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Trials And Tribulations: What Legends Are Made Of...

Elemental Charizam

Sudden Genre Shift
I guess being called pineripper by one member really struck a nerve O-O

I guess as the author isn't around and the fic is finished, there isn't actually any point in my reviewing constructively, so I'll just say that I thought the new chapter was pretty good, amusing and with and written in a very distinctive style.
 
S

sk0rp10n

Guest
Hey I am gald to see another chppie! I did get a couple PMs but never received the whole story. I will not review as yet, but it looks pretty ok from what I have seen. Very flowing prose, and the expected poetic descriptions, with a twinge of classy humour. Very good. I was surprised tha Ash seemed so mature though, as I cannot imagine him talking like that anywhere else. Could be taken to be development or a lil OOC, either way, but does not take anything away. Also, was a little disappointed that there was no great battle in this one, but I guess we cant have one each chap.
Hey gambit send me the soft copy if possible? I am not on these forums often, and will not be able to read often. Would love to read the whole thing at a go.
 

The Burnt Shadow

(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻)
He's not coming back? This is so sad... His chapters were excellent, I've never read anything like this for a such a long time...
 

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
Oh...how wonderful! I wasn't expecting to experience more of this! Awesome. As usual, intoxicatingly excellent and rich description, as well as highly charismatic storytelling, are adroitly delivered. Kudos for illustrating the initiation of the coming together of Pokémon and humans, that was quite fascinating.

Highlights:

Our heroine finished her own tale with a regal air hanging about her, and with tears shining brightly in her eyes, though whether they were tears for all that she had gone through, tears of pity for her friend’s self-created predicament, tears of happiness for the fact that even though life had dealt her a bad hand early on, it had more than made up for it through deserved luck or intangible destiny, or whether they were tears that resonated with all the abovementioned reasons, remain something that our heroine number one carries as her own secret, for even writers know not everything about their characters. People, even those we create at our whims and fancies, have their moments of absolute solitude, when company is more a bane than a boon, and have their own secrets and hidden baggage, and whether possibly unraveled through reinvention or through a facet in the character that allows for extrapolation of thoughts by other brilliant minds is irreverent, for it is nothing if not the truth.
O_O
*stands and applauds*

“Psy…” A none too intelligent voice croaked, as amid flying stars, wingless dragons, and swirling sands, a diminutive figure with a decidedly diminutive brain to match emerged, dark dirt yellow fur which verged on brown covering its squat and somewhat chubby body, tiny wings flapping wildly as though it were drowning in some illusionary pool of water (even though it was obviously an aquatic Pokemon), webbed feet shuffling forward as fast as two stubby little feet could possibly go, tiny (Why is everything about this particular Pokemon tiny??) dilated eyes staring in wincing perturbation, scared out of its wits by the furor around it, and wanting no part in it at all.
Both an excellent and HILARIOUS description of Psyduck. I love it. Especially the "(Why is everything about this particular Pokemon tiny??)" comment. God, I love that narrator.

while what Psyduck was feeling for our hero was certainly not love in the traditional amorous sense of the word (this is a family show after all)
That’s what I love most about the humor in this story: It always catches you off guard.

That the slightest chance now exists that we may yet be able to see this story through to the end is a cause for celebration. Yet if, however, this story's end never reaches us...well, at least we can say that we had a hell of a time while it lasted. Whatever tomorrow brings, thanks a thousand for the memories.
 
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~RaikouRider243~

Lightning Swordsman
I'm not a fan of using anime characters as major characters in a fic, but this does it well.

I was most impressed with your battles, particularly the Tyranitar vs Gengar one. That use of Skill Swap is ingenious; I have never seen any battle strategy more creative than that.
 

Mysteria Pearl

Queen of Mushy-ness!
Wow! This last chapter was really good. Can't wait for the next chapter to come out! Keep doing a good job!

P.S. Chapter 10 of Cape of The Nintails is Finished! Please come by, read and review!
 
G

gambit

Guest
I am going to post the next chapter,and keep posting until I am done. Closet read or anything. Up to your discretion.
 
G

gambit

Guest
The acidic Jessie viciously lashed out at the prostrate body of her fallen companion, even as his muscles silently groaned in protest and the glazed look in the eyes told the story in its entirety.

