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Our old universe has fallen into impossible chaos and destruction, but the Legendaries will save us; are saving us; have saved us. Soon many lives and memories will fill this new universe, this new world, and give it purpose. (Our site is best viewed in Firefox or Chrome.)

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Summer is here! There are a whole bunch of Pokemon swarming, a whole bunch of quests that need doing. We also have two plot-related events: Professional Army and Alpha & Omega, and a slightly less plot-related but no less exciting event, a Tournament!

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Summer will be here until September. All of Terrene is heating up; Desert Strip gets more hot and dry, West Forest gets more hot and humid. Thunderstorms rage, particularly in the south. Bug, Electric, and Fire types are more common.

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Jun 23 2017, 03:40 AM
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<div class="parmtitle"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IV9mhM4i3-M"><i><font color="black">I am the juggernaut of the jungle<br>
A bengal tiger<br>
I am the Apocalypse</i></font></a href><br>
<img src="http://i.imgur.com/1R1uSmr.jpg" width="100"></div>


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((You know, if a froakie, or maybe even a croagunk... Or both appeared... Sometime during this adventure, I would not complain))
<p>
The thunder of footsteps, light and lithe upon the jungle ground but heavy and loud still in their careless, carefree sprint without heed for stealth or carefulness. Tattered yellow legging flashed by, leaping over a gnarled thick root before skidding as a vine was ducked, side-stepping and navigating nimbly and swiftly the dense undergrowth. Behind, only a pace or two along the floor a smaller shape, rounded ears and long jagged tail, bright flashed of orange-brown, sparks crackling behind as it chased. A mouse and a girl, running with reckless abandon, one in pursuit, one in freedom, with little care except to run, to run as fast as she could, breath heaving in her lungs, heart pounding in her chest, exhileration and adrenaline driving her as the delicious burn of energy in her legs mixed with the sting of cuts beings stretched and rubbed made such poignant reminders of just how alive she was! Of the world, flowering and flourishing all around her, jungle life so vibrant, so strange, so full.
<p>
And she tore through it, wild, free, running, breathing, gasping for air as plants broke and were crushed in her wake, the headh scents of thick foilage leaving her head spinning and deliciously light, vines and leaves whipping and her as she raced past. A laugh, a howl, crying out in the jungle, without care for who might hear, for what might hear, she was her own being, she was powerful, she was unstoppable! She bled, mortal, but how wonderful that was as well, and she challenged it, pushing the limits to see where they laid. She cared little if she was lost, if she was stranding herself in the midst of the wild, if she could find way to safety all the better, if not then that was as it was!
<p>
A vine, hanging low, tangled in a bush. She skidded, she fell, rolling to catch herself, tumbling, laughing, hysterical and maniacal as she spread her arms, the soil moist and rich underhand, the view above her a verdant green of the eaves swaying in hot breeze, the canopy a twisting maze of branches and plants. A trail of sparks, crackling, by her side appeared her little Maus, her Mus Mus, companion in this foreign place, this wonderful foreign place, their steps hesitant, eager yet wary. Ah but who had time to be worried, to be wary? What was fear, but an illusion! She could not fear if she was in control, she was aware of herself, a force in her own right, she was her own god, her own maker, born of another then gifted with a spark of life her own making. She was mighty. She was free, a stranger in a strange land, left to roam!
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Jun 22 2017, 11:18 PM
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<div class="parmcontent">
<div class="parmtitle"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IV9mhM4i3-M"><i><font color="black">I am the juggernaut of the jungle<br>
A bengal tiger<br>
I am the Apocalypse</i></font></a href><br>
<img src="http://i.imgur.com/1R1uSmr.jpg" width="100"></div>


