4.0 Dedicated to its Members and Fans of Pokemon A Pokemon Sandbox RP
Pokémon Dubstep (ft. Lindsey Stirling)
W
elcome Adventurer to EPOCH! A Pokemon Sandbox Rp set in the original region of Nue. Everything you need to know will be in the Guidebook and PokeDex 101!
EPOCH uses the Manga and is built on the Original ideas suggested by our members.
We are more than just a Pokemon RP, we're a friendly community with a goal on being a memorable experience for those that look in.
Golden Rule: Treat others as you wish to be treated. If you find yourself content with being an asshole EPOCH and its members will not tolerate you.
RULES
Understand We're All Human. Respect the staffers as well as your fellow members and guests. We all have flaws, tempers and quirks. Be patient with one another, but if issues involving other members come up please don’t just grin and bear it. Contact a staff member, informing them of what's going on so they can address and resolve the situation. The staff won't know what's bothering you unless you tell them.
EPOCH is PG-13. Proboards’ Terms of Service:
Sex; When you get under the clothes, fade to black.
Violence; Do not go into extreme nauseating detail.
Cursing; This is so fucking allowed, but don't go overboard.
Suggestive Content; In avatars, signatures and templates can attract the wrong kind of attention. So be careful.
In the dark alleyways of the clearwater slums, someone didn't quite fit. A man with kept hair, a shaven face, and expensive clothes. The only thing that would even signify he belonged here was perhaps the hefty black case he held in his right hand. Anyone he passed may assume he was heading down to the blackmarket, carrying something that would make him quite the mint. In fact, this was an item he would never sell. An item that held a part of his identity.
"We shouldn't even be here." Mao spoke, seemingly to himself until a Lucario dropped from one of the balconies of the apartments above, walking beside his trainer with piqued curiosity. "I knew I was right to remain careful around him, I should have kept to my gut..." His hand reached for the small scrap of clothe in his pocket. It was a piece of his own cloak, or rather, End's cloak. It helped him to keep distance between himself and his alter ego. While the cloak had since been repaired by a man paid not to ask questions, this scrap still remained important. Written in ink that still shined through the dark shades was a location and a time. The location, an address in clearwater, the time? A half hour from now. "He knows who I am...why am I doing this?"
Both the Lucario and Trainer were caught off guard by the beeping of Mao's Pokegear, quick to replace the clothe in his palm with the device, the GPS signifying he was close to his destination. With a glance around the corner, it was clear the location for this assumed meeting was the warehouse accross the path. "My my. How cliche...effective yes, but cliche nonetheless." With a slight smile even in these circumstance, Mao turned to his companion. "Then again. I'm hardly one to talk am I not?" The Lucario gave a wheezy little chuckel through his sharpened fangs. It was time they prepared for this. Tossing his hefty black case to the floor, Mao summoned forth another one of his pokemon, the abra Vash. "Vash. Accross the path. Warehouse. Grab co-ordinates for the first appropriate entrance you can find. Doma. Guard duty. No one can see me change."
Both pokemon gave quick nods, the Lucario leaping to a balcony for a better view while the small abra darted accross the path, running around the building for a smaller entrance, perhaps a side door. Falling to a knee, Mao got to work. Unlocking his case and revealing the pieces of End.
"Time to get to work..."
"Team. Return."
With those simple two words, End recalled his Lucario and Abra to him, a flick of his cape showing that along with End, the dramatic flair he held had also returned to life. If he stood out before, the clean sheen of his clothes, from his gloves to his mask, hardly helped.
"We were unseen?" Doma gave a nod. There had been a threat of someone walking down their path, but he was sure to scare them off.
"An entrance?" Vash also nodded, pointing to the side of the warehouse to signify a small door. "Good. Then, if you don't mind." Holding out his hand, the abra was quick to take it, Doma resting his palm on his trainer's back, and in an instant, the thre were gone. End had trained teleporting so much that he no longer had a loss of balance from the sudden shift. A quick glance to take in his surroundings, and the door back door to the warehous was soon to his front. There was a pause, a moment were he was unsure if he should truly go through with this...but the memories of Richissme were quick to instill him with confidence, a fire in his eyes beneath his mask. If he could handle Interpol, why would he be scared of a man he bested in a battle of the minds?