“You incompetent fools. Just my luck to be cast in the same ship with two prime examples of male inefficacy. Even more so when I myself am an unsullied rose, whose radiant beauty and elegant charm can be seen even through the trials and tribulations which have beset me, with decadence and debauchery pervading every nook of my life, aiming to besmirch my flawless perfection, my verity of self still inevitably tides me through. Sigh… God has given me unrivalled beauty and grace, but has offset it by testing me that much harder…” Jessie’s voice teetered and quivered to no end towards the end of her Shakespearean speech, even as the tiny boat they were traversing the waters with floundered with each crashing wave, as her companions had been reduced to little more than a formless lump of fur and a sniveling and aching “carcass”. All around her, the frothing sea percolated into a series of raging eddies, coupled with frenetic effluence and insensate maelstroms. It was not the best of times for our as-beautiful-as-a-rose-and-supposedly-as-delicate-as-a-flower villainess to worry about the failings of her companions, and desperate times inevitably called for desperate measures.

Raising a high-heeled boot, Jessie brutally “removed” James from his original posting at the oars (so much for being as delicate as a flower), and grumbling under her breath, with a shockingly wide range of choice profanity and vulgar curses utilized by our linguistically gifted villainess, Jessie picked up the slack left behind by her physically overexerted companions, and rowed on.

Please note that this writer cannot publish instances of Jessie’s great vocabulary, as this is a family show after all, even though their inclusion would have an additional effect of realism, which all authors, including yours truly, strive to achieve.

“My perfectly manicured nails are ruined!! Oh, what woe has fallen upon me??”

So much for the importance of silence.

More rowing.

“My stomach is growling, and I’m thirsty. Surrounded by water and I can’t even take a drink!!”

More rowing.

“When I was young, I dreamt of sailing away into the night, with my handsome Prince Charming taking the oars, all the while smiling widely at my gorgeous self. I would be sitting at the back of the boat, reading poetry, counting the stars, thinking about life. Oh God, how unfortunate my life is…”

More rowing. Fortunately for viewers, it is now time to return to our heroes, and to leave Jessie to her philosophical monologue.

The boat fades into the distance, with a certain feline figure still hanging onto an oar unconsciously, rising and falling with Jessie’s efforts, its head nodding as if in agreement with what our delicately gorgeous villainess.

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“And that, my friends, was how things came to pass.”

Our hero took off his cap (with the official lapel on the underside) and bowed theatrically to his audience.

“Wow, you really are getting better huh?” May was the first to her feet, applauding her friend, with a grin that would make Gengar teleport away in shame.

“Ash, I suddenly wish I did not go swimming just now. That sounded like one great battle.” Max eloquently diffused any bad feelings between himself and Ash, with the latter wondering how exactly he had equated Max with a giant, green, myopic grasshopper, especially when said grasshopper managed his praise so well.

Brock clapped our almost-levitating-out-of-pride hero on his back, and congratulated him with his trademark gravelly voice.

“Keep it up, Ash; you may just win the whole thing tomorrow.”

Misty knew better than to get carried away with the praise, and with images of a certain Gengar and a Hitmonlee imprinted firmly on her mind, she reacted in the only way she thought feasible when Ash turned to her, in expectation of some erudite plaudits.

“Ash, you have a long day ahead tomorrow, and I am sure Brock, May and Max are tired too. Let’s call it a night and go to bed.”

Our jovial hero’s smile died down at once, but he knew that his friend was on the right track with her words, and that while extolments and laudations would inflate his ego, they would do nothing towards winning a match the next day.

Murmuring their chants of goodbye and goodnight, the group separated to return to their rooms. After quickly brushing his teeth, Ash settled into bed, but not before releasing his yellow rodent friend, who was obviously nonplussed at his captivity, but yet pleased to no end to be free again of the pokeball’s confines.

“Pika!!” Our electro-statically charged hero-sidekick leapt into our hero’s arms, and there ensued a hug, before the two settled down into bed. Our heroine, who had made her round of the bathroom after our hero took his turn, flashed them a smile and got into bed herself.

“G’night guys. See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight Misty, and thanks for the help just now.”

“Chu!!”

Thus ended the banter between Ash and Misty for the night, but as the lights were turned off, and the fading phosphorescence burned an image into our not-really-intelligent-but-infinitely-determined hero’s eyes, not unlike the memory he had of Moltres’ relucent flame at the Indigo league, our hero had one last thing to whisper to his little friend.

“I don’t care if I have to go through every one of those people out there, but we are going to win this thing, Pikachu; and that is that.”