<div class="parmesan">
((Purpose is to establish first thoughts on Terrene, name Mus Mus, and gain loyalty))
<p>
Lightning flashed, and with a dazzled yelp, Cheers watched in awe as the air glittered with sparks, electric, live, wild. Fire sparked, ignited, red and savage as it crackled from an ember to an inferno in an instant, overhead stormclouds hovering, heavy, dark. It was a moment, a flash, then with a surprised shout she was falling, the world falling away as she tumbled, a laugh at first coming from her lips, excitement ringing through her like a static charge, then replaced by confusion, struggle, twisting, clawing, grabbing, weightless in empty black space. She was moving, but where? She had no control, no sensations, only growing frustration, out of control. Teeth bared, a snarl, she thrashed, trying to grab or kick at something, anything, regain momentum and feeling, regain herself, her property, her will, her way. She would not be controlled, she would not be stripped of action and will.
<p>
Then she was on the ground, dirt pushing up under her hands, black earth coming up when she lifted one gloved hand, soil drifting from her soft earthen leather glove. She blinked, fascinated, letting her hand fall, fingers digging into the ground as she grabbed at it. Above a sky wheeled, blue, the air buzzing with warm, almost swelteringly so, the haze of summer thick and moist upon her skin, humid, the thick hor breeze bringing with it scents, so many many scents, a menagerie of life blossoming all around. Cloystering flowers, musky creatures, earthy bark, rich wet soil, and sweet ripe berries, it was almost overwhelming how suddenly... Alive everything was. How real.
<p>
She breathed it in, deep, savoring it. Hungering after it. It was so real she could taste it all, could feel it all, could race through it, crushing under foot leaves as their starches spilled in sluggish green liquid, could rip and rend it apart, crumbling petals and tearing teeth through the juices of fruit. She panted, eyes wide, drinking it in, the sun searing on pale skin, cuts on arms and myriads of scratches across legs. More, she needed more, needed to see it, to experience it. A scowl as she pushed herself to sitting, then started to move to standing, limbs aching with wound and weariness, body betraying her with weakness. No! She'd only just gotten here! Wherever here was. It was new, was strange, was wonderful, a jungle blossoming around a clearing, ashen earth under hand and under foot, surrounding her a ring of totems, their wooden eyes watching, reared and standing proud in place.
<p>
She paused, freezing, tense, watchful, interest perked, a flash of electricity catching her attention, half crouched in the act of rising still. It zigzagged, a quick small form, sparks trailing after a long tail, then stopped not far from her, raising on two legs to study her, whiskers and tail twitching. A mouse, its body orange and belly cream, a small little thing with large round ears. She knew it. She had known it. Even as her doe-brown eyes met it's own beady ones, the rodent tilting it's round little head and she turned her own petite one in mirror, she knew she knew it. It was something familiar, in her gut.
<p>
Muscles tensed one moment, the next she leapt, gloved hands slamming down on it to trap the rodent. Her prey. She grinned as it yelped, squeaking and thrashing under her hands, static tickling the metal cuffs on her arm with tingles.
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May 23 2017, 06:16 PM
Celebration filled the air of the evening, the Autumn Faire was upon the land and the people of Ashfield broke from their work and their toil to instead break bread and be merry for those two days of feasting and plenty. The ache of summer was over, and though the jungle knew no difference, the people could feel the air of autumn. A score of years they had managed a living, they had thrived where the land had thrown all chance and hope against them. They had conquered, and they were a strong people, working in the day to hunt, to build, to forge ahead a new path and a new life. They would not be forgotten or passed into obscurity, certainly the had been brought here, here! Of all places to seek new life and take it upon themselves!

And so the mead was brought forth, the drums set round, the merchants beginning to retire from their morning of sharing in wealth of another year come and past with their best of wares, and the fire was made, banking high as flames flickered and danced in the failing light. The flutes were brought to the edge, as were the lutes, and soon there was music, laughter, and dancing, as lithe figures dressed in bright colors whirled round and round the fire to the time and tune of the lively song that picked up, its beat drummed furiously out by grinning townsfolk and dictated by the laughter and roiling mood of those gathered round this fire.

