Ask to Join Pokémon: Myths of Arkhaios

[Charlotte Pryce]

Location: Steadfast City, Capital of the Fist Clan​

Charon watched as midsummer turned to winter right before his eyes. The spartan yet pleasant surroundings he was accustomed to seeing in Fist Clan territory sank beneath a shroud of ice and snow. Overhead, his Froslass, Khione, loomed over the city like an angel of death. Brittle snowflakes twirled around her like dance partners.

Charon whistled as he marched through the street, grateful for the fur-lined boots he'd purchased the day prior. He gazed upon the many rows of petrified faces lining his path, humans and Machamps whose expressions were carefully preserved in their icy cocoons. They all looked so surprised.

Charon pondered how many citizens were still shut in their cabins. Perhaps they had seen the storm coming and decided to wait it out. More likely, however, the Blizzard had caught them completely unawares, freezing their doors shut before they could climb out of bed. It mattered not to Charon so long as no one got in his way.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. Khione floated beside him, cooing softly. "You've found him, then?" He asked.

Khione nodded and rose higher into the sky. Charon trudged after her. Despite not seeing his homeland in two years, he was almost certain where the king was hiding. His suspicions were confirmed when Khione made a beeline for the grand hall.

Predictable.

Charon drew his sword and approached the door cautiously. It was frozen solid, like the guards standing before it. Bless Khione. She knew her handiwork. Charon turned the sword over in his hand. Its Charizard-shaped hilt glistened despite the overcast. He pointed the blade at the door and spoke in a clear, calm voice.

"Fire Blast."

The eyes of the Charizard hilt glowed bright red. One heartbeat later, a plume of fire shot from the blade, obliterating the door. A fist collided with Charon's jaw, and within two seconds, he realized a large man and his Annihilape were rushing him.

Fortunately, Khione was prepared. She drew the Annihilape's Shadow Punch and countered with Poltergeist. Wasting no time, Charon recovered his sword and held it to the king's neck.

"Call off your Pokémon, or I'll end you here!"

The threat proved unnecessary, however, as Charon's Froslass finished off the Annihilape with Frost Breath.

"Your Highness," Charon spat with mock reverence. "I don't suppose you remember me."

The bronze-skinned giant of a man did not answer, but Charon could sense his pulse racing.

"Great King Asterion!" Charon continued. "Leader of the fiercest tribe of warriors. Ruined by Froslass and a cursed child."

At the word "cursed," Khione's head snapped toward Charon. However, the word "ruined" brought realization to the king.

"Y-you..."

"He remembers!" Charon released King Asterion from his grip and swung his blade around. "After these years, I thought you would've forgotten. I suppose you think it's fair compensation for ruining my life."

Charon had to bite back the bitterness in his voice. "Well, it's not. And I am here to get every cent that I'm owed."

"Killing my clan wasn't enough for you?" Now that the king had regained his voice, he sounded furious.

"Kill them?" Charon chuckled. "On the contrary, that was never part of my plan."

"But you--"

"I wanted your people out of the way." Charon spat. "Once we're finished here, my allies will thaw them and their Pokémon out. My business is with you and you alone."

King Asterion straightened up. "What do you want then?"

"Your spear, to start with," Charon answered, taking the weapon. "And the Tauros manuscript."

The king stiffened. "I don't know--"

"Don't toy with me, highness." Charon hissed as he pointed his blade at Asterion's throat. "The manuscript is within these walls." He paced back and forth, scanning the room. His eyes fell upon a tapestry of a man wrestling a bull-like creature. He stopped suddenly, ripped the tapestry from the wall, and revealed a hidden scroll and dory spear.

"Obvious, like most hiding places." Charon took the spear and the manuscript before facing King Asterion.

"We're done here." He gestured for Khione to follow him, turned his back, and prepared to leave. He took his fourth step when Charon felt something whoosh past his right ear. Khione leaped into action, and a howl and a scream pierced the air.

Slowly, Charon turned around. The former King Asterion stood with his arms raised and mouth hanging open. Crystals covered his skin, hair, and eyeballs, the results of a point-blank Sheer Cold attack.

Charon sighed and faced the doorway. He pried the knife from the wall and cursed himself for not thinking the king had a concealed weapon. Taking a deep breath, Charon ventured out into the sunlight. The Blizzard had vanished. He clutched the spear, which bore a remarkable likeness to a Heracross horn.