As far as that day was concerned, to quote our eloquent hero, “that was that”.

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In the stygian depths of the night, like the biblical Leviathan from anagogic days yonder, the ship sliced a wide swath through Davy Jone’s locker, undeterred from its predetermined path.

Not very far behind, only slightly visible in the sickly radiation that the moon afforded, was a small wooden boat, rocked from side to side in the clutches of Poseidon’s domain, and from which still emanated a steady stream of barely intelligible grumbling.

For the sake of us all, and for the continuation of our narrative, this writer is infinitely sorry that details of that particular harangue must be reserved for another day, for another story. After all, Ash is our suave, charming, eloquent, resourceful and attractively naïve protagonist, not Jessie’s broken fingernail or her ruined hair, and thus her ululations can only be chronicled in another compilation.

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Time and tide crept by interminably, and the aphotic obscurity of night was soon encroached upon and eventually breached by Shahar’s (Canaanite god of the rising sun) luminescent radiation, casing off the last vestiges of the palpable night, and casting the world in an azure hue. The portion of the sky close enough to the eastern horizon was awash with fulgent plumes of red, as if some celestial painter had emptied his palette of red paint solely onto this portion of the canvas that is the sky, before haphazardly adding swathes of fluffy, translucent grey, tinged and kissed throughout by a rubicund luster. The clouds blustered and drifted, stretched and amalgamated, all the while forming fantastical mirages of individualistic perception, enticing one’s imagination to give it a shape, for how often do we look up at the heavens, and find that each and every cloud has an abstract shape, limited only by what we can perceive and attribute to it? The bloodshot visage of the sky melted away gracefully into beryl allurement, as if some antecedent divine documents had called for the daily marriage between the two, and the clouds once again took on their cotton demeanours as we dislodge our contemplation, and head downwards to a more mundane, but no less sculpted panorama.

The island was to be the destination of the ship, and thus the destination of our heroes, and the first image we have is of the unsullied beaches, and crystalline waters. Out of a single perfect seed, a single perfect world; out of a single perfect world, a thousand perfect seeds. Let not this writer’s knack of heaping praise divert your attention away from the truth. The waters were akin to a sheet of liquid glass from afar, millions upon millions of diamonds spangling in the scintillating aurora rays, sparkling anew with each crest and each trough, every swirl and every wave agitating the glittering pinpricks of light, giving birth to a nihilistic, yet hypnotic opera of incandescent splendour.


The pristine beaches, long worn smooth by rising waters and ebbing tides, as well as the daily grind of legion swashes and backwashes, were like a grainy tabula rasa, waiting to be shaped. The omnipresent vegetation grew thickly, such that primeval trees entwined their crowns with younger saplings, affording a nigh impenetrable canopy of emerald verdancy, with only the numbered slivers of light filtering through, visible largely due to the dust in the air, and for which chaparral growth depended on to live, forever clawing upwards to better reach the light, and be spared Darwin’s selection.

However, for all the beauty of that natural tableau, it mattered little to our heroes, who were all still in the midst of some far-flung dreams, except for the ever-dependable Brock, who had taken it upon himself to put breakfast together for our heroes. Things like that will never change. What was going to change at that point of time, however, was the state in which May and Max were in.

“Chang! Chang!” Brock’s cymbals (writer does not know how he got them) resounded throughout the soundproofed room, with May and Max the intended targets.

Max sat upright at once, his head resembling an anime style bell, ringing from side to side, even as his large spectacles lost their fight to stay perched on his nose.

May’s reaction was one which all members of the crew would have commended and recommended. As Brock’s cymbals sent sound waves reverberating around their cabin, our heroine number two showed exemplary presence of mind, and a keen sense of danger, first leaping off her bed, and after a glance at the smoke generated by Brock’s impromptu culinary exploits, grabbed her bag even as she ran a hand through her hair, persuading the latter to fall in her predilected manner, and in a fluid motion, ran for the door, screaming about a fire and grabbing a life jacket from the cupboard along the way.

Max, whose head had resumed human proportions again, and who had also retrieved his enormous pair of spectacles, could only stare at Brock, while Brock could do nothing but return the favour. Max’s cheek twitched, while the right corner of Brock’s mouth angled upwards irrepressibly.

You say it best, when you say nothing at all.

We exit the scene with the raucous laughter of the concerned brother Max and the benevolent friend Brock putting the cymbals to shame.

