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Old Beginnings
Topic Started: Mar 20 2010, 08:28:38 PM (538 Views)
S3rpent
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In situations like these, James was always able to pat himself on the back. Days when the sun would attempt to blind him every few seconds thanks to its early-morning angle, and it could all be avoided by pulling his hood over his head. Such a perfect article of clothing; protective, attractive and damn comfortable - the most utility any inanimate object had every provided him. Yet still the article's sleeves would catch a wayward gust or fifty and swing about as the moving air pummeled them. It was actually pretty difficult for James' hood to stay on, considering this wind. It was pretty difficult for anything to stay on if not well-secured when in a helicopter.

Althea promised all that James had wanted - an opportunity to test his training aptitude in real time, and with real consequences in very real circumstances. No more battles with twelve-year-old aspiring "Pokémon masters" along the tepid shores of Cherrygrove. This was going to be everything he had wanted - and what better time to take a young Pokémon for its first journey than when given the opportunity to attend an island-wide free-for-all tournament? Signed, sealed, delivered.

Several others were aboard the 'chopper as well, of course. An attractive, younger woman and her notably intimidating Scyther - who, it would seem, would sooner die than stay trapped in its Pokéball. Another young woman sat beside James, who was far less attractive (though of more appropriate age), and was attempting to get some shuteye (aboard a helicopter, of all places). Across from him was a very stoic, hairy male, whose mane had been tied back once he'd gotten annoyed enough with his own hair in his mouth. And beside this man sat a boy of similar age to James, who bore no particularly distinct features beyond a pair of wildly bright blue eyes. The helicopter's sole pilot was the no-nonsense type; a crew cut and obnoxiously expensive pair of aviator sunglasses only added to his 'look'. Finely shaven and strong-spoken, James knew better than to shoot any humor his way, lest he end up kicked out of the helicopter and into the ocean below.

In the distance, a sprawling city waited, drifting away from the horizon as they drew closer. These Trainers approached their destination rapidly, though with varying measures of enthusiasm and anxiety. It didn't matter; James only cared about how he was going to adapt; how he was going to survive, and how he was going to head straight to the top - or black out trying. Soon, below them materialized the vision of a helipad, and the helicopter began its dramatically slow descent. As a force of habit, his hand flew to his waist and confirmed the presence of a Pokéball - Rai, younger brother of a timid Magnemite, rested within. Taking such a young creature to Althea was no wise decision; it in fact was borderline masochistic. Yet something told the boy that raising a Pokémon under as much stress as it could physically and psychologically bear would give you one hell of an outcome. After an eternity of radio calls and 'roger's, the final, prolonged clink of the landing gear against the asphalt below signified that they had arrived, and nearby crewmen motioned that the Trainers step out of the vehicle. James complied. At this point, should memory serve, he was to report to Room 324 of the C section of the dormitory complex. Alright. Easy enough.

The facilities were labeled with conveniently conspicuous signs, and there were even arrows and nice, vibrant arrows that would direct you toward your destination. On the outside, at least, this Trainer hub - this "New Haven" as it was called, wasn't bad. Complex C would surely be buried somewhere far from where he stood, where a rectangular stretch of concrete, brick, mortar and metal reached out and hooked to the left. These had to be the dorms. The challenge would now be to find the right one. The Trainer turned to his left and eyed a myriad of Trainers, young and old, as they strode to their destinations with just as much wonder. There was one, however; one young and female Trainer who didn't look quite like she belonged. A pretty face that slid into a genuinely enthusiastic smile, and an arm that rose upward; a hand that cupped a modest wave his way. James choked for a second and could only mouth what he meant to say: "Breia?"

Normally, a reunion as theirs would be quite positive. The two had camped together, for Christ's sake; one would think a hug of the bear variety were due. Instead, James approached her with a sinking brow and speedy pace, and disallowed her to be the first to speak with a curt: "What the hell are you doing here?"

It wasn't like he didn't want to see her. He simply hadn't wanted to see her here.
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...Oh. Right. the whole... tournament thing.

