Franco

IC: "Uhgreed, ol' sport. Ah have had stranga bed-fel-lows, though," he said with a chuckle, the drawling of the idiom providing it literal substance beneath the figurative surface. "When Ah'm not with mah pals, Ah've bin known ta take desprit meazuhs." "Desperate measures?" "B'friendin' a lil' ol' birdie bah th' name o' Onua."

IC: Gavarm knew uncertainty like the blood seething in his skull. Rynekk was correct: the possibility that Gavarm could've saved Kol haunted the colonel to this day. Yet Kol was only the half of it. The flip side of the coin was the incontrovertible reality wherein he had consciously betrayed another friend, a truth that persisted like ice in his marrow. That, though, was not a story he could tell Rynekk about. In fact, Gavarm wondered, could he ever tell anyone? Would there be a day when he'd be able to confide in a companion possessing true loyalty and discretion? Yes, but that day was not today. "Yeah," Gavarm agreed at last. "Fact is, though, Ah still got mah own buncha chuckleheads," he said with a grin, thinking of his squadron, "an' that's bettah 'n just them questions, durned if it ain't." I nod and track Thok. He's moving, farther than the Abettor and in an unmapped area. Only place on the island I didn't map. Mata H. Nui. "They're in the Vault."

IC: Gavarm did not grin. "Ah'm sorreh, too."

IC: Cero heard the rain before he felt it, pitter-pattering into the baked soil and rocking it beneath his robed soles, but he did not move. It permeated his bandages, soaking his keloid tissue; still, he refused to leave. Then he heard the shout of thunder. He opened his eyes, sprung from his stance, and sprinted for the gate on his aching muscles. When it rained in the desert, he reflected, it poured; even when the precipitation stopped, the deluge would be fierce enough to keep him out of the route. He'd just hang out in the gate and see the water rise. He was back early as soon as the rains stopped. Returning to the same place, Cero was hard-pressed to tell a difference. The only remnants of the flash flood were some puddles. In his eyes, that was just as great a miracle as rain in the arid route. That appreciation in mind, he resumed his practice- -And promptly was thrown out of his meditation when a lusty croak exploded into his ears. If he didn't know better, he'd think his peace of mind wasn't the only thing ruptured. Cero jumped out of his exercise and swung his gaze in the direction of the uproar. He summoned Aridez in the same motion and spun up a sandstorm. One never knew, after all, with these sounds; if the noise in this instance was caused by a sensible being, the Hippopotas' endearing features would mollify it. Otherwise, Aridez would fight. The chunky Tympole with the frolicsome expression and the moist body was something that elicited the latter response. Comprehension surfaced in Cero's brain. First, he answered the "Why?" inherent in the existence of a Tympole in the desert: Seismitoads in arid settings came up from their burrows only to eat, absorb water, and mate at the rare occasion of rain. All other questions answered, he moved to finding a solution. The Tympole would only call again--as if on cue, it set his ears ringing with another sonorous Hyper Voice--but Ground wouldn't do well against Water. He nearly called an execration upon his own head for the choice. He had forgotten about the Seismitoads and acted on reflex; combined, they had cost him time. However, Cero thought as his mind dawned on an epiphany, they haven't cost me effectiveness. He retrieved the Hippopotas in exchange for Sombra. Then he ordered the Cacnea to attack and watched the results. The Tympole was prepared as soon as a Seed Bomb flew for its rugged body, setting up an Aqua Ring to keep in good shape. As its foe's projectiles thickened, it countered with Supersonic and Hyper Voice. Yet not one of the Tadpole Pokemon's defensive strikes landed. In the sandstorm Aridez had generated, Sombra was just another blur. None of the Tympole's valiant efforts, hindered by inexperience as they were, could cope with her Sand Veil-granted furtive movement and it eventually slumped after a thorough seed bombardment. Cero captured the former nuisance with ease and returned his victorious warrior to her dormancy with a nod. He watched the sandstorm peter out idly, wondering at how the east wind scythed down the little phenomena of grit and air. Then he patted his ears to ensure they were not bleeding and, finding them ringing but lacking substantial damage, sat down and began to wipe the wet clay spattered by the battle off his robes. How pleasant a day. OOC: Nickname: Rocío Species: Tympole Trainer: Cero Gender: Male Appearance: Rocío is an average Tympole but for its prodigious size, being about a quarter larger than other members of his species. Personality: Rocío's a rather gregarious Pokemon, always seeking the company of new friends, which leads him to sing often and with feeling. However, he's not self-aware and his carelessness leads him to ignorance of many of his circumstances. Ability: Water Absorb Specialty: His mass helps him to cushion blows. It also allows him capacity to store water for spitting and air for singing. Known Moves: Refresh (egg move), Earth Power (egg move), Hydro Pump, Supersonic, Aqua Ring, Hyper Voice EXP: 1 (caught)

Just so I don't mess things up with one of my characters, but Electricity involves lightning yes?Yes.