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“Pass me that sausage, Ash. And don’t look at me like it’s my fault that Brock suddenly decided to play some instruments.” Our stressed up heroine number two had finally returned from her escapade, and our group of friends were gathered in Ash’s cabin, where Brock’s cuisine came to the fore.

“Well, I hate to say this, but even Pikachu here knows what a fire alarm sounds like.” Our analytical hero pointed out his fact with the optimal amounts of tact.

“Chu!!” Our beloved pink-cheeked friend did not shock with its reply.

“And while you couldn’t do anything about Brock and the cymbals, we couldn’t do anything about your rushing out of the room, sis,” Max smoothly turned the tables on his beleaguered sister, drawing a fresh chorus of guffaws from the ever-dependable Brock and our oh-so-sensitive hero.

“C’mon guys, give her a break. It wasn’t really her fault. She, erm, erred on the side of caution.” Misty tried her level best to keep the rampantly tickled trio under control.

“After all, you do have a lot of battling to do today, Ash, and I am sure you can spend your time in a lot of ways that are more meaningful than laughing at May. You wouldn’t want to make us angry, right?”

“Actually, guys, it wasn’t so funny anyway. May was just… … just prepared for the worst.” Brock tried to salvage the situation before Misty initiated a tug-of-war with his ear again.

“Yeah Ash, I told you my sister was just being careful. Nothing to laugh about, right?” Max chattered nervously, as he too circumvented the potential minefield with ease.

“Well, actually that wasn’t really that funny, Max. As I told you, what was really funny was that May had that life-vest on, and was trying to inflate… …” Our scrupulous hero must have had some glorious witticism in his mind, but alas, due to a series of unfortunate events, we never found out what his pearl of wisdom was about.

The “series of unfortunate events” consisted mainly of numerous collisions, beginning with the magnetic collision between our hero’s head and a certain heavy wooden object.

The rest is in the adult version of this script, but concessions must be made for the sake of narration, thus we will now focus on Brock, May, Max and Pikachu.

“Max, what is Misty doing to Ash’s head?”

“I believe I saw a “pound” attack right there and there was the “double slap” just now…”

A “focus punch” and a “slam” later, Brock broke his silent vigil.

“You know, if Ash caught Misty with a Pokeball, he wouldn’t need to worry about yesterday’s Gengar or Hitmonlee. Her little finger has more attacks than them all.”

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While our heroes were busy settling their “domestic dispute”, with our hard-headed hero’s head competing with Mr Mallet and Misty’s other armaments for durability-inclined superiority, we must turn our attentions to the other group of friends in this story, a group of friends who have come through thick and thin (mostly thin) and whose bonds of friendship have held fast against the test of time.

“Meowth, James, what in the world are you two doing!” Our villainous Jessie piped at the top of her lungs.

“C’mon Jess, you know that I tried my best, but it’s just… … it’s just that cats like me, no matter how hard I try, just don’t have the power to work the oars like that.” Our brains-behind-the-brawn cat burglar Meowth replied, eyes wide and shimmering with tears, a sight that would cause women to burst into tears and send grown men dashing to the toilets to wipe their faces.

“I… … I’m so s-s-sor-ry, Meowth; I n-never thought of it that way.” Jessie showed that even bad guys have a heart, pausing amidst her rowing and using the back of a sleeve to wipe her eyes dry.

“But, I DID think about it this way: if you’re not helping me by rowing, then maybe you can help me by swimming!!”

With speed that would put Pokemon to shame, the deliciously evil Jessie grabbed Meowth by his chest fur, and unceremoniously threw him into the air, with the latter cutting a slow, lazy arc in the air, an arc which would end with a very loud splash.

So much for the bonds of friendship.

Thankfully, Meowth showed for the first, and debatably the last time in his life a presence of mind and the coordination required of him, grabbing onto an oar before hitting the water, sinking his claws into the wood and holding on for dear life.

“Jess, no splash… …” James showed us the reason why he was in the criminal business, with an astute realization of what should have come to pass, cupping his left ear at the same time, listening for a telltale sign of a body hitting the water.

“You like splashes, hmmm James?” Jessie was sugar, spice and everything nice, with saccharine words and a face to match, giving credence to her claims that if her name had been “Bessie” and not “Jessie”, she would inevitably have been a Powerpuff Girl. This author would like to note that the abovementioned claim is merely a quotation, so please do not send death threats.

“Well, when I was young… …” James’ words trailed off even as his eyes blurred, and took on a dreamy cadence.

