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Description



     Lucky for Richter, he was already jaded to running through trees at high speed. He was used to clambering through canopy; Richter had been exposed to doing so as a child playing climbing trees, it was in his primal, treecko instinct. Before the days of harvesting grepa berries endlessly for the Sylvania family, Richter spent time climbing around on grepa trees and bushes. It was his own jungle gym; every treecko alive was instinctively partial to taking to trees. Little did Richter reckon that it would ultimately be necessary to him in situations like this, when he could hear Inrinara pacing beneath him on grassy ground, visciously taunted Inrinara.

     Certainly, the nuzleaf would never stoop so low as to try to resort to using healing methods; that was the only thing that stood in his mind. The lowly invader had stooped so low as to undermine his honest style of combat. It kept his feet going faster and faster. He lept to the side of a tree, then narrowly to another in order to climb higher to the rapidly moving richter. He lept off of a tree and did a reverse somersault, nearly striking Richter and urging the treecko to roll, so to evade<>. Richter stood, facing Inrinara for a few moments, catching his breath. Inrinara paced towards the treecko slowly. “Go ahead...eat another one of those berries like a coward.”

     “Naw...I've some friends who'd probably be more interested.” Richter cast the berry on the ground, causing it to bounce back up. From either side of the treeline, masses of yanma appeared, creating a loud buzz and a barrier between the two. Richter turned around and stuffed another berry in his mouth. “Seeyah ruhnd long-nose!” he mumbled loudly.

     Inrinara couldn't handle himself anymore, he darted along a tree, striking it and causing considerable damage to each tree he vaulted off. He lunged and grappled Richter, causing the two to fall under the canopy and to plummet downward towards the undergrowth. The two struggled to gain control, though Richter gained the upper hand clenched Inrinara's chest and drained the energy as fast as he could <>. He then reached for a grepa berry and placed it in the nuzleaf's mouth, overwhelming the pokemon with the bitter, fermented taste of the berry. Taking the opportunity to leave, Richter stood atop Inrinara midair and leaped up for a branch <>. “I can't save them all for myself!” and he coursed off along the tree branches.

     Richter thought he was safe, and he took a slower pace along the thick overgrowth. He felt the jostle of Inrinara catching footing on a branch, and twitched his head around to see just how pissed off stuck-up was. He shouldn't have. Another green ball, twice the size of the first one, was forming in front of the nuzleaf. “これを取る、あなたが雑種!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” and it let loose straight towards Richter<>, who only barely had enough time to leap up and dodge it. From there, the ball crashed into an enormous tree, causing an entire family of burmy and venipede to scuttle out and look at Richter infuriated. Richter stopped, facing down the multitude and realizing that he was at the wrong place during the wrong time. He bounded upwards and clawed up the tree so fast that bark chipped off into a fine dust.

     Richter pushed himself to his limit as he scurried up the enormous tree, more and more inhabitants came from the woodwork and pursued him. He got to the top of the evergreen and took in the hills for a moment, seeing the guild of Prinemport in the distance. It was pretty, but he realized that about 10 venipede were growling at him from below. Sliding down the rough bark of the tree wasn't an option, doing that would hurt profusely.

     He suddenly heard the intense hopping from tree to tree from Inrinara, causing many of the venipede to look down in horror as he burst through the top. His salvation came in the form of his enemy. It proceeded to grab Richter and suplex him backward, causing his scaly body to collide with several branches as the two raced downward. Inrinara then pursued him, jabbing at his body in stomps as the two suspended in air. “おれがかくされたちからだ !!!!” roared Inrinara as several, brown orbs of energy surrounded himself. The nuzleaf hurled them at Richter, causing the treecko to be propelled even faster at the placid (and thankfully quite deep) reservoir of the stream <>.

     Richter was underwater, water flowed into his lungs as he struggled to put himself afloat the presciently deep pool which he had descended into. Just as he began to paddle to the surface, Richter was grabbed by Inrinara on the edge of the pool. The treecko winced, breathing air heavily for a few moments before he was slapped by Inrinara <>. “Let's see you try to be crooked now, punk...” hissed Inrinara as another, green ball of energy flared up in his left palm <>...



     ----------------------------------------



     “Well now what?” whined Ulivier to Pascal as the two had set off about 2 minutes from the seedot stairs.

     “I think we were after a ghost type...and it had a necklace and a broach. Probably.” said Pascal in reply.

     “So you're implying that you're foggy about the details?”

     “Not at all.” Pascal was too occupied with running away from the seedot to remember exactly what happened.

     “Where did he go to?” Ulivier continued.”

     “I dunno.”

     “Well now what?! I wasn't paying attention to the details!”

     “Who's problem is that?!” Silence lingered.

     “Ours.” whimpered Pascal. The two stood silent as they scaled a log.

     “Alright...let's think about this logically, then.” began Pascal, trying to maintain a calm propriety. “We're boxed into this hill, which means that whoever had the bracelet couldn't have gone further than the inlet. If we just explore there then we'll be fine.”

     “Whats to say that we don't wind up at the start of the forest?” Pascal muttered pessimistically as he stumbled through a patch of leaves. Pascal had the advantage of floating. “Why are we even going this far? Can't we just turn around and avoid that boxer thingy?”

     “I'm...not sure, actually.” retorted Pascal, losing his momentum just as he had started to object. “A second meeting with him is more or less inevitable. When we do, we get our lights put out.” Ulivier nodded affirmatively in reply. “We might also win some favor with him if we do what he says...” Pascal laid low as he dodged a prickly, thorny arch of rosebushes.

     “And? What good will that do us? Its not like we live in Prinemport or anything.”

     “I'll tell you this much; it isn't pleasant living like a hermit and sleeping tied up to a willow...it gets chilly.” Pascal and Ulivier realized that they were under a sort of pathway, overgrown by roses everywhere.

     “Hey Pascal?” said the shelmet, hoping to alert his compatriot.

     “What.”

     “Are we in a garden?”

     Pascal looked around, realizing that there were remnants of artificial symmetry in the rosebushes. There was a circular mural mosaic of a red flower on the floor. “Probably.”

     “Cool.”

     the two continued, sometimes glancing and musing about what the aesthetic of the place could have been in its glory days.

     “We could also be lost;” said Pascal absentmindedly, “that might be a reason to keep going on.”

     “What?!” Ulivier suddenly turned, eyes wide and losing their natural, stoic slant “How are we supposed to get out?!?”

     “That's a piece of cake. We just follow the stream out of here. It was somewhere over...” The maze looked all the same. “Oh dear.”

     “Now What?!-”

     “Shut up!” said Pascal, annoyed by Ulivier's questions but simultaneously blessed by them, they yielded critical thinking from the Balloon. “We can solve this easily; all I have to do is float up and survey the forest from the canopy. Ulivier looked up.

