Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jul 13, 2023 3:00:06 GMT 9
FreeformZONE A > ZONE D They’ve completed the objective, but Saint does not return feeling triumphant—no, if anything, the complete opposite.
“I fucked up,” he says, quietly, that realization that had grown as Moltres decried peace in favor of violence, the realization that had sprouted like a matchstick ember now trawling the skies as blinding spirits of flame, attacking Zapdos whose enmity towards humanity only grows with each passing second. This wildfire. The kindling had been Professor Ash’s word.
He had poured himself into his words, but it had done nothing, and was likely never meant to do anything at all. He could’ve kept his head down and his mouth shut and the result would have been the same: A war.
<I think you did alright,> Taiyaki says, ever the optimist, but it isn’t him or Gumball’s concerned honking that snaps Saint from his third meltdown in the past hour or so.
It’s at the sound of Silvermoon’s voice piercing the cacophony of battle, and the sight of their outstretched hand that Saint breaches consciousness like a lake’s surface. He takes the hand as if it’s a life preserver.
“Silvermoon!” He finds himself stumbling after them. His free hand struggles to return both his pokemon as fissures appear under their feet, barely managing to return his Gyarados. Gumball jumps as his ride disappears in a burst of red light and lands on Saint’s head. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I couldn’t help—Moltres and Zapdos are going to—”
The rest of his words are drowned out in the chaos. Wide eyes move to the great height awaiting them past the safety of the dying platform, his heart plummeting to his stomach as he realizes he has to pull out and get in his glider within seconds.
GOAL (ALTITUDE 2): 6141/9473 ZONES B & C DISRUPT: 1135
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Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jul 9, 2023 14:04:54 GMT 9
The battle on the platform only grows dire as the body count ramps up, as Zapdos begins retaliating, his words booming across the thundering skies. When the opportunity to escape presents itself to Saint in the form of teleportation platforms, he doesn’t hesitate to jump on it—and unfortunately, that includes his protective pokemon.
They fall into Birchwild in a pile. Saint wheezes, crushed under the weight of his Gyarados, who takes a second to realize his trainer hadn’t disappeared into thin air and quickly gets off him. Saint mutters his thanks as he gets up on shaky knees, and is greeted by the sight of six other players gathered around the shrine. In the center: Moltres, her flame burning brighter than he’s ever seen in in his many visits to the shrine. Ready for war.
The legendary bird doesn’t hesitate. Her words are as intense as her flames, setting the stakes high. The matter is between humanity and Pokemon-kind. War and peace. Life and death.
The trainers take to it gracefully, one after the other. They rise to the podium bearing their hearts and wills, an avatar of bravery in their own unique right. Saint observes very carefully, because he’s terrified of public speaking, and always has to watch the previous speakers to memorize how to be a person.
And in no time at all, it’s his turn.
His hands are white-knuckling the fabric of his jacket, his heart in his throat as he turns his gaze up at the insurmountable audience that holds him at flame-point. His throat feels like it’s been twisted. He can’t breathe. He can’t talk. There is the entirety of humanity to disappoint.
And then he doesn’t see anything.
<Breathe, little man,> Taiyaki rumbles gently, holding his massive tail in front of his trainer like a shield. <Take your time. You need to get out of your head.>
It is frightening. It might anger Moltres. It is definitely embarrassing.
But Saint breathes.
Gently, he moves Gyarados’ tail from his face as if it were fronds, and he tries to see Moltres as simply the sun from his home. Noonlight Shrine, after all, is the closest thing to home he has here.
Even if words fail him, his fellows have not. Their points are anchors that will keep him from becoming unmoored.
“Humans are tenacious. We live only one life, and it is a long life spent chasing relentlessly, regardless of what we lose,” he says, recalling Laguna’s words, the voice of someone who’s seen far more than he has–a reliable one. His hand in his jacket tightens, recalling what awaits him–has been waiting for him, miles and miles across the sea.
“We are not perfect, but we make our choices and we fight for them, and we’re more than willing to fight for those we hold dear.” His mouth is covered by his collar, smile obscured, save for the crease in the corners of his eyes at the sight of Nova’s bond with Nerissa. His own Popplio is watching, grinning and waving from the spectacular view atop his Gyarados’ head.
“And because of that, we are not opponents to be trifled with. We have outlasted countless tragedies, and will outlast much more.” He admires how Sarah Lee speaks, as if the call to arms is as natural to her as breathing, and he tries to channel that to keep his own voice from wavering.