A young boy, with shoulder-length purple hair parted in the centre, stood at the edge of a diving board, his eyes tightly shut, partly in fear of inexperience, and partly in fear of the actual action.

“Lotad!!” His pokemon cried out in verbal encouragement to its owner, after it had completed the dive itself.

James, who had never been the bravest cub in the herd, had turned his back on Lotad, and seemed to want to saunter off the diving board, perched approximately eight metres above the surface of the swimming pool. What happened next is either one of the bravest first-time dives by a rookie, or an embarrassing slip, but definitely one of the greatest modern-day mysteries known to this writer. Whatever the cause, the result was that James had executed a perfect seven-hundred-and-twenty degree tuck-in back flip, and landed in the pool with nary a splash, remarkable even for veteran divers.


“And from then on, I have always looked out for the splash made by objects falling into the water (something which the trio have become very used to, after their associations with Ash and company);” thus ended James’ heroic tale of the triumph of the underdog.

“Since you like a splash, I’ll give you one to look out for!!” The obviously athletically-inclined Jessie grabbed James by the collar and gave him the old heave-ho.

The ensuing splash rang loud and clear in the early morning mist.

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“Land ahoy!! I am reeeaaally getting the hang of this sailing life, guys.” May jumped up and down excitedly, all the while looking through a cabin window, whose transparence afforded her a view of the upcoming land mass, with its picture perfect beaches and viridian plantlife.

“Mi deenk bye mose ees moken.” Our hero was in shambles, and his nose was a mangled mess, sitting pitifully on his face, which resembled a raw, red cabbage.

“Attention to all competitors and supporters. We have arrived at our destination. Please proceed to the deck for further instructions for disembarking. Thank you.”

“Well, that’s us. Better get going. You ok, Ash??” Brock took charge of the situation, showing concern for his savaged friend at the same time.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go!!” Our resilient hero had shaken off his mauling and was ready to go again, grabbing his Pokeballs, and after murmuring a quick apology to Pikachu for its mandatory confinement in a Pokeball while on the ship, returned our none-too-pleased fur-ball into its Pokeball, before taking off at top speed, leaving a trail of dust behind.

“I’m surprised that he still has any motor functions, after what you did to him just now, Misty.” Max peered at the disappearing figure of Ash over his slipping pair of spectacles.

“Nothing can stop Ash when he is looking forward to a battle like he is right now, but perhaps I should have been a bit lighter on him. After all, I do want him to do the best that he can.”

“Oh guys, less talk, more action. Let’s vamoose!! Last one there is a sliiiimmmmyyy Wheeeziiing… …” May had already taken her own advice, and was already in hot pursuit of our taken-a-licking-but-has-kept-on-ticking hero.

For lack of a better phrase, they vamoosed.

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“I can’t wait to do some battling!” Our enthusiastic hero reiterated his intentions for what seemed like the thousandth time.

“And I can’t wait to introduce myself to all these very beautiful and lucky girls! Never fear, Brock is here!” Our lover-on-two-legs, Brock, must have popped a muscle in his neck from all the straining and craning of his neck.

“I want to sit down. This sun is ruining my… …” May never got to finish her sentence, as a burst of shrill static from a loudhailer cut her off in mid-sentence.

“Trainers and friends, gather around, please.” It was Mitch once again, immaculately clothed in a pressed suit and pants, with his trademark polished shoes causing more than a few trainers to squint.

“The time for demonstrations has passed. The time for preparations, prayers and training has passed. What has not passed, however, is the series of trials and tribulations each and every trainer will go through today. Forget about your limits, for we will bend them, stretch them and break them. There will be another round of eliminations, round-robin style, with three trainers to each group. A victory equates to three points, a draw being worth two points, and a defeat, none. Only the trainer with the highest number of points will proceed. Battlefields will be chosen at random, as well as the battle format, being two 1v1 battles or a single 2v2 tag battle. Pokemon are not allowed to heal between matches, so make your choices and your pairings wisely. Now, if you would be so kind as to follow my associates, they will escort you to the battlefields.”

Mitch ended with a sweeping gesture, indicating his colleagues, who would act as guides and ushers for the population of trainers and friends who had gathered there. Almost silently, the trainers complied, following the lead of the members of staff who had already plunged into the undergrowth, following well-worn paths, which were unfortunately no more accessible than cutting a swath through hanging vines and creeping appendages would be. Why almost silent? Well, it seemed as though our heroine number one was having extreme difficulties with having to proceed into dense forestry, especially when innumerable segmented creatures each possessing six pedestals of movement seemed to lurk around every corner.

