New Traveling Experiences

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Cry was silent as she and Mordred the Scraggy entered Pricklemist Hill, save for the scraping of her claws against the bark of the trees they passed. Sneasels and Weaviles constantly did so to keep themselves sharp. The whole climate was new to the pure dark type. Used to frozen tundras, this plain woods atmosphere. Cry didn't feel she needed to fight with all she had to survive here. It was not unpleasant, but a strange feeling to her. Cry's body stayed tense though, expecting trouble to pop out at them at any moment. That was the way nature worked... right?

Silence fell upon the room for the next few minutes, with Mordred not responding even the slightest. The air grew thicker by the second, and at that point was ready to choke anyone nearby. The same foreboding atmosphere returned, but it seemed more... sinister. Like that of when a child is up to a prank of some sort, and was lurking in the shadows waiting to strike. However, there didn't seem to be anything in the darkness. It was almost like the room itself was going against its dwellers.

It was then the unmoving reptile's hand twitched.


Then it pulled the body onto its feet.


And then the lizard began to talk


With a voice that was not its own.




Its voice and movement was mechanical, as if it were being pulled about by the strings of a ventriloquist. The scraggy made a few shifty gestures, slightly falling on its knees as if it wasn't used to its legs. Once it regained balance, it began rolling its head from side to side, singing with the same eerie voice over and over again, pursuing the Sneasel's agreement with its annoying chimes.

A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ? A R E Y O U R E A D Y ?  

[SOMEONE CALL THE GHOST BUSTERS]

Most pokemon would have freaked. Most pokemon would have been scared and ran. Luckily Crysel was not most pokemon. She calmly assessed the situation. Most likely Mordred was in some kind of delusion brought on by fear. Obviously. Back in her old group of Weaviles and Sneasels, they had two ways of dealing with this issue. They either left them to die alone if they were too crazy to be useful or hit them upside the head to snap them out of it. This would hurt Mordred more than it would hurt Crysel. Poor Mordred. Crysel bent her legs and sprung up, delivering a spin kick to Mordred's head. Crysel's feline like agility made it simple. She'd even land smoothly.

The scraggy didn't react as the Sneasel ran up, delivering an all-too hard kick across its face. Its head swiveled 270 degrees. There was no sickening crack or any sign that his neck had snapped. A few seconds ticked by with the freakish scraggy not moving. It stood there, still looking mechanically held in place as the back of its head stared back at the ice type. The silence broke as an eerie chuckle sounded from the corrupted reptile. Its head slowly turned back in place, greeting Cryself with a pair of bloodshot eyes and an unnaturally huge smile. The scraggy's body seemed to darken as the room turned dim by an unknown source.


Dark tendrils shot out from the possessed lizard, reaching out toward the Sneasel in large groups. The tendrils seemed to come from an odd, dark mist- changing size and occupying most of the small room in moments.

Okay, obviously Mordred had not gone insane. He was just possessed by a malevolent ghost who wanted to harm them. Yep... Well... this was not good at all. Crysel could only think of one way to defend herself, but she was ver hesitant to use it. Avalanche, a powerful ice type move. The last time she used it, snow buried not only her enemies, but her family as well. She didn't control it. She didn't want to kill Mordred needlessly. She'd have to try her claws at her enemy. But first it needed to show its face. "Just like a cowardly ghost type. Hide and use others as shields. Bet you never had a friend coward."

The scraggy gave a blood curdling scream. Its cry was so loud that it seemed as if it were 2 voices synced together- screaming at the Sneasel in a mix of hysterics. Its previously amused, bloodshot eyes grew wide with rage. A large burst of wind erupted from the lizard, spreading out across the room. The sneasel's remark had incurred its wrath, turning the possessed pokemon from an amused conductor into an enraged maniac. Its tendrils began shaking like static before being repeatedly swung in a frenzy. The wooden floorboards began to break from the uncontrolled attacks, sending small chips of wood flying around the area. The small room seemed to quake at the ghoul's tantrum, miraculously not breaking under all the pressure.

It was time to protect herself from damage. Crysel spotted a small table and dove under it, protecting her body from the flying pieces of wood all around. A few had hit her, but nothing serious. It would just be very annoying to pick them all out. Her claws got in the way all the time and could cut her up if she wasn't careful. "Come on out coward! What are you? A scared little Poochyena? I've faced snow storms with more strength than you!" Crysel needed to draw the ghost out of Mordred to keep him safe. She'd then lead the ghost away and come back once she lost her pursuer. Then they'd leave. Any cave was safer than this, even with other feral pokemon in them.

The scraggy suddenly stopped screeching. Its eyes glowed maliciously, watching the Sneasel's movements. Behind the table, a small bookcase stood. The bookcase was old, yet still filled with large, dust-covered books that now precariously stood at the edge of their shelves. With a snicker, the scraggy didn't move as the ice type made her way to the table. Familiar dark aura shrouded the books, before they were suddenly floated off their shelves and sent down under the table to attack the Sneasel. The possessed pokemon's tendrils shot immediately towards the sides of the table to block out any attempts of escape.