Breia's high spirits at the thought of their reunion sunk as quickly as her smile froze and hand ground to a halt, memories she had consciously surpressed flooding back. That whole "reality" thing. In her eagerness to see James again, she'd almost forgotten that he'd been violently opposed to her attending the tournament with him in the first place. Something about not wanting her to get hurt or something. Of course he wouldn't be happy to see her.

That was the rational part of her brain, anyways, gleefully dwarfed by the active part, which was happily oscillating between the idea of James hating her, James hating her and never wanting to see her again, and a vague urge to punch him in the face. Also a none too minor urge to hug him, or maybe combine the last two into a glorious clusterfuck of physical contact.

Breia opted for a small huff and dropping her arm unceremoniously, unconsciously straightening up and tensing her body as she registered her companion's greeting as an insult. Dammit, she hadn't spent six hours mulling over the itineraries of every trainer bound to arrive in the next two weeks via massive bribery, figured out when James would arrive and made plans to arrive shortly before him, convinced the working authorities - such as they were - to put her in the room that James had been assigned as well, and gotten a better Pokémon than that turgid turkey, Alexander the Failure of a Pidgey just so she wouldn't be (as much of) a drain, and it wasn't like she was going to take the prize or beat him or anything, she'd just wanted to spend some time with him, and-

She realized at some point that she wasn't actually sure if she had been thinking to herself or talking out loud, and clammed up immediately, trying not to make it too obvious that she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. This was supposed to be going so much better dammit, he was going to have hugged her and been happy to see her and then they could have talked on the way to the dormitories and holding hands and happy fun time explore excitementtreasureJameswinyes
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James wasn't entirely surprised to see her expression quickly change at his greeting - Breia was never one to be completely collected. Fortunately, his currently soaring level of frustration with her kept a smile at bay when he observed her reddening face and how it teetered between raging to death and frowning. She was still a cute little thing - a dangerous little thing. James almost felt the need to protect his face.

Instead she emitted the puff of insulted air that he'd expected, and began a sort of mumbling rant to which James would listen intently. Were it all true, and not just one large exaggeration enabled by her current state, Breia had good reason not to be happy with him - but for God's sake, this was the last place he'd want her to be. Althea promised to be a no-holds-bar cage match of skill, talent, luck and competence - and the third category was the only one Breia excelled in. He wanted to generate some sympathy for her, if only to keep her tentative calm intact, but this was too much. Her nigh-inaudible tirade came to a close and her eyes (which looked wet; could just be lighting, though) sank.

James extended a hand - absent of a driving glove, for once, thanks in no small part to the intensity of the sun around these parts - and allowed its palm to rest on her shoulder. "Chill, Breia," he instructed coolly. He leaned a bit forward, sure to glare into her eyes and thereby strengthen his follow-up message. "Listen, it's great to see you. But I told you not to come here for a reason." Instead of allowing his preaching to continue, James let his hand slide from her shoulder as he straightened his posture. Scolding a girl like Breia was never a wise decision, and he was lucky he wasn't out a few teeth already. "The Trainers here are ruthless, and won't give an inch of quarter. I didn't want you exposed to that."

He awaited rebuttal with folded arms and a gradually easing expression. Upon further thought, it really was great to see Breia exemplify the ambition that he knew she had; to see a familiar face in such a (reportedly) hostile space. Provided she didn't decide to leave in a huff, he'd gladly be her partner in this Althea; it'd be just like old times, but with a better teammate than that Pidgey.
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It was surprisingly difficult to be angry with someone who had their hand on your shoulder and was trying to be nice and helpful, Breia realized. Or maybe it was just that she sort of wanted to knock his ass down and take him in the heat of the moment. She wasn't quite sure. Possibly both. Regardless, she felt herself relaxing visibly after an initial tensing up, and with a bit more effort, restrained herself from tackling slash hugging her companion. Not in public, anyways.

But all too quickly James withdrew his hand and continued his tirade, ending in words that both soothed and aroused pleased her. Even if it did smack of treating her like a child. Breia didn't care to consider whether or not she had been acting like one, and immediately squelched that thought as quickly as it had appeared, drawing herself up to her full - dimunitive - height and tightening her lips, slightly nettled but much more intent on convincing James that she could be helpful, or at least not a drag.

