A small sigh escaped the psychic's lips as the second Pokeball finally stopped shaking, letting her know the Pokemon inside had been caught. It was as if she'd been holding her breath a bit, though, without even thinking about it. Sir Lopsalot, however, wasn't as well for the wear at the moment either. He'd taken a faceful of the Poison Gas move used by Trubbish, now Scrapper, and that wasn't the best even if his HP was still in realtively good condition. At the same time, when she walked over to him and bent to pick him up so they could-
"Bun! Bun....bun bunbun."
Really? But he-...ok, fine. It didn't make her rather happy, but if he pushed his luck too much he'd have no choice in the end.
"Alright...but you will stay in the Pokeball until we need you most, ok? Please."
The Buneary lightly nodded as he was sucked back into his Pokeball and placed on Clarissa's hip once more. It was her condition for keeping him down here longer after getting poisoned, otherwise he'd take more damage from it all just wandering around until they had to turn back. Yet if he was refusing to turn back this early on despite things she could only prod him so much over it, and perhaps he was still a tiny bit sore from his prior failure to win the battle as well. The stubborn, but sincere, little thing he was. But she didn't even have to try to read his mind to tell that, and he didn't have to be human to get the idea of what she was wanting to do when she'd walked over to him first.
It was then, as she went over her two new Pokemon and looked at the Pokedex itself about them, that she heard Nils speaking to her. The psychic's head would pop up, gaze attentive the more he spoke.
"...yeah, I get it. If there's a pokemon feeling misunderstood, you want to understand them, and if they're lonely, you want to show them some affection. Right?"
T-That...that was right. Part of her was embarassed she'd let some of that sentiment slip in terms of emotion, but at the same time her mind seemed to sigh with relief at the prospect that he seemed to get it well enough as well. Grasped the idea of what she'd been thinking and had attempted to, even if without too much thinking on her part, communicate. Whatever it was down here, if it was alone and crying and sad and had lost its home or such, it was a rather 'heart on sleeve' type of emotion there but it was also one she felt she could relate to well enough. Perhaps more than she should have, admittedly, but she felt guilty for that part all the same within her own mind.
That was why-
"It's dark, hard to see, smells terrible, and the chances of catching some infectious disease down here is probably higher than it should be..." he said, and then scoffed, shook his head, and smiled at his fellow trainer. "...but let's keep going. If you think someone down here needs some help, let's go see what we can do."
...For the first time since letting Amelia pet Sit Lopsalot, the edges of Clarissa's mouth turned upwards a noticeable but minuite bit. A tiny, almost unnoticeable, smile. A rarity in her life by far, but for it to be the second one in the day? Well, it must have been a good day so far then! But it was as much as she allowed herself to express such emotion, wheras a tinge of worry that would suddenly go off in her mind would push back hard to assert her usual stoicism once more. Ahem. Yes, she had to keep control. Not too much letting out emotion. She...she had to be careful, ever watchful, ever always.
"Yes, let's find it and see what we can do."
While Nils could heal up his new catch, however, Clarissa would let out her two new Pokemon from their balls. She had to give them a good look, pick a nickname, and see what the Alolan Grimer had been holding that had caused it to heal some over the battle's course. Ultimately, seeing the nature and personalities of the two Pokemon, the psychic would also decide on a pair of names: Lady Goowin (the Grimer) and Scrapper (the Trubbish)! Those were good-sounding names, weren't they? They felt fitting. However, she would take the apparent Black Sludge item from Lady Goowain, mostly as she tried to bop Scrapper on the head for some reason, and return her to her Pokeball. A proud lady to be sure, buuuut she would be sent back to Kapoc as soon as they were done in the sewers as well. As for Scrapper, he would softly speak up a moment as her attention came to him after putting Lady Goowain up and-
"Trub trub?"
-...he would be staying on the team for now. That was what her gut and her heart told her anyways. In that vein, Clarissa would gently pat the bipedal sapient garbage bag on the head after handing him the Black Sludge to keep for now. Scrapper seemed to regard the sludge with a mild awe for a moment, though, before smiling happily at it and then back at her in turn as he tucked it away on his little body to hold. She then leaned down to apply her one Potion to the little guy as well, and he grabbed her arm with his own little hands in turn in the silence.
