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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 world, and give it purpose.

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As Terrene leaves behind
the long, dark nights, their minds turn to friendship and romance at the second annual speed dating! And don't miss out on the clover hunt or the poetry season. Our plot event, alpha & omega, is drawing closer to its end, but is still going strong for now.

Season

Spring will be here until
June. The rainy season begins in the tropical areas; the rest of Terrene begins to thaw and warm, shaking the chill of winter and creeping toward the heat of summer. Fairy and grass types relish in the season of rebirth and renewal!

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Keep it PG! | rules


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Pokemon: Terrene Pokemon: Terrene

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Location: East Coast
Born: 28 March 1987
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Joined: 5-October 16
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Last Seen: Nov 4 2016, 04:58 PM
Local Time: Apr 24 2018, 07:37 PM
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Moes

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Oct 11 2016, 08:31 PM
[dohtml]
<div align="center"><div class="moesposthead">First Night in "Paradise"</div><div class="moespostbody"><div class="moeobjective"><b>Objective</b><br>Raise Igglybuff's Loyalty using various trust building techniques and by giving him a name.
</div>
<br>
<div class="moepost">
Moes pressed his hand against the left side door frame and leaned in. His fingers hooked against the moulding around the frame and kept him from leaning in more than a few inches. It was a quaint room they were letting him borrow. Newcomers night they had called it. He didn't know if that was common around the city or if he'd just been lucky enough to find someone with an empty room. They likely hoped he'd want to stay a few more nights and would have something to trade for it.
<br><br>
Ashfield City was a decent sized city and most of the people he'd ran into had been very friendly. Apparently most people that were in this city had started out a lot like him, they had ended up on the large cobbled platform with little to no memories of how they'd gotten there or where they'd come from. It seemed a large handful of those individuals decided to never move and the city had grown larger due to both the intermittent influx of newcomers and the families that started to grow.
<br><br>
<b>"Hey, thanks again."</b> He called over his shoulder and stepped into the room. He turned to close the door behind him waiting long enough for the small pink fey to bounded into the room through his legs. The door clicked closed and by muscle memory he dropped his hand slightly and twisted the lock closed. Pausing he hummed to himself noticing the unconscious action after the fact.
<br><br>
With a shrug he turned back to face the room; a simple bed with a plain, thick comforter, a bookshelf with some pictures on it, a small bedside table, and a comfortable looking chair. Walking over to the bookshelf he leaned over to look at the pictures, all but one were hand drawn pictures, most of pokemon. They seemed familiar but he couldn't place them; that feeling didn't bother him as badly as it had since he'd been told it was common for newcomers. He had been told the professor could explain more to him. He finished looking at the pictures, one was crumpled and had fold creases in it like it had been folded in someone's pocket. It was a blonde haired women, much younger than the man who'd let him borrow the room for the night.
<br><br>
Moes went over and sat on the edge of the bed, it creaked under his weight and he looked around to where the pokemon had gone.</div>
<br>
<div class="oberonpost">
During this brief period of exploration, the Igglybuff saw to familiarizing himself with the primary focus of the room - the bed. With a gentle wobble, the little pink creature stared at the considerable jump in height from the floor to that enticing comforter.
</div>
<br>
<div class="moepost">
<b>"Hey,"</b> he waited for the fairy to look at him or appear to be listening, <b>"what do you think of all this?"</b> He didn't expect the pokemon to respond, well with anything more than its name, but it was some kind of small talk at least. <b>"You're not suffering any kind of memory loss are you?"</b> He waited for a response.
</div>
<br>
<div class="oberonpost">
<span>”Buff,”</span> the creature answer steeped brevity, an answer in the negative. There followed a brief silence, in which the pokemon started to shuffle about on the floor, with no particular direction in mind. <span>”Iggly iggly. Igglybuff, Iggly. Buff,”</span> he explained, recounting events. He eventually stopped and looked clear up towards the human, and spoke once more, gesturing towards him with his tiny little arms. <span>”Buff!”</span>
</div>
<br>
<div class="moepost">
He hummed and nodded. <b>"What do you say we get you a name?"</b> Again he waited for an acknowledgement and continued talking. <b>"I <i>think</i> you're a fairy kind of pokemon, at least that seemed to come to mind when I looked at you. I remember you said you shook yourself when I asked if you had a name so I can give you something."</b> He thought a moment; <i>fairy...fairy...what's something that comes to mind about a fairy….</i>
<br><br>
His mind wandered over events that seemed to have no connection to one another. A wedding and flowers, some king, some half animal half human. Magic performed and undone, he decided to try and focus on names, or things that seemed like names. Hermia, Puck, Demetrius, Oberon, Helena, Nick, Robin, Egeus, Titania. Theseus, Lysander… He decided to start listing the names, the ones that didn't sound too much like a females name and see what the little fey reacted to. <b>"Okay what do you think of these...Puck,"</b> he paused between each, <b>"Demetrius,"</b> that was a males name right?
</div>
<br>
<div class="oberonpost">
<span>”...Iggly.”</span> came the creatures reply, short and unimpressed. Much like he was.
</div>
<br>
<div class="moepost">
<b>"Lysander, Nick, Egeus, Oberon, Robin, Theseus..."</b>
</div>
<br>
<div class="oberonpost">
<span>”Buff!”</span> came a finally enthusiastic reply, perhaps a little too late after the name he liked was mentioned. He motioned as best as he could for his newfound friend to back up, though this quickly devolved into wild bounces that were difficult to decipher.
</div>
<br>
<div class="moepost">
<b>"Wait, Robin?"</b> He waited and when that didn't seem to elicit the same reaction he tried again. <b>"Oberon?"</b>
</div>
<br>
<div class="oberonpost">
<span>”Buff!”</span> he replied once more, with what amounted to a short jump on the spot.
</div>
<br>
<div class="moepost">
<b>"Hum, Oberon. That sounds like a pretty good name. Okay Oberon it is then."</b>
</div>
<br>
<div class="oberonpost">
<span>”Buff. Igglybuff,”</span> the pokemon retorted, quite satisfied with its new moniker. With a short spout of bouncing in place, Oberon finally managed to summon the momentum to hop up onto the foot of the bed. There, he turned to face his new friend, looking quite pleased with himself.
</div>
</div>
<div class="moespostfoot"><b>[Development]</b> Moes // Oberon</div></div>