"Well, I- I needed to learn how to train better anyways, and I thought that, with you, maybe we could, I mean I could..." Breia trailed off, doing her best to parse her words coherently. She was also making a heroic effort not to babble, though that was perhaps less successful; the last thing she wanted was for James to ditch her for the stupid tournament. She wasn't that bad at training. Well, okay. Maybe she was, but that was what the purple revenant was for. And Alex, but he'd vanished the instant his Pokeball broke, and was now likely flying around the city in high spirits. Or being eaten by a vastly larger opponent. Breia wasn't quite sure which she preferred.

"I mean, you could... you could use me as a training board, to help give you an edge on other opponents, or... something?"
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James was a bit surprised - already Breia had managed to regain her ladylike composure, if only physically. He wanted to smirk a little - this uncharacteristic bout of unease was such a 90-degree turn from pre-agitation Breia that it never failed to entertain. Still, he maintained stolidity, consciously easing his scowl as she continued, and audibly exhaling at her sentences' end. He paused, and allowed his arms to slither into his hoodie's front pocket, bulging within the fabric while his shoulders relaxed. He scanned her form briefly in search of the classic red-and-white sphere that all Trainers had somewhere on their person. Before projecting the wrong kind of intent (he was scanning, not eye-groping, after all - in spite of a pleasant enough view), he resumed eye contact and lifted his chin a bit.

"So who's the new Pokémon?"

He could've just denied her and asked about the procedure they'd need to take to get her off of the island, but upon further thought, she had a point. He'd teach her how to get a Pokémon to listen, at minimum, and how to kick ass later on. It'd likely be a great opportunity for her career as a Trainer - or, well, career as a lot of other shit, too. For now, taking the time to show Breia the ropes - and have her memorize the almighty type chart, for God's sake - would turn her into an able Trainer. So regardless of how this initial meeting would proceed, James already decided that he was stuck with her; and that he was glad for it.
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Breia held herself cautiously, trying to beat back the rising tide of optimism at the hope that James might not try to deport her ass back to Kenya Johto while staving off a combination of annoyance, boundless glee, and arousal. Apparently this "being checked out" thing wasn't as bad as she'd expected, though it might have been more because it was James than in general. That was what she told herself, anyways; the whole "checking for Pokeballs" thing never crossed her mind for a moment.

James seemed to be relaxing. That was a good sign too. Breia cautiously lowered her metaphorical hackles, hoping that the fighting and unpleasantness part was about over and they could get on with the meeting. And the hugging, hugging was good.

And then, par for the course, the jerk ruined the moment - again - by asking a question that she couldn't answer. It wasn't so much that the purple ghost thing wasn't important to her or anything, but he never SAID anything. At all. As far as she knew, Pokémon were supposed to repeat their names endlessly or some such malarkey, whereas this one, while expressive enough in expressions and gestures and quite adept at communicating intent, had never made a coherent sound to her knowledge, just that horrible gurgling noise when he ate. Whether all Ghosts did that or it was just hers, Breia hadn't the foggiest - and the Pokedex that had been given her had been on the fritz since arrival, making it worse than useless for information.

Granted, the Dahaka Corporation employee who had given it to her as part of the Tournament procedures for new/Pokemonless trainers had mentioned its name, but it had been so loud and busy in the lobby, and the line behind her had grown quite vocally weary with her inability to pick a Pokémon prior to that, that the girl had no idea whatsoever her... thing... was. But it was a ghost, apparently, albeit one who spent the vast majority of his time entirely solid. Which kind of ruined the point fo being a ghost, Breia thought, but the thankless little monster had shrugged and continued not caring when she mentioned it to him, before falling halfway through the floor and walking off. And he was purple. That was another defining characteristic.

Besides, how many purple Ghost-types could there be in Pokémon?

It would have been much easier if the little ingrate had been anywhere in the vicinity, but he - Breia thought it was a he, anyways, since she wasn't going to actually check - had done that horribly retarded thing of sinking halfway into the ground and wandering around, as if mocking her for her inability to do as much.