“Ash, that caterpillar over there; it seems to be looking at me!” Misty evidently had a problem with tiny green creatures.

“Misty, you sure don’t look like a leaf to me; I’m sure the caterpillar wasn’t looking at you. If I were the caterpillar, I know that I wouldn’t.” Our hero fired off another salvo at his friend, partially because of the mauling he had received previously.

“Besides, I want to go see who I’m up against; can’t wait to battle!”

“That bee, I think it’s flying straight for me. AIEE!!” Our not-so-heroic heroine ducked behind her friends for cover.

“I still can’t believe it. Even after all these years, and all the beatings you have given me, you’re still scared of a caterpillar and a bee?” Ash felt sorry for ribbing his friend, but a subconscious touch of his annihilated nose inwardly validated his actions.

“Brock, when is this running around going to stop? I’m getting motion sickness… …” May ran haphazardly, with a hand on her forehead, looking distinctly greener than the shrubbery.

“May, don’t think about it. For a person like you, making your brain move is going to give you motion sickness.” Max was extremely nasty to his sister, who resembled a Chinese opera dancer who had one alcoholic drink too many.

And thus, the cloak of silence that had befallen the island was well and truly banished by our squabbling heroes; but now, we must turn our attentions to the other group of friends, and see how they have progressed.

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“That suuurrre is a lot of people.” The crafty Meowth noted, turning to his friends, looking for confirmation.

“And a lot of people means… …” Our malicious villainess Jessie began to voice her thoughts.

“Means a lot of Pokemon to steal!” James completed the sentence with some aplomb, banishing any doubts that previously existed over their teamwork.

“And stealing a lot of Pokemon means… …” Jessie showed her love of suspense and puzzles, leaving her teammates to finish her sentence for her.

“Getting blasted off again!!” James, elated over his prior success, decided to draw from their personal experiences in their past clandestine operations.

“No, you idiot. Stealing a lot of Pokemon means that the boss is going to be very happy with us,” Jessie ran a hand through her hair for effect.

“Ah, just think about it. The boss is on one of his illegal trips, and is suddenly surrounded by enemies, when… …” Meowth’s eyes become blurry, larger, and the screen then zooms in ever so slowly but surely.

The screen blurs, fading inwards in a riotous, yet concentric implosion, giving way to a scene in which a stretch limousine has just stopped. A door then opens, and a single figure, dressed immaculately in a blue-on-black pinstripe suit, with matching pants. If the eyes could be considered windows to the soul, then we would be looking at the embodiment of intensity, as well as the tenebrous paragon of evil. Thin lips met in a mockery of a smile, a perfect caricature of ironic mirth. Jet black hair, with shades of brown, was slicked back into a simple, yet severe hairdo. A predatory glow emanated from the figure like a silent scream of danger, so high was he on the hierarchy of the concrete jungle.

Yet, no prey is as haughty as that which hunts the hunter. From several concealed vantage points, adversaries tumbled, trickled, stumbled and pickled their ways into view, enmeshing their quarry within a wall of human flesh, infinitely more dangerous than a similar wall of stone.

Yet, Giovanni was infinitely more dangerous than the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. Cruel, thin lips parted, revealing polished teeth. Some smiles show cheer, some merely show teeth. A speech bubble kept us informed of Team Rocket’s Hoenn representatives’ recent coup, the martial pilfering of Pokemon from trainers on a deserted island. A quick withdrawal and activation later, the prey-turned-predators-turned-prey-again were set upon by more Pokemon than they would care to remember, and were sundered like dry leaves before a tropical storm.

“Jessie and James have done me proud, and for that, they deserve a promotion… …”


“Pro-mo-tion.” Our power hungry trio of villains droned as an automaton would, each one already dreaming of pancakes stacked to the rafters, drumsticks in one hand, and drumsticks in the other hand, chocolate waterfalls and honeycombed sweets.

Taking on certain Pokemon aspects, a very stylized facet of their exhaustive arsenal, attuned towards subterfuge, the subtle tracking of their prey began. Jessie drew inspiration from her Seviper, and performed a physical reiteration of the phrase “as slippery as a snake”, slipping and sliding her way after her intended targets.