“But conflict is not the only path we know. To clash swords is not the only outcome.” His gaze softens, recognizing Silvermoon. He didn’t know about the fight, but his friend had displayed remarkable strength despite their fear and pain. The future they’re envisioning–he wants to help bring it to fruition. Whatever he can contribute.
“Under humanity’s banner, you would be the crown, the felling strike. There is no doubting your strength.” Comet’s words ring in his head, forming a picture he’s already seen: a battlefield, a bloodshed. A mess that his small hands can’t fix.
“But it’s not just victory at stake. Think of the lives that would be lost. To the fight, to corruption…” His eyes fall. The grass around their feet has been lit with multicolored flames. It would be so easy. A single ember turned into a wildfire, leaving nothing left. “Zapdos is outraged at how humans have come to these lands and I… can’t blame him. He’s only fighting for his home.”
He meets Moltres' gaze and steels his own. “But humans are not a disruption to the natural order. They are a part of it. We take care of Pokemon and Asper, and are cared for in turn. We need each other. For anything here to have a future, we need to create a cycle of prosperity– an ecosystem that thrives and works as one. Not a cycle of senseless violence.”
Taiyaki hums at the end, grinning proudly as he pats his trainer a little too hard with his tail. <Attaboy. Knew you had it in you.>
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Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jul 6, 2023 21:37:25 GMT 9
FreeformZONE A Saint had no high-flying ambitions or expectations when he had signed up. He knew it would be dangerous – it’s a World Event for Pete’s sake – but he figured the sheer number of participants would allow him to safely fade into the background and focus on assisting.
And now he’s actually here, facing off an angry thunderbird the size of a Super Bowl Stadium, and he’s about to shit his pants.
A brave chunk of players are quick to get moving, either switching zones, setting up attacks and defenses, or aiding each other.
And all Saint can do is stand there, frozen, eyes wide to his first legendary encounter as people rush past him, until he blinks and finds that his place has gone from near the front of the crowd to the rear of the pack.
Finally moving, the first thing he does is pull out his UI. 'Log out,' his conscience screams as he shuffles through menus in a blind panic, 'LOG OUT.'
<Whoa there, calm down.> A large tail comes out to wrap around him, Saint yelping as he’s lifted off the ground.
Taiyaki hums, his giant face tilted down to regard his trainer, who looks more like a trembling Yamper than a human right now. <Sorry man, it just seemed like you were about to collapse.>
“This was a mistake!” Saint struggles, trying to pull his arms out from his pokemon’s bind. Taiyaki feels nothing, not even a tickle. The Gyarados begins to sway him in the air.
<Aw, c’mon, let’s just see what happens. You got your team here, and we’re not even in the frontlines. We’ve got your back. Right, clown bro?>
Gumball pops out from the top of Taiyaki’s head, grinning wildly. He pulls out a toy bugle from seemingly nowhere, letting out a war tune. TOOOOT TOO TOO TOOOOOO!
Saint doesn’t believe them, but he has given up trying to escape – even if he still looks on the verge of losing breakfast. Taiyaki settles for it and places him back on the ground.
'I did say that,' the Gyarados looks to the raging battlefield. 'But man, if I touch any of those sparks, I’m getting fried instantly.' Laughing to himself, he braces for impact.
Saint’s head disappears into his oversized collar, unable to watch the carnage.
GOAL (ALTITUDE 3): 815/7000 ZONE A DISRUPT: 1406
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Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jun 27, 2023 17:28:56 GMT 9
Saint waddles onto the floor. He had smelled disaster coming from a mile away, and prepared accordingly by wrapping every dangling piece of fabric he has over his face. He now looks like a mummified Stay Puft guy. The smell is still rancid, but very muted now (at the cost of breathing and sight in general).
The only reason he has not tripped and fallen face-first into an untimely death is thanks to his Snom, Pichi-pichi, who is sitting comfortably on his head and piloting him a la Remy Ratatouille style. <Weft... weft… otha’ weft…>
“Prrhi, Ir cahn unrrsan wha’chur shayn,” Saint mumbles through his mask, hands on either side of him and moving at a glacial pace, save for the violent jolts when Pichi-pichi yanks him to the next step.
<Yow dowing gweat,> Pichi-pichi says, completely truthful, because she knows she’s doing great, and by extension her Jaeger too. And, just to flex, she yanks him to the right just as a Patrat comes digging out of the sand, causing his foot to stomp it back down. Yeah, you stay down when Pichi-pichi says so.