     “But there are thorns on the ceiling,” Ulivier said. Pascal sighed.

     “Then we just have to find a clearing in the roses.” Pascal set off ahead, and Ulivier trotted quickly behind him. “It shouldn't be that difficult.”

     about 30 minutes passed.

     It was simply too hard to make sense of anything when one had no light (save for the supple rays which penetrated the rose ceiling) to discern where to go. At most, Ulivier and Pascal could only remember two turns before their previous navigation became all Greek to them. Further and further they went, with no opening in the thorny ceiling, no sound of a river, and no escape from the walls of green riddled with fragrant red flowers.

     The duo huffed for air, tired of walking nonstop for the past half an hour. Finally, Ulivier fell flat on his bevor. “Can we take a break?..I feel like we've been walking in circles.” Pascal looked up. Finally, they recognized the familiar rose mosaic on the floor of the maze.

     Pascal groaned in dismay. “Don't tell me that we've walked for an eternity to wind up back at square one!”

     “We did.” Ulivier said bluntly, misinterpreting slightly less blunt rhetoric.

     “I didn't ask for your stupid opinion!”

     “Since when am I stupid?!” asked Ulivier indignantly, “Aren't you the one who stepped into the maze first?”

     “I can't remember!”

     “My point exactly! We're probably gonna starve in here because of one of us!” continued Ulivier in a dirge.

     “Coming from the guy that couldn't even remember his own name!” righteously shouted Pascal, “and as to starving to death, I'm a balloon! they don't eat!”

     “Well...you'll go insane without any company!” between their acidulous accusations, the two suddenly heard a murmuring from the outcast end of the hall to their left. Pascal floated madly, chuckling like a deranged psychopath in glee;

     “THE EXIT!!!!!” he wailed in joy for the presence of the way out, though he couldn't see what lay at the end of the tunnel because of an ablative fog.

     “And like that the marbles are lost,” thought Ulivier to himself as he followed with disgruntled steps.

     Pascal zoomed, picking up velocity as the fog cleared less and less. He was free! He wasn't stuck in the maze any longer! He was-...in the middle of a clearing surrounded by more bushes. There was an open ceiling though,.

     But the drifloon forgot about this as he realized that the clearing was far from clear. It was chock full of fold-able, white wooden stools and seats, all facing towards the end of a brokenly maintained altar. There were statues of Celebi flanking either sides, carved in marble, dissolved. Pascal was particularly entranced by one statue, who stood open armed but with a face long evaporated by time. Pascal longed to see the desire of the embrace engraved on the face of the Celebi...all to no avail. The earth below him was mangled and littered with the occasional agaric, and he realized that the oblique fog still loomed in the room. Everything seemed extremely somber, a chandelier that was once festive and joyous stood in the center of the room, barely dangling and begging for better support from its rose vines. Standing in front of the altar was a green, vegetable humanoid, hands extended on the altar and occasionally slamming on its marble surface. He hadn't noticed the rabid cries of salvation from Pascal, and seemed preoccupied with something serene, though weighed down and desecrated by the faded atmosphere of the wedding chapel. Pascal approached further; he could smell a corrupted and mourning cologne on the Roselia's body; he could hear the whisperings of the somber sprout. “...Through life and death...though death did us part...” Pascal could notice the residue of tears on the little, black and vandalized eyes of the Roselia. His voice played like an untuned flute: “Please...tell me that you do...for my sake...” There laid 2 wedding rings woven from little red roses. Two Rings; not one.

     Pascal had gotten too close, and the Roselia suddenly jolted up to face his intruder, an ardent frown imprinted on his face. “Why?! Why are you here?!!?!” Pascal could sense the sudden bitter ferocity on the Roselia's tongue quake all over him. The corrupted dissonance of his voice scared the balloon and made him guilty to impeding the Roselia's mourning.

     “I'm Lost!”

     “SO AM I!!!” The roselia knocked half of the petals from both of his hands on the marble, destroying his hand as the Roselia groaned from the sting of pain. The grass type turned towards a slowly retreating ghost type. Cackling composedly in hysteria, he glared at Pascal. “We've...been engaged for 10 years...and Amber died 5 years ago!!! LET US BE WED IN PEACE!!!!” and at that the Roselia hummed lowly, firing a plethora of viper-teeth leaves. They radiated a sheen of purple and then flew towards Pascal <>. Pascal shrunk his body as miniscule as he could <> deflating and laying on the floor, lacking the air that sustained his afterlife.

     Ulivier grunted to himself as he looked inside of the wedding chapel, “See Pascal? This isn't an exit at- OH GOD!!” Ulivier was late to realize that Pascal was under attack, and saw him on the ground, quick to run towards him to somehow aid his right-hand man. Only moments later did he recognise that the roselia loomed over him, with his rosy palm extended towards Ulivier. There was a thorn at the bouquet's nucleus ready to fire. In a split second, Pascal reached out for a wedding stool, using it as a shield to protect them from the bullet of poison aimed right at the flesh of Pascal. It stuck halfway through, a hissing noise sounding as it corroded the painted mahogany of the stool <>.

     Ulivier clamped shut, and Pascal ballooned up to the hind side of the Roselia in a flank. Ulivier felt an instinct inside him to march toward the grass type without fear, and he abided by it. With his mask shut, Ulivier began to march steadily towards the roselia. His aggressor tried firing yellow powder <> poison bullets <>, and even tried sapping the life from Ulivier with tenacious green orbs <>. None of his tactics sufficed.

     “Get Ready, Pascal!” yelled Ulivier as he picked up the pace and roared lowly in a battle cry. Pascal nodded, inhaling deeply and expanding in preparation to strike where the Roselia would be only moments later. Ulivier roared in fury as he bashed himself into the groin of the roselia, sending him flying backward <> as Pascal yelled ear-piercingly loud, flaying the Roselia just as tenaciously and causing him to become dazed. <>

     “I-I'm sorry Amber! I'm sorry!” wailed the Roselia as he covered his face, timidly incapacitated to combat. As he propped himself up to hopefully block a fatal blow, the roselia stood surprised. His shock was not only to the lack of focus towards himself that Ulivier and Pascal shared, but also to the fringing horde of budew which now stood all around them. The roselia could smile; he had backup.

     “Kill them!” bellowed the Roselia, “They interrupted my wedding!!” he pointed towards bashful-faced Ulivier and Pascal. The horde budew then charged at the duo, but before the assault could be realized, the entire lot of them stopped and turned towards the entrance. There was a group of seedot assembled in the chapel's gateway. Nobody moved a muscle. All eyes were on the snail and the balloon shifted to Ulivier and Pascal.



     *lightbulb *



     “They're on our side!” yelled Ulivier at the top of his lungs. The budew and seedot turned around and assaulted eachother at full force.