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[/dohtml]
Oct 9 2016, 07:31 PM
[dohtml]
<div align="center">
<div class="moesposthead">Let's Get Some Answers</div>
<div class="moespostbody"><div class="moepost">
The appearance of another human pulled from to the stone-carved landing pad wasn't unheard of, but these events were few and far between and not a soul—that he saw, was around. He stood there a moment after he appeared trying to take in his surroundings. A thick haze covered his thoughts and he tried to pull out of it as he noted both the surrounding forest and the village down below. Several thoughts entered his mind, first where was he, how had he gotten here, and that thought brought around the sudden realization that he didn’t know the answer to any of those questions.
<br><br>
The man's brows furrowed and he glanced down , the stones here were cobbled together in a circle with pillars set around in equal spacing. To the left of his leg a small pick creature bobbled. He recognized it at once as a pokemon, it seemed he retained some of his memories, the ones with no direct relation to himself or his past, there was a word for that and he felt he should know it. <b>"Hey girl, do you have a name?"</b> He asked turning toward the pokemon that was with him. He reasoned it might belong to him since it was this close.</div>
<br>
<div class="oberonpost"><span>"Iggly!"</span> The fairy type responded by puffing up its cheeks and frowning at being called a girl.</div>
<br>
<div class="moepost"><b>"Oh. Woah—hey, sorry."</b> He said and reached up to scratch his head. The black elastic band of his eyepatch stretched under the movement of his fingers bringing him to the realization he was only peering through one eye. He raised his left hand and placed the tips of his fingers to the eyepatch and hummed. He looked back down to the pokemon, a fairy type the knowledge kind of pulled itself to the forefront of his mind. <b>"You're a fellow then huh?"</b></div>
<br>
<div class="oberonpost"><span>"Buff buff."</span> He responded still not sure what he thought of this human he found himself paired with. In fact aside from the knowledge that this was his human he too didn't remember much else. It didn't strike the igglybuff the same way it did the human, just that he felt beholdan to the man before him.</div>
<br>
<div class="moepost">The blonde decided not to muse aloud to the pokemon too much, though it seemed to understand Common to an extent. He wasn't sure how or when he'd lost his memories and wasn't sure how much this pokemon actually knew him. <b>"Do you already have a name?"</b> He tried one more time, maybe not missgendering the poor creature he could get an answer.</div>
<br>
<div class="oberonpost">Still frowning indecisively at his trainer the igglybuff twisted his body back and forth in a 'no' swinging his arms as he did.</div>
<br>
<div class="moepost"><b>"No? Well lets come up with something…but what do you say we start toward that town down there. Maybe get some answers, come on we'll just mosey."</b> He said and took a few steps waving his hand with him. Maybe the pokemon would come, after all maybe it wasn't his and the last thing he wanted to do was pick up a wild creature if it wasn't his. <b>"Maybe we'll run into someone who can answer some questions too."</b></div>


