chainblade hellfire [terran]

[moros]

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[/td][td][atrb=Valign, bottom][style=background-color:cfcfcf; width:130; height:130; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing:2; font-family:georgia; overflow:auto; padding:15; color:000000; font-size:10; line-height: 10px; font-style:italic; text-align:right;]" good eye, sniper. now i'll shoot, you run. "[/div][/td][/tr][/table]

Something exploded.

Not literally. Figuratively. Suddenly south of Rustboro there was a fight, a tangle of Lux soldiers and angry Oldale citizens tired of their caravans getting intercepted in Petalburg. So despite Moros's orders, they'd acquired weapons and gone out to face the Nox attackers themselves.

Moros hadn't heard what happened after that, but all he needed to know was that civilians were dying and he needed to be there fast. And that's why he's here, riot shield protecting him from far more than he'd ever thought. The riots in Orre were never this bad.

Fortunately, Aretha exists. When a Nox soldier gets too close, it's Aretha that slashes out, beheading the young man. Moros's shield gets stained with blood and he's no longer able to see through the visor as clearly as he could before. Dammit.

But little does he know that the alarm has been sounded, and on his way was one person that would keep even Moros on his toes.

electric has gangnam style

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[terran]

And so, the leader of Hoenn found himself dashing off to go stop a riot.

Briefly Terran remembered his humble beginnings, making an appearance at a Nox Speaker's protest to oppose Lux control. Now here he was running off to enforce his own control. For a brief second it made him think, but there was no time for philosophy. Lives were at risk, and if there was one thing that he couldn't stomach it was blood being shed in his region.

Today the aim of the game was riot control. Violence seemed to be the only answer, but the thought of taking a life to end a riot appalled him. How could he say he was a better man if he was stooping to their level?

There was no time for some moral dilemma, though. Sometimes, action had to come first. Rushing through the trees, he arrived onto the scene of the fight with his Claydol close behind him. "Alright, what's going on here?" he asked, the gently glowing eyes of his Claydol reminding any onlookers that this was an order, not a question.

[moros]

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[/td][td][atrb=Valign, bottom][style=background-color:cfcfcf; width:130; height:130; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing:2; font-family:georgia; overflow:auto; padding:15; color:000000; font-size:10; line-height: 10px; font-style:italic; text-align:right;]" the words you scribbled on the walls with the loss of the friends you didn't have "[/div][/td][/tr][/table]

Bloodshed.

It's all that's happening here, and Moros is in the middle of it all. And there's a chance that the rations could end up destroyed. He can't let that happen.

But a flash of red catches his eye and he glances up; there, above him, is a face he's seen plastered across Lux and Nox posters alike. A leader. Moros grinds his teeth and swears under his breath, shooting down another Nox soldier and yelling to Aretha, "Double Team!"

The Scyther focuses for a moment and forms two clones, each moving in time with her. She leaps towards the Claydol and Terran, acting on instinct. Her wings buzz and her scythes come down, but she doesn't make contact. Instead she sends the razor-sharp blade of air headed their way-- an Air Slash that would hopefully make them think twice before getting involved.

electric has gangnam style

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[terran]

Sadly, Terran was not omniscient. So when he saw Nox troops being slaughtered and attacks launched at him, all he could assume was some upstart Lux terrorist in an area near Petalburg territory.

That wouldn't fly. Not today.

Guru swung in front of the caped man, eyes glowing more intense as it tanked the incoming air slash. Its body shuddered from the impact: this was one powerful Scyther, not just the tool of some random rebel. Guru wouldn't care if the head of Hoenn Lux itself owned the Scyther, though. Either way, it was going down.

The Claydol's eyes shined brightly as small stones jutted from its body, an Ancientpower forming in reaction to the Scyther's attack. Aiming in the direction of the cloned mantis, Guru launched a shotgun-style spread of ancient stone. While not as powerful as a concentrated stream of stone, the blast would hopefully catch the real deal inside of its borders.

Terran knew from his experiences at Sootopolis the best way to end a rebellion: shock and awe that, ultimately, wouldn't hurt anybody. "Come on out, Great Tiger! Kick up a Sandstorm!" he shouted, tossing a Pokeball down with his one good hand. The titanic Steelix emerged, allowing its trainer to climb on its head before rising in order to lift him into the air. It looked down on the riot in process, launching a blast of sand to hopefully scatter the rebels without dealing much harm to them.

Terran couldn't help but feel weird, wondering how he would react if he was sandblasted by the tyrant Xander at Sootopolis. But he had no time to worry about this: things were different now. This wasn't a protest, it was a slaughter. He was in the right here.

Right?

[moros]

Shit.

Sand is now potentially going to get into the rations. Fortunately, Cipher's outfitted with one thing that can keep them going through sandstorms: their visors. He reaches up to his helmet and hopes to hell the heat-sensors still work.

It's not as vibrant as it used to be-- the helmet's getting on in years and soon it won't work at all. Hopefully it'll be all the time he needs, and all the cover as well.