     It was complete madness. The Roselia was now more concerned with fending off the horde of seedot than Ulivier and Pascal. The seedot struggled to offend the Ulivier and Pascal to no avail. The rest of the seedot and budew attacked each other furiously, some fainting the first time they were hit and all attempting to maul eachother into fine, vegetable pulps. They had different methods when it came to offending eachother. The budew harnessed the little combat training they learned in montessori to absorb energy from the seedot. The seedot were less graceful, simply ramming their bodies into the budew. A few clever ones used the chairs to their advantages, standing on top of them and pouncing on to those who had the lower ground. The truly bold locked their opponents and moonsaulted them. some shot up and careening towards the ceiling or walls from the impact of the clash. Some of the budew and seedot collided with the wall and punctured the rose maze, yelling in agony from all of the thorns that they implanted themselves with. The one thing that everyone had plenty of was tenacity; the troopers always stood back up ready to take another beating.

     When Ulivier and Pascal tried to back into a corner, a seedot and a budew charged at the duo in tandem. Just in time, Pascal had grabbed a statue of a celebi and bludgeoned the two in an arc, and they rolled backwards, colliding with and incapacitating 2 other seedot and budew which had tried to charge at them. Another 6 came, taken care of when Ulivier sprayed acid over them, causing them to instantly faint <>. It seemed like they would fare fine if they could capitalize off of the confusion between the two factions, but then...

     “What are you twats doing?!?!” yelled the roselia, instantly causing the group of confused combatants to stop and pay attention to the commanding grass-type. “You should be attacking them!” he pointed adamantly towards the shelmet and drifloon, who looked on sheepishly at the crowd as all of the budew and seedot shifted towards the duo with scowls on their faces. They yelled as they charged Ulivier and Pascal even more intemperately.



     *lightbulb *



     “Hold on to your ass!!” yelled Pascal as he wrapped his tendrils around a scared stiff shelmet. Pascal lifted up Ulivier with all of his might and flew upward, though he lost his balance and swerved forward. Ulivier was only an inch or so above the nucleus of the mosh pit, and sprayed acid everywhere out of anxiety <>, causing a good fraction of the group to faint. Once Pascal had regained his footing, he was able to expand and fly straight up, hovering above the chapel in triumph. “We did it! See you round, nerds!”

     Pascal's comment pushed the Roselia beyond off the edge; he was as far from a nerd that one could get (fabulous, to name the antithesis). He backed up and fired poison stings at machine gun speed towards the sky which the duo floated in <>. After doing so, he collapsed on the ground, next to his pair of rings, realizing that life was fading from him. With his last bit of energy, he reached for the altar and slid on his ring, coughing profusely in the process.



     “...I-I did it for you...we can be together...now...”



     He shut his eyes and let go consciousness, the blaring of acid encoated seedot became quieter and quieter. That would be the last time that Dalton Raphael Pewterpipe would ever faint.



     The flying duo was less sentimental; they had an innumerable supply of poison darts flying towards them. “MERDE!!!!” screeched Pascal as he minimized <> as small as possible to dodge the barrage. Not a single sting pierced either Pascal or Ulivier, but it the expulsion of air caused Pascal and his luggage to zoom off into another clearing by a stream. The landing wasn't pleasant; both pokemon were instantly overwhelmed with the agony of fall damage. But then, Pascal opened his suddenly feeble eyelids, he was conscious. He checked over himself, giggling exhaustedly as he realized that he hadn't sustained any debilitating injury beyond serious pain. His wholeness was enough to negate the agony. He darted towards Ulivier and pat his shell emphatically “On l'a fait!! Ulivier!! On l'a fait!!” he yelled, French accent blaring as he shook the shelmet from his sleep.

     “Shut up!” and with Ulivier's startling awakening, Pascal's burst of ecstacy had dissipated. Bummer. “What the hell are you even saying?” asked Pascal grumpily as he stood up and shook the dust off of himself. They looked at the peaceful clearing together, and became entranced by it. Something even more mystic than the excitement of a preserved body or the dismay of misunderstanding numbed the harsh pain. Even more uncanny was that the scenery itself wasn't what opiated Ulivier and Pascal.

     (Ulivier advanced to level 8. Ulivier learned bide.)



     -----------------------------------------------



     It was over. Emeril had nowhere left to go beyond the clearing which he now found himself in, and he had to stop. This wasn't to the misdreavus' detriment; there weren't any apparent hazards in the clearing. The grass stood tall, but was utterly absent of any wild pokemon, assumed because of how quietly and unabruptly it rustled. Emeril could praise the loot without worry.

     Emeril cackled lowly and spitefully as he prepared to observe his steal. Under his breath he mumbeled: “This can't be any better...who cares if I won't be able to pawn off all that other garbage in that rich chick's bag...this'll buy me enough loot to guarantee that I'll forge a spot in the mafia!” he admired how shiny and pristine the necklace was. “It's gonna be awesome...I'm gonna be able to stomp over that pancham b$%h like she's a pair of sandals, and everyone else! So much for Emeril the Terrible, once I show this to Papa Petruchio... I'm gonna be able to evol-” what was going to be a triumphant explanation was halted. Emeril looked ahead. A nuzleaf was about to shove an energy ball down a treecko's throat. To his left were those pokemon who tried to buzzkill his thievery. Was he trapped? Probably.

     All four of them were interrupted from their agendas, suddenly prescient to the presence of their thief. “Get b-back here with that necklace...Mr...” the shelmet collapsed, far too exhausted to try to apprehend the criminal. The treecko, however, escaped the grapple and flew across the stream like an acrobat. Emeril's only option was “H-hello, sir...” sheepishly whimpered Emeril as Richter paced closer to the misdreavus. “I don't believe I've seen you in these parts-”

     “I don't believe your malarkey, kid.” ironic; Richter wasn't particularly older than Emeril, but he had a tendency to act haughtily when it came to administering justice. “Lemme ask you something, pal,” Richter knelt down confrontingly, “Where were you an hour ago?” Emeril was completely speechless, lip quivering like a guitar string.

     “I-I was helping an elderly boufflant at the park over by second street-”

     “Mind explaining the necklace on your person?”

     Emeril paused. “This one?” he asked coyly, “It's nice, isn't it? I've been told that the beads are made of ethereal amethyst and-”

     Emeril was clenched like a baseball, and could feel life draining from him as Richter clasped his forehead <>. He laid down and sobbed, feeling the effects of a lack of unlife.

     “ I'm gonna go on a limb and say that your necklace looks like it's made of macaroni on first glance. I was askin' about the other broach with the arceus on it. Tell me about that one now and I won't steal more life from you-”

     “F-fine! I stole the broach from some idiot skitty!” Emeril continued to wail like a 3 year old deprived of a lollipop.