Or just trying to trip people with his still decidedly-solid head. Breia was forced to admit that either option was equally likely, and indeed both could be true. Either seemed entirely too fitting for what little she knew of his personality, which was... huh. Her thought process came to a screaming halt as she tried to categorize said knowledge, quickly coming up with blanks in most areas; he hadn't really DONE much, other than generally look condescending and amused. She suspected that he was intelligent - just something in those gleaming eyes - and yet it was so hard to actually communicate these sorts of things with something that couldn't even talk, much less in English.

Realizing belatedly that James was still probably waiting for an answer, Breia expressed her intimate knowledge of the situation with a shrug and a half-smile that she suspected looked more embarassed than she'd hoped. "Well, it's a ghost, and purple, but I didn't catch the name from the lady at the counter. But it's not like there are a lot of purple ghosts, right? He - I think it's a he - is around here... somewhere..."

It was perhaps as much a token of her mounting frustration at the lack of her Pokémon's presence as her general frazzled state of mind that Breia didn't even notice the contractions slipping into her speech, focused far more on not jumping James and trying to locate the horrible little monster. In that order.

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The entire time Breia spoke, albeit a brief time, James found his consciousness swaying in the Althean breeze like a dirty-blonde, hooded palm. Breia had matured - if only physically - and it was noteworthy. But James had to fight against allowing his eyebrows to drop yet again as she revealed to him a rather shameful truth: the girl had no idea where her fucking Pokémon was. I can't be too surprised, he thought, part of his mind seeking to defend her in a bizarre mental civil war, considering everything that was Alex. But...

But James had hoped that he taught her something. That the stormy night back in Johto; the humid morning where Alex had to be tracked down and James' Shieldon saved from an unfortunate incident regarding a local river and an unfortunate boost of inertia - it was all greatly significant to the both of them, but clearly James had failed to ingrain the more important lessons of being a Trainer. The rather bitter notion prompted an involuntary shift of stance once again for the hooded teen as his hands fell to his sides, then one to his chin. Her speech was tense, and it was understandable; James was slightly savvy to the remaining odor of tension that lingered around the pair.

Still, he couldn't help but bare a few teeth in a subtle smile when she said: "But it's not like there are a lot of purple ghosts, right?"

Beyond being almost exclusively purple, ghosts did have a nasty reputation for causing general mischief in spite of their Trainers and their wishes. James wouldn't be terribly surprised if, say, the purple ghost - it had to be a Gastly, Misdreavus, or maybe a Sableye, James had decided - opted to phase into James' pants for kicks, or perhaps steal one of the Trainers' possessions and float off. Suddenly, the Trainer found it compulsory to cup a hand over his Pokéball.

Oddly enough, the bi-colored sphere was a bit warm to the touch. Something about the electrical fields here were rumored to render Pokéballs 'unreliable', and it would explain why most of the Trainers he'd yet seen didn't have their Pokémon in them. Now was as good a time as any, James decided, to introduce his own unruly, prodigal son to the mix, and gave the central button of the sphere a firm press, conspicuously doubling its size. "You remember my Magnemite, Sai? This was his b-" and then the Pokéball was a exploded.

Nearly splitting the sphere irreversibly open, a brilliant and particularly unexpected bolt of red light shot to the Trainer's left. The beam's crest faded rapidly and Rai, Ditto-bred sibling to the very Magnemite James would like to have fully mentioned, took full form. Introducing himself with a "Mite!" that strayed dangerously far from the typical monotone that his species held, James could assume that Breia, should she not suffer a heart attack as he almost did, would be able to gather all the details she'd need about Rai in due time.

"Er. Meet Rai."
"Magna!"
Edited by S3rpent, Mar 31 2010, 08:58:53 PM.
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For her part, Breia attempted to gauge James' reactions throughout her speech and his own curt reply, still not sure what was behind his sudden change in temperment or how glad he actually was to see here there. She wanted to believe that he was happy to see her and just worried for her, she really did - and not just because of her muddled feelings for him, but as much because she had no idea what the hell she was doing anymore and just wanted a friendly face to avoid hyperventilating as she inevitably realized how terrible of an idea this had been - but there was a much larger, more reasonable possibility that James just didn't give much of a shit about her. He had probably just been being nice when rescuing her from the Pokecenter, and her own insecurity had led her to tag along while he had just tolerated her.