"Muerte! Azuros! Get the damn wagon out of here!" If they can hear him over the din, hopefully the food can get back to Oldale. Then there's a scream to the side of him; Aretha has taken a rock to the wing and her clones are gone. He'd rather not risk her; she's one of his strongest, and even with her strength, rocks do nothing but cause her problems.

She vanishes in a flash of red light and is soon replaced with a slithering slug. Page seems a bit unsure of what's going on, but Moros has other ideas. "Ahead of us, Page. Icy Wind." The Gastrodon gurgles and summons a blast of chilling wind, hopefully able to hit the Claydol Moros saw earlier and the thing Moros is assuming to be either a Steelix or an Onix. Looks too big to be an Onix, frankly.

But he'd rather not risk the potential of wasting a recharge time on it if it was anything else. He needs to take a chance now; it's a dangerous one, but he'll take it. In a flash of light, Sixx the Togekiss joins the field. Sixx is hardly thrilled about the sandstorm and hunkers down on his hind feet, squawking angrily.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up and Metronome."

THUNK.

Moros almost falls over as a needle hits his shield. Sixx cocks his head to the side, a smug look on the stupid bird... thing's face. "The fuck was that?!"

A poorly aimed Poison Sting, of course! Yeah, not nearly what Moros wanted. He stands again and points the Togekiss towards the general area of the Steelix.

"One more time. Metronome."

And then Sixx throws up. Spit Up-- except with nothing stockpiled, thus making it just puke.

Moros and luck don't get along.

[terran]

High above the sandstorm, Terran could not really hear much of the battle below him. However, he could make out the distinct silhouette of a Nox food caravan being taken away. So it wasn't even a protest. Just a raid. Terran's doubts vanished as he realized he was squaring off with a group of thuggish bandits.

If only he knew what horrors his second had committed to drive them to such acts.

"Just bandits. Great Tiger, take care of their Pokemon and they'll flee in no time." Great Tiger shuddered slightly from the blow, but his steel carapace spared him most of the pain. It leered down at the battlefield, towering over them all as a juggernaut would to an ant. Did they know who they were dealing with? Did they know that they, and all who stood in the path of Hoenn progress, were so small and insignificant? In Great Tiger's world size meant everything, and those who got in his way were simply obstacles to be removed.

The Steelix's tail swung in a lazy arc, aiming to bat the Gastrodon away with a Heavy Slam as carelessly as one would dust off their shoulder. Whether it hit or sent the slug running to dodge, the snake didn't care. He just wanted it gone.

Then it got vomited on. The roar of rage was enough to gently shake the treetops, and once it was done with its Heavy Slam it knew who was getting attacked next.

He didn't need to give Guru an order. The Claydol already knew what he would have wanted. As the chilling winds froze grains of sand around it and started to reach its body, the wise top Teleported right out of its path. It popped back into existence in front of the caravan, the only hint to its existence being a set of eyes glowing ominously in front of Muerte and Azuros. The glow increased in intensity, penetrating the sandstorm as Psychic energy slowly began pushing on the supply wagon. The Claydol's plan was simple: lift the cart out of here and deprive these bandits of their toys.

The man's last action was to gently rap another Pokeball against Great Tiger's head. The Steelix blinked in slight annoyance as a blast of light heralded the arrival of a Flygon. "Mirage, there might still be Nox soldiers in there. Get them out of here before those bandits slaughter them all." The Flygon nodded, its red goggle-like membranes protecting its eyes as it corkscrewed into the sandstorm. When it penetrated the sandstorm it turned its glide into a slow hover, preparing to dodge any incoming fire with an Aerial Ace as it searched for any wounded or troubled.

And through it all, Terran sat atop his steel throne. Not fighting by his Pokemon's side. Not fighting as an underdog, but rather as the one on top. Oh, how much had changed.

Does this feel right, Terran? Is this how you wanted to participate in this war? Do you even know why you're here, fighting? There's so much more to this story, and yet you hear what you want to hear and see what you want to see. So blind, claiming you care and yet not seeing the concerns of others.

By the way, how is your son?

[moros]

There's a Flygon buzzing, and the thermals reveal the outline quite easily. Page isn't fast enough to keep up with a Flygon, and while he's good at handling damage, the Claydol's gone. Moros recalls the Gastrodon, choosing to keep Page out of the line of fire. "Fire off another Metronome, Sixx!"

Sixx has gotten himself mixed up in the sandstorm. He blames the billowing. The giant bird turns and waggles a forearm-- the resulting blast of cold, frozen wind sweeps through the storm, freezing bits of sand. It doesn't stop the storm, but the Glaciate isn't helping much as now clumps of ice are flinging around.

But hopefully the pain could cut the Psychic short.

Moros throws down two more Pokeballs. Mienshao and Emboar have joined the fight. "Lustre, you can sense that Flygon, right? Take care of it." The Mienshao trills and springs off, going into action with out even needing to be told. Her motions are quick and elegant as she vaults over Sixx, heading straight for the Flygon. She brings down one whip-like arm, then the other, the Dual Chop hopefully doing a fair amount of damage to the dragon.