Alec was one of the drummers that night, by day perhaps he was a carpenter's boy, young and training still though strong and certainly able, some couple of years in Terrene already and swiftly adapted to life here. In the shadows cast by the bonfire however, he was a sweat sleeked wild child, drumming like a demon with his hands beating upon the cured hide of the wooden drum that sat in his lap. Dark eyes watched the figures twirling before the flames, a few drinks already had been had, and the night fell upon them with a warmth and a buzz. The roars of the flames grew higher, and the dancing more vigorous, and his hands were a blur upon the pale drum head, his smile manic as dark hair clung to his head.

At first it seemed no one was quite able to tell they had arrived, but then it seemed the fire had been joined by a new folk, eyes bright and gleaming, song upon their lips, pale skirts flaring and spinning in dance, graceful and enchanting. They were not human, but fae, faces pale with green hair, dresses and skirts swirling round as they seamlessly joined in, voices strange and beautiful, whistling as sweet and more beautiful then even the most skilled fingers upon the wooden flute or pipes. Immediately Alec was lost in wonder, gaze upon a lass who twirled before him as he drummed, her steps so light as though upon the air, her movements so majestic as to make any girl pale in comparison. She danced in time to his drumming, and enthralled, he drummed faster and faster, her gaze sparkling in challenge as they performed together. His heart was in his throat, the light of the fire glistening on the sweat that beaded his forehead and arms, and never did he stop drumming.

At last the fae approached, a hand light, lingering, brushing against his arm. In a moment Alec took her hand, his drum abandoned for another and his heart racing as soon he was whirling before the fire with the other dancers and the other strange creatures. Did he dream? It was hard to tell, yet the creature before him was so wonderous he dared not let himself believe she could not be real. He danced as he had never had before, fierce, fast, twirling, twisting, such joyous movement as he danced with her, whirling around the fire, again and again, the cheers and merriment of others around him a drunken blur as he grinned, lost in the moment.

A hand drew him away at last, the fae tugging him after her, begging him follow silently, eyes glittering with secrets, with surprise, with a hidden excitement. Entranced, Alec followed, the fae racing into the dark of the night and the jungle, him laughing as he followed. Her laughter was music, he couldn't understand the creature but it was majestic, magical. He thought for a moment red claws glinted on his wrist as her hand pulled him along after, but it must only have been the drink that clouded his mind and nothing more.

Such was what he thought until Alec stopped running, the fae's grip dropping from his hand as she slowed, twirling slowly in the moonlight. They were in a small clearing, not even that, merely a place where above a gap shown through the thick canopy, letting pale light fall upon the glittering grass, wet and sparkling with moisture. The fae was as a goddess, pale and so beautiful amidst the grass, her skirts pale, her features round and soft. He trailed slowly after her, and she smiled at him, her smile warm, beaming for him only, her sylven voice high, musical as it rang out it a giggle, whispering words he couldn't understand.

She drew close to Alec then, and they embraced. Red hair singed with black brushed against him, fur black and smooth under his grip. Startled, he tried to pull back in surprise and confusion, and claws dug into his arm and across his back, gripping him and holding him in place. Alarmed, he ripped himself free of her grip, stumbling back, claw marks bleeding and hot with dripping blood. Wide eyes met sharp cerulean ones, the fae lass replaced by a foxish creature of nightmare, humanoid still but replacing fair elven features and soft white dress across pale white and green skin with a body of black fur and wide paws of scarlet claws, hair long and drawn back, a crimson river bound by a cerulean orb. A muzzle of teeth gleamed at him, sharp, predatory.

Alec turned to run, and she lunged for him.