Heat is ubiquitous and flame, in this game, is used more than in canon for cooking purposes and warmth and light. Meanwhile, creating an element to manipulate is still an additional step costing additional time and elemental energy. Lava and magma have only been elementally wielded by Fire and Earth/Stone in tandem. However, some Anzaros may manipulate lava and magma.

Not necessarily, for Fire controls heat. Fire has advantages beyond being more readily available.

The Kiril is banned. The sole staff-approved exception is owned by Mars.

IC: Cero didn't much like Kalos. Maybe it was just that he thought the Prism Tower was gaudy. Maybe it was just that he disliked the atmosphere of Lumiose City. Maybe it was just that he didn't like people. For now, though, he had resolved to make the best of his unpleasant situation and the choices that had led to it by finding what he did like about Kalos. One such thing was Route 13. Although it connected a port and populous Lumiose, Cero knew it to be unpopular for leisurely travel and garish clothing for its inhospitable environs. Its charm did not lie solely in its lack of irksome personal interaction and ostentation, however; more specifically, what he supposed he liked about the route was its loveless quality. The only things that lived here were the only Pokemon who could in the region of the aesthetic, ones who had never known anything but this land. He was fixated on that fact. He casually wondered if he had ever known a life other than his own. Cero did not waste time while pondering, of course. That question would be answered in due time. There were a few steps he had to take before that time would be his. First, he transferred himself onto the side of said route. He could not attract attention. Second, he entered the horse stance. He had a duty to maintain his health. Third, he closed his eyes. He was putting on blinders, sharpening his perception with his other senses to transcend his body and enter the sooty air and ground of the color of blood. He was obligated to know of the world around him and its inhabitants in all possible ways. Fourth, he waited. Cero was nothing if not a self-improving man. OOC: Cero is open for interaction.

Guess who's dead to me, ingrate. We were to further the cause of crustaceans together, but noooo, you're cold as ice and willing to sacrifice our love... Speaking of the Ussalry, there should be some exciting stuff coming to Onu-Wahi soon. I advise all keep their eyes peeled.

Woah, Nellie. Anyway, let me offer a few words that haven't already been said here: one, good job to all--I know of several other good submissions and I believe each would bring their own nuances to the selection--and two, Ussalry for the winnings.

Well that makes a lot more sense now. I've always liked that Ambages' title is "Hand of the Akiri."

IC: "Eeyup. An' yet there ain't a singul word 'bout mah pal Kol."

IC: "Not yet," Gavarm said, smiling. "Jes' a pair o' blue ahs, starin' outta th' dark...and a spahk in Goolu's back, stuck there bah a zombie." "Things went south pretty darn quick, let me tale you. Sulov an' ah shot b'low th' ahs and Deputy Kol Uskey led th' others in chargin' the zombies--Goolu turned soon as he dahd, ya see." He grinned. "Not bad for how we started out, yeah?" His grin dissipated and he shook his head as his sword lunged. "Un-for-tu-nate-ly, a new recruit was there, a slaht complicashun. That was all Hiemalis needed. "In a minute, he'd trapped mosta us in ahce and kidnapped Kol," Gavarm recommenced, "Ah took Kol's place, but no one celebrated much even when we got back; we were too busy preparin' ta follow him." "A few days later, when Sulov was exahled and our hope o' vengeance was deader 'n a doornail, Ah'm reading th' daily when a headlahn catches mah ah. Turns out ol' Hiem had up and attacked th' Ta-Koro Hospital and th' Ta-Koronans had ta bring it on his head," he went on. "The good ol' boy was in custody. Ah thought it was ovah." The relief in his voice fell away again. "That was 'bout when Hiem decahded he wanted out and excaped with jes' the halp o' Dorian Shaddix an' Heuani-," Gavarm took a small, barbarous pleasure in spitting the name into the face of his opponents, "-killin' twalve soljas. He even joined th' assault on Pala-Koro." Gavarm paused, thinking of how to word his next comment while his blades swept to parry. "He seemed durn near invincible. "Whale, guess what? Th' otha day Ah was sitting at mah desk in th' Ussalry HQ, mahndin' mah own bizniz, when Sulov Maru walks in with Hiemalis slung ovah his shoulda. Lahk a mahi!," he said with a little yuk. "He ain't excapin' now, not in Karzhani. "Th' point being, though, we faced him first. If not fer us and them Ta-Koronans, who knows where he'd be? Sulov Koskium reported on th' mess in th' mahn so Sulov Maru could beat his lil' tush, way Ah see it," Gavarm concluded.