"Well, Mom." He said to himself. "That's two down and sixteen to go."

3 Years Later...​

Location: Oracle Pillar, Mystic Tribe​

Clarisse ran as fast as she could. The click of her sandals against the concrete path made her sound like a charging Doduo. Her Espeon pal, Sage, was hot on her trail, probably to ensure she didn't lose or break the jar she was carrying. Every year, citizens and representatives from all eighteen tribes convened at Oracle Pillar to hear the Grand Oracle speak. As an acolyte, Clarisse was tasked with collecting the casting jars, jars in which people tossed clay shards with questions written on them for the oracle.

Clarisse had one hour left to return all the jars to the temple before the ceremony, and she was almost certain the Grand Oracle would disapprove of her being late. Traveling to and from the temple would have been easier without all the people in the way. The crowds at the tribal camps weren't so bad. They rarely spoke to her. Heck, they barely even looked at her. But the merchants were...

"RARE CANDIES! RARE ITEMS! GET THEM HERE!"

"Delicacies straight from Pixie Tribe! While you're at it, check out our performance schedules!"

"FRESH FISH!!! HADDOCK! COD! MAGIKARP!"

...annoying. Clarisse would almost be glad when they left, even if they were her only glimpse of the outside world.

"Eveh!"

"Not now, Sage," Clarisse hollered over her shoulder. "I need to get these back to the--Ack!"

One of the cement slabs was higher than the rest and caught Clarisse's sandal. She landed face-first on the ground, shattering the jar.

"Oh no!" Clarisse attempted to scoop the shards into her tunic. The Oracle was going to kill her!

Sage shot her a peeved expression as if to say, "I tried to warn you."

"Shut it!" Clarisse snapped. "Just help me."

WELCOME TO THE MYTHS OF ARKHAIOS ROLE-PLAY!

IN A FEW MOMENTS, YOU AND THE REMAINING REPRESENTATIVES, TRAVELERS, AND MERCHANTS FROM THE EIGHTEEN TRIBES FOUND IN ARKHAIOS WILL GATHER TO HEAR THE ORACLE'S PROPHECY. DO YOU...

(A) Explore the area, including the campgrounds, grand temple, and marketplace
(B) Strike up a conversation with someone from another tribe (i.e., talk to another player)
(C) Offer to help the thirteen-year-old girl who dropped a jar of clay shards on the ground
(D) None of the above

THE CHOICE IS YOURS. ENJOY!

 

[GEN1E]

Hemlock

"You... sure we should be here? I know that we could find new ingredients from all over Arkhaios, but there's lots of people...." The mysterious doctor whispered under their mask, staring at the crowds that gathered to see the Grand Oracle. Their voice had a calm quality to it, and it didn't sound specifically male or female. Nobody could really tell, after all.

Hemlock hadn't attended this annual tradition since they were a child, so there was a lot that changed. There were merchants and citizens from every single tribe in the region, all here to witness this grand ceremony. They wanted to be on the outskirts, so that they would draw too much attention to themselves.

Hopefully they wouldn't run into anyone from the Toxic Tribe here.

With a cheerful chirp, the Spritzee seemed to insist that Hemlock stick around. It was perched on a long branch that jutted out from the sack on Hemlock's back, which was a spot he enjoyed. His eyes darted around, searching for anything that might be worth keeping.

This was Nerium, one of his Pokémon. He had a knack for finding precious items, whether it's rare components to his master's elixirs, to valuable jewels and coins. With his keen sense of both smell and sight, he was a vital asset in their travels.

"Alright, I guess the benefits outweigh the downsides. Just try not to go too far, Nerium. I don't wanna take any chances." Hemlock sighed, but the Spritzee perked up, his wings ruffling. He must have smelt something interesting in the air, and wanted to go check it out. Nerium pleaded with his master to allow him to take a look, squawking and cawing relentlessly.

"Fine. Just a few minutes, okay? I wish to peruse the stalls and see if there is anything worth picking up." Hemlock spoke, their voice filled with kindness and resolve. With a nod, Nerium then flew off, determined to find where the scent was coming from. That's when they heard a low gurgle, that would have been intimidating to anyone else.