</div>
<div class="moespostfoot"><b>[Social]</b> Moes // Oberon</div></div>

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[/dohtml]
Oct 6 2016, 12:33 PM
[dohtml]<link href='http://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Montserrat' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'><style> #misc7t {width: 300px; padding: 20px; background-color: #fff; font-family: montserrat; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 7px; letter-spacing: 1px;} .misc7n {vertical-align: middle; font-family: montserrat; color: #121212; border-bottom: 1px solid #121212; padding-bottom: 7px; font-size: 7px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; width: 220px; display: inline-block;} #misc7t img {width: 50px; height: 50px; padding: 5px; border: 1px solid #121212; margin-right: -3px; background-color: #fff;} .misc7n2 {font-family: montserrat; color: #121212; border-bottom: 1px solid #121212; padding-bottom: 7px; font-size: 7px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: uppercase; text-align: left;} #misc7t a {font-family: montserrat!important; font-weight: bold; color: #121212; text-transform: uppercase;}</style><center><div id="misc7t">

<img src="http://i.imgur.com/HgwzaKr.jpg" /> <div class="misc7n">moes</div>

<p><div class="misc7n2">important threads</div><BR>
<a href="http://pokemonterrene.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=94">profile</a> • <a href="http://pokemonterrene.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=101">starter</a>

<p><div class="misc7n2">active threads</div><BR>
<a href="http://pokemonterrene.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=122">Let's get some answers</a> • [Social] • with Judas & Kaien<BR>
<a href="http://pokemonterrene.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=135">First night in "Paradise"</a> • [Development] • solo<BR>

<p><BR><div class="misc7n2">inactive threads</div><BR>
<a href="#">thread name</a> • [Type] • with namehere<BR>

<p><BR><div class="misc7n2">completed threads</div><BR>
<a href="http://pokemonterrene.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=101">Radio Static</a> • [Starter] • with <i>Jani</i><BR>