A tight grip on the door handle, he walked in, his eyes flowing around the inside of the warehouse, looking for some hint of that dark skinned man he had met in Kalos, calling out into the dark warehouse. "You requested me?"
Post by Thomas Thaddeus on Mar 1, 2015 12:42:47 GMT -5
As opposed to Mao's approach of making his way into the rundown slums of Clearwater appearing as someone heading to the black market, Thomas', or Dorian Westcliff's path towards the warehouse was one of blending in with the locals. Donning a ratty-looking hoodie, a worn out pair of jeans, and a pair of beat up but still functional sneakers, the trainer blended right in with the civilians, even with the backpack he was carrying.
However, from what could be seen of his hair, it was now jet black instead of a mousy brown as usual, thanks to a wig he put on. His eyes, rather than being the intense shade of green they usually were, were an icy shade of blue, thanks to a pair of cosmetic contact lenses. And most importantly, two horrific-looking scars lined his cheeks, completing what seemed to be a creepy smile on his face. Of course, the scars themselves were fake, but were made to look realistic.
However, as even some of the more hardened criminals got to glance at his face, they all visibly reacted to it, commenting on the scars the creepy blue-eyed boy had on his face, but all of which were accompanied by getting out of the way of the disfigured lad. It seemed that whatever they did to their enemies, what apparently happened to Dorian was worse than anything they were willing to pull off.
"Dorian" would eventually come across an abandoned area. The trainer looked around him, making sure there was not another soul in the area. And once he knew he was alone, he sent out a Shiny Froakie.
"Hotsuma, survey the area.", he told the Froakie.
The Froakie watched vigilantly as Dorian changed out of his ratty street clothes. The hoodie, which revealed a black undershirt with a sinister red design on the back, and a second one on the chest. Instead of his ragged jeans, Dorian would instead wear a pair of black pants matching the shirt he wore under the hoodie, a pair with just enough room to move around in comfortably in with. His sneakers would be replaced with a rugged pair of black combat boots. A black trenchcoat with a hood would be worn over his body. And finally, a gas mask would be worn over his disfigured face.
"Did anyone see us, Hotsuma?", inquired the criminal.
The Froakie shook his head.
"Good, now we may proceed.", Dorian told Hotsuma as he recalled the pale frog.
Thankfully, it was a clear shot to the warehouse where he was to meet his boss, and two of his other associates. And upon entering the warehouse, Dorian would encounter another man in a mask, one much more flamboyant than he was in his outfit.
Dorian simply waited for his boss to appear from the shadows. He dropped his bookbag containing his street clothes out of the way of things.
When her darling had come home from a very long journey across Kalos and Nue, the news he brought home wasn’t something she had actually anticipated, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. Albeit, a bit skeptical of these associates he said to have made, she was still not one to complain about others wishing to aid in the goal Miguel presented. A meeting was already arranged and she was expected to come in order to be properly introduced to a couple of men she’d be expected to work closely with in the future. She had rattled her mind for what type of persons her darling Miguel had decided to call upon for the tasks they had planned, and today would be when she settled her curiosity.
She had arrived far earlier than the rest, being the one to unlock the warehouse in the first place and handle setting it up for tonight’s meeting. Windows were covered with thick black paper to keep the light from spilling out and reveal they were in there. Much of the boxes stored in here were moved aside to create a clear opening for them to gather and easily discuss without feeling trapped or clustered together. Arranging furniture according to Miguel’s requests, the place was set up for the night and she patiently waited in the warehouse for the others to arrive.