Pichi-pichi USED MECHA STOMP! NEXT PROMPT #78: [Tower]F5s0sK|v1d50 1d50
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Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jun 27, 2023 16:30:09 GMT 9
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Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jun 23, 2023 11:06:21 GMT 9
After touching the green beam, following after Tuesday’s scream of delight, Saint is thankful to return to the ground. And even more thankful once he hears the truth about the test; he’d been planning on running over to the affected players and checking on them, but it seems everything will be fine.
There’s a hearty pat on his back, and the praise makes the edges of his eyes crinkle. “It’s no big deal,” except that it is, very much so. He’s giddy to have been useful.
Then there’s the matter of the signature move. The excitement in his eyes dissipates at the thought of pulling such a risky trick, though he can’t deny that if he was a judge he’d be damn impressed by it. It’s become increasingly clear that Tuesday has a flair for these sorts of displays.
He’s not alone. Unlike him, starlitlover makes his reservations loudly clear. Saint’s eyes flicker between his teammates as they bicker, his shoulders tensing as Starlitlover turns to him, the look on his face piteous enough to tug his heartstrings.
“I won’t let you die,” he reassures him, because he’s taken care of every single one of his siblings and has a stellar track record of dropping zero babies so far. “Let’s do it. We’ve only got one chance to show off anyways.” And with any luck, this’ll be the only time they have to put their lives on the line for showbiz.
They ascend as one. Saint grips the control stick of the Masqueplane as its nose reaches the apex, before he flicks the buttons that shut off the wings and propellers.
They are falling. His back presses against his machine, his heart carried by inertia. The ground is coming close, it’s only a matter of—
And then he sees the wings fly off Starlitlover’s back, whatever synchronized elegance and acceleration their group has built up immediately going off kilter. It’s not nearly close enough to the ground, but Saint slams his glider into gliding formation, its eye–patterned wings shooting out like life preservers to his teammates.
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Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jun 20, 2023 9:08:44 GMT 9
“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” Saint says, quite pleased as he reclines on the stone propping up the shrine. “We’ve gotten a lot of fish, but I don’t think we’ve seen any of the rare ones yet. Do you want to try finding all the fish with me?” He’s taking it easy, but it’s nice to have little challenges.
Gumball grins wide, and in lieu of a verbal response, he smacks his flippers hard against the two palms Saint has outstretched. It’s enough that his trainer flinches.
“Ah, you’re getting pretty tough, aren’t you?” Saint sighs. Gumball’s strength has improved quite a bit from fending off their catches. Maybe he’ll evolve soon. “Okay, tough guy, how’s about holding back a bit while we’re playing patty-cake?”
Gumball nods vigorously, raising his flippers and having no intention of holding back. The patty-cake champion takes no prisoners.
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Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jun 18, 2023 20:37:54 GMT 9
In the distance, a considerable ways off from his teammates after getting lost in the mayhem of the previous round’s scuffle, Saint pokes his fluffy brown head out from his Masqueplane. He squints, seeing a multicolored cape streak past the sky, and what looks to be starlitlover in a bridal carry. He sees Tuesday open her mouth, but does not hear jack shit over the commotion. He pulls his head back inside his glider.
sorry, i didn’t hear what you said. but i’m glad you two are safe. um, we should probably get to the green beam now. i’ll be okay. my glider isn’t very fast, but it’s good for precise flying. if your cool board is actually modeled after the solar surfers in treasure planet, you should be able to accelerate considerably by folding your sail, aiming the engine to the ground, and hitting the pedal again. the tailwind will also help my glider ascend. you might have some trouble once you’ve actually reached the ‘peak’, as i’m uncertain if you can return to a stable position while carrying someone. it’s okay though. i think i can catch you.
It’s a lot of text, and Saint wishes sorely he could edit and trim it down to more succinct instructions, but he’s typing and piloting at the same time. He sends them, hoping Tuesday will understand, before directing the Masqueplane to start moving towards the green beam, the little rudders underneath, designed after the namesake’s wings, twirl hard to propel to greater heights.
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Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jun 16, 2023 1:55:02 GMT 9
Regardless of how much Gumball wants to taste seasalt freedom or whether carriages can be someone’s thing, Saint frowns at the prospect of leaving the safety of their ride — not to mention, the quest had explicitly stated this is meant to take them to their destination.