But for Hemlock, it was the sound of a friend.

"Anthrax! There you are!" Hemlock beamed with joy, as the Dragalge leaned down to nuzzle their cheek. Hemlock knew that Anthrax was a bit needy, but it came from her desire to keep them safe. It was the same when she was just a Skrelp in a pond, who wanted to see the world someday.

And some things never change...

"C'mon, I want to see if there's any merchants from the Pixie Tribe or the Insect Tribe. I need some Shield Dust from a strong Ribombee for this new tonic I'm working on, as well as some petals from a Vileplume. It's supposed to cure any kind of status condition in an instant!" Hemlock said as they began to walk towards the merchants, their Dragalge in tow.

—

Nerium had finally tracked down that peculiar aroma, having flown over many people and Pokémon, but it had come from an unexpected source. As the Spritzee landed, he sniffed the air one last time, confirming his suspicions. The source of that strange smell was...

A fragrant heap of broken pieces, made out of clay.

It was pretty disappointing, but it could serve as ingredients in an elixir of some kind, right?

Nerium pecked one of the fragments, which only made his beak hurt. The clay was solid, which indicated that it was still fresh but was recently shattered into these pieces. He guessed that the culprit was the brown-haired girl with the blue robes, and her Espeon, who were trying to get the fragments back together.

Silly girl, doesn't she understand that once you break stuff, you can't just put it back together?

He grabbed a large shard that appeared to have writing on it, though unfortunately Nerium didn't know how to read. The Spritzee decided to take it back to Hemlock so they could figure it out, since they were smart and human and all that. He managed to get the inscribed clay shard in his beak, before managing to take flight once more.

As Nerium flew back the way he came, all he could think about was the shard was pretty heavy. He hoped the fragment was actually useful.


@Charlotte Pryce (Clarisse)

(I chose C, kinda)

 

[Inkage]

Just outside of the enigmatic abode of the seers walked a man of uncommonly old age. He walked, his wooden shoes and cane clacking against hard stone and making it sound like a spider was afoot. The man did evoke certain spider-like images, with his webbed hands and wispy hair that frizzed around his head and down his back. But the scarf around his neck was a special make, ruining the effect. It was stitched together leaves, and a careful eye could discern exactly who or what had made it.

Or not, since the culprit walked besides him, working upon another one and making it obvious to anyone paying attention exactly who lavished such loving handiwork on this wretched web man, who scowled with an outlook and hardiness caused only by great age. A Leavanny easily kept up with him, at his slow pace, and guided him slightly with it's body to avoid bumps in the road. Whenever she made contact, the old man bumped her back a bit, and the Leavanny would retreat slightly, beaming in a motherly way.

This was Horun. If you need further description, the one penning this chronicle advises you to look above again because you don't. Horun is simple and you've been told all you need to know.

Horun had another Pokemon ahead, who scouted for danger as they entered their destination: a town of the mystic tribe. As Horun stood there not admiring the glittering windows and loud call of the merchants, his second Pokemon, a Heracross, fell back and stood at his side, opposite Leavanny. He, for it was a he, also had a scarf of leaves.

"Now why was I here again?" he asked the wind. It was Leavanny who answered instead. She brandished a letter from Horun's only friend, Kyopin. You shan't be bored with the details; the gist was that Kyopin wished to pass wares to a merchant he knew in the city, to sell in his stead since he had caught a cold and couldn't come. Horun was the runner, and all the wares were packed on Heracross's back, ready to hand to the merchant when they arrived.

Horun took the letter from Leavanny and opened it to read the address he had walked so far to get to. Memorizing it, he put the letter away and gave it back to Leavanny, who promptly stuck it in Heracross's pack. With a quick sigh, Horun entered the town properly and begun his search. He reluctantly had to ask around and eventually found the man he was looking for.
"You must be the runner Kyopin sent then," the merchant said after Horun gave him the letter. "Correct. Here's the junk," he replied curtly. Taking it off Heracross's back, Horun handed the 'junk' to the merchant and turned to leave without so much as small talk. "Hey, wait!" Called the merchant. "You only just got here!" Horun looked at him, shaking his head. "I did what I came here to do. I'm going home."