She wasn't sure which was the objective viewpoint and which was subjective, or if they were both just two very different subjective viewpoints. That worried her about as much as anything else in this rapidly-unraveling day, and Breia realized that she was on the route to an emotional breakdown at this rate. That, she could not allow. Besides being completely unreasonable to James and silly for her to even consider, it would be absolute proof that she was not ready for this tournament, and regardless of whether or not she actually was, Breia did not intend to admit that she was not.

Personal limits were meant to be torn asunder, hurled to the wayside as soon as they stopped being convenient to ignore - in order to grow, as a person or a Pokémon trainer, she had to challenge herself. There was no easy mode, no way to bypass this trial; unless she could somehow acquire the mental state of a trainer, unless she could go through what trainers did on a daily basis, she would never be one. Regardless of innate skill or competent Pokémon or breeding or upbringing, she had to be the one to force herself to keep going. Even if James did want to help her, no matter how good of a personal trainer he might be or if that purple ghost thing was as good as fighting as he was at reading, she had to have the resolve.

She probably couldn't beat James. Not now. Maybe not ever. Even with luck on her side, even if she managed to come up with passable tactics - and she had been trying a lot lately - it would be hard to make up for vastly superior skill. But - for her own benefit, to show herself that she could do this as much as to show James that she had improved at least enough to not just be a useless tagalong or a groupie, she had to do this. Breia knew that. It didn't make it easy, didn't help make her arms move or her heart beat when both froze the moment before she tried to get the words out - but it had to be done, no matter how weak she was right now.

It wasn't so much an opinion as a fact. If she backed out now, if she let fear and self-loathing hold her back now, Breia feared that she would never be able to muster the courage again. Her journey so far as a Pokémon trainer had been filled with one disaster after another, to the point that she wasn't sure she had enough in her to keep going if this Althea thing fell through - any teenaged rebellion had long since been crushed under the weight of being forced to mature rather more quickly than she had expected, and her own natural stubbornness, or more accurately what little remained after being steadily ground down to nothing in the last few years.

Biting her lip until it nearly bled, Breia struggled with her feelings even as James' latest Pokémon burst from his balls in a torrent of energy, keeping herself from stumbling backwards in surprise more by sheer willpower - and a hearty dose of focusing on the pain - than from anything resembling stolidity or actual calmness. It irked her to no end, but Breia could feel the tightening of her shoulders, how her hands balled unconsciously into fists, and the slight trembling as she struggled to prepare herself - it wasn't supposed to be so damn hard to say this, all she had to say was just a few words and... somehow things were supposed to work out. They had to.

No.

They would.

Her eyes closed as Breia struggled to compose herself, consciously forcing the tension out of her body as well as she could. Imperfectly, not even close to actually relaxing - but as she took a deep breath, felt the sea air invorigate her body, for a moment she almost felt better. Almost. Then she opened her eyes, and realized that there was no turning back. The moment of truth.

"I hereby challenge you to an adjudicated Pokémon battle. As per League ruling, one League-sanctioned trainer cannot refuse a formal battle request by another League trainer."

Valdis gradually faded into sight at her side as she spoke, whether called by her words or her intent, neither of them were entirely sure. He had heard the call, and he had come - that was all that was important.

Her cheeks burned, her hands still balled into fists, Breia silently awaited James' reply. That probably couldn't have been any more brusquely worried if she had tried, but it had been as much as she could get out without betraying the quiver in her voice, though she feared that it had manifested at some point without her noticing. Perhap James had noticed. Hopefully not. perhaps he had at least an inkling of what she was trying to prove. She hoped so, with all her heart, but wasn't sure, and couldn't think of any way to explain it without ruining the moment entirely.