</div><div style="width: 300px; font-family: arial; text-align: right; text-transform: uppercase; font-size: 7px;"><a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=145">&copy; lauz</a></div></center>[/dohtml]
Oct 6 2016, 10:55 AM
[dohtml]<div class="moesboundingbox"><div class="moescontent">
<h1>Radio Static</h1>
Drake woke to the howling of the wind. The lights were still out but the grey morning filtered in through the basement's grated window wells. The floor was hard even with the flimsy plastic covered dorm matrasses. He glanced over at the time, <b>7:38</b> showed in red digital, that was almost five hours of sleep. The shifting of other bodies could be heard and the weeping of one girl, she was a freshman he'd learned.
<br><br>
Of course by now he had long graduated but with the way things had gotten the sturdy old buildings around the University were the safest place to go. Lots of people had tried to keep on with their lives when the Suffering started, it started slow enough, some evangelized the end times for our sins, some for the way we treated pokemon, some said it was a test and we just had to keep on with our lives. The latter is what most did, some successfully so. This was just one of the bad times, the flaring up of natural disasters, it would die down in a few weeks if the previous pattern were anything to go by.
<br><br>
The wind was a pleasant sound despite the danger it heralded, pleasant for him anyway. He'd spoken to several other individuals and about half could also hear it. The static. It came and went and seemed to be his small slice of hell in the end times they were experiencing. The constant unavoidable sound that left him at times unable to organize his thoughts.
<br><br>
He rolled over and pushed himself up, wanting to get some morning inspections done before the static pervaded his mind again. The door's metal push bar clicked as he leaned into it, there was resistance against the door. Air pressure. The wind or a tree must have broken out one of the windows. The stairwell door pulled free of his fingertips as he slipped through and slammed shut behind him as he ascended the stairs. A deep sigh escaped him as he rounded the corner and stepped out onto the main floor. Sure enough leaves and debris were blowing in and had already collected in the opposite corner of the room.
<br><br>
<i>Skreeee.</i>
<br><br>
A quick turn of his head and Drake saw a large spearow; one wing hung limp and it raised its talons defensively. <b>"Hey now."</b> Drake said and took a half step back from the wounded creature.
<br><br>
<center><b style="font-size: 16px;">Wooo</b><b>oooo</b></center>
<br>
<b>"Dammit."</b> He cussed as the sirens screamed in the distance. He turned away from the wild pokemon and hurried back down the stairs taking them two at a time and pulling the basement door open against the resistance again. <b>"Matt… Matt!"</b> Drake raised his voice and stepped over a stirring body. <b>"Where’s the… give me that, the-"</b>
<br><br>
<b>"-the sirens. I can hear them."</b> The dark haired male answered and held out a small radio. Matthew was one of the Residential Advisors in this dorm and one of the older students here.
<br><br>
Drake grabbed it out of his hand even as he handed it to him and started spinning the dial listening for the right station. Nothing but radio static. With little patience he turned the radio up and saw the black slider on FM. <b>"No wonder…why is it on FM?"</b> An irritation toned his words as he fumbled with the radio again a situation touching a nerve.
<br><br>
<b>"Bri wanted to try and find some music last night something to help her sleep, there's still that one station someone's trying to play on."</b> Matt answered and watched the other grope at the electronic.
<br><br>
The toggle clicked over to AM and he wheeled the dial again trying to pick up anything, listening for some report from the National Weather Service. The sirens were saying a tornado was coming, was it coming at them or just nearby? Watch or warning? Just radio static. <b>"Are all the weather service stations down now too?"</b> Drake muttered mostly to himself.
<br><br>
<b>"It's not on."</b>
<br><br>
<b>"What? Yeah, it's just nothing but static."</b>
<br><br>
<b>"No Drake, there's nothing. It's dead."</b> Matthew reached out and mashed a few of the buttons, <b>"no leds are lighting up. Need new batteries."</b>
<br><br>
Drake sat quiet a moment, the returned static sound growing in his ears made him more agitated. <b>"Where are the batteries?"</b> Agitated at the lack of peace.
<br><br>
<b>"We ran out Drake—of ones down here. There's some in the storage closets upstairs but we haven't had a chance—"</b>
<br><br>
<b>"Give me the keys."</b> Drake interrupted and took the radio in one hand and holding his palm out to Matt with the other. They needed to know how close the tornado was and how many there were, when it might stop and when they could come out of hiding for a little while. He watched Matt get the keys and hand them over hesitantly.
<br><br>
<b>"Second floor, room 101, it's the housekeeping closet."</b>
<br><br>
<b>"I'll grab what I can."</b> He said and leaped over a now empty bed mat and rushed through the stair. The radio was clasped in one hand and the closet keys in the other. Two flights of stairs was no trouble but the sky had already darkened considerably and the rumble of thunder in the distance made him think they didn't need the radio to tell them it was coming their way. The static buzzed in his ears and his vision again, making everything jump like a movie reel.
<br><br>
He found himself in front of the closet and with it open before he realized, his focus on the storm overtaking the menial travel. He left the keys hanging in the door and stepped inside. A pull string clicked and light from a yellow bulb lit the room. Batteries first. He pulled the tab off the back of the radio and looked. Two double 'A' batteries. He knocked the old ones out into his hand and threw them into the waste bin. The shelves that lined the room were full of towels, toilet paper, light bulbs, cleaning supplies, he knocked things over shuffling through looking for the batteries. <b>"Ah."</b> He reached for the box of 36.
<br><br>
The static stopped. <i class="fa fa-caret-left" aria-hidden="true"></i><i class="fa fa-caret-left" aria-hidden="true"></i>

</div><img class="moesavatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/eymUEXO.jpg">
<div class="moesinfobox"><b>[Starter]</b>
<br><i>Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn’t people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them?</i></div>

<div class="moesarrow"><i class="fa fa-caret-left" aria-hidden="true"></i></div></div>
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Oct 5 2016, 10:46 AM
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<div class="simpapplication">

<img src="http://i.imgur.com/ed2EVci.png">

<div class="simpappname">Moes</div>

<div class="simpappinfo">thirty - male - heterosexual</div>

<div class="simpappdesc">Appearance</div>
Moes is a light-skinned male with long blonde hair which he keeps pulled back in a somewhat loose ponytail. He has a thin moustache and goatee, perhaps barely a shade darker than his hair, that he keeps meticulously trimmed. He has vivid blue eyes, though his left is covered by a simple black eyepatch; a small scar splits the eyelids down their center, but it doesn’t give much indication as to what may have happened. Mo is of average build with some slight muscle definition, as though he were athletic. A black tribal tattoo weaves its way across his shoulder blades just under his neck. He came through the rift wearing a clean white button-up shirt, a pressed black jacket and dark jeans held in place at his waist with a thick black leather belt.
<br><br>
<center>worick arcangelo - gangsta - <a href="http://www.zerochan.net/Worick+Arcangelo" style="text-transform: lowercase;">zerochan</a></center><br>