     “Give it to me.” Richter extended his claw in front of the misdreavus expectantly. Emeril was conscious to the request, but spurted crocodile tears in order to avoid giving Richter his broach. “Right now.” again, no response. “I'll make you give it to me, if you'd like.” said Richter, grasping Emeril by his beaded necklace and putting his fist back. The misdreavus dematerialized and scurried off, seeing an exit going up the stream.

     “NEVER!!” yelled Emeril hysterically, still enamored with his prized haul of a necklace. He got 5 meters before he slammed into the brown torso of Inranara, who's eyes flared as stun spore powder encoated every last bit of Emeril <>. With Emeril stuck in place and continuing to bawl, Inrinara approached Richter confrontingly.

     “Some opponent you are.” demeaned Inranara to Richter.

     “Why aren't you stopping that misdreavus?!” asked Richter

     “Why on earth did you take that distraction of mine as an opportunity to escape? This is perhaps the 7th time you've fought me dishonestly within a span of 20 minutes.” Inranari turned around to generate even more anger from Richter. “You aren't worth my time if you're that dishonest.”

     Richter growled lowly “I had places to be! That misdreavus over there stole someones broach!”

     “Why did you care if he stole a necklace, it isn't your problem. Last I checked you were sympathetic towards repulsive thievery because- ”

     “Because if I didn't you would be 5 steps ahead of me in catching him.”

     “Aha!” Inranara pointed smugly at Richter, indulging in the joy of checkmating his rival. “So you were vain enough to outdo me in something as menial as stopping a thief? I didn't think you were that pathetic. That makes how underhanded you are even more despicable. You were using them as a means to an end to try to avoid a chance to gain honor.” Inranara turned around and smartly went on: “The end justify the means only when used for a noble cause~. “ Richter wanted to object for his life, but he was too furious to; he simply stood there too weak to retaliate. “Furthermore, I wouldn't have cared in the slightest about arresting a thief outside of prinemportian law. But now I see it as necessary in order to trump you.” Inranari turned around and approached the misdreavus. “Go ahead and hand me that broach, infidel. I will turn you in and your stolen broach to its rightful own-” interrupted by Richter, who had pounced on stuck-up from behind, Inrinara rolled over and tried to defend the tackle and grab

     “Where'd you get your degree in teachin' philosophy, stiff neck?” spited Richter as he pinned Inrinara, “Besides It's my catch! I wanted to arrest him first!” said Richter as he rolled around in a heaping mess of a tackle with his rival nuzleaf.

     “Really now?!” retorted Inrinara under feeble grunts, “I have a greater moral fiber, I should hand him in! It shouldn't be left to a vainly motivated treecko who failed in vain to turn a ”

     “Vain?! Look who's talking, big-nose!”

     “DON'T EVER INSULT MY NOSE ON YOUR LIFE, CLOD!!!!!” Richter immediately regretted insulting a nuzleaf's nose at close range. He became subordinate under Inrinara's grasp soon after he provoked Inrinara.

     Fortunately for Emeril, the paralysis powder had worn off. It was time to make a run for it. He had reached the near edge of the clearing, about to float down the stream to Prinemport, but just as he reached its borders, he had made the mistake at glancing strayly (though directly) at the engraving of Arceus in the center. He was stunned momentarily, a pain coming from everywhere around him and yet nowhere at the same time.

     “...Move no further...” came a deep, demanding voice from nowhere. Emeril was coaxed to oblige, feeling an inescapable radiance assault him everywhere <>. Emeril was too overwhelmed to yell in pain, or collapse, he simply stood still in utter astonishment, confusing Pascal as to why he was so inactive. Nonetheless, Pascal and Ulivier took the advantage of Emeril's invisible snare as a chance to retrieve the broach. Pascal clenched it in his tendrils and the two hobbled down the stream back to return the broach, leaving a decimated misdreavus and two quarreling grass types behind...



     ------------------------------------------------



     Jane watched in awe as Tom Hannibal punched clean through a 2 foot piece of oak wood, causing it to split in half. Most of their lesson had consisted of demonstrations of a similar manner: the hitmonchan would perform a paragon feat while the skitty would watch on, attempting to attain that level of competence through fundamentals.

     “Howdya do that?” Jane asked in a cheerful chirp.

     “It's not exactly high science if you practice enough; that's why I want you to give me 20 more tackles on those sandbags.” Tom pointed his glove towards the green bag, which was not only the smallest bag, but the lightest and easiest to tackle. In about 3 weeks, the skitty would be moved up to the yellow bag. Progress would be moderate, but that was why Tom practiced in front of Jane, so that he could instill a yearning for high achievement in the skitty. It was working for the most part, but Tom was versed enough to know that Jane would be out of gair after those 20 tackles. Jane was.

     The skitty collapsed on the floor, after which Tom chuckled warmly and approached his huffing student. “You did very well today.”

     “D-did I?!” yelped Jane.

     “Quite well, in fact.” Tom set the skitty up on her feet, after which the cat looked up towards her keenly. “I'll look forward to working with you again, Ms. Appolinarus.”

     Jane almost left at Tom's dismissal, but suddenly remembered: “Where'd my necklace go, Mrs. Hannibal?!”

     Tom looked down and hummed in reply, crossing his arms. “If my intuition is right, the two should be here just about...” Pascal and Ulivier came bursting through the clearing, both out of breath and Pascal fortunately with the broach in hand. “Now.” Tom Hannibal chuckled.

     “W-we're sorry that it took...so long.” grunted Ulivier, very tuckered out from walking: an maneuver not meant for shelmet.

     “No worries,” said Tom happily, “You came right on time for Ms. Appolinarus' lesson to be finished.” Pascal lethargically lurched the broach towards Jane, who was elated to see that her possession was back in her hands.

     “Thank you!” twittered Jane gladly as she started to walk away down the same path to Tom's clearing. “It was cool training with you, Mr. Hannibal! See you Thursday!”

     “Yes! Take care and make sure to never trust strangers again!” said Tom, hoping that his wisdom would shine through to the skitty. Chances were that Jane would take the adage to heart: Tom was the coolest hitmonchan around, after all!

     Ulivier and Pascal watched the skitty fly by as well, though turned to Mr. Hannibal afterwards. “Are we free to go, now?” asked Pascal in between tired breathing.

     “Absolutely not.” The two of them froze, their hearts skipping several beats out of anticipation for being pummeled “I've still got to give you my end of the deal.” Ulivier and Pascal groaned in dismay. Tom laughed.

     “Wait” said Pascal, more intrigued than scared, “...since when did you promise us something in return?”

     “Isn't it common courtesy to give back to someone who just went through hell to meet your expectations?” after a pause, the two nodded at Tom's smooth reasoning.

     “What do we get?” asked Ulivier.

     “Answers!”