[Used Potion x1 on Scrapper]
Now then, it was time to move onward! After all-
That creepy crying deep in these smelly sewers wasn't going to find itself.
Clarissa, with Scrapper now out and ready to go, would follow close with Nils and his Pokemon to go deeper into the sewers! She had no idea what they'd find aside from garbage and the obvious sorts of Pokemon they'd met so far, but....they would be seeing sooner than later, she figured, in the end. Secrets unknown? The source of the crying? A hidden cavern? Etc?
Still, she'd also not go out of her way to battle. She would, however, seek to train Scrapper and Sir Lopsalot against any Pokemon that attacked her and Nils or got aggressive. She would only do so with Sir Lopsalot, however, until Sir Lopsalot had right at half health left though. He had to save his strength for emergencies! But Scrapper? Him she'd keep going as long as it was safe and reasonable to do so, since he was of lower level in the end.
[Search For Source of the Crying (Primary), and New Pokemon, Etc]
@Remram I was more thinking along the lines of the half-submerged-into-the-dirt rock-skulls-with-arms who'll throw a temper tantrum if someone steps on them. But, you're right, nature is so... Eugh... Unclean... *shivers*
“There will always be more to do. Get us better material and we do better obviously, but even without this, it’s not work that we’re missing here. For starters, I’d really like to swap that for a solid bunker.” She pointed at the tent. “The trenches are getting along well, but we can always dig more of them. Really could use barbed wire though. And it’d be a waste of energy to use our stock to keep some constantly materialized, so we need the good old physical stuff. Also some sandba… Hum? OK, you’re right, too much to move around, that would attract too much attention. No sandbags, then. We’ll just work with dirt, stone and wood.“
“Wait a second, that is fine and all, but I heard something about a pot. Are you confident in your culinary skills, signor Bowen? I’d love to see it but be warned, I have high standards. After all, I’m a pretty good cook myself.”
“Oh, first things first, monsieur Bowen will need a guide to go to Sion. I hear it’s a mostly French-speaking town. Are you good with la langue de Molière, monsieur?”
“Hey don’t try to get a leg up!” Another intervened. ”Ah, mister Bowen, can you get us some cigs while you’re at it?” A fifth one asked. ”Tobacco for me, I prefer the pipe.” The other engineer said over his shoulder. ”Hey, what about some whiskey?” ”You idiot, we said no alcohol until the end of the war! Servants get drunk too!” ”I heard the Swiss got some good chocolate. Oh, and cheese too!”
Archer was....certianly a handful, that much was to be sure. Though some of these other questions would already have been answered by the modern day information servants were in possession of, no? They were still a servant collectivelly, after all. Or pehaps the individual wraiths were keen on making their own input regardless of information or situation. Hmm. He had come prepared for one servant and himself, even coming with extra money to ensure his trip was as smooth as he could make it (could be his last, after all), but this scenario still had him a bit off-guard financially with the whole affair.
He didn't want to be taken wrongly, of course, he still was trying to compromise properly enough to keep him and Archer on good terms, but even then there was limits.
Did none of the spirits recognize he didn't have the wealth of a small nation under his belt? He'd purchased cigarettes already for them in bulk the other day, getting a few odd looks for it to boot, not to mention the sudden call for pipe tobacco of all things. The barbed wire had taken some work using magecraft to ensure the purchase and more discreet movement of just to get it to Sion and to where they'd set up base at that as well. Archer was technically a small army, and while he wanted to pitch some things their way to show appreciation for working with him too he couldn't get too exhaustive in getting things....both financially, and to keep their location and otherwise a blasted secret for as long as he could manage to do so with magecraft moving forward.
A sheepish grin came to Rhodri's face as his free hand rubbed the back off his hair, trying to play off the sudden outbursts and situation a little as he kept his head cool. But as it were-
“Enough! Can’t you see you are bothering Sir Bowen? Just make an orderly list of demands. I’ll take care of presenting them.”
His tone was stern but calm. Authority without aggressivity. The soldiers disappeared, except for the two engineers who went back to their task and the man with the mustache.
“My excuses, they are too used to talking over each other. Oh, and you should expect something similar if you use that link which allows us to share thoughts. Do not hesitate to ask for silence. On more important matters, we can go whenever you desire.”