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Edited by Breia, Apr 2 2010, 12:01:15 AM.
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In an instant, James observed a shift in Breia's demeanor. Rai's appearance didn't phase her - somehow, that wasn't surprising; she was generally a little too stubborn to have her concentration thrown off by a few bright lights. What precisely she concentrated upon, however, would remain a mystery for the next...well, few seconds. She tensed; her shoulders clenched and back straightened; there was some tension rising. The silence would soon be split; James could feel it, and thus awaited whatever boiling point he felt Breia would soon meet. Empathy was a strange thing - it was a way of sensing, loosely, not only the emotions of fellow humans, but those of Pokémon. With observance of every small gesture of hers, and knowing a few of her patterns, perhaps it wasn't empathy that clued him in. She took a breath, and James halted his breathing for one unconscious second.

Her sentence flowed with the usual grace - verbose yet elegant - that James had almost come to appreciate. However, he had to reanalyze the syllables before everything connected. Breia Exarch, girl of wealth, education and sophistication quadruple any of the girls back home in Hoenn; Breia Exarch, the least experienced Trainer on this island and as knowledgeable about Pokémon as any plank of wood, had just challenged him to a battle. And it caught him way the hell of-guard.

Confidence, as James saw it, was a very difficult thing to define in relation to himself. Whether his brand of confidence would or would not rather identify itself as pride or hubris was something he briefly questioned as he contemplated his reaction to it. At first, it was simple: he wanted to laugh. But was that because of his self-confidence? Or was he that arrogant? Thoughts for later, however. Breia would likely prove competent in the right moment, as indeed she just had.

Maybe he was more proud of her. He didn't expect her to react in such a way, heavens no. On top of the surprise, she had summoned the gall - James only knew this gall required summoning because of her cheeks - to see it through. Yeah. It wasn't arrogance. He was fucking proud of her. His face curled into a grin, he shot a glance to his Magnemite, who returned the look. Rai wasn't entirely his Magnemite yet. He had worked with him a few times, but hadn't yet implemented any codewords, tactical patterns or anything of the sort. And not for lack of trying.

Rai's top screw extended, then retracted into his spherical body. A visible electric charge ran across either of his...his magnets. The little shit was dying to fight since it had caught sight of Breia's Sableye, it would seem. James returned his look to Breia, whose golden eyes didn't waver for one second. He had settled on his reply, and allowed a silence to hang over the pair before finally responding.
"You're on," he answered, his grin expanding as he turned on a heel to face the obstacles ahead. Said obstacles: a kiosk several feet away from their path and a horde of newcomers to Althea. Breia would have to stay close; James' guard had been kept up beyond the levels of paranoid since his arrival here. If anyone was going to steal from you, it was going to be a young, selfish, eager Trainer on their own. And if that kind of Trainer was going to steal from anyone, it'd be a well-dressed female who very much appeared not to belong.

His brow lowered at the sight of the small crowd. Tightly packed. They could cut around, but it'd be a waste of time. That wasn't something James liked to waste. Unsure of Breia's knowledge of New Haven regulation (even if she recalled League regulation so well), and facing away from her, James continued: "Gotta do it outside of New Haven, though. C'mon." He took a step, then brought a hand up in a 'let's move' motion. Rai caught the sight and followed his Trainer, hovering backward as to keep his eye locked onto the Sableye. James eased his head over his right shoulder to confirm Breia's presence with his pair of green scanners.

"Magnamag."

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It took a few moments to register that she had actually managed to make herself say it, and only a few seconds for James to reply.

They were the longest few seconds of her life. Breia found herself on the razor's edge of half a dozen raging emotions, each threatening to boil over and engulf her; shame and pride, fear and hope, impatience and a sense of rightness that she couldn't quite place. Whether it had been summoning the courage to challenge James despite fear of alienating him permanently, overcoming her inner demons - so to speak - to reach that point, or taking her friend on in a legitimate Pokémon battle, she wasn't sure.

Maybe it was that he had acknowledged her. Slightly. Not a lot. Not as a trainer. As a person playing at being a trainer, maybe. She wasn't sure exactly. But he was willing to give her a chance to prove herself as a trainer, to both of them, and that, Breia realized as she forced herself to haltingly follow the hooded boy vanishing into the crowd, meant more to her than she could express.