Inspired by Jessie’s classy applications of their “Criminal skill handbook v1.12”, James decided that assimilation into his surroundings would be more prudent, and drawing from his needy needling Pokemon Cacnea, James savaged a small bush, and for lack of a better description, disguised himself within the bush. In other words, a bush that walks and curses when an ant decides to flex its jaws. Things would have been very much messier and difficult to describe if James still had Wheezing, and wanted to emulate it. In all probability, this piece of work would then be R-21 instead of being general family fun.

Meowth merely crept along on padded feet; after all, you cannot have me portraying Meowth as a raging maelstrom of lacerating, clawed destruction, tearing through leaves and undergrowth like a hot knife through helpless butter. Authors merely write stories about their characters, and not spin far-fetched yarns of fabricated superiority, lies and untruths.

“Wobba. WOB!!” According to my elementary knowledge of Pokemon language, that would translate to something like: “Stop. Wait!”

Whatever the poor, abandoned and lost Wobbuffet did to extricate itself out of that particular situation, I cannot say, for obviously being a “patient pokemon” has its drawbacks, especially when it did not have Meowth’s “fury swipes” or James’ camouflage; while “mirror coat” would undoubtedly be the downfall of many an attack-minded pokemon, it would serve Wobbuffet little when it was lost in a foreign jungle, except for reflecting, refracting and concentrating light for photosynthesis. Besides, Wobbuffet was blue, and did not have a drop of chlorophyll in it. The last this author saw of the poor pokemon for that period of time, was when it was using Pokemon language to entice a tree to attack it, so that it might counter, destroy the aggressive tree and pass through that particularly dense clump of vegetation.
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And there is the newest chapter. Hope it is enjoyed, the way all writing is supposed to be.
 
M

mindripper

Guest
Hey gumbo, well obviously my plan for this fic to disappear on its own has failed, esp with you posting for me, when I, the author, haven given up on posting this here. Well, guess I will just say hi to all and that I am still very fond of this work. that is all.
 
M

mindripper

Guest
Let me answer a few questions, since I am free. Been a while since I did anything for this fic, anyways. My younger friends like it, though. XD

I was most impressed with your battles, particularly the Tyranitar vs Gengar one. That use of Skill Swap is ingenious; I have never seen any battle strategy more creative than that.
Well, when I wrote it, battles were the most important part, and a couple of months back I would have been pleased to hear that. Dont really feel much now, but if you ever get to the end of this fic the gengar battle will prob get blown outta water.


That the slightest chance now exists that we may yet be able to see this story through to the end is a cause for celebration. Yet if, however, this story's end never reaches us...well, at least we can say that we had a hell of a time while it lasted. Whatever tomorrow brings, thanks a thousand for the memories.
Thanks a lot. It was a hell of a time on my side too.
 

Felix Feral Fezirix

Densetsu no Pikachu!
Yes, that was fantastic! I'm so happy I decided to check back. Oh well, not much to comment on since the highlight hasn't started. Will be back.
 
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mindripper

Guest
Ok, dammit I think I have to handle the fic myself. Obviously someone posting chapters without your consent (I did not really bother about this fic for a long time) is not good for the fic's health at all. So by all accounts I will take over the fic again, so please stop postin for me JW. I will do so myself at my own pace.

Yes, that was fantastic! I'm so happy I decided to check back. Oh well, not much to comment on since the highlight hasn't started. Will be back.
Yup, and if my memory does not fail me a very large battle takes place very soon. I like that one.
 

The Burnt Shadow

(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻)
Yay you're back! It's been a while since I came here. About the last chapter, good as always. You always make good stories that people admire and enjoy. I feel sorry for Wobuffet though...
 

~Fire&Ice~

Conspiracy Theorist
OMG!!!!

I came here on request and was just only going to read the intro chaps but, your writing brought me in deeper and deeper!!!! Do not give up!!!! Youre wasting your talent if you do!!!!
 
S

sk0rp10n

Guest
Ok, so you got me 'ere to look at your fic on MSN. Well, at least it was worth it, my friend. Brings back some nice memories.