So with that, he left the merchant alone and started walking back where he came from when he was tugged on the sleeve by Heracross.
Horun looked at him, and Heracross pointed all over. Despite what Horun said, Heracross wanted to explore before going back to their boring smoke bomb existence. Horun sighed, wrestling with his own adventurous spirit. After a short while, he said "Fine. One circuit around the city. Then we're finding an inn to sleep in and we're returning home tomorrow." Leavanny clapped with delight, for even her positive self was not looking forward to walking so far again. Turning back, Horun began his exploration, at a loss of what to do now that he wasn't headed to an exact destination. He overheard something about a tradition of some sort and he remembered the second reason he agreed to go on the loathsome errand.

"Oh yeah, that seer's going to be doing the whatchamacallit today...and here I was going to leave before I even watched the thing!" Heracross sighed. His master's shoddy memory was going to be the death of him someday.

"They'll probably be doing it later. I'll head to the center of town and wait it out," he said, and began to trod over. Heracross and Leavanny looked at each other and followed, wondering why their human was so eager to explore now. After all, they didn't think anything of some fancy oracle who was weak to bug types anyway.

Although maybe they'd have something to be interested in...one never knows what that sage is going to say. It could be life changing for them.

Them and everyone there.

(Feel free to do as you please. Horun doesn't like people but interactions are still open. This way, even if nobody talks to him he still is where he needs to be)

 

[Draco Nightshade]

Freya Stark

"I can't believe Father sent me here instead of coming himself." Freya sighed in frustration, occasionally flapping the edge of her Beartic Pelt Cloak to relieve her of the building heat. Being from the Glacier Clan, she had a tendency to heat up quickly in the warmer climates of the region.
"Arc!" Blade barked in agreement with Freya, the Arctibax a rare and unusual sight anywhere using his ability to try cooling her down some.
Freya could not help but smile at the still small Ice/Dragon type. "Thanks Blade." She rubbed the back of his head before moving on. "Come on, let's see what this place has in store for us."

Licht

Licht sat on the ground, his back against a building and his Ponyta, Zephyr, lying down next to him with her head in his lap. Being blind, Licht mostly relied on smell and sound to get around. The current problem? The town was positively flooded with scents and sounds that overwhelmed his heightened senses. "How'd we end up here girl?"
Licht absentmindedly stroked the Flying type Pokemon as he wondered about their current circumstances, his walking staff in his right hand. Zephyr wondered the same thing as her human. Sure, it was considerably easier for him to get swept up in the flood of activity, but even she was unsure of how they wound up here. The journey itself felt like it went by in a blur.

 

[Charlotte Pryce]

While Clarisse struggled to collect the shards, her Espeon companion noticed something else—a tiny bird-like Pokémon with a hooked beak larger than its wings had landed amongst the heap. It started pecking at one of the clay fragments, one with squiggly lines all over it.

"No sense worrying about the vase," Clarisse muttered without looking up. "We can dump these into an empty pithos back at the temple. Just get the ones with the writing on them."

The second those words escaped her lips, the fluffy bird picked up a large shard and flew off.

Well, maybe "flew" wasn't the right word. The Pokémon appeared to levitate while occasionally flapping its wings. Either way, Sage couldn't let it escape with its prize. With a battle cry, the Espeon raced after the Spritzee. Clarisse finally noticed something was up and ran after him.

Navigating the crowd was not difficult for Sage. He was used to weaving through the narrow passages under the temple. The same could not be said for Clarisse. She struggled to keep up due to the heap of clay fragments she was desperate not to drop. The Spritzee's efforts were slowed, likely due to selecting a shard as big as its body.

Sage decided to get creative. The second the crowd thinned, the Espeon took his shot. The Spritzee flew toward a tall figure that Sage mistook for another Pokémon. However, before it could reach its destination, the bird Pokémon was blocked by an invisible barrier: Light Screen.

"Sage!" Clarisse shouted, realizing at once what her Espeon had done. She rushed towards the Spritzee and the masked figure, hoping to prevent a crash.

"I'm so sorry!" She said candidly. "Are you okay?"