Ah, he was taking a liking to this one. Strict and an officer, but much like the lady was at least acting like this was a warzone a bit more. Not that humans ceased to be human even as servants, he supposed, but hey it took a little strain off of him to handle things if there were some of these bodies of Archer who could help uphold a command structure. At the same time, however, there were perhaps....certain advantages to having this many bodies and minds to throw at a situation, no? And he'd been thinking about that since the whole affair of Archer's summoning the prior day as well.
"Ay, humans will be humans even when in the container of a servant it seems. A list will be fine. However, it'd be good to have a few of you I can communicate through our link with in a hurry for a number of potential reasons. Especially in case I get ambushed, or a situation where we are trying to coordinate strikes appears. E-t-c~"
He couldn't have them trying to overcome each other in talking so badly all of the time, it'd make coordination and such far worse for the wear....if even feasible under such circumstances. He had to admit, it was a litle patience-wearing to think about, but all the same he tried to keep a relaxed enough mood about it all. After all, when one traveled all this way to meet death face to face they had to at least give him a nice familiar smile and handshake, eh?
As he spoke, a motorbike of an old design but in perfect condition appeared besides him. It had a sidecar for one passenger attached. The man put one hand on the handlebar and lifted the other one towards Rhodri as a steel helmet manifested in his grasp.
“Oh, if you have any preference as to who would accompany you, let us know. The Frenchman from earlier, his name is Jules by the way, wants you to know that his offer still stands.”
"Ah, perhaps I can give Jules some of my backup clothing to wear into town, then, during the day tomorrow. I've had no trouble navigating Switzerland and its lovely lands so far, but it would pay to be prepared and have a second set of hands for grocery shopping, perhaps, if he's good with that an' bein' a potential translator too. Would be more discreet as well.
But to tha' cook who appeared prior, I can say that its a simple big pot stew recipe. Something ta' fill many bellies, keep you warm, and for me be a bit more of a taste of home to bring here at least. I can give him the rundown on the whole thing, if he wishes to be in charge of the cooking of it tomorrow and enough of you are in agreement on the matter."
Accepting the steel helmet offered to him, and plopping the old-fashioned brain bucket onto his head, the magus went and sat in the sidecar of the motorcycle. Not the most comfortable by far, but it was motorized transportation all the same. A bit of convenience for this servant indeed, though some negotiation on what to do and not do would need to be had. In particular officer talks so he could disseminate more information on familiars and such, etc, for later....well, if they were alive for later, but still it needed to happen it seemed!
"But I'd like to speak to ya' as we travel, if you'd be so inclined. A few thoughts on a couple o' matters or so to share in the meantime, though out of a desire for some secrecy and safety on our part I do have a few things to ask for. Might sound a bit harsh, but ah' want to ask that anyone else followin' us into town to get in spirit form and keep in it unless our hand is forced if possible. No pot shots at stuff, eyes and ears bein' open for trouble, the works.
As for where we're going....well, we're first headed to the Basilica in town. The neutral ground of this war, the Church. Going ta' pay the priest there my respects and stuff for a short bit. Also see there if some of the bodyguard comin' along can get a view of things and observe from that hill a bit, mindin' that its neutral ground and all of course still."
His tone shifted to somewhat more serious in this last bit of talking for his part, looking to the red-haired body of Archer's with a look that sought to communicate such. He wasn't trying to be 'an ass' on purpose in this case, no he was more than capable of doing that without Archer or this war outright, but as a magus and someone in a new magical warzone there were things he couldn't let to chance or mere whims on Archer's part without saying his piece on it all and trying to keep them in a good direction here. Any bodyguards had to keep a level of discretion, and discipline, for this, else they could get themselves in trouble faster than anything. This was a war, after all, and one wrought by magi instead of just the hands of mundane men and women for that matter.
Besides, maybe a few of the bodyguards would like heading to a Church, eh? Few more religious folks who'd get some comfort out of it for the first stop while being a protection detail in-town in general.
Tourbillon Stadium, East End, Residential District, Sion
It was a cool night by his standards, even as they stood atop one of the spotlight towers observing the goings-on the first night of this Holy Grail War. In some ways, it was almost reminiscent of home, and yet it also lied so far from anywhere he'd ever seen in his life before. Mountains grew and climbed up toward the heavens, only to cascade down into valleys and plains and rain down snow from their mind-dizzying peaks. Ah. In that sense it was a mixture of the new and the familiar, a blending of things that along with barbarian languages and peculiar foods certainly was a step beyond anything from his old life.