Then his companion — The Captain — goes on to admire the boat, the boat that is currently being slapped so hard by the waves that Saint is certain it would crumble into seafoam should they observe it through the burgeoning storm. His head snaps to his companion, brows furrowed and eyes wide in a look of disbelief, in juxtaposition with Gumball, who faces The Captain with an open-mouthed smile.
Saint shakes his head violently. “I don’t— I’d say it isn’t—!” Oh God, he’s grinning. Saint squints in the light. “It isn’t safe, that thing is practically a death trap! There’s just no way, absolutely no way—“
They leave the carriage.
The scent of petrichor and ozone is so much stronger out here. Hair and fabric go whipping wildly in the wind. Saint has the hood of his coat pulled up to shield from the drizzle. He’s staring at the side of the boat, wondering if this is how he’ll die.
The sides of the boat have been decorated with loving, chipping paint strokes, forming the name:
YEAH BUOY
Gumball has already shimmied his way onto the boat. He pokes his head over to stare at his trainer, who remains landlocked, and flaps his flipper around to usher him aboard.
Saint’s small voice finally returns, directed at The Captain. “Do you… actually know how to… drive… one of these things?”
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Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jun 15, 2023 20:56:16 GMT 9
The move Saint has been dreading eventually comes. The Corphish opens its pincer and attempts to grab–
HONK!
And it is a personal offense unlike any other.
Gumball roars, ignoring the pain radiating from his snout and going into a full throttle. He swings and flops and flaps at the Corphish as if he were a balloon animal being wielded by a ferocious party clown. He goes after the Corphish as if it’s stuffed full of candy and righteous vengeance.
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Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jun 15, 2023 20:52:18 GMT 9
The fight rages on. Gumball is putting up an impressive offense, considering he doesn’t have a single sharp bone in his body, and that he’s brandishing his nose as a sword against hard carapace.
The Corphish too is a formidable opponent, though he appears to take more of a defensive stance, perhaps analyzing the erratic popplio’s movements for its counterattack.
Saint and the pond of fish watch, bewildered and enraptured by the battle, their heads turning left and right and left and right as the two pokemon clash repeatedly.
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Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jun 15, 2023 20:46:51 GMT 9
Alas, hubris never pays.
As Gumball does his air fisticuffs, the next catch has risen to the bait– quite literally.
WHAM! sends the popplio reeling on the ground, honking as his nose bounces off the dirt. Shocked, outraged, and scandalized, Gumball turns and meets his maker.
The Corphish stares at him with its big round eyes and pinprick pupils, its dukes already raised high, the bright sun glinting off its pincers.
Saint whips around. “Gumball, what are you—is that a lobster?“
As he says this, the wild Corphish’s pincer is deflected by Gumball’s nose. The two are locked like sabers in a stalemate, clown against lobster in a fight for honor. A fight to the death.
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Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jun 15, 2023 20:31:28 GMT 9
The Magikarp Pond now has a good number of occupants. It’s enough that Saint tries to expand it some more, give his the fishies some breathing room, but attempts to reach out only cause the guppies to crowd in the corner.
Saint sighs, kneeling by the edge of the pond with his hands out, now back on his lap. They’ve been acting like this ever since they watched Gumball go ham on the last encounter. “Maybe I should’ve brought fish food…?”
Unbeknownst to him, the popplio (that's supposed to be keeping watch of the fishing line) is standing right behind him, testing out his death glares on the fish. He makes a little fist out of his flipper and mimes putting up his dukes.
He is quietly ecstatic to see at least two fish pale at the threat.
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Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jun 15, 2023 20:23:31 GMT 9
It seems to take Killian a minute to register what he’s said, and for those heart-stopping few seconds, Saint internally dreads the thought he’d misheard somehow.
He breathes a sigh of relief as it turns out his guess was right. “No, no, I shouldn’t have jumped at you like that. I just got excited since I didn’t expect to find anyone like me here.“
Killian continues to talk, and though he apologizes for his fluency, the little eye creases that indicate Saint’s smile remain, and he shakes his head. “It’s okay, don’t apologize.” He chuckles quietly. [tangent=A lot of people do code-switching, myself included these days. I've been living abroad for years now.]“Marami naman talagang nagco-conyo— kasama na ako. Ilang taon na kasi akong nakatira abroad.”[/tangent] He’s taken on rust too, but he’s been trying to practice on his own.
For when he returns home.
He blinks. “Wait, are you local? Or did your folks teach you?”
But the discussion is briefly derailed by MOM calling for their attention. Killian answers for them both, and MOM is quick to pounce.