@GEN1E

 

[Your-Friday-Filet]

Lilith
The industrious weaver, having just arrived from an arduous and lengthy trek from her homely village, looked a combination of exhausted and anxious she hadn't worn since she was a child. In a rather surprising turn of events, she had been chosen by the elders of the Insect Tribe to represent them at this event, and she certainly wouldn't let her people down, especially as many of them still resented her. Sighing as she sauntered along the streets of the Mystic Village, she wondered if she had been chosen by them just so they wouldn't have to deal with her for any given period of time. Nonetheless, she had been selected to weave a tapestry for the Grand Oracle to receive, which was to 'capture the essence' of this particular annual event.

She paced around with an utter indignation, as, though she feared to tell anyone, her one Pokémon, Nell the Ariados, had snuck out on her journey to the village, somewhere in a forest. Seemingly, this wouldn't be such a deal, as she could simply substitute her silk for any variety of cotton, wool, or inorganic material. But, in settling for these alternatives, Lilith would have betrayed herself, and she simply couldn't abide by spoiling what should be the highlight of her life on such unbecoming materials. Presently, she made her way to the marketplace, hoping to bide her time and wait for some one to report a missing Ariados. While she was at it, she also began giving her business information to any and all vendor or passerby that she could manage, but something in her undertone suggested she was vulnerable of something, and many turned their heads. She shuddered at their refusals, but pressed on nonetheless, not really knowing what exactly she was doing, but hoping and praying it would all work out in the end.

Buck
Having continuously roamed the lands for opportunity, the enigmatic Pokémon Trader had been shunned out of plenty a village in his time, even his own. But, for whatever reason, he was always welcome during times of festivity; as it was then, more than ever, that the elders and authorities loosened their grip and began feeling more empathetic towards the less fortunate. Having being graciously accepted by the Village's guards, Buck gave a wink and a nod as he sat atop his rag-tag caravan. The two Mudsdale in front pulled the odd configuration, a large cage upon a cart with wheels, as Gaia, Buck's resolute Ursaluna, stood on guard behind the cart, as if to keep any of the Pokémon that clamored inside of it in line. He grinned even more as he saw the merriment that begot every part of the Mystic Village, as something of a contented arrogance in his ways finally began to make sense to him.

Arriving to the more out-of-the-way section of the marketplace, Buck hopped off the cage, giving one of his Mudsdale a pat, and began heckling all those who could hear about the sale underway. Many walked passed, though a fair amount were intrigued, as Buck gave almost unbelievable claims about the Pokémon he had a captured. With much haste, somewhat of an auction was beginning to manifest, with the prices flying higher and higher by the sudden raising of a hand. It was for a Scyther, which Buck claimed was quite tame, despite the creature's glaring look of blistering hatred to every other lifeform, additionally touting that it would make an excellent companion for all means of battling, homelife, and artisanal appeal. Buck seemed to be reading the eclectic, little crowd like a book, as he got an exurbanite amount of money for the Scyther. He smiled widely as he gave the Pokémon to its buyer, a somewhat overworked-looking mother, who had bought it for her two pestering little children. Off the first buyer went, clearly already feeling his auctions' trademark remorse as the insect proved quite troublesome for her to handle almost immediately. Buck only continued the auction, raising the stakes by bringing out an all-to familiar Ariados he had captured in the nearby forest.

 

[coloredscribblis]

...why on Earth was this the year that Twila had to be involved in things, she really didn't know.

It wasn't that she lacked faith in the, what's it called... Grand Oracle, right? It was just that every aspect of it all proved to feel like a Marill's used a charged-up Rollout right into your head. Loud merchants, a long journey, no immediate way to self-comfort herself if it all got too much.

It was probably her fault that she had agreed to coming along for once.

...a mistake, she had found. How could anyone deal with this?

"Bree...?"

"I... I know, Rita. Everybody in the world doesn't see things how I do. Can't just blame everyone for living. Stay close, p-please."

Twila had sighed to herself, tightening her ponytail for safety's sake. The fact that her Ribombee and Marill were sticking with her proved to be a lucky enough break, like a bit of a way to say... 'Hey, you can't be a jerk just because you're stressed and the opportunity presents itself.' And she did appreciate that, really.

For now, she just had to... 'lock in', as she said. Make do with her surroundings, wait for that Oracle situation to calm itself down, and hope with every aspect of her timid heart that nobody would drag her into something that she didn't wish to be involved in. Even if that was just about everything right now.