For that....heh, for that he had to thank his master most certainly for bringing him this far. Perhaps once the war was over, he could go find other places and travel about with bow in hand once more, eh? Just not over any oceans. Or to any islands. At least for a while.
On the other hand-
"...Well, they're having fun over there. Think we should join in?"
"Eh, and lose our entertainment for the night? Maybe."
His own calm and level tone seemed for the moment being to partly joke and even tease the same back, a tiny smirk coming to the edges of his lips for a moment while his eyes remained trained on the battle afar that he and his master were watching.
"Guy throwing the boulder isn't a joke, doesn't seem to be too serious though, but he's sittin' on a sheep straight outta' Apollo's tastes. Maybe a Rider? Not from Greece as far as I can tell though, at least not my lifetime. Plus the moron running up there might as well be either cocky as hell for it, or he's a Berserker too mad to see past the dangers coming at him if I had to take a guess.
Arrows like sunbeams are coming from the castle too pretty consistently, so I don't doubt whoever's there's the master of the boulder guy. Guessin' as a mage the leyline's giving em' enough juice to just do this almost as much as they want. The other master runnin' with the idiot is-...well he's turned into somethin' lookin' a bit straight outta' Hades' turf, but isn't something from my neck of the woods either.
I'm getting a big sense of deja vu here though, so you might wanna look through my eyes to get a read on those two servants too."
Archer knew something about all of this situation he was watching was pissing him the more he watched, the more he observed, the more details of it all he took in. It was on the edge of his tongue, as if ready to roll out with just the slightest prodding of the right words.
There were arrows that bore the sizzling heat of the sun and shone with their radiance, assiling those who dared assault the walls of the castle. Such shafts that, here and now, bore the unmistakeable sign of a certain someone for sure. There was some sort of bulging in the walls of the castle as well, an old human-wrought fortress that seemed to be more than met the eye as mundane construction bulged with the weight of something...more. Didn't take a mage to see that much in his eyes, but neither would it be clear to mundane people either perhaps.
It was a veritable fortress upon a hill, in the end, defended by shafts seemingly derived from the sun god's that rained down upon those foolish enough to assail its walls. By the underworld, the servant was sitting on a giant-flipping sheep with a white-gold weave of fur for pity's sake! Sunbeam-like arrows and attacks, the giant stupid sheep, like-...like...wait. It all fit together way too good to be mere coincidence at this point in time. The parallels and the pattern were all too obvious, and the evidence was far too real before his eyes to ignore either.
"....Son of a-"
Surprise and a mild burst of acute frustration rippled through his tone now as he spoke, but not without reason in this case. Even so, his eyes remained on the situation and oversized bow remained in his hands.
It finally clicked into his mind just after the entire metaphor did, and the pieces fit perfecctly in his mind. The 'deja vu' of this whole bit he was watching made more than enough sense! A 'city' on a hill that was fortified to hell, some prick invoking Apollo-type shenanigans to fire attacks at people from safety, and all of that nonsense being up on a hill as some idiot charged toward suicidally? It was more than concidence, and something in his gut told him so as memories began to flood back...ones both good and bad alike. At this point, a connection of sorts was clear as crystal to him.
"The oversized sheep. The sunlight arrows. The castle walls seeming a bit different. Everything set up on the top of a hill. Arrows goin' after the other guys without the archer havin' to aim, like they're guided toward em' like that prince asshat's were back in the day. That master is fiddlin' around with Apollo-type stuff over there for sure, then, and that castle might as well literally be Troy right now for all we know!"
Of all the things he had to run into in this war, of all the things he'd end up seeing so far from that place, and he got to see a recreation of what the others had described of the Trojan War before he'd arrived. It was poetic, in a sense, but his knee-jerk reaction to it all was to heartily laugh aloud from where he stood. Laugh at the irony of it all. Laugh at the tragedy of it all. That master back there might as well have been Paris all over again as far as he was concerned right now, but this time was wise yet scared enough to stay behind the walls this time to fire his arrows.