The dancers, so far away, leaping round the fire, and the musicians, playing around them, and the revellers, drinking and laughing and making merry, none ever heard his scream, nor would they hear the others that rang out that night. Before the morning came, a number would be gone, vanished away, the lucky few who followed the fae creatures or who tried to catch one before the night was done and the creatures vanished. None returned.
May 23 2017, 05:39 PM
They say there are beasts, out there, out in the dark woods beyond, who walk the jungle and the forest in the furthest hours of night, who race across the plains under pale moonlight, who scale the peaks hidden out of sight, who traverse the desert sands in murky twilight, like mirages upon its pale waves, half-hidden, half-dreamed. They are ravenous beasts, intelligent, clever, and with a hunger of the flesh, of the human flesh most directly and specifically, creatures capable of with a glance striking fear and reminding so clearly ones own mortal bindings.

Demons, I hear you say, they are the ones who can make you fear, they are the ones who can make you whimper and hide, afraid of shadows moving on walls, who can cloud your judgement, inflict you with the sadness, with the madness of the suffering and the pain of a thousand losses. They are the ones who prey on us like Mareep, who toy with us for dark amusement, like instruments, bent and twisted to hear our most plaintive and wounded cries. Like shadows they creep all around, hiding, never showing themselves, laughs like echoes in our sleep as nightmares plague our rest, laughs like cackles in our sleep as meat is stripped of bone, laughs like howls in our sleep as our bodies are lain forgotten.

Aye, they are demons, but not of a sort you would think. They slink in shadows but boldly too they walk among us, dancing, swirling, in green and white they prance, pretending at innocence. You would not know one if you saw one, crafty are their ways, enchanting their song and graceful their movements, they allure with a glance, promising revelry, promising romance. See them come to your fires all dressed in green, know that the gardevoir isn't what it seems, but ahh how the entrancement comes so fast, some may know the secret, but others, alas.

They are a gifted folk you see, capable of tricking the eye and fooling the mind and most deceptive in their act. None can alter the truth as they do, twisting reality so thoroughly, so true. Even the ghostly folk, aye, many pale in comparison to their prowess and touch. Yet they are not of a spectral breed, nay, they are but flesh and bone, through and through, yet still these false visions do they spin with an art and a craft, unlike any other. Can one trust one's own eyes around them? Best not chance it, for even the ears tell lies of their crafting. Yet so easy is it to believe, so wanting of this illusion, for is it not a much better deceit then to face the horror of underneath?

For indeed do not take them for a graceless crude people, they hide their forms but they are fair through and through, black furred foxes with long red manes of hair, paws like hands, wide with red claws, paws like feet, long and sturdy bearing weight across two thick pads, cyan eyes glimmering in the dark, cyan eyes, deceiving, all-seeing, sharp. Such an orb, bright as their eyes, binds their mane, a crystal glimmering and bright, hinting of mystery and mystical things, a key perhaps to their powers that defy the nature of their beast. For indeed, should you see one you would not recognize them, though their name perhaps you might once have heard in a whisper: Zoroark.

These demons hide the reality of their nature most cleverly though, for indeed, they entertain human company, they are not one to remain skulking only in shadows. They are a musical people, drawn to the light of the fires, drawn to the music and the revelry and the leaping figures before the fire, and such they themselves are a dancing folk, they are fleet, graceful, they play upon wooden instruments and whistle most sweetly, stamping and beating clawed feet in time to the drums, singing most beautifully, whirling and twirling before the flames and the song, such dances enchanting beyond name. Known best for their green, guised often in the nature of the nature of gardevoir or their like, they boldly display this false visage, and only those who know to look perhaps might glimpse those scarlet claws past the illusion.

For those that don't however, come the light of morning, the Zoroark surely will be gone, and with them perhaps, a few others, lost forever then. They are beasts after all, animals. Just as any other, they eat, and what better then sweet human flesh for those entranced by their song and dance to take the hand of one of the green and white? For any who would attempt to befriend or capture the lithe figures that dance before the fire surely no better fate awaits, for as man would prey upon sawsbuck and stantler then surely they too prey upon man, without shame for such an action is simply the way of nature. Would they prey upon sawsbuck and stantler when such are what they walk the woods with? Hardly.