Time and tide crept by interminably, and the aphotic obscurity of night was soon encroached upon and eventually breached by Shahar’s (Canaanite god of the rising sun) luminescent radiation, casing off the last vestiges of the palpable night, and casting the world in an azure hue. The portion of the sky close enough to the eastern horizon was awash with fulgent plumes of red, as if some celestial painter had emptied his palette of red paint solely onto this portion of the canvas that is the sky, before haphazardly adding swathes of fluffy, translucent grey, tinged and kissed throughout by a rubicund luster. The clouds blustered and drifted, stretched and amalgamated, all the while forming fantastical mirages of individualistic perception, enticing one’s imagination to give it a shape, for how often do we look up at the heavens, and find that each and every cloud has an abstract shape, limited only by what we can perceive and attribute to it? The bloodshot visage of the sky melted away gracefully into beryl allurement, as if some antecedent divine documents had called for the daily marriage between the two, and the clouds once again took on their cotton demeanours as we dislodge our contemplation, and head downwards to a more mundane, but no less sculpted panorama.

The island was to be the destination of the ship, and thus the destination of our heroes, and the first image we have is of the unsullied beaches, and crystalline waters. Out of a single perfect seed, a single perfect world; out of a single perfect world, a thousand perfect seeds. Let not this writer’s knack of heaping praise divert your attention away from the truth. The waters were akin to a sheet of liquid glass from afar, millions upon millions of diamonds spangling in the scintillating aurora rays, sparkling anew with each crest and each trough, every swirl and every wave agitating the glittering pinpricks of light, giving birth to a nihilistic, yet hypnotic opera of incandescent splendour.


The pristine beaches, long worn smooth by rising waters and ebbing tides, as well as the daily grind of legion swashes and backwashes, were like a grainy tabula rasa, waiting to be shaped. The omnipresent vegetation grew thickly, such that primeval trees entwined their crowns with younger saplings, affording a nigh impenetrable canopy of emerald verdancy, with only the numbered slivers of light filtering through, visible largely due to the dust in the air, and for which chaparral growth depended on to live, forever clawing upwards to better reach the light, and be spared Darwin’s selection.
Call the police. That was SOME description. The journalist in you, huh? Seriously, that was really good, esp seeing all this was wriiten some time ago.

“You like splashes, hmmm James?” Jessie was sugar, spice and everything nice, with saccharine words and a face to match, giving credence to her claims that if her name had been “Bessie” and not “Jessie”, she would inevitably have been a Powerpuff Girl. This author would like to note that the abovementioned claim is merely a quotation, so please do not send death threats.
Things are getting outta hand here. :p

The ensuing splash rang loud and clear in the early morning mist.

The last this author saw of the poor pokemon for that period of time, was when it was using Pokemon language to entice a tree to attack it, so that it might counter, destroy the aggressive tree and pass through that particularly dense clump of vegetation.
LOL moments.

hey I still do not get why in the world you use a name like Mitch. What kinda name is MITCH? Anyway, gonna look forward to the battle, and keep me informed on the net. Time zone difference, my friend.
 
M

mindripper

Guest
I asked for a review, not a whining session. Haha. Oh yeah there will be a battle when I finally get down to posting the next chapter. Er I canot remember if it will be 1v1 or 2v2, but I remember that it was pretty solid, I hope. Thanks for time, and cya soon. Gotta go sleep.
 

Sike Saner

Peace to the Mountain
A very enjoyable chapter (one which I wished I had noticed sooner... ^_^;; ), in which the humor was running particularly high and the narrator continued to kick *** (the narrator is still the best character in the fic IMO, being just simply that boss ^_^ ). The Team Rocket scenes were terrific; I was glad there were so many of them.

A couple of things I really liked:

“Misty, you sure don’t look like a leaf to me; I’m sure the caterpillar wasn’t looking at you. If I were the caterpillar, I know that I wouldn’t.” Our hero fired off another salvo at his friend, partially because of the mauling he had received previously.
XD Good old Ash. I see he continues to get some of the best lines in the story.

Besides, Wobbuffet was blue, and did not have a drop of chlorophyll in it. The last this author saw of the poor pokemon for that period of time, was when it was using Pokemon language to entice a tree to attack it, so that it might counter, destroy the aggressive tree and pass through that particularly dense clump of vegetation.
The last line in particular of that there…aww, it’s cute! I can totally imagine the little blue guy trying that, too. Poor, lovable thing.


I’m still liking this, and muchly. I’ll try to be on time for the next chapter. ^_^;;;
 

Mysteria Pearl

Queen of Mushy-ness!
Bravo! YAY! I really enjoyed that chapter! I especially loved the wise crack that Max made about May's brain moving causing her motion sickness! Hillarious! Great job! Keep uop the great work!


~~~~
Chapter 11 of Cape of the Ninetails is up
 
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