How could he not laugh aloud at it all? Ah, but it did get him thinking about things a bit more now too. Still, he worked to calm himself once more, running a hand through his hair before it returned to his bow, before taking a brief glance at his master to see her thoughts on the matter as well. His eyes would, thereafter, return to watching the unfolding battle once more to avoid missing anything.
Well, at least this time he wasn't stranded on some stupid, even if sacred to one of the gods, island.
Malfested - the term used to describe sapient beings who under go miasma corruption, are generally treated as monsters due to losing their sanity during this process. The extent depends on the person and how much miasma they were exposed to over time or at once, but they still can't be integrated into society as they cause rot and present the danger of further malfestation in their vicinity.
Unless they or someone else found a way to mitigate it. It is possible for a semi-malfested person to live a generally normal life, but just know that if they not careful they'll end up being hunted by reavers, adventurers, or executioners from the Holy Church. They also tend to stay away from populated areas.
As for Necromancy: it is considered a fell art that normal schools would never teach their students. It's possible that some schools would safe guard scrolls that detail how it works, so the knowledge is kept out of the wrong hands. Perhaps the guardians even feel that they would know how to not misuse the power, if the situation ever called for its need.
The Six Principles of sorcery can all be involved in the resurrection process in different ways: Elementalism and Alchemy in order to be able to physically reconstruct a decayed corpse, if you wish to be able to give orders to the corpse, Espermancy would be a good way to accomplish that. If you want the corpse to have more autonomy, an understanding of Galdr would benefit being able to rouse souls froom Spectral Realm.
For more of a metaphysical use, The concept of pulling souls and cursed spirits from layers of Heaven and Hell will need a person to use Thaumaturgy and understanding The Void. They also call these places Narakk'a and "The Pure Lands".
Fascinating! I suppose, then, that being healed of miasma 'quick enough' helps one avoid the changes miasma corruption then? Or would doing something like removing a malfested limb, if it was all that has been changed so far, also be a sort of viable measure to stemming a case and stopping its progression? A combination approach of such things, perhaps? Hmm...and for that matter, is there a 'threshold wherein someone can be saved from miasma corruption' that, once gone past, is a sure point for one turning into a monster or such things?
Beyond that, I wonder if anyone could, hmm, have 'partial necromancy' applied to them in a sense. I mean something like a limb dying or rotting away, and then the necromancer uses Thaumaturgy to block infection spread but uses a necromantic approach to 'save' the limb and keep it attached to the living body. Or, perhaps, taking a dead limb and attaching it to the body of a living person like a graft to replace a lost limb? Would such a thing be viable, and would something like a cool magical skeleton arm be possible, or would it be stupid/dangerous or otherwise not possible?
Though would there also potentially be a way to 'animate' a corpse or skeleton without the need of dredging up or conjuring a soul or cursed spirit for the job? Would a Galdr user, for example, be able to 'animate' it using a generic spirit of some kind or some sort of spiritual energy instead to turn it into a souless animated 'construct' perchance?
Ah, and thank you! I do enjoy the Q&A, its been thought-provoking! Though I have had a character idea or two come into my brain now, only one of those pertaining to the asked questions admittedly, but idk if any of them would be viable to submit or if I'd sound/look like an edgy (even if attempting to be quality with it or something) or just silly dunce. ^^;
I have supplementary material that I plan on adding here later, which will give a general understanding of what miasma is and the different ways it affects the world, without revealing too much of course.
As for necromancy, yes it does in fact exist in this setting, and there are different ways of imploring it.
Fascinating! I suppose in part I was wondering if someone could manage to withstand a partial corruption or transformation from it, at least from the sounds of things, or would have a reason to try to hide and contain it. Or maybe partly became a monster or something and is trying to hide it to avoid being killed. Etc. But at the same time, I will confess that was just a preliminary thought of sorts. Don't want to assume everything, or sound too crazy with any ideas for that matter.
Beyond that, how necromancy works sounds interesting as well if there are different ways of going about it. Or does it fall under a single school of magic, or multiple ones?