Into the night her wait would last, the warehouse washed over in the darkness of the night, but her wait wasn’t for nothing. After the hours had passed, she could see light finally drift into the place as a door opened and the unfamiliar voice of a young man echoed throughout the massive place. “You requested me?” She focused on him for a moment, detecting the sense of fear and nervousness from this meeting. Another door shortly afterwards opened as well, another young man entering the scene but he didn’t speak quite yet. He dropped something in the darkness, and as she focused on him, she noted he felt far more at ease in comparison to the other man. Most likely, Miguel had spent more time talking to the latter of the duo to explain his confidence, but she didn’t dwell too much on those facts. A silent signal from the side allowed her to know that these were indeed the men Miguel had invited to this meeting of minds and she took to doing her task.
Once the doors were shut, Miyu would turn on the lights of the warehouse, effectively revealing what had been set up in the center of the floor and in easy view. A round table of sorts – because her darling was theatric and insisted it must be round for symbolism’s sake – and four chairs of various styles set up around it. One chair was well cushioned with soft purple fabrics, looking just as comfortable as it felt, and sporting a rather traditional design. The next wasn’t nearly as cushioned, but the grand and well carved dark wood design still provided a feeling of luxury and despite the lack of cushioning, it was still a comfortable chair as well. Then there was a simple, rather minimalistic white bar stool that looked almost inferior to the other chairs. Especially the one it sat next to that was undoubtedly the most grand of all the chairs. A true throne for Miguel Hidalgo, simply by his request for such a thing. Black wood and purple cushions, the chair was nothing short of over the top, though only the back of it could be seen for now. It was easy to swivel around in for dramatic effect, she ensured. When Miguel was ready to show himself, it’d turn with ease.
“Welcome, welcome, please come in” Miyu’s voice called out from above, revealing her slight Kalosian accent, as she walked along a suspended metal cat walk above all of them. Rather than her typical black jumpsuit and helmet, today she wore something with a bit more flash and flair since that seemed to be Miguel’s typical preference for things like this. “You two are right on time, how perfect, heh. Go ahead and take a seat” she joyfully invited, looking up from the tablet she held in her hands to look down and study the men with a critical eye. One look at Mao, and she could already see the appeal Miguel must have seen. That flashy costume certainly looked suiting for a prince of sorts. The other, Dorian, looked like a thug of sorts, but a thug she could take a moment to appreciate because while he didn’t have the flash and flair that the others currently did, his appearance was more down to earth and once more, she easily spotted the appeal.
“I’m sure we’re all very eager to get started, so while the night is still young…” she gently trailed off to look down and tapped something on the tablet to start turning the throne Miguel sat in around automatically. “Let’s get this meeting started, hm?” she questioned before looking to the side as an Abra peered out from over her shoulder. The two vanished from sight before smoothly reappearing beside the simple bar stool next to Miguel’s chair. With ease, Miyu slid up onto her seat, sitting up straight and properly, refined and seemingly graceful much like that of a princess. Her hand lightly rested on her chest as she continued speaking “I am Grim’s personal assistant, and my code name is Sinistre. I’ve heard a bit about both of you and I’m eager to work with you both further in the future.” She paused, before slowly looking over at Miguel – her curious look hidden behind her mask – and spoke in Kalosian briefly to inquire something.
“Sommes-nous prévoyons d'utiliser notre nom réel ce soir? Ainsi que de retirer nos masques?” she softly spoke, having been prepared for the two options she presented, but wanted to avoid jumping the gun given everyone was in their masks.
Post by Miguel Hidalgo on Mar 24, 2015 23:09:55 GMT -5
THESE ARE THE DAYS
WHEN I HATE THE WORLD
HATE THE RICH, HATE THE HAPPY, HATE THE COMPLACENT. TV WATCHERS, BEER DRINKERS, THE SATISFIED ONES. BECAUSE I KNOW I CAN BE ALL THOSE LITTLE HATEFUL THINGS AND THEN I HATE MYSELF FOR REALIZING THAT. BE SAFE, BE SAFE.
Though Grim had been facing the wall with his head and back reclining against the backrest and his eyes were closed underneath his skeletal visage, he could still see his visitors just fine. In fact, he could see them better than if he had been looking through a pair of binoculars outside on the roof. Granted, he still had to open the windows, but that was tolerable compared to the alternatives.
