Hey everyone! Alright, here's the start-up to The Collection of Souls that you guys have been patiently waiting for! c:
Noone but me can post twice before everyone else has. Questions? VM me. Stick with it and I won't rag on you! Rules, plot and such are in the sign-up thread.
Noone but me can post twice before everyone else has. Questions? VM me. Stick with it and I won't rag on you! Rules, plot and such are in the sign-up thread.
The Collection of Souls: Soul City: The Soul Temple
Muse hummed under his breath, the soothing mix of natural warm air and conditioned cold hitting his scaled skin pleasantly through the opens windows. Beyond his gaze, Soul City shined in the sunlight, like a great mechanical behemoth just waiting to get up and block out the sky itself. He padded forward, clawed feet clicking on the polished stone floors in a rhythmic tune of learned habit. The Grovyle sighed as he heard the wooden door to his personal chambers slide open, and he turned. "Yes, what is it?" His voice was monotone but gentle, as if rarely used. Andy paused in the doorway, dish ears flicking towards his leader in an instinctual attempt to amplify his question. "I'm sorry to barge in, Muse, but there has been word from Section 8. They have heard whisperings of a massive slave uprising, large enough to pose a real threat." Muse chuckled, the sound like sandpaper rasping against grainy wood. "An uprising? Although I doubt their intelligence to do such a thing, I do not doubt their stupidity. Shall we consult the souls?" Andy nodded and bowed, the tip of his nose horn touching the cold black temple floor. "As you wish, friend." The Nidorino heard the other walk over, and repressed a jerk of surprise when a light hand landed on his forehead. He looked up from his bow, noting the soft smile on Muse's face. "You never have to bow to me, my brother. After all, one does not bow to an equal." Andy grinned, getting up from his uncomfortable position. "Thank you. Bowing really gets my back complaining," he whispered with a wink, and Muse smothered a laugh with a cough, turning to walking out of his quarters with his hands folded behind his back and his posture strict and authoritave. Andy followed, sharp nails lightly scratching the surface of the floor.
Section 8: The Wards: A Seedy Fighting Bar
Cruel talons dug deep into the flesh of his opponent, and he smirked in satisfaction as he heard the strangled scream of the Machamp. He dug harder, hanging on with his feet to one of the man's many arms and flapping his wings to confuse him. The behemoth of a Pokémon let out a low groan of pain, copper blood seeping from the puncture wounds in his arm. With a screech of victory, Samson went in for the knock-out blow, jabbing at the struggling Pokémon’s tree trunk of a neck. For a moment, the man went still, pupils shrinking to pinpoints - and then, he took a step forward, crumbling to the ground just as Samson slid his talons out of the meat of his bicep and glided out of the way. A Gliscor flapped to the center of the dirt ring, counted under his breath, and let out a breathy yell of "He's out! Dove wins!" before going to the Leader's side. "Good going, Sam, you really showed 'im. Thinking he could take you on, honestly." Samson laughed good-naturedly, clicking his tongue against the rim of his beak. "Aw, thanks for the compliments, Ted. I wasn't fishin', but I'm grateful for 'em." The Gliscor blushed slightly, and turned nervous eyes away from his Leader. "Y-yeah, well, I better get Natt to help me get that giant up... I'll see you next week, right?" Dove nodded, wiping the sweat off his brow with a wing. "Yup, same time, same place as always. For now, I better head back to HQ - don't want them takin' over the place while I'm gone."
The Heart Guild: Heart: Headquarters
Jennifer slinked through the winding hallways of the Guild's headquarters, slipping into the shadows every time another member passed by. She didn't want to be seen - after all, then they would all question her, and she didn't want that. Her orange fur was smooth and slick back from her recent shower, and while she felt a little underdressed to be in the presence of the Leader, she told herself to push it to the back of her mind. The Floatzel finally made it to the doors of Dogu's chambers, and she took a deep breath, patting down any fur that had started to frizz, and licking her palm before smoothing down head fur. Alright, she could do this. Pushing open the door hesitantly, she called out, voice wavering at first but getting stronger by the second. "Hello? Leader? Are you in?"
The Rising: Outlands of The Wards: Deserted Area
Gavant sighed, tan fur warming under the sun's harsh rays. It burned his fresh wounds, but it dulled the pain in his leg, so it was a worthy sacrifice. He feels like he's flown for days, weeks, perhaps years, and the heat of the Outlands doesn't help his time perception. He sighs again, and immediately feels the worse for it. He should be strong, a leader figure, and yet he feels more like an unwanted prophet, only made to give orders to kill or be killed - but he must be vigilant, for if he gives up now than the Rising and the Enslaved will be for lost. He gets up, beating his wings once, twice, before rocketing into the sky and feeling the sweet relief of air beneath and above him, caressing him like a caring parent to a crying child. His band of escapees are only ants on a golden canvas of baking sand, and he almost whoops for joy, for this is the feeling he's missed in these long years in the 'lands, this feeling of belonging. Of peace.
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