[Sorry for crappy post. Dx Writer's block]

You never EVER cornered a Sneasel. Anyone who attempted found out exactly what their claws could really do. Crysel could not go anywhere around her. Down was also impossible. That left one option. Up. Crysel's viciously swiped through the table top above her and lept up. She had dodged the books, now she could ru,,, WHAM!! A book slammed into the back of her head, catching the Sneasel completely off guard. She was out cold before she hit the ground.

The possessed pokemon cackled as it saw the Sneasel flop onto the ground. All because of a book. It walked over to the ice type, nearly striding. It stopped next to her, raising its hand. An otherworldly aura was wrapped around its fingers, before it leaned down.

Poke

Meanwhile...

Mordred groaned, rubbing his head as he woke up. He opened his eyes, which grew wide almost instantly. He was in a familiar place. Those wooden walls covered in scrolls and artifacts. Those paintings of powerful, intimidating faces. The sharp glint of a sword hung on the walls. The smell of freshly cut wood, sweat, and if one was keen enough, blood. He cried, quickly getting back on his feet. His eyes darted from one side of the room to the other, before finally landing on a portion of the room. He dashed towards it, quickly grabbing the edge before sliding the wooden door to the side. He was met with a hallway, and he could hear laughter. Familiar, painful laughter.

Crysel opened her eyes to unfamiliar surroundings, Instinctively she lept to her feet and held her claws in a hostile fashion. Staying ready for an attack, she surveyed her surroundings. A wooden structure that was obviously not the house she was in before being knocked out. There were several objects that appeared important or decorative on the walls. No immediate threat in sight, but Crysel smelled blood. Cautious, the Sneasel silently crept along the corridor, aiming to get her bearings.

Mordred watched wide-eyed. He had walked through the halls, going to the precise turns and doors to finally reach the laughter. He moved almost too quick, and the feeling of familiarity had made it apparent that he knew where he was going. And now, he was in front of 3 young scraggy. One of them seemed shorter than the two and seemed shaken. The other two were of a more normal height. The only difference between the two was that one of them had red eyes while the other wore bandages on its arms. On the floor between them was a symbol drawn hastily with blank paint along with 3 candles.

"Are you sure we should we doing this?"

"Why not? It's night time, everyone's asleep!"

"Yeah, don't be such a loser! Now come on, hold hands!"

The three held hands in a circle, singing some sort of incantation. The candles blew out, and immediately the three broke their connection.

"Good luck!" The bandaged female cheered, before suddenly bolting at the opposite hall. The last two seemed reluctant at first, but both separated as well. None of them seemed to notice that Mordred was standing just nearby.

This place seemed devoid of life. She had searched many hallways and doors to find not even a Wurple squirming around. One door's contents made her stop though. Snow. Rock formations... and her kind. A group of Sneasels and Weaviles. A large family pack. The Sneasel children laughed and played. One was her. Not her specifically, but her when she had just been born. Crysel slammed the door in sadness. That wasn't her life, that was in the past. Crysel continued on her exploration, trying to ignore what she just saw.

Mordred knew all of this. He knew what was going to happen. He knew. The scraggy searched all about, finding no exit nor any sign of those 3 children. The dojo was practically never ending. Each turn, each hallway, each room he thought was the last, was all a lie. If he reached the end, he'd just turn up in the center all over again. It was a loop. He was stuck in some godforsaken loop. Or he was just lost. Either way, it didn't seem like he was getting out of here anytime soon.

The scraggy's hand was put on his temple, trying to somehow lessen his growing paranoia. What if he was stuck here forever? Were those kids really.... are they safe? He continued walking down the hallway, oblivious to his environment as he tried to make sense out of his current situation. Inevitably, he ended up on bumping into a certain Sneasel.

Crysel had a plan at first to determine her bearings. Using her claws, she made little simple drawings to identify whether she had been through an area or not. After a while, places seemed to look the same to her. On a hunch, she doubled back to find a mark she made. It had disappeared. A chill went up her spine, but Crysel quelled it immediately. She had to keep cool in order to survive. She continued on and bumped into Mordred, immediately taking a battle ready stance. "Are you back to your old self or are you gonna attack me again?" Crysel would not hesitate to start swiping if necessary.

Mordred landed on the ground ungracefully, not having expected to bump into something. He looked up, eyes widening when he saw Crysel standing right in front of him. Wait, she was here? Was she the real Crysel? Wait, why is she getting ready to attack? Relief, confusion, and fear crashed into an unholy wreckage in his mind when he saw her in an attack stance. Immediately, he put his arms in front of him in defense, hoping she wouldn't suddenly lash out.

"Whoa whoa whoa, hold on! What are you talking about?! What are you even doing here?!" He asked. His focus was on the Sneasel, eyes wide with fear and tension as he waited for her reaction.