A small smile lifted his lips as he could see the lights brighten up even through his eyelids and the tinted lenses of his mask. He leaned forward on his chair, propped his elbow up on the armrest and then propped his chin on his closed fist. He slowly opened his eyes as he listened to his beloved Miyu do the introductions, the smile on his lips getting a bit bigger.
However, his genuine smile was wiped away and replaced with a creepy grin as soon as he felt his throne begin to turn. By the time his chair had fully turned to face his guests, Grim had fully shifted into performance mode. A good performer must always impress the proper atmosphere to his audience. After all, his guests were fully-dressed for the occasion –and he’d have to remember to give young Thomas extra points for thinking up of the creepy teen thug look- so it be remiss of him not to give the same effort.
But before he could start, he heard a question coming from his right. Grim straightened up from his relaxed position and then put a hand on Sinistre’s shoulder and leaned over to the side to whisper into her ear. ”Pas ce soir.”
It was almost painful for him to hold back his usual terms of endearment for his beloved assistant, but he must stay in-character no matter how blisteringly hot she was in that wonderful outfit. Ah, the price one must pay for a good performance is sometimes steep. Perhaps later, when they were alone and the atmosphere wasn’t nearly as serious and forbidding.
Pushing those thoughts away, Grim removed his hand and leaned back into his seat.
”It seems that strangers have followed my ravens home.” He rasped in a guttural, growling voice, eyes boring through both figures despite their masks and his own tinted lenses. ”Welcome. It looks as though I will be your host for tonight.”
He tapped the armrest of his chair idly. ”Before I begin… perhaps you’d like to tell me why you think the ravens allowed you to follow them home?”
With his Lucario and Abra still close behind him, it was clear from the moment he entered that Mao was formulating a plan for escape should he need one. The way his hand held the handle of the door just a little too long, the way one could tell the darting of his eyes even beneath his visor, all of it showed that even beneath his confidence there was a slight tinge of nerves. A negative trait in no regard. For one to believe it was safe to relax here they would need to be a fool. No, the slight nerves he had would speak bounds to anyone who had even half a brain of how intelligent this "End" truly was. Afterall, he knew how strong these people must be. They had done something Interpol could not. They had found his identity.
As another entrance to the warehouse opened up, End seemed...less than impressed. While the green haired maiden he had yet to notice may have seen worth in Dorian from the moment he entered, End saw what the clothes detailed. A thug. From both the lack of nerves and the lack of pokemon however, he could discern two things clearly. Either this man was already part of the meeting, this organisation of sorts, and thus did not need the precautions End had brought himself, or he had been far better informed by measure Miguel, or some other agent of who they were to meet here today, of what exactly this meeting was to entail...of course, their was the third, and far less likely option, of this gas mask toting man simply being a fool, but from what little End had derived of Miguel, he quickly assumed such a man would never have received the same "invitation" he did.
“Welcome, welcome, please come in”
Gazing upwards, End was quick to follow the source of the sound, an involuntary smile creeping along beneath his visor as he took in the visage of beauty he would soon come to know as Sinistre, and perhaps even another name in due time. It seems our dear Miguel has some fine tastes. Of course, this was End still going under the assumption that this Miguel was indeed the "mastermind" that was bringing this meeting together. With the warehouse soon filled with light, Mao felt much more at ease, spotting the round table and nearly chuckling aloud at the clear symbolism trying to be displayed. So this grand mastermind wanted them to meet as equals did he? The chairs almost made End believe otherwise, but who was he to complain? The colour and fashion of the chair closest to him made it clear it was his own, and while pailing in comparison to the true "throne", filled by the hidden mastermind, it was still a throne fitting of End.
With his hand resting upon the back of his more "traditional" seating, he rose a hand as a simple sign for his pokemon to hold their position, standing strong behind his throne while still holding enough distance to display a sign of trust to "meisure" Grim and "Madame" Sinistre. He would have to be sure to learn Kalosian in the near future, to have words hidden from him, no matter how simple, was not a pleasant feeling under these circumstances. "A pleasure to meet you both. While I am sure you both know my name, I feel it only right to introduce myself as well."
