Post by Alex on Aug 27, 2007 17:41:55 GMT -5
---Some Years Ago---
The flames of hell licked from the caverns below to the swirling vortex atop the brimstone ceiling furiously, each one carrying with it an evil soul loosed upon the world in the final strike against the plane of Earth by the force that created them - the ultimate and original darkness...
Pandora...
Heroes came racing in, abandoning all care for their own safety for the sake of the entirety of existence itself. They faced an uphill struggle against an enemy that had no form to beat. They faced evil surging within their own ranks. They faced the ghosts of enemies long defeated in many bloody battles. They faced Hell itself.
And they won.
The silvery light of the moon shone brightly over the Pokémon Islands - a curious Archipelago of large islands that placed themselves heavily within the Pacific Ocean - surrounded by constant storms, they were impossible to reach for many years and their existence was all but a rumour until three men made their way on a perilous journey to prove to the world that these creatures and their home existed. It is theorised that the origin of these creatures comes from the massive supernatural hotspot that surrounds their islands. The very same hotspot that had brought demons, vampires, werewolves, magic and now Hell itself upon those very shores.
The armies of hell had amassed in the centre of this supernatural hotspot - known as GoldenRod City - to march into battle against the only ones capable of standing in their way.
As suddenly as they had arrived on this plane, they were banished; obliterated; destroyed. The shimmering silver moon seemed to be pulsing with energy, firing straight downwards to the Crescent Mage Library, at the heart of the city and magically taller than anything could possibly be, and impacting outwards in a massive radius. The power of the pure magic of that which shines in the darkness was more than enough to beat back the hounds of Hell and seal up the dimensional tear.
But this wasn't something that could be acheived by machine or spell. This was a sacrificial act - and it could be nothing less.
At the centre, throwing his own energy out and calling for the help of all the magic he had ever tapped into in his career as the (former) Last of the Crescent Mages was Gary Oak. Screaming and writhing in pain as his body was riddled with energy far surpassing that which any man would bare, he found himself changed by the battle. His hair drained of all its colour, his eyes scarred and whitened, his hands blistered and burned to the bone, his wounds forever singed into his skin.
Body and mind weary from years of constant battle, Gary pulled back from the life of a Hero and returned to Pokemon Training. After a while in the spotlight again, soon Gary vanished altogether, friends and remaining family losing all contact.
It was assumed he left the Islands all together, possibly never to return...
Some Weeks Ago: Ireland
"Now y'see, you gone and done me a disservice with that notion right there." Short, spiked, black hair; long brown leather duster; blood red shirt and trousers darker than night. With a desert eagle pistol waving at the cranium of the man in front and an Irish accent cold as steel, this man could only be Shawn - the Bounty Hunter,
"I..I.." The man stuttered, fearing for his life as well he should. "It's all true.. It's stll there... in the ruins...."
Shawn sighed and pulled his gun back, the man breathed a short sigh of relief until Shawn pulled out a huge, ferociously toothed dagger and thrust it forward, placing the cold metal against his neck and sliding it slowly along on its side.
"If it's still there, then why wouldn't the Mage have found it himself?" Shawn glared angrily at his interrogatee and considered just turning the knife around and slitting his throat there and then.
"H...he didn't have to... He didn't know anyone else knew about it... if he knew I was telling you.... my God..." His eyes seized up in terror, as frightened as he was of Shawn, this mage had made him even more scared. Shawn wasn't pleased about this - but he could understand. He knew crossing the mage in this way could make it the last thing he'd ever do.
That's why he hoped so hard what he was being told wasn't true.
"I'm going to count to three. When I get past two I'm going to slit your throat. If you tell me where the Box is, I will skip the number 3. Do you understand?"
The man nodded, slowly.
"....The ruins..."
"One"
"of the...."
"Two"
"Library..."
The man with his life on the line squeezed his eyes shut and Shawn continued to glare at him angrily. He had said exactly the same thing as before. It could only mean one thing.
He was telling the truth.
"I'm a man of my word, Issac."
Isaac's eyes slowly opened and saw Shawn still leaning over him, knife in hand, but seemingly safe.
"You told me true. I'll skip three."
Isaac breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"Four."
Then he breathed no more.
Present Day: Goldenrod City
Thumping great boots slammed onto the station at the Magnet Train, holdall sliding on his arm and brown duster blowing in the wind. Shawn looked across the city - still rebuilding even now, though mostly back on its feet - and saw the gap. Ground Zero - the very location of the final battle. The Crescent Mage Library no longer standing where it once stood so proudly, in its place, a magically felled rubble - much less than could ever match the amount of materials actually within the Library's enormous mass. Designed to be rebuilt at will, but deliberately inaccessible, with its secrets inaccessible and protected.
Shawn knew that at the centre of it all was a prize so few people knew about that its very existence should be nothing more than a rumour. But he knew it was here, and so did the man that left it there - Gary Oak.
Shawn had arrived with little in the way of a plan to get to the prize other than to get to the only person in the world capable of pulling it from the faked wreckage.
To get his bounty, Shawn would have to get Gary.
And to get Gary, he had to get evil.
Hundreds of people surrounding him at least, a busy train station like few others on the Islands. Shawn stood amongst the organised chaos, a swim of fire building on his hands from one of his favourite purchased spells. It gave him little pleasure, but he was ruthless in what needed to be done to achieve his goal.
In minutes he was walking from an inferno of flesh and steel and screaming. Not running, not hiding. This was a message, and he was just as part of it as the bodies slowly amassing within that station.
He stood, ignoring the screams and the flames licking his neck, and waited.