Description



     Lucky for Richter, he was already jaded to running through trees at high speed. He was used to clambering through canopy; Richter had been exposed to doing so as a child playing climbing trees, it was in his primal, treecko instinct. Before the days of harvesting grepa berries endlessly for the Sylvania family, Richter spent time climbing around on grepa trees and bushes. It was his own jungle gym; every treecko alive was instinctively partial to taking to trees. Little did Richter reckon that it would ultimately be necessary to him in situations like this, when he could hear Inrinara pacing beneath him on grassy ground, visciously taunted Inrinara.

     Certainly, the nuzleaf would never stoop so low as to try to resort to using healing methods; that was the only thing that stood in his mind. The lowly invader had stooped so low as to undermine his honest style of combat. It kept his feet going faster and faster. He lept to the side of a tree, then narrowly to another in order to climb higher to the rapidly moving richter. He lept off of a tree and did a reverse somersault, nearly striking Richter and urging the treecko to roll, so to evade<>. Richter stood, facing Inrinara for a few moments, catching his breath. Inrinara paced towards the treecko slowly. “Go ahead...eat another one of those berries like a coward.”

     “Naw...I've some friends who'd probably be more interested.” Richter cast the berry on the ground, causing it to bounce back up. From either side of the treeline, masses of yanma appeared, creating a loud buzz and a barrier between the two. Richter turned around and stuffed another berry in his mouth. “Seeyah ruhnd long-nose!” he mumbled loudly.

     Inrinara couldn't handle himself anymore, he darted along a tree, striking it and causing considerable damage to each tree he vaulted off. He lunged and grappled Richter, causing the two to fall under the canopy and to plummet downward towards the undergrowth. The two struggled to gain control, though Richter gained the upper hand clenched Inrinara's chest and drained the energy as fast as he could <>. He then reached for a grepa berry and placed it in the nuzleaf's mouth, overwhelming the pokemon with the bitter, fermented taste of the berry. Taking the opportunity to leave, Richter stood atop Inrinara midair and leaped up for a branch <>. “I can't save them all for myself!” and he coursed off along the tree branches.

     Richter thought he was safe, and he took a slower pace along the thick overgrowth. He felt the jostle of Inrinara catching footing on a branch, and twitched his head around to see just how pissed off stuck-up was. He shouldn't have. Another green ball, twice the size of the first one, was forming in front of the nuzleaf. “これを取る、あなたが雑種!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” and it let loose straight towards Richter<>, who only barely had enough time to leap up and dodge it. From there, the ball crashed into an enormous tree, causing an entire family of burmy and venipede to scuttle out and look at Richter infuriated. Richter stopped, facing down the multitude and realizing that he was at the wrong place during the wrong time. He bounded upwards and clawed up the tree so fast that bark chipped off into a fine dust.

     Richter pushed himself to his limit as he scurried up the enormous tree, more and more inhabitants came from the woodwork and pursued him. He got to the top of the evergreen and took in the hills for a moment, seeing the guild of Prinemport in the distance. It was pretty, but he realized that about 10 venipede were growling at him from below. Sliding down the rough bark of the tree wasn't an option, doing that would hurt profusely.

     He suddenly heard the intense hopping from tree to tree from Inrinara, causing many of the venipede to look down in horror as he burst through the top. His salvation came in the form of his enemy. It proceeded to grab Richter and suplex him backward, causing his scaly body to collide with several branches as the two raced downward. Inrinara then pursued him, jabbing at his body in stomps as the two suspended in air. “おれがかくされたちからだ !!!!” roared Inrinara as several, brown orbs of energy surrounded himself. The nuzleaf hurled them at Richter, causing the treecko to be propelled even faster at the placid (and thankfully quite deep) reservoir of the stream <>.

     Richter was underwater, water flowed into his lungs as he struggled to put himself afloat the presciently deep pool which he had descended into. Just as he began to paddle to the surface, Richter was grabbed by Inrinara on the edge of the pool. The treecko winced, breathing air heavily for a few moments before he was slapped by Inrinara <>. “Let's see you try to be crooked now, punk...” hissed Inrinara as another, green ball of energy flared up in his left palm <>...



     ----------------------------------------



     “Well now what?” whined Ulivier to Pascal as the two had set off about 2 minutes from the seedot stairs.

     “I think we were after a ghost type...and it had a necklace and a broach. Probably.” said Pascal in reply.

     “So you're implying that you're foggy about the details?”

     “Not at all.” Pascal was too occupied with running away from the seedot to remember exactly what happened.

     “Where did he go to?” Ulivier continued.”

     “I dunno.”

     “Well now what?! I wasn't paying attention to the details!”

     “Who's problem is that?!” Silence lingered.

     “Ours.” whimpered Pascal. The two stood silent as they scaled a log.

     “Alright...let's think about this logically, then.” began Pascal, trying to maintain a calm propriety. “We're boxed into this hill, which means that whoever had the bracelet couldn't have gone further than the inlet. If we just explore there then we'll be fine.”

     “Whats to say that we don't wind up at the start of the forest?” Pascal muttered pessimistically as he stumbled through a patch of leaves. Pascal had the advantage of floating. “Why are we even going this far? Can't we just turn around and avoid that boxer thingy?”

     “I'm...not sure, actually.” retorted Pascal, losing his momentum just as he had started to object. “A second meeting with him is more or less inevitable. When we do, we get our lights put out.” Ulivier nodded affirmatively in reply. “We might also win some favor with him if we do what he says...” Pascal laid low as he dodged a prickly, thorny arch of rosebushes.

     “And? What good will that do us? Its not like we live in Prinemport or anything.”

     “I'll tell you this much; it isn't pleasant living like a hermit and sleeping tied up to a willow...it gets chilly.” Pascal and Ulivier realized that they were under a sort of pathway, overgrown by roses everywhere.

     “Hey Pascal?” said the shelmet, hoping to alert his compatriot.

     “What.”

     “Are we in a garden?”

     Pascal looked around, realizing that there were remnants of artificial symmetry in the rosebushes. There was a circular mural mosaic of a red flower on the floor. “Probably.”

     “Cool.”

     the two continued, sometimes glancing and musing about what the aesthetic of the place could have been in its glory days.

     “We could also be lost;” said Pascal absentmindedly, “that might be a reason to keep going on.”

     “What?!” Ulivier suddenly turned, eyes wide and losing their natural, stoic slant “How are we supposed to get out?!?”

     “That's a piece of cake. We just follow the stream out of here. It was somewhere over...” The maze looked all the same. “Oh dear.”

     “Now What?!-”

     “Shut up!” said Pascal, annoyed by Ulivier's questions but simultaneously blessed by them, they yielded critical thinking from the Balloon. “We can solve this easily; all I have to do is float up and survey the forest from the canopy. Ulivier looked up.