“Spawn? Oh, you kids and your slang,” MOM giggles, waving her hand. “No, dear, all you need to find a pokemon is patience.” She folds her hands in front of her apron. “And the ability to predict a creature’s intended path by triangulating key points in its territory, but that’s a day one lesson, so I’ve already taken care of it for you!”
The grass in front of them shakes violently, before a pokemon comes bursting out to greet them. The patrat chitters at him. Angelo blinks, and then smiles. “That’s good. I’m glad the encounter’s easy—”
He blinks, and just like that, his tutorial companion is gone.
MOM didn’t appear fazed by this. The AI quickly adapts, her gentle smile permanent as she waves at him as if calling attention from a beloved but absentminded son. “Saint? Focus, dear. You can’t calculate the angle for throwing a pokeball if you don’t look at what you’re capturing!”
“I—” Saint looks around. “But Killian’s—”
“Who?” Mom asks, but Saint isn’t paying attention. He shifts his feet uncomfortably where he stands, the peace of the area now turned into a disheartening silence. Mom attempts to cajole him, but it doesn’t work.
Saint stands there and waits. He waits for five minutes. Then ten. Fifteen.
And all the while, Mom stands patiently, smiling with all the love in her heart. “It’s okay, dear. Take your time.” And the patrat, too, joins in waiting, becoming distracted by a stray berry and remaining there.
It is at this point that Saint realizes he isn’t coming back. It is a cold feeling: less like realization, and more like acceptance.
His cheeks burn, face sinking into his collar as he wonders if it had been because of him— because he’d been too aggressive, too loud, too annoying. He shouldn’t have been so insistent on talking in Filipino. He shouldn’t have butted into someone else’s quest.
(It could have been any number of things, really. More rational things, but that's not what he can think of right now.)
“Are you ready now?” Mom asks, as she has been doing as she cycles through her idle dialogue. This time, Saint nods. “Send out a pokemon, lower its health, and throw a pokeball. I believe in you, dear.”
He sends out Gumball, who makes quick work of the patrat. The popplio grins, turning around, only for his smile to falter as he sees the look on his trainer’s face.
1… 2… 3… Click!
Polite claps fill the air as Mom rejoices. “You did it! Now that wasn’t so bad, was it? All that studying had paid off!” She walks over to him, taking out something shiny from her apron pockets. “Here’s a nice little gift. It’s quite pretty, isn’t it? Maybe the pokemon you capture will appreciate it!”
The golden pokeball is pressed into his hands, and on the shiny metal, Saint sees his reflection.
“Thank you,” he says, quietly, as Gumball moves to press against his leg.
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Saint
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Weekend Warrior
Round 2
Posts: 386
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Angelo Alvarez
OOC Username: Sleepy
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Saint on Jun 14, 2023 12:26:10 GMT 9
While he’s glad some semblance of an introduction is accomplished, Saint still doesn’t find himself comfortable in the presence of his new team. He refuses Tuesday’s offer of assistance, preferring to figure out the mechanics of his glider himself, though he pales as she and starlitlover debate over whether the lesson is actually a challenge or some kind of– blind date event?
Being able to turn his attention back to their instructor is a godsend. CLAW terrifies him, lowkey, and he almost drops his pokeballs as he hands them over like the victim of a bank robbery, but he can’t deny being excited to fly after seeing Cygnus’ demonstration.
Tuesday takes the lead, ascending seamlessly, though she hangs back out of consideration for the rest of them. Saint nods, about to get started when he hears Starlitlover mention his name, and someone called Mars?
Saint pauses, big eyes flitting between his teammates as the gears in his head turn. Is Mars what he calls Tuesday? Did they know each other? Is that baggage he’s detecting?
He takes a deep breath and continues setting up his glider. No, no, it couldn’t be. Sure, he spent a decade of his life enduring his mother’s crippling addiction to Filipino soap operas, but that didn’t mean the same histrionics would occur here, on this, the day of his wondrous little flight adventure.
The Masquerain glider is gorgeous, and quite safe, as its model is more reminiscent of a rudimentary sailplane than a hang glider. Sitting inside it feels like taking a ride in a weather balloon. He tests out the control stick and a number of levers and buttons until the little rudders turn, and achieves lift-off.
And that is when he hears a sharp yelp, and glances out of his machine to see a burst of starry glitter where his teammate used to be.
“Ah– AH!” He sticks his head out, looking up to the sky. “Tuesday! TUESDAY! HE’S FALLING!” He tries to speed up, but the glider can’t move fast enough.
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