Pulling to the front of his seat, End removed his cape, a simple twist of a button and it fell of his shoulders, tossed to the Lucario behind him for safe keeping, revealing the equally "elegant" design of his costume beneath, almost seeming like a lord of old as he fell back into his well cushioned seat, elbows resting upon the arms as his fingers mixed before his chin, one leg crossed over his knee, in a position of seemingly eloquent thought. "My name is End. Though from your "Raven", I am sure you know me by another name. Please, do refrain from using this infront of our, hopefully, uninformed third party." His visor glanced to Dorian as he took his seat. If he was correct in his assumptions, Dorian was the only "wild card" in attendance. He knew Grim as Miguel, or vicariously through the dark skinned man's actions. If an agent held himself as such afterall, why would his boss be any less impressive?
Despite his assumptions, he would play the game as it was set. Grim seemed to be avoiding relations to Miguel, neither denying nor confirming them in his words, only referring to his and the thug's invitations as "ravens."
"Our host you will be indeed. I will apologize in advance if my attendance feels less than comfortable. Gaining an invitation to a party, even as extravagant as this one, does leave one on edge when received from a stranger such as your raven." There was a calm tone to his voice. He knew he could leave at any moment, and while the guttural tone of Grim felt as though it was to instill a sense of power over the two strangers in attendance, it did little more than assure End that this was a game to be played...for the time being, at least. "As for why they invited us...or rather...allowed us to follow as you so aptly put..." Mao leaned forward, his hands remaining joined, the chin of his mask resting upon them as his elbows lay upon the round table.
"Masks? A round table? A dark and rundown warehouse from the outside with a well prepared interior? A collection of, what I can only assume are brilliant minds?" The unknown empathy may have felt a sense of confidence building as he complimented all in attendance at the table. "Why, if I didn't know any better Meisure Grim, I would assume your ravens were hoping for an alliance of sorts to form here today. A knights of the round, if I may be so bold. Or did the keeper of these dark birds have a different game he wished to play?"
With every passing second End grew more comfortable in his surroundings. All the points he had been taking in had lead to his assumption, and if such an assumption were to be true, he was extremely curious as to what this Grim had in mind.
Post by Thomas Thaddeus on Mar 28, 2015 1:48:03 GMT -5
It was odd that Thomas, or "Dorian" as he would be known to End, that he would casually stroll into such territory without any of his Pokemon out to potentially protect him. But the truth was that he had spent a little time with Grim after the incident at the Hotel Richissme. Where the mercenary had sifted him through the crowd of hostages, somehow identifying his truest desire, and ultimately tempting him to the dark side. So while coming into his domain without at least a Pokemon to protect him was suicidal, there was the fact that the Pokemon owned by "Dorian" couldn't take anything Grim would throw at him.
"Dorian" watched as the warehouse being used for the meeting would be filled with light, revealing just how the place had been prepared for this occasion. The teenage thug took note of the black paper being posted over the windows in order to mask their presence in the warehouse, how the boxes were moved for the purpose of giving them a good space to discuss the agenda, and the round table.
Thomas looked up at the catwalk upon hearing the Kalosian accent, noticing the woman in the flashy outfit. She told the two to take a seat. The thug walked over to the dark wood chair, taking a glance over at the other chairs. The thug chuckled lightly, noting how the chairs seemed to fit those who were to be seated in them. He couldn't help but wonder how Grim found this other masked fellow, who's costume reminded him of the former leader of Steinhart before they were disbanded.
In any case, upon the throne turning, "Dorian" recognized the man seated on it. Grim, the very same one who had teleported him out of the Hotel Richissme, then subsequently started to turn him into a minion. The thug took note of the woman's code name. He couldn't help but speculate how much she knew about him, and how far she was in the loop of things.
Upon being asked why they "were able to follow the ravens", he allowed End to answer first. "Dorian" didn't react upon being pointed to as the "uninformed third party" in terms of the other name he mentioned. And after hearing the man's answer, Dorian finally spoke up.