     “But there are thorns on the ceiling,” Ulivier said. Pascal sighed.

     “Then we just have to find a clearing in the roses.” Pascal set off ahead, and Ulivier trotted quickly behind him. “It shouldn't be that difficult.”

     about 30 minutes passed.

     It was simply too hard to make sense of anything when one had no light (save for the supple rays which penetrated the rose ceiling) to discern where to go. At most, Ulivier and Pascal could only remember two turns before their previous navigation became all Greek to them. Further and further they went, with no opening in the thorny ceiling, no sound of a river, and no escape from the walls of green riddled with fragrant red flowers.

     The duo huffed for air, tired of walking nonstop for the past half an hour. Finally, Ulivier fell flat on his bevor. “Can we take a break?..I feel like we've been walking in circles.” Pascal looked up. Finally, they recognized the familiar rose mosaic on the floor of the maze.

     Pascal groaned in dismay. “Don't tell me that we've walked for an eternity to wind up back at square one!”

     “We did.” Ulivier said bluntly, misinterpreting slightly less blunt rhetoric.

     “I didn't ask for your stupid opinion!”

     “Since when am I stupid?!” asked Ulivier indignantly, “Aren't you the one who stepped into the maze first?”

     “I can't remember!”

     “My point exactly! We're probably gonna starve in here because of one of us!” continued Ulivier in a dirge.

     “Coming from the guy that couldn't even remember his own name!” righteously shouted Pascal, “and as to starving to death, I'm a balloon! they don't eat!”

     “Well...you'll go insane without any company!” between their acidulous accusations, the two suddenly heard a murmuring from the outcast end of the hall to their left. Pascal floated madly, chuckling like a deranged psychopath in glee;

     “THE EXIT!!!!!” he wailed in joy for the presence of the way out, though he couldn't see what lay at the end of the tunnel because of an ablative fog.

     “And like that the marbles are lost,” thought Ulivier to himself as he followed with disgruntled steps.

     Pascal zoomed, picking up velocity as the fog cleared less and less. He was free! He wasn't stuck in the maze any longer! He was-...in the middle of a clearing surrounded by more bushes. There was an open ceiling though,.

     But the drifloon forgot about this as he realized that the clearing was far from clear. It was chock full of fold-able, white wooden stools and seats, all facing towards the end of a brokenly maintained altar. There were statues of Celebi flanking either sides, carved in marble, dissolved. Pascal was particularly entranced by one statue, who stood open armed but with a face long evaporated by time. Pascal longed to see the desire of the embrace engraved on the face of the Celebi...all to no avail. The earth below him was mangled and littered with the occasional agaric, and he realized that the oblique fog still loomed in the room. Everything seemed extremely somber, a chandelier that was once festive and joyous stood in the center of the room, barely dangling and begging for better support from its rose vines. Standing in front of the altar was a green, vegetable humanoid, hands extended on the altar and occasionally slamming on its marble surface. He hadn't noticed the rabid cries of salvation from Pascal, and seemed preoccupied with something serene, though weighed down and desecrated by the faded atmosphere of the wedding chapel. Pascal approached further; he could smell a corrupted and mourning cologne on the Roselia's body; he could hear the whisperings of the somber sprout. “...Through life and death...though death did us part...” Pascal could notice the residue of tears on the little, black and vandalized eyes of the Roselia. His voice played like an untuned flute: “Please...tell me that you do...for my sake...” There laid 2 wedding rings woven from little red roses. Two Rings; not one.

     Pascal had gotten too close, and the Roselia suddenly jolted up to face his intruder, an ardent frown imprinted on his face. “Why?! Why are you here?!!?!” Pascal could sense the sudden bitter ferocity on the Roselia's tongue quake all over him. The corrupted dissonance of his voice scared the balloon and made him guilty to impeding the Roselia's mourning.

     “I'm Lost!”

     “SO AM I!!!” The roselia knocked half of the petals from both of his hands on the marble, destroying his hand as the Roselia groaned from the sting of pain. The grass type turned towards a slowly retreating ghost type. Cackling composedly in hysteria, he glared at Pascal. “We've...been engaged for 10 years...and Amber died 5 years ago!!! LET US BE WED IN PEACE!!!!” and at that the Roselia hummed lowly, firing a plethora of viper-teeth leaves. They radiated a sheen of purple and then flew towards Pascal <>. Pascal shrunk his body as miniscule as he could <> deflating and laying on the floor, lacking the air that sustained his afterlife.

     Ulivier grunted to himself as he looked inside of the wedding chapel, “See Pascal? This isn't an exit at- OH GOD!!” Ulivier was late to realize that Pascal was under attack, and saw him on the ground, quick to run towards him to somehow aid his right-hand man. Only moments later did he recognise that the roselia loomed over him, with his rosy palm extended towards Ulivier. There was a thorn at the bouquet's nucleus ready to fire. In a split second, Pascal reached out for a wedding stool, using it as a shield to protect them from the bullet of poison aimed right at the flesh of Pascal. It stuck halfway through, a hissing noise sounding as it corroded the painted mahogany of the stool <>.

     Ulivier clamped shut, and Pascal ballooned up to the hind side of the Roselia in a flank. Ulivier felt an instinct inside him to march toward the grass type without fear, and he abided by it. With his mask shut, Ulivier began to march steadily towards the roselia. His aggressor tried firing yellow powder <> poison bullets <>, and even tried sapping the life from Ulivier with tenacious green orbs <>. None of his tactics sufficed.

     “Get Ready, Pascal!” yelled Ulivier as he picked up the pace and roared lowly in a battle cry. Pascal nodded, inhaling deeply and expanding in preparation to strike where the Roselia would be only moments later. Ulivier roared in fury as he bashed himself into the groin of the roselia, sending him flying backward <> as Pascal yelled ear-piercingly loud, flaying the Roselia just as tenaciously and causing him to become dazed. <>

     “I-I'm sorry Amber! I'm sorry!” wailed the Roselia as he covered his face, timidly incapacitated to combat. As he propped himself up to hopefully block a fatal blow, the roselia stood surprised. His shock was not only to the lack of focus towards himself that Ulivier and Pascal shared, but also to the fringing horde of budew which now stood all around them. The roselia could smile; he had backup.

     “Kill them!” bellowed the Roselia, “They interrupted my wedding!!” he pointed towards bashful-faced Ulivier and Pascal. The horde budew then charged at the duo, but before the assault could be realized, the entire lot of them stopped and turned towards the entrance. There was a group of seedot assembled in the chapel's gateway. Nobody moved a muscle. All eyes were on the snail and the balloon shifted to Ulivier and Pascal.



     *lightbulb *



     “They're on our side!” yelled Ulivier at the top of his lungs. The budew and seedot turned around and assaulted eachother at full force.