IC: "Alraht, Ah'll tale ya both th' stories," Gavarm determined, unruffled and yet grinning in spite of the war zone about the conversing pair's bodies. Between the conversation and the melee, he couldn't be happier. He also felt the stranger's listening. The possibility that this endeavor could aid the proving of his hypothesis did not escape him. "One day, back 'fore them Maru kilt th' Makuta, Ah was takin' a raht load off with mah buddies 'n front o' Whenua's place an' waitin' fer a mission. Us-sal-ry Seventh Squadron, Ah was, under good ol' Lieut Sulov Koskium. Them's th' days," he reminisced happily. "That was 'xactly when a mahner came along, derned ifn't he did." Gavarm continued with a nod. "Name's Goolu, sez there's somethang lookin' lahk one spooky lil' Toa freezin' up his mahn an' killin' his frands. Goolu wants halp. "Sulov can't say no. We sad-dul up and git goin' afta Goolu fer th' mahn, git there on tahm an' start in-ves-ti-gat-in'." Gavarm paused, letting tension simmer. "We fahnd Goolu's frands, alraht, deader 'n a doornail an' frosty," Gavarm resumed. "That's not all we fahnd." He paused once more, making sure the Toa was following.

IC: "Capshud? That musta been somethang," Gavarm remarked, adding his own chuckle to the mix while thrusting. "Heard o' mah faht with Hie-mal-iz?"

IC: "Oh? Do tale."

IC: Gavarm did so enjoy colloquy. Unfortunately for any chinwag, though, he had long ago found that fighting was more to his taste than face-to-face conservation. He'd just have to hope his company was sufficiently pulchritudinous to make eye contact worth the wait. "Th' game's decent, ol' sport," Gavarm agreed with a light grin, sword and axe blurring as he cut away.

IC: I want to smirk. I want to stage-whisper, "Hey now, Saporta, let's not make anyone jealous." I want to wink sportively at Leah, letting her into the joke. Yet there's work to be done. I can't waste time or distract the team. I playfully knuckle him in the shoulder. It's enough.

IC: "...The guard's good? We're done here," Reordin concludes easily. His anger's gone away, he's just dull now. He opens the door, making to head off. "To Jaller and the others. How about not wandering, big guy?" I agree. I'm not wandering when I step directly behind Reordin and extend my arms around him. He turns back, eyes and mouth configured like my nephew with a new toy, sighing theatrically. Looking good and playful again. There's more. There's relief. Six months without this hasn't been good for either of us. It's a weight too heavy to lift. "Sulov, I'm down for a cuddle. Just make sure there's something left for Leah-" I grab Reordin and pluck him from the floor, rotating his body to settle between my arms and chest. "You won't have much left of that leg if you keep stressing it," I tell him. The bridal carry keeps the wound more elevated than the fireman's and the pressure my hand applies slows the bleeding. Let's go. The hospital's busy as the HQ. When the critical patients are set, I pass a doctor Reordin and fifty widgets and indicate the gash. I find a corner and plank until she's done, then lead him to the others. Oreius is holding up. Leah's fine. Korero's OK. I feel Reordin's little grin, his swagger come back. The weight's lifted. 2/2 healed out of 2/2 goal.

I believe jamescax' Mahluk is ready to be interacted with.

We'll test that theory in Round Two.

IC: Gavarm's faith in Coryza had just been proven to have a rock-solid foundation. The colonel's face rose as he puffed out a smoke ring, the surrounding cacophony of bloodshed and struggle rushing from his ears to electrify his wire of a body. That was a familiar sensation, though. A small portion of his mind noted greater excitement than usual. Maybe, he wondered, it was his nostalgia. The stranger so beneficial to their plan moved and thought with a moxie that was so reminiscent of an old friend with a distinctive accent. Could the two be one and the same? Yes, Gavarm inevitably concluded, but he put a moratorium on his speculation. Now was the time to lose himself in other things than his hypotheses. Gavarm smiled. He spat out his cigar and chucked his hook onto the surface of Coryza's grim work. He'd learned from another old friend, one of quiet speech and loud thoughts, that a leader showed by doing. Now was the time to show and for his followers to ape his part, as determined by both the orders of his military clout and his unwritten dominance. He extracted his saperka and zipped across in the same moment. By the time he reached the blood-spattered deck of the enemy ship, he had produced an arming sword and a broadening grin. Then Gavarm began a quiet demonstration of the importance of each regarding those whom still thought it wise to ignore boarders.

IC: Naara raised an eyebrow. At once, the walls around her boredom dissipated and it flooded back in. Her mind, stagnant as her limbs had been, coursed into caustic mode in a matter of microseconds. Her expression remained ambiguous. "Dear girl, then I must apologize again. I did not know you couldn't tell walking from jogging. Perhaps an illustration of the first is in order." She promptly turned away and strode coolly into the village's throngs.