"You may call me le Spectre.", Dorian started out, his introduction to the point. "As for why your ravens allowed me to follow them here, they seemed to have seen me as more than just more meat on the side of the road. As with the other guest here, the ravens guided me here in hopes that I may serve their master, or am I wrong?", he asked somewhat straight to the point.
In all truth, such an answer applied to both the true story of how he came to be in Grim's servitude, and the false story of Dorian Westcliff.
Shortly following her question, Grim would touch her shoulder and instinctively, Sinistre leaned to lend him her ear. Listening carefully to his response, she gave a soft smile and nodded, before sitting back up right. So the disguises would remain for the night, if that’s what her darling wished, that’s what she would agree to. Disguised or not, the waves of emotions around her gave her plenty of information on those before her, though. It was times like this she enjoyed small casual gatherings because there was nothing overwhelming about the atmosphere these three men gave off. Her darling seemed a bit troubled about something for a moment, but he was quick to get over it and focus back on matters at hand.
The question Miguel asked of the other two men made her pause, though it didn’t show. She remained passive and easily refocused on the matter at hand. Though, for just a moment, the question swam through her mind. Why did they think the ravens allowed them to follow them home?
Then came the response from the one who would call himself End. After her Kalosian question to Grim, this one was a bit uneasy and she could only figure it was a matter of the fact he did not understand what she had asked of her darling. She could probably teach him the language later on for the sake of not leaving him out of the loop, but having some sort of private means of communication with Miguel that didn’t require her to default back to her muted ways was a nice change. The young woman could rather easily remember Miguel’s expression that first time she spoke to him, though that wasn’t what was on her mind at the moment.
She resumed idly observing their guests as End would take up the chance to speak first. It seems he didn’t know who the third person – the rather thug like young man on the other side of the table – was and that meant that Grim had spread out a bit in regards to his recruiting it seemed. That was certainly nice, variety added more layers of experience and different perspectives to help move things along and notice what others may not. Another name, she considered briefly her memories, before recalling what Miguel had told her upon his return home and smiled politely at Mao. Though, as requested, she’d stick to End for the night. Sinistre’s smile turned slightly amused as the man would rattle on about the answer to Miguel’s question and she seemed pleased that the young man took note of the intentional décor so carefully.
Looking back down to the tablet she held in her hands, she seemed to go about writing something down just before Dorian would speak. Her writing continued, just minor notes about the behavior of their two guests. Both seemed to be easing with the ice breaker that Miguel presented and as Dorian’s answer came to an end, Miyu wondered briefly if she should answer as well, or if her prior introduction as being Miguel’s assistant would be all that was needed to know. After a moment of consideration, she turned a curious look to Miguel before softly inquiring “May I answer as well?” She wasn’t able to see his expression but with the most subtle of gestures, she could tell she had permission as well. After all, in the most literal sense of the metaphorical question, she did technically follow his raven home when they first met.
“It’s a pleasure to meet those chosen by Grim for this special project he has planned. Of course, I will leave the honor of the revelation of just what that is to him—” especially since she knew how excited he was to reveal it “—and simply answer the question myself.” Hopefully, this would show they were all on even ground here, even if she was with Grim or Miguel the longest out of all of them. Sinistre lowered her tablet to her lap to explain “The reason the raven allowed me to follow it home is simple. I had a certain set of skills that – while rough at first – could be developed in order to aid in executing any and all plans Grim has created. In a world that overlooked my existence, he knew of my potential and I was allowed to follow because both raven and master alike knew I would be of use. Quite simply, there were things I could do that Grim could not because of the differences between us… Just like the both of you, there is potential, there are things you both bring to the table that neither myself, sadly, nor Grim can do.” She paused her brief ramble to look over at Miguel curiously. Hopefully she was able to properly answer the question, even when it hadn't been directed at her. In all honesty, she could have gone on further about the details of her "recruitment" but in fear of revealing too much personal information, she paused there to allow Grim to continue.
[attr="id","miyu"]Mao ValliereThomas ThaddeusMiguel Hidalgo Terribly sorry about the wait guys! From now on, Miyu will simply default to a passive / observer state so the boys can get their information. I'll let you know if she wants to chime back in, or ping me if you think there's something noteworthy in one of your posts that Miyu needs to react to.