Er, apologies for the rambling and awkwardness on my part in the end here as well. Words and self-confidence aren't always my strong suits.... Admittedly I also saw the join status of the RP and have been feeling a fair bit tempted to ask to join after reading the rules. Definitely seems to be a well fleshed out world you've crafted here! I'm also trying not to overextend myself with RPs either, however, because ones like this get my imagination running a little bit thinking of potential character ideas and such. ^^;
@Crusader Lord fucking peak lmao And as a friendly reminder, Steph is a recycled MHA rp character. Do with that information as you will.
I shall.
***Uses the information to imagine Steph like a bogan version of the Dark Knight Trilogy Batman, with her shouting and punching guys and leaping from rooftops and decking Bane or something***
The poor grunt of Number Two felt his mind buckling in the direction of losing his mind under the oppressive atmpshere of the eldritch alien-speech filling his poor ears.....all as he could now barely see the demon-haired color of the person who gave him two black eyes and almost chocked him into unconciousness with her bare hands. This, this is not some child like the boss told him he might run into. Hell, he hadn't signed up for this! All he wanted was to get the paycheck, and then skip town tomorrow night to get out of Evig with his family! That was all, curse this blasted life! That was all he'd wanted this entire time, and getting on the boss' good side was just a blasted way to keep his job intact until he needed to go!
Hell, he'd take walking through Orre's rumored wastes at this rate....if he got out of this alive. He didn't know anything bout who the boss worked for anyways! Was all kept hush-hush to his ears and most of the grunts. What, did the bosses want liabilities in-...in....wait.
He knew something, maybe? Maybe. Better than getting left to rot in a bloody sewer or something as it was. Yeah. Screw those guys. He wanted out of this sitiuation and out of the stupid region altogether!
"I told yeh' tha' boss bin' keepin' it all hush-hush round' us grunts! Ell', I dunno nothin' much, but I erd' somefin' by chance. Erd' e's goin' ta' go teh' tha' bloody Shore Street Bar near tha' Sable Casino, week from now! Jussa' damn thin' ah' overheard las' night, no' sure it's much ta' go on!"
Some blood dribbled out of the right corner of his mouth as he choked out the words, the taste of iron already having filled his mouth from the beatdown by this point. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open, almost, not to mention decipher this mad sort of manner of speech he'd only ever heard from his sister in law. Lovely girl, his brother got lucky, but hell he'd had to get his brother ta' translate during their first meeting! Was a miracle he could understand a single word now, but bless her heart at least he could decipher something right now!
"Now, plase', let me bleedin' go fer' Arceus' sake! I'm jus' tha' f****** delivery guy grunt fer' cryin' out loud!"
A rough cough soon followed, red liquid and spittle trying to spill back into his airway due to how he was being held up so roughly by his, now itself mildly bloodstained, shirt collar.
((Somehow got inspired to write the above by this. Because I guess...my brain said so? XD))
"Ugh, kind of regretting my choice a little..." Nils murmured, raising a sleeve to his nose.
To say the least, the size of the Grand Glory Sewer Network was certainly....something of note indeed. But the smell was also just as bad, if not worse, than she'd expected as well. Sulfuric fumes of rotting decay filled her nostrils, a pungent and less than pleasant aroma that certainly made the stomach just want to turn down a less than welcome direction in one way or another. And the waters down here? It was not something she wanted to fall into by any stretch of the imagination, much less make contact with if she could. Nils' prior mention of taking a shower after all of this was, well, something she had at least already kept in mind for after this scenario if nothing else. That much she had come prepared for mentally, at least, if nothing else.
"We probably shouldn't split up, at least not very far."
"In-...Indeed."
She would agree verbally in the meantime, pulling out her Pokeball and releasing Sir Lopsalot next to her to also get an eye on the situation. Or, well, his two ears and such on the situation. Yet as the Buneary, clearly initially a little shocked at appearing where he did, put his tiny paws over his nose for a minute the psychic's eyes looked about them as the Pokedex began to ping off with information about the three kinds of Pokemon seemingly nearest them. Ratatta didn't much really interest her for the time being, but it was the other two that had caught her attention at the very least. Yes, she would-....would...
For a walking trash bag with legs and arms, she felt a small pang of guilt watching them avoid the Grimer like a plague. But it made sense, they had to keep the sewers clean and so forth. That was the purpose the foreign Grimer had been imported for, after all. Even so, though, she did want to get ahold of one of each of these Pokemon to get a look at what they were and their types and such. Dirty, discarded, usually avoided, and yet potentially a wild card to use as they went into the more natural areas. Poison was good against Grass, yes? So maybe that'd be helpful.