Perhaps not every one of them was like such though. Perhaps there was one who found hunting the deer amidst the woods and across the plains better then taste of human, especially of sleek dancer boys. Perhaps that one was named Kryshio. Perhaps that one is the one writing this story for you.
May 23 2017, 03:48 PM
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He gasped as he awoke, greedily sucking in breath, limbs shaking and sweat dripping down his temples as his heart raced. Disorientation followed immediately after, he whimpered as blue eyes glanced around in confusion, finding surroundings strange and intimidatingly unfamiliar. His chest hurt, and for several moments he had difficulty breathing, panting as he wheezed, trying to collect himself and sort his scattered mind. He had been... had been chocking, he couldn't breath before.... there was... smoke.... burning.... the building had been burning around him... he had been trying to help... help someone and suffocated.... The nightmare was slipping fast, leaving his only with the unease of knowing with a sort of twisted feeling inside that he had died. And that it seemed a little too real to have just been a dream. But nothing here was burning... nothing was burning, there was no smoke he told himself as he closed his eyes, separating the remnants of his nightmare from the waking reality to understand he was not dying... he was fine, he was... safe...
<p>
Was he though? There was still something off about it all... he didn't recognize the walls around him he realized as he opened his eyes again, early morning light already spilling through a window of wood and cloth. He felt warm, something was pressed on him, around him. Realization came slow, shaking off the last tremors of adrenaline from his sleep to come face to face with where he was in the world, his head groggy and pained but functioning still enough to come to certain terms. Azure eyes widened, in disbelief and embarrassment he felt himself begin to blush, struggling to comprehend that what he was aware of was the truth.
<p>
Namely that there was another person, another man, pressed snugly against his back, their chest radiating the heat of their body and the head nuzzled against him, brushing against his short black hair in what perhaps was a protective or possessive manner, arms embracing him and holding him against them. Both he and they were decidedly also without clothing, skin flush against bare skin, and warm, so warm it almost felt unbearable, hot blood flowing just under the surface. Strange feelings lingered and stirred inside himself and he thought his shoulder ached slightly, the memories of the previous day were cloudy under the hazy ache of his head but he thought he could piece together.... some the basic details. And imagine all too well the rest. Far too well in fact, biting his lip, he drew his legs slightly closer to himself. He didn't sleep without his clothes generally, especially not... with another. He didn't need to look to know who it was either.
<p>
"Fleet...." He murmured to himself, all but silently, sighing shakily against the younger man against him, their lean frame slightly smaller then his own athletic one, yet with a wiry strength in the grip of arms around him and a sense of largeness in the easy natural power of toned muscles against him. He swallowed, eyes closing. It was hard to think against the aching of his head, but he felt a certain distress creeping through anyways. What.... how? What had happened.... what had been in those drinks.... what had..... it didn't make sense.... and the reality of.... having made love to someone with whom while he would admit he had.... strong feelings towards, had only known a handful of days at most was.... how did he.... what was he supposed.... he felt like a mess, and ashamed at the terrible situation he had made of things.
<p>
Because he felt uncomfortable with the current position and alarmed at what had happened, yet at the same time he couldn't deny.... he had wanted it. He had wanted Fleet, and wanted Fleet to want him. Yet it had all moved... moved so fast. How had it managed to go from talking to cuddling outside to.... intimacy so quickly? What had been wrong with him the other day? It all felt... felt wrong. Felt rushed. Felt awkward, he didn't know.... know how to react. How to deal with this. It felt like everything had gone ahead of him and he was left flailing in a depth far beyond him or what he had been prepared for.
<p>
Taking a quivering breath, he began to push himself up, tenderly trying to squeeze out of Fleet's grip and if he was able to before or without waking the other man, then search... first for his clothing perhaps to get them on. He needed to start with that while he could concentrate on it. Perhaps... some water and a cloth to wash himself... where were they anyways...?
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