Post by Miguel Hidalgo on May 21, 2015 19:48:16 GMT -5
THESE ARE THE DAYS
WHEN I HATE THE WORLD
HATE THE RICH, HATE THE HAPPY, HATE THE COMPLACENT. TV WATCHERS, BEER DRINKERS, THE SATISFIED ONES. BECAUSE I KNOW I CAN BE ALL THOSE LITTLE HATEFUL THINGS AND THEN I HATE MYSELF FOR REALIZING THAT. BE SAFE, BE SAFE.
It didn’t take long at all for the assembled people to start to speak again after he had spoken. Turning his skeletal visage towards the first speaker, Grim was unsurprised to hear End speak up first. He remained completely still as the man made a request to keep his identity secret from Dorian before answering the question. Men with masks always had secrets and he was no different. He was also unsurprised with the man’s verbose response. Even without his mask, the man behind it had given off vibes of a grandiose manner. This though, was a demonstration on another level – that of a showman. A performer, if you would. He knew the type by heart and this man looked to be one who let go of the leash as soon as he put on the mask and this one did not disappoint.
In contrast, Dorian –or Thomas as he knew him to be- was straight to the point. It wasn’t quite blunt because he knew exactly how much the boy had removed from his answer but it was still much shorter and more direct than End’s own response. It presented him with a delightful contrast between his two guests. Quite interesting indeed.
However, he was caught by surprise when Sinistre asked permission to answer as well even though she was already with him. But he rarely ever denied a woman the chance to indulge, so he nodded to her request as if he had been expecting it all along. And as she spoke, he had no ounce of regret that he had agreed. In fact, he was a bit amused that she had detailed his initial reasons for letting her go with him while keeping it vague enough that very little of the circumstances and time surrounding the recruitment leaked out.
He waited until she had taken her turn to speak and then waited a few moments more to let the silence sink in before finally choosing to speak. ”You are both right….” He spoke, his voice coming out akin to crunching gravel. Noticeably he did not include Sinistre in that because she was entirely correct. ”And yet not.”
He lifted a gloved hand lazily and waved it. ”We are not knights who have sworn themselves to their oaths and their liege.”
BAM! His gloved hand balled into a fist and slammed onto the table. The lenses on the eyeholes of his mask were now smoldering with an eerie blue light that looked to be burning from the inside, making him look even more akin to Death itself due to a trick of technology. ”We are kings without a throne.” Though he did not shout, the emphasis on those words made it sound more chilling, more convincing than even the loudest bellow from an Exploud.
”As kings, we are answerable only to God and ourselves.” He rumbled, his eyes seemingly glowing brighter. ”Throne or no throne.”
”However, kings we may all be… Right now we are throneless. Practically powerless aside from our own individual strengths.” He turned his head to regard them all, even Sinistre. ”But together… that can change. If a band of kings move as one, then they can shake even the very world to its core by right and by might.”
He paused for a moment to let his words sink in before continuing. ”The two of you have your own agendas, as do I. They can all be brought to fruition far easier with aid. But of course… the choice is yours. You are free to inquire some more, of course, before you make your choice.”
Spectre, Sinistre, Grim, and End. The four of them collected filled this round table, and each of his fellow "members" here today were slowly leaving seperate impressions on End. To start, everyone but Grim seemed to leave him with a single...unnerving impression. Both Spectre and Sinistre seemed to be displaying the message that they were collected to serve this Grim. Sinistre may have tried to hide the fact, displaying the fact that they could all do things the others could not, but in the end, it came to the same conclusion. Both Spectre and Sinistre were here to serve Grim...which was something Mao himself could not get behind. He rested back in his chair, finger tips meeting in the center as he thought carefully on everything that was being put before him, his purple eyes beneath his visor resting on the visage of Grim, wondering if the supposed "ruler" among them could win him over after the mistakes of those he had gathered.
It seemed he would not be dissapointed.