     It was complete madness. The Roselia was now more concerned with fending off the horde of seedot than Ulivier and Pascal. The seedot struggled to offend the Ulivier and Pascal to no avail. The rest of the seedot and budew attacked each other furiously, some fainting the first time they were hit and all attempting to maul eachother into fine, vegetable pulps. They had different methods when it came to offending eachother. The budew harnessed the little combat training they learned in montessori to absorb energy from the seedot. The seedot were less graceful, simply ramming their bodies into the budew. A few clever ones used the chairs to their advantages, standing on top of them and pouncing on to those who had the lower ground. The truly bold locked their opponents and moonsaulted them. some shot up and careening towards the ceiling or walls from the impact of the clash. Some of the budew and seedot collided with the wall and punctured the rose maze, yelling in agony from all of the thorns that they implanted themselves with. The one thing that everyone had plenty of was tenacity; the troopers always stood back up ready to take another beating.

     When Ulivier and Pascal tried to back into a corner, a seedot and a budew charged at the duo in tandem. Just in time, Pascal had grabbed a statue of a celebi and bludgeoned the two in an arc, and they rolled backwards, colliding with and incapacitating 2 other seedot and budew which had tried to charge at them. Another 6 came, taken care of when Ulivier sprayed acid over them, causing them to instantly faint <>. It seemed like they would fare fine if they could capitalize off of the confusion between the two factions, but then...

     “What are you twats doing?!?!” yelled the roselia, instantly causing the group of confused combatants to stop and pay attention to the commanding grass-type. “You should be attacking them!” he pointed adamantly towards the shelmet and drifloon, who looked on sheepishly at the crowd as all of the budew and seedot shifted towards the duo with scowls on their faces. They yelled as they charged Ulivier and Pascal even more intemperately.



     *lightbulb *



     “Hold on to your ass!!” yelled Pascal as he wrapped his tendrils around a scared stiff shelmet. Pascal lifted up Ulivier with all of his might and flew upward, though he lost his balance and swerved forward. Ulivier was only an inch or so above the nucleus of the mosh pit, and sprayed acid everywhere out of anxiety <>, causing a good fraction of the group to faint. Once Pascal had regained his footing, he was able to expand and fly straight up, hovering above the chapel in triumph. “We did it! See you round, nerds!”

     Pascal's comment pushed the Roselia beyond off the edge; he was as far from a nerd that one could get (fabulous, to name the antithesis). He backed up and fired poison stings at machine gun speed towards the sky which the duo floated in <>. After doing so, he collapsed on the ground, next to his pair of rings, realizing that life was fading from him. With his last bit of energy, he reached for the altar and slid on his ring, coughing profusely in the process.



     “...I-I did it for you...we can be together...now...”



     He shut his eyes and let go consciousness, the blaring of acid encoated seedot became quieter and quieter. That would be the last time that Dalton Raphael Pewterpipe would ever faint.



     The flying duo was less sentimental; they had an innumerable supply of poison darts flying towards them. “MERDE!!!!” screeched Pascal as he minimized <> as small as possible to dodge the barrage. Not a single sting pierced either Pascal or Ulivier, but it the expulsion of air caused Pascal and his luggage to zoom off into another clearing by a stream. The landing wasn't pleasant; both pokemon were instantly overwhelmed with the agony of fall damage. But then, Pascal opened his suddenly feeble eyelids, he was conscious. He checked over himself, giggling exhaustedly as he realized that he hadn't sustained any debilitating injury beyond serious pain. His wholeness was enough to negate the agony. He darted towards Ulivier and pat his shell emphatically “On l'a fait!! Ulivier!! On l'a fait!!” he yelled, French accent blaring as he shook the shelmet from his sleep.

     “Shut up!” and with Ulivier's startling awakening, Pascal's burst of ecstacy had dissipated. Bummer. “What the hell are you even saying?” asked Pascal grumpily as he stood up and shook the dust off of himself. They looked at the peaceful clearing together, and became entranced by it. Something even more mystic than the excitement of a preserved body or the dismay of misunderstanding numbed the harsh pain. Even more uncanny was that the scenery itself wasn't what opiated Ulivier and Pascal.

     (Ulivier advanced to level 8. Ulivier learned bide.)



     -----------------------------------------------



     It was over. Emeril had nowhere left to go beyond the clearing which he now found himself in, and he had to stop. This wasn't to the misdreavus' detriment; there weren't any apparent hazards in the clearing. The grass stood tall, but was utterly absent of any wild pokemon, assumed because of how quietly and unabruptly it rustled. Emeril could praise the loot without worry.

     Emeril cackled lowly and spitefully as he prepared to observe his steal. Under his breath he mumbeled: “This can't be any better...who cares if I won't be able to pawn off all that other garbage in that rich chick's bag...this'll buy me enough loot to guarantee that I'll forge a spot in the mafia!” he admired how shiny and pristine the necklace was. “It's gonna be awesome...I'm gonna be able to stomp over that pancham b$%h like she's a pair of sandals, and everyone else! So much for Emeril the Terrible, once I show this to Papa Petruchio... I'm gonna be able to evol-” what was going to be a triumphant explanation was halted. Emeril looked ahead. A nuzleaf was about to shove an energy ball down a treecko's throat. To his left were those pokemon who tried to buzzkill his thievery. Was he trapped? Probably.

     All four of them were interrupted from their agendas, suddenly prescient to the presence of their thief. “Get b-back here with that necklace...Mr...” the shelmet collapsed, far too exhausted to try to apprehend the criminal. The treecko, however, escaped the grapple and flew across the stream like an acrobat. Emeril's only option was “H-hello, sir...” sheepishly whimpered Emeril as Richter paced closer to the misdreavus. “I don't believe I've seen you in these parts-”

     “I don't believe your malarkey, kid.” ironic; Richter wasn't particularly older than Emeril, but he had a tendency to act haughtily when it came to administering justice. “Lemme ask you something, pal,” Richter knelt down confrontingly, “Where were you an hour ago?” Emeril was completely speechless, lip quivering like a guitar string.

     “I-I was helping an elderly boufflant at the park over by second street-”

     “Mind explaining the necklace on your person?”

     Emeril paused. “This one?” he asked coyly, “It's nice, isn't it? I've been told that the beads are made of ethereal amethyst and-”

     Emeril was clenched like a baseball, and could feel life draining from him as Richter clasped his forehead <>. He laid down and sobbed, feeling the effects of a lack of unlife.

     “ I'm gonna go on a limb and say that your necklace looks like it's made of macaroni on first glance. I was askin' about the other broach with the arceus on it. Tell me about that one now and I won't steal more life from you-”

     “F-fine! I stole the broach from some idiot skitty!” Emeril continued to wail like a 3 year old deprived of a lollipop.