It also meant that she had to find a way to not fail in the first round of combat, which might be harder than the initial proclamation. "Putting one's money where their mouth is located," that was the saying. Something like it, at least. Granted, she had trained with Valdis a little bit after getting him, mostly trying to imitate what she had seen from James, but Breia was still all too keenly aware that she was not an elite Pokémon master. Not that she would ever admit it to James, but Valdis had read most of the book on his own; where the hell he had learned to read, she hadn't the slightest clue - could Pokémon even do that? - but the implacable specter had doggedly went through the entire damn book and then presumed to effectively lecture her on it.

Breia still had no idea how the hell a ghost who couldn't even talk had managed that particular feat, but vaguely recalled that he had been very expressive.

Still. Improbability aside, it had been useful. The book had only been a basic primer, something for children just starting out training, but at least it had been very instructive; her level as a trainer was right around there, after all.

For starters, the Steel type - which she vaguely remembered James extolling the virtues of - resisted nearly every other type. Breia had spent half an hour trying to navigate her Pokedex at the time trying to figure out what type Sai had been, and as she'd guessed, it had been Steel. Well, Steel/Electric. Electric was apparently a Pokémon type, as well as what one used to run their dishwashers. The type chart had said that... Ground? was extremely effective on it. That was all well and good, but Breia did not -have- a Ground-type Pokémon, which sort of put a damper on things. Well, it took out the possibility of a massive type advantage to give her a fighting chance.

Valdis was a Ghost-type. Ghost/something else, she couldn't quite remmeber which. Dark, she suspected, but wasn't sure - he didn't seem horrible enough to fit the stereotype of evil. Either type was apparently fairly ineffective against Steel or Electric, but at least neither were they weak to it. Or Electric. That was good. She would be at more of a disadvantage than he, but at least it was merely that - a disadvantage. Not an impossibility. There was a difference. An enormous one.

Disadvantages could be beaten.

Still struggling to remember what she could of her meager knowledge of Pokémon and come up with a valid strategy, Breia followed her companion into the crowds, headings towards the Trail of the Bygone. It was time to prove that she was no blowhard.





Topic END.

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Edited by Breia, Apr 2 2010, 12:32:28 AM.
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Fin du chapitre

Grades:

Breia: Breia was a fun read, and I am glad you played her off as a "Not going to kick the shit out of every trainer here" character. She seems like an interesting and entertaining character, and you developed her well throughout this topic. I decided not to look at her Pokemon right off the bat, and I kept wondering throughout the entire thread, "WHAT POKEMON IS IT?!" Breia's lack of knowledge of her Pokemon, made me feel the same as her. Which is good! Overall a great roleplay.
Word Count: 3097 (Possible XP 0-6)

James: James' reactions towards Breia were entertaining. It seems like you really like roleplaying as James, because you did it very well. You did very well in the characterization aspect of roleplaying. He seemed more developed than the average trainer. You were very descriptive with your surroundings, and very good at setting the scene. Even the ride there was descriptive. Overall a great roleplay.
Word Count: 2722 (Possible XP 0-4)

Together: Together Breia and James are fun and entertaining. Their actions towards each other make me want to read more. They also mesh well together. You both seem like you know a lot about each of the other character, which in the long run makes the roleplay believable. It really seems like they both knew each other way back when. Although the roleplay wasn't much of a challenge, it was acceptable. Since it basically IS the introduction post. Kudos!
Total Word Count: 5819

Grades:

Breia: Out of a total 6 XP and $600, you have received:
6 XP and $500! Great Job!

James: Out of a total 4XP and $400, I have decided that it is almost unfair for you to have came so close to 3,000 words and unable to reach the 0-6 range. Because of that I am increasing your XP range from 0-4, to 0-5. You have received:
5XP and $400! Great Job!

Please PM me on what you would like to do with your XP. I have already added your money to your profiles!

CONTINUE WITH THIS RP OR ELSE! :]

Grading Finished!
Xx-exer-xX
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