She would give an order to Sir Lopsalot, who had finally pulled down his paws after adjusting to the stink of the sewer and was looking around himself, to attack the nearest Alolan Grimer with a Power-Up Punch. The goal was to start battle fast, weaken it well and quick enough, and then try to capture it in one Pokeball! If she needed to weaken it more, though, she would quicklyy have Sir Lopsalot do so before tossing another Pokeball if that first attempt failed.
[Quick Catch Attempt: A-Grimer]
[quotNils]While Tors went to work, Nils cut a quick look at Clarissa. "...why did you want to come down here again, anyway? You mentioned something worth finding... Are you interested in pokemon like this?"[/quote]
"I...well, something about this place tells my instincts that something is down here. Unique Pokemon or the like that is."
She spoke to Nils in response in-between commands for Sir Lopsalot and using a Pokeball and such, depending on how the 'quick catch' of an Alolan Grimer went in the end. But she tried to find the words to articulate the thoughts in her head as best as she could regardless.
Indeed, her gut instincts told her something was down here.
"Places like this, people avoid them mostly as do many Pokemon from what I understand. It's dark here, but not like a cave or such, and is both manmade and in many ways unpleasant and harsh in its own way I think...any Pokemon living here might be just as unique, or different from what might be found in the park or elsewhere here in Grand Glory City."
And, well, the rest was perhaps a bit more peculiar if not rather embarassingly childish in her mind. Her father's parents, one set of her grandparents, lived in a place they described similar to this years ago back where her family had used to live. A place called 'The Under', once underneath Pyrite Town, which had been forcefully de-occupied and cut off from anyone's access. Cipher had operated down there, she'd heard, and that had made the place sketchy and dangerous as far as she understood it to some extent. The closest she could think of to such a place to try to get some idea about such a place, to see what some concept of what her grandparents had seen in even some distant manner to better grasp them, was...well...the sewers. Dark, urban, underground, etc.
...Yes, it was as close to somewhere back home as she could find as closer to herself as possible after their move, she supposed, in the end. A sewer of all places. But in that sense, being down in this stinky place was helping some small part of her relax far back there in her mind as well.
Not that she would have admitted any of that for the moment being. Indeed, lightly biting her lower lip the psychic focused on her efforts to catch that Alolan Grimer all the same.
"And if there's any Pokemon from before the city was made, or something crying down here alone in the dark, I want to find them, maybe, and-....and......"
She couldn't deny that bit, however, as it slipped out of her lips unintentionally and was cut off thusly thereafter as her words trailed off and she became aware of what she was letting loose.
It was the thought of Sir Lopsalot in her head that compelled her in part. Those memories of their first meeting. Those memories of what she'd felt that day more than anything she'd felt before. And if the crying was a Pokemon from before the city was built as well, then it knew-....ahem, it had some idea of what it was like to lose a home. Maybe. Or, perhaps, she was simply pushing such emotions off onto something else entirely in this latter sense.
...Clarissa went a bit silent after trailing off there. But whenever she managed to finally catch an Alolan Grimer, she'd try to push onward to assess Sir Lopsalot and then hunt down the nearest fleeing bag of trash that was avoiding the Alolan Grimer but not keeping as careful an eye on herself, Sir Lopsalot, Nils, and Tors. Yes. That would begin much the same, with a surprise Power-Up Punch command to Sir Lopsalot and then attempting another 'quick catch' of it with a Pokeball and such as she was initially trying with an Alolan Grimer.
She had to keep her mind on the tasks before her. Yes. Mentally and outwardly alike. She...she couldn't afford to get too distracted. They had just begun their journey, after all, her and Sir Lopsalot alike. Also Nils and Tors too, really, and Amelia and the others.
((Only if she feasibly would get the chance to do this 'additionally' after the Alolan Grimer quick catch:
[Additional Quick Catch Attempt: Trubbish]
But if it isn't ok or feasible, then she can try it next post. All is chill!))
Xaltwind
Savo
Tortoise
AtomicNut
Sigma
Spiffy
Ariamis
Animal
Neziul
Shifter_Master