such contemporary attractions as the world’s first radio station (built upon war-time technology), and a series of spacious and resourceful department buildings…
And one mustn’t forget the powerful steam engines manufactured there, which could journey as far as Kanto in less than three days, and had been paramount in bringing the two nations together, into a close and secure partnership founded upon economics, advancement and a truly vibrant shared history, as the hosts of the world’s oldest ruins and cultures.
But, whilst these things may have been designed to bring the regions together, all good things can be corrupted.

Following the escalation of the war in 1913, all able-bodied men between the ages of 18 and 25 were asked to step up and fight for their countries: It was, in some senses, a voluntary conscription.
Then, following the events of the battle of Agata, 1914, Johto and Kanto’s governments grew desperate to replenish the numbers now imprisoned within the forest’s borders, which resulted in a large portion (as much as 75%) of law enforcers and medical professionals being drafted to fight on the battlefield.
By the time the war reached its peak in 1920, it’s theorised that there was only around 7% of Johto’s original police force still working.

This sudden loss of law enforcement in a city as large as Goldenrod, when combined with the amount of money- generated by tourists, and wealthy residents- flowing through the city’s streets, and the sudden ability to speak to the whole world in unison (as of the advent of radio) ensured the birth of a power struggle throughout Johto.
Petty street gangs, made up of crooks and thieves, began to grow more prominent in an effort to fill the vacuum the police had left behind: They grew confident, and cocky. None more-so than Team Rocket, a nefarious group of pokémon thieves, and, if they weren’t given their way, terrorists.
The roads ran rampant with pokémon theft, and the city was clutched by the pale hand of fear.
Would they ask for protection money today? Who knew? Would they take it seriously, even if you paid them?
Those who said yes were still vandalised: Those who said no, brutalised.
Times were dark all over, battlefield or no.

And in desperate times, people vote for desperate measures.
Enter Giovanni, a charming and sociable political advocate who swore to end the age of oppression Team Rocket had laid down across not just Goldenrod, but Johto as a whole.
He was a veteran of the war- having served from 1913 until 1917- and, on top of that, a reformed gangster himself.
A man who knew how their minds worked, but had- he claimed- seen the errors of his ways, and opted instead to live the life of a good man.
His face was trustworthy, his voice smooth and his promises, music to their ears.
So of course, when mayoral elections arose in 1919, he was their primary candidate, and won by a landslide.

If only, then, he’d been telling the truth.
In all actuality, he was Team Rocket’s founder, their father and tutor: A manipulative soul, who played the role of the invisible puppet master, and pulled at their tangled, chaotic strings whilst he himself kept his gloves without scuff nor scrape.
Make no mistake, Giovanni was a plane dealing villain.

Upon his election, the police force increased in numbers, but those who were recruited often turned out to be crooked, working from some personal angle, if not for Team Rocket themselves.
Furthermore, those who suspected Giovanni- as, indeed, his inaction in Team Rocket’s dealings elicited some serious criticisms- were promptly silenced by bands of marauding thugs, who instilled a chilling effect that ensured nobody would ever dare challenge his role in office.
They even enforced a prohibition, of a kind: All bars and taverns would sell only the cheap, knock-off rotgut that Rocket themselves brewed, no ales or spirits that belonged to any other brewery.
If you were caught running an establishment that sold anything but Rocket’s brand- of course, known as “Giovanni’s Own” and only unofficially supported by Team Rocket’s leaders- you could guarantee your bar would mysteriously catch alight one evening, whether you were inside or not, and that some strangers you’d never seen nor heard of will have claimed the insurance long before you.

These days, the world looks dark.
The steam engines that had once brought Kanto and Johto together are now idle and lifeless, and the glorious Goldenrod Train Station they’d belonged to, decimated by a terror attack in the fall of 1923.
The radio that once broadcast thoughts to the world now just spouts political jingoisms, in between repetitive musical renditions of pre-war classics, and messages reminding Goldenrod’s citizens to throw a silent ‘thank you’ Giovanni’s way.
Men and women continue with their daily lives- as indeed, they must- but do so knowing that they are under Team Rocket’s thumb.
The police try to enforce law, but this is a lawless town at heart: The Jennies (as they are colloquially known) have tried remorselessly to stir Mayor Giovanni into actions, but he feigns innocence, ignorance, and assures them that he’s doing all he can.

If we continue on this path, Team Rocket will destroy this great city.
Something must be done.

Welcome to Pokémon Noir! The region of Johto has grown restless and uneasy in these two years since the great war drew to its close: Now, trainers and soldiers alike live under the manipulative fingers of Giovanni.

You’ll be living in this world, and either fighting against it, or to preserve it. But first, some ground rules.

No pokémon, moves or items that came after generation IV. In this roleplay, Unova and Kalos are none-existent, and by extension, so are their pokémon.

Battles are to be decided based on good, honest roleplaying. Just try to have fun! Don’t be afraid of losing, it’ll happen inevitably!

Under no circumstances are you to kill another roleplayer’s character or pokémon unless sanctioned to by them personally.

You must play an adult of some description, you cannot be a ten year old just starting out on your journey.

This game predates gym badges, TMs and HMs, and is specific to Goldenrod: You will not be roaming around trying to win gym badges.

Your pokémon can’t know moves it would learn post-level 50, and can only know a HM move if it makes sense for it to know such (i.e. a flying type knowing “Fly”, but specifically a flying type that looks like a bird, as opposed to Gyarados.)

There is no fairy type. And by extension, no fairy type moves.

You can only start with four pokémon, and none in storage. You will start with only two pokéballs.

[Character Sheets!

Trainer’s Papers
Trainer name:
Gender:
Date of Birth [Age]:
Region of Origin:
Physical description:
Occupation during war:
Post-War Occupation:
Brief Biography:
Legal alignment: (Lawful/Unlawful)

Player Inventory: (Can contain no elemental stones or key items. Two pokéball maximum to start with, no pokégear.)
Pokémon’s Papers
(Limited to a party of four, none in storage: Your primary Pokémon will be the most skilled, and your fourth will be the least experienced.)

First Pokémon (primary partner)
Name:
Species:
Gender:
Type:
Physical description: [No shiny/coloured Pokémon, however physically defining traits are permitted.]
Met: [Location/Time]
Brief personality description:
Relationship with trainer: [Quality, significant events in their shared history]
Move Set: (No moves post-Gen IV.)
[First Move] [Second Move]
[Third Move][Fourth Move]

Second Pokémon (secondary partner)
Name:
Species:
Gender:
Type:
Physical description: [No shiny/coloured Pokémon, however physically defining traits are permitted.]
Met: [Location/Time]
Brief personality description:
Relationship with trainer: [Quality, significant events in their shared history]
Move Set: (No moves post-Gen IV.)
[First Move] [Second Move]
[Third Move][Fourth Move]

Third Pokémon
Name:
Species:
Gender:
Type:
Physical description: [No shiny/coloured Pokémon, however physically defining traits are permitted.]
Met: [Location/Time]
Brief personality description:
Relationship with trainer: [Quality, significant events in their shared history]
Move Set: (No moves post-Gen IV.)
[First Move] [Second Move]
[Third Move][Fourth Move]

Fourth Pokémon
Name:
Species:
Gender:
Type:
Physical description: [No shiny/coloured Pokémon, however physically defining traits are permitted.]
Met: [Location/Time]
Brief personality description:
Relationship with trainer: [Quality, significant events in their shared history]
Move Set: (No moves post-Gen IV.)
[First Move] [Second Move]
[Third Move][Fourth Move]

So without further ado, go wild!