Riff turns the opposite direction, pointed by Moros. The Emboar can't see an inch, but he assumes Moros knows the direction. "Blast Burn, buddy. Trust me."

The Emboar steps forward, inhales, and then--

BOOM.

The inferno tears through the storm, sending a spray of fire and pain in its wake. Hopefully that'd be enough to put the Steelix out of commission.

In the back, the two peons continue their work, trying their hardest to get the shipment back to Oldale.

[terran]

Expecting another weak Icy Wind, Guru remained steadfast and continued trying to lift up the supply wagon. Instead, what the Claydol received was a high-powered burst of air fit for the legendary Kyurem itself. The creature's psychic concentration snapped as it wobbled in the air, shaken like a properly-made milkshake but not too damaged. Its main problem was the fact that the layers of ice coating it were making it quite a bit slower. Still undaunted, however, the Claydol hovered after the peons and once more tried to heft the supply cart into the air with Pyschic. If they tried anything funny again, the Claydol would prepare to open fire with Ancientpower. It was getting bored of this chase.

Mirage, meanwhile, saw the silhouette of a Mienshao bounding toward her through the sand. What she didn't expect, however, was the sheer reach on her whip-like arms. The first Dual Chop lashed her across the side brutally, but she was able to gracefully swoop out of the way of the second with Aerial Ace. She kept her distance called out to the Mienshao, claiming that she was only here to gather the injured and meant no harm. However, she wasn't helpless. If it tried to attack again, the next Aerial Ace would be much more offensive in nature.

Great Tiger was too high up to hear the battle raging below him, and even if he were closer to the ground he was still too prideful to think any ordinary fire attack could harm him. What he wasn't expecting, however, was a Blast Burn. Immediately a roaring inferno as strong as a Hyper Beam set the Steelix's body ablaze, heating its carapace to white hot temperatures and slightly melting it. The massive steel snake reeled back, shards of glass formed by the superheated sandstorm slicing into its softened body. It drooped from the pain, allowing Terran to hop off of its head and recall it. "You did fine, Great Tiger. Rest up," he assured the Steelix. He then turned to Moros, shouting so he could be heard. "What the hell are you doing!?" he shouted. "There are people in that storm, both yours and mine!" In all his time of seeing Lux fight, he had never seen one who would leave his own troops stranded in a raging storm of shrapnel.

And what a storm it was. Between the Glaciate and Blast Burn, the storm was now less a sand storm and more a whirling mess of glass and ice. Mirage covered itself with its wings to stay safe, not willing to risk whether a glass shard or painful spear of ice would hit it next. Guru merely blinked with annoyance, refusing to let this shift in tactics disturb it.

The man pulled out two other Pokeballs, hurling them one by one. "Bebop, Rocksteady, end this now!" The famous Mamoswine-Rhyperior duo took to the field, pawing their feet and looking at the hopefully fatigued Emboar.

A shroud of Mist covered the group, drifting slightly in front of them to leave them even harder to spot. Rocksteady got down on all fours and dashed forward, horn lowered in a ferocious Dragon Rush, while Bebop rushed by his side with tusks coated in frost. While this Icicle Crash wouldn't be too effective, the two-mon stampede would hopefully make Team Moros lose their nerve.

The man's fury was noble. So noble, it could almost make an onlooker forget that the storm was his idea in the first place.

[moros]

Moros grinds his teeth. He's not going to bother speaking, not in this heat. He's grateful for his shield and visor, and the rest of Cipher has their own protection from the sand. They're used to these sort of conditions. The desert is a merciless mother. The desert does not forgive the weak, and up ahead, Moros catches sight of Muerte releasing her Liepard. The creature hacks down a Nox terrorist with a vicious Night Slash; there's blood on the ground and Lustre, listening better than Moros, steps aside as the creature falls down.

The Mienshao doesn't attack, but she speaks back, plainly stating that Oldale will starve without these rations. She's not going to let them leave.

Moros gives his orders. "Metronome." And this time, the air thickens as a haze crosses the field. The sand in the air becomes moist and heavy and abates just a bit. The new haze is a bit chillier than before, but at least the sandstorm is fading.

The Dragon Rush ends up missing Riff, but Rocksteady charges straight into Page, who screams in pain and returns fire with a jet of Muddy Water. Riff, however, has an answer to the icicle crash before it even hits him.

He fires off a flamethrower, one that melts through the ice. There's still the matter of a Mamoswine charging into him, though, and Riff, arrogant and prideful, bares his fangs and spreads his arms in a challenge.

They collide, and Riff brings down his arms like hammers. (Hammer Arm, for you plebes.)

Muerte's decided to stop the Claydol herself; the skinny girl lifts up a fallen branch the size of her head and throws it at the Claydol, hopefully interrupting its psychic attack.