He did not flinch when the mighty gavel that was Grim's hand bore down on the table, he would only smile beneath his mask, a smile so grand that you could feel the subtle changes in his aura. It would likely not go ignored by the two sensitives at the table, nor even the spectre to his side. The odd joy he felt at this new revalation was one that changed even the solid visage of his mask. He would wait until the speech had come to it's end, his arms setting once more upon the arms of his seat as one leg crossed over the other, clearly far more comfortable, and enjoying the theatrics. He was no stranger to such tricks afterall, he used them to scare those he hunted in the alleys of Wizen. If anything, the fact that he was not the only one with a flair for the dramatic here just made him respect Grim all the more.
Still, the speech was something to think on. There would be a moment of silence where he thought quietly to himself. Kings without a throne...an apt description for himself...and certainly for grim. A title and role that suited them both. However, though he would not say it allowed, he could not say the same for the two others present at the table. Both spectre and Sinistre...they gave off the air of a follower. Powerful in their own rights, there was no mistaking that...but neither impressed him, or demanded as much respect as Grim could. For a brief moment he wondered if Grim might in fact feel the same, but the thought soon flitered away. If Grim were to think that, he would clearly never say it, and if he were to say it, he would not say it of Sinistre. While it was clear who was in charge of the two of them, the tones they used to addres one another showed a clear familiarity. There was respect there, a level on which End almost found hard to comprehend...
"Kings without a throne..." A soft chuckle came from his distorted voice, seeming playful even in it's dark tones. Resting the side of his head against his knuckles, he lightly drummed the fingers of his free hand along the arm of his chair as he continued to speak. "Now that is far more appealing than being some silly old knight. It also means I don't have to demote my own knights." He waved a simple hand out to his side, displaying the black Lucario that still stood beside his chair holding his cloak in paw. "However..." A single finger was raised to hold anyone from halting his train of thought. "One question remains unanswered."
Settling once more into his chair, comfortable again but still with an air that demande his words be respected, he asked the one last thought upon his mind. "You say we all have our own agendas. All of which can be brought to fruition with one anothers aid. My agenda...well I desire to eliminate those that would misuse the gods..." His fists tightened against the arm of his chair, a clear air of disdain rising with the thought of his own agenda. "But what of you three? What may I ask of your goals?" Another sole finger was raised, demanding another moment of silent respect for the words to follow. "And do be careful...this is the part where you truly earn, or lose my interest." He smiled once more beneath his mask, closing his eyes and settling into the comfort of his seat. "Take all the time you need my fellow kings."
Post by Thomas Thaddeus on Jun 6, 2015 17:35:50 GMT -5
Dorian silently listened to the other three as they spoke. Sinestre explaining to why she was taken under the raven's wings instead of either eaten up by the bird, or passed up by it. The trainer couldn't help but muse on what these skills might be, and how they'd end up working together, if they were ever assigned to work together. Same thing with the masked man on the other side of the table, End.
Then, Dorian's attention would be snapped to Grim's gravelly voice. The trainer listened carefully to his speech, unflinching to either the fist slamming down into the table like a hammer, or the burning glow in his eyes. Dorian's icy blue eyes were locked in on the man who had brought him here, the one who had taken him and had offered him the chance to complete his agenda.
And in terms of his answer, he had thought of that long ago, had learned what he needed to learn in Lumiose, back when he was the "prisoner" of Grim after the incident in that hotel, a time when he was Thomas Thaddeus.
However, Mao inquired to what their agendas were exactly. And without even needing to be prompted, the flamboyant masked man revealed to them that he sought to punish those that would 'misuse the gods.' The trainer could only muse on whether or not he'd be seeking the aid of a 'god' or not.
But in any case, it was his turn. And it didn't take him long at all to formulate his response.
"My goal is revenge. And it will start with the purging of rats, an infestation of rats from another land...", Dorian added coldly. Even in its entirety, it wasn't as magnificent a plan as retribution against those who'd abuse the 'gods' to their own ends. However, this comparably modest goal was everything to the boy. And a good enough reason to him to turn against society in favor of ushering in the Renaissance.