     “Give it to me.” Richter extended his claw in front of the misdreavus expectantly. Emeril was conscious to the request, but spurted crocodile tears in order to avoid giving Richter his broach. “Right now.” again, no response. “I'll make you give it to me, if you'd like.” said Richter, grasping Emeril by his beaded necklace and putting his fist back. The misdreavus dematerialized and scurried off, seeing an exit going up the stream.

     “NEVER!!” yelled Emeril hysterically, still enamored with his prized haul of a necklace. He got 5 meters before he slammed into the brown torso of Inranara, who's eyes flared as stun spore powder encoated every last bit of Emeril <>. With Emeril stuck in place and continuing to bawl, Inrinara approached Richter confrontingly.

     “Some opponent you are.” demeaned Inranara to Richter.

     “Why aren't you stopping that misdreavus?!” asked Richter

     “Why on earth did you take that distraction of mine as an opportunity to escape? This is perhaps the 7th time you've fought me dishonestly within a span of 20 minutes.” Inranari turned around to generate even more anger from Richter. “You aren't worth my time if you're that dishonest.”

     Richter growled lowly “I had places to be! That misdreavus over there stole someones broach!”

     “Why did you care if he stole a necklace, it isn't your problem. Last I checked you were sympathetic towards repulsive thievery because- ”

     “Because if I didn't you would be 5 steps ahead of me in catching him.”

     “Aha!” Inranara pointed smugly at Richter, indulging in the joy of checkmating his rival. “So you were vain enough to outdo me in something as menial as stopping a thief? I didn't think you were that pathetic. That makes how underhanded you are even more despicable. You were using them as a means to an end to try to avoid a chance to gain honor.” Inranara turned around and smartly went on: “The end justify the means only when used for a noble cause~. “ Richter wanted to object for his life, but he was too furious to; he simply stood there too weak to retaliate. “Furthermore, I wouldn't have cared in the slightest about arresting a thief outside of prinemportian law. But now I see it as necessary in order to trump you.” Inranari turned around and approached the misdreavus. “Go ahead and hand me that broach, infidel. I will turn you in and your stolen broach to its rightful own-” interrupted by Richter, who had pounced on stuck-up from behind, Inrinara rolled over and tried to defend the tackle and grab

     “Where'd you get your degree in teachin' philosophy, stiff neck?” spited Richter as he pinned Inrinara, “Besides It's my catch! I wanted to arrest him first!” said Richter as he rolled around in a heaping mess of a tackle with his rival nuzleaf.

     “Really now?!” retorted Inrinara under feeble grunts, “I have a greater moral fiber, I should hand him in! It shouldn't be left to a vainly motivated treecko who failed in vain to turn a ”

     “Vain?! Look who's talking, big-nose!”

     “DON'T EVER INSULT MY NOSE ON YOUR LIFE, CLOD!!!!!” Richter immediately regretted insulting a nuzleaf's nose at close range. He became subordinate under Inrinara's grasp soon after he provoked Inrinara.

     Fortunately for Emeril, the paralysis powder had worn off. It was time to make a run for it. He had reached the near edge of the clearing, about to float down the stream to Prinemport, but just as he reached its borders, he had made the mistake at glancing strayly (though directly) at the engraving of Arceus in the center. He was stunned momentarily, a pain coming from everywhere around him and yet nowhere at the same time.

     “...Move no further...” came a deep, demanding voice from nowhere. Emeril was coaxed to oblige, feeling an inescapable radiance assault him everywhere <>. Emeril was too overwhelmed to yell in pain, or collapse, he simply stood still in utter astonishment, confusing Pascal as to why he was so inactive. Nonetheless, Pascal and Ulivier took the advantage of Emeril's invisible snare as a chance to retrieve the broach. Pascal clenched it in his tendrils and the two hobbled down the stream back to return the broach, leaving a decimated misdreavus and two quarreling grass types behind...



     ------------------------------------------------



     Jane watched in awe as Tom Hannibal punched clean through a 2 foot piece of oak wood, causing it to split in half. Most of their lesson had consisted of demonstrations of a similar manner: the hitmonchan would perform a paragon feat while the skitty would watch on, attempting to attain that level of competence through fundamentals.

     “Howdya do that?” Jane asked in a cheerful chirp.

     “It's not exactly high science if you practice enough; that's why I want you to give me 20 more tackles on those sandbags.” Tom pointed his glove towards the green bag, which was not only the smallest bag, but the lightest and easiest to tackle. In about 3 weeks, the skitty would be moved up to the yellow bag. Progress would be moderate, but that was why Tom practiced in front of Jane, so that he could instill a yearning for high achievement in the skitty. It was working for the most part, but Tom was versed enough to know that Jane would be out of gair after those 20 tackles. Jane was.

     The skitty collapsed on the floor, after which Tom chuckled warmly and approached his huffing student. “You did very well today.”

     “D-did I?!” yelped Jane.

     “Quite well, in fact.” Tom set the skitty up on her feet, after which the cat looked up towards her keenly. “I'll look forward to working with you again, Ms. Appolinarus.”

     Jane almost left at Tom's dismissal, but suddenly remembered: “Where'd my necklace go, Mrs. Hannibal?!”

     Tom looked down and hummed in reply, crossing his arms. “If my intuition is right, the two should be here just about...” Pascal and Ulivier came bursting through the clearing, both out of breath and Pascal fortunately with the broach in hand. “Now.” Tom Hannibal chuckled.

     “W-we're sorry that it took...so long.” grunted Ulivier, very tuckered out from walking: an maneuver not meant for shelmet.

     “No worries,” said Tom happily, “You came right on time for Ms. Appolinarus' lesson to be finished.” Pascal lethargically lurched the broach towards Jane, who was elated to see that her possession was back in her hands.

     “Thank you!” twittered Jane gladly as she started to walk away down the same path to Tom's clearing. “It was cool training with you, Mr. Hannibal! See you Thursday!”

     “Yes! Take care and make sure to never trust strangers again!” said Tom, hoping that his wisdom would shine through to the skitty. Chances were that Jane would take the adage to heart: Tom was the coolest hitmonchan around, after all!

     Ulivier and Pascal watched the skitty fly by as well, though turned to Mr. Hannibal afterwards. “Are we free to go, now?” asked Pascal in between tired breathing.

     “Absolutely not.” The two of them froze, their hearts skipping several beats out of anticipation for being pummeled “I've still got to give you my end of the deal.” Ulivier and Pascal groaned in dismay. Tom laughed.

     “Wait” said Pascal, more intrigued than scared, “...since when did you promise us something in return?”

     “Isn't it common courtesy to give back to someone who just went through hell to meet your expectations?” after a pause, the two nodded at Tom's smooth reasoning.

     “What do we get?” asked Ulivier.

     “Answers!”