<div class="simpappdesc">Personality</div>
Moes is a laid back, easy going person when left to his own devices. He’s extremely protective of people he cares for--women and children fitting foremost into this category--and kind-hearted to a fault. He has two distinct different smiles: one a wide, excited and joyous beam, the other a soft, gentle and kind simper, the latter being a rarer yet more genuine sight. Despite his friendly attitude he seems to keep most people at arm's length. He wants to think the best of people, but a nagging intuition tells him getting too close to others could hurt him. While he's fairly confident he doesn't have much to fear physically from most people, his desire to not talk about what past he can remember keeps him distant enough that he feels he won’t get too many personal questions.
<br><br>
While he often adopts a casual attitude to life, Moes is more than capable of acting seriously and stepping up to the plate when necessary. Examples of these times can range from simple injustices to malicious acts against the defenseless.
<br><br>
Moes tends to tease people he’s comfortable with, and has a naturally mischievous attitude. One way he teases is by calling friends uncommon and often rude names, assuming they're of the understanding that he isn’t serious. Those he does this to are often others he feels a kindred spirit with, has spent a lot of time with, or would have a great unspoken respect for. The mischievousness falls in hand with his casual attitude. When life starts to get rough, a few jokes here and there--even sometimes at someone’s mild expense--is a way Moes helps others get through the day.
<br><br>
Though he can be scrappy at times, Moes prefers to stand up in the face of adversity. That said, he’s also not likely to pick a fight he knows he can’t win. He has learned that a threat of force will make most people back down, though he hates to employ that kind of behavior as it doesn't mesh well with his desire to just live and let live. He rarely physically initiates fights but might goad one into happening with his words if he feels the individual's actions are egregious enough.
<br><br>
Moes has a sharp mind and good deduction skills. Aware of that, it bothers him that he has little concrete memories of where he came from or who he is. Due to this and other factors he’s prone to wandering. Since he’s heard of some individuals getting their memories back, he moves around often, hoping something will spark the reignition of his own. More nights than not he also has bad dreams or nightmares; they aren't enough to wake him, but enough to make his sleep restless which only exacerbates his wandering. The dreams consist mostly of the Suffering Universe, and it's mostly the audio and visual abnormalities that make the dreams unnerving. Aside from a terrible sense of unease he remembers little to nothing of these dreams when he awakens.

<br><br><div class="simpappdesc">History</div>
Moes is from the Suffering Universe and doesn’t remember his real name, first or last.
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Unbeknownst to him, Moes was born Drake Silverson, a second son and illegitimate child in a well-to-do middle class family. His illegitimacy made him a target of occasional physical abuse from his father. Despite the odds, he was a relatively normal kid and appeared to have a decent life from an outsider’s perspective. He was emotionally disconnected but relatively bright and spent the majority of his time studying.
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He didn’t get his first pokemon until much later in his life, though he wasn’t ignorant of them. He had taken to studying pokemon, though his interest was primarily biological. His first significant encounter with a pokemon was with a Deerling during his youth. The passive demeanor he’d developed during his upbringing helped establish the roots of his connection with the umber-toned creature. Their relationship was slow to develop, but with it came the growth and understanding of empathy in the young boy Drake.
<br><br>
He left home in his teens but continued to pursue his education, just as the Suffering began to unravel the world. It was subtle and slow at first, the way time started to flicker; he wondered if he was suffering from some kind of delusion or malady of the brain. Then the calamities came, destructive forces of nature that tore at the land and wracked the seas. The flow of time seemed to wax and wane and the saturation drained out of everything. A static sound pervaded the air daily-it was like trying to watch the world go by on a black and white TV with poor antenna reception.
<br><br>
The mind numbing sound and the new almost autonomous life of just trying to get by and survive the major disasters dialed him back and settled him, like a few others, into a day-by day zombie-like survival, until one day the static stopped.

<br><br><div class="simpappdesc"> moe - eastern - any</div>

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<div class="tcred"><a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=1892" target="_blank">♛ Ames</a></div>
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