Where You Going to Run To?

Jabbers ran.

In mind, his thoughts were racing. Those about his most recent failure seemed to have taken the lead and left the others in the dust. Failure wasn't an option...but then why did he fail? He thought he had left failure behind him at the starting line but when he looked, it had caught up. He thought he could out race his thoughts, but now his thoughts were out racing him. Running usually cleared his mind, offering some clarity in view, but now running only seemed to agitate them more. 'You think running can solve ALL your problems? HAH! And where do you think you are running too?' Jabbers shoved thoughts like these aside constantly but they kept coming from all sides. He was half paying attention to the world around him, jumping over a sleeping pokemon here, weaving between sparse crowds there; half paying attention to the civil war that was his mind.

In body, if all torchics were this fast, then the reckoning would be upon us. Of course it started at a simple pace for leisure, then as his thoughts began to stir, it sped up to a fast walk. From there he broke into a hearty jog, and long story short he was now frantically running around town with no clear direction in mind. Surely someone has noticed the Torchic by now, but if anyone did it would appear they were too busy to pay attention to a seemingly psychotic Torchic running faster than a stampeding herd of Tauros.

In soul, the Torchic had no family, no friends, and no place to call home anymore. Where was he to run to?

Danny walked into town with an excited look in his eyes, finally here! He'd been walking for a long time and was glad to eventually arrive. The sign told him this was Grassveil Town and he knew there was some kind of exploration guild here.

As he gazed around in wonder at the multitude of pokemon manning stalls and chatting in the square he realised he didn't actually know where to find this guild. As he pondered this an orange shape blurred past, almost knocking him off balance.

"Wow!" Danny cried in surprise and stared off at the fast disappearing pokemon.
He's definitely in a hurry, he thought.

'Faster, faster, where he'll stop nobody'll know!', "SHUT UP" Jabbers cried out. He'd thought he'd never say those words, and never too himself, but the thoughts were becoming too overbearing, he could imagine the thoughts making the punchline n-

There was a cry as Jabbers brushed past another Pokemon, and although they managed to stay in control..."Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow..." Jabbers repeated as he...well repeatedly rolled on the ground as he lost his balance which sent him into a tumble which ended with a rather nice slide. Although Fire pokemon couldn't really get burnt, Jabbers felt a rugburn-like sensation...not that he knew what a rugburn was and regardless of the fact that there were no rugs in the general area. Hopefully not too many pokemon were disrupted or knocked down because of his slip and slide. Jabbers didn't like himself too much at the moment, let alone what others thought of him

Once more, it appeared that Ares had chosen to linger a bit longer in Grassveil Town. In all honesty, the comfy, hometown feeling that he got whenever he paroozed the streets and alleys that snaked their way through the town's boundaries. It was welcoming, peaceful, and hectic all at the same time: no matter where someone was and what they were doing, there was something that needed to be done, ranging from menial chores to fetch quests. Such a sensation reminded him of his own home, which seemed leagues away.

The casual stroller had become apart of the spectators of life's everlasting game. This atmosphere had caused him to grow soft, undoubtedly; why, a week ago, he would have been repulsed and revolted by such this chummy crowd! He would have pivoted where he stood and retreated back into the wilderness that mentored him like a father and nursed him like a mother. It was out there, his past self had reconciled, that life was lived to its fullest!

Nay, but such thoughts had been chained and shackled to the darkest recesses of his mind as he languished in this town: he was trapped by the pleasantries of this life and had grown soft. He had to depart soon towards uncharted territory, for that was where the wind was-

Hey!

An interruption promptly presented itself as a tumbling orange blur almost collided with the pensive and meditative young drake. A puff of bright, grey smoke, rich with living cinders, was snorted from his nostrils as his head whipped in the direction that the object had gone. This was the second time this week that something had gone "woosh" right by him without apologizing! The first encounter had quite an inconclusive ending, so this one better not!

Ares now embodied the true spirit of a locomotive: an engineer was shoveling coal quickly into his engines, which left the Charmander fuming and pumped. He was ready for action and ready for wherever this could lead him. His tail, which had just been adorned with a passive flame now roared into life in eagerness for confrontation. It was the negative attention that fueled him now, and he was expecting lots of it. Stomping towards the individual that had interrupted his chain of thought, the young fire type bellowed, "Hey! Hotshot! What's the big idea, huh?"

'Oh great, you're in for it now' was what Jabbers would've thought in his depressed mental state. 'How fast can I talk or run my way out of this one?' was what his old chipper self would've have thought. 'Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow...' was currently running through his pain-wracked mind. 'FOCUS!!!', yeah right, good luck getting a hyperactive torchic with a potential attention deficit disorder to focu-

"Hey! Hotshot! What's the big idea, huh?"

For some reason, the Torchic found the Charmander's words unbearably funny. Probably far from appropriate given the other fire-type's tone and body language. "Hotshot? REALLY?" The torchic managed to get out in-between bouts of laughter, "Wow, that just made my day!". The torchic continued to roll around, but more so due to bouts of laughter than bouts of pain. An old fragment of himself seemed to be surfacing to his pool of memories, why he had he been so stupid?! As much as tried to run away from everything, it seemed he couldn't run away from who he was afterall. Although there probably were still plenty of things to run away from, there were even more places to run towards. Assuming he could escape from the burning wrath of the charmander, who by all means he probably only infuriated more.

Of course the Torchic's...unconventional display probably had attracted more attention then he wanted to. Some of the crowd seemed to have stopped and gave odd glances in his direction. Given though, considering he stopped in the middle of the daily hustle and bustle of Grassveil Town. And sometimes there is some attention that is best left not garnered.

Danny was about to wander off but to his surprise the pokemon that had rushed by him was now sprawled on the ground and was laughing, he wasn't sure why. He also noticed that another Charmander was now confronting said pokemon.

Small world, Danny thought to himself as he strided over to the angry looking fire type. He hadn't expected to meet another Charmander at all, atleast not this early in his adventure.
"Hey, do either of you know where I can find the exploration guild?" he enquired.

From the angered Charmander's perspective, everything seemed to move in a sluggish mannerism. The response time, which most likely would have been mere seconds in reality, was comparable to minutes. It was quite a contrary effect: who would have anticipated that rage would cause his mind to process in such a slow way? This town was definitely filling his brain with a haze, and causing it to react adversely to confrontation, for the usual "high" he received from fights and altercations was surprisingly lacking. The sooner he got back into the wilderness, the better.

Promptly, however, time sped up and he was once more analyzing his perception of the world in real time. It was a sudden rush, akin to a hastily achieved nirvana, and such a reaction widened his eyes. He was being mocked, though not as he had been earlier in the week, which perhaps was what spurred him on to feel more determined to prove his point or to break free from the prison this place had put him in.

Confront.

Produce dopamine and serotonin.

Profit.

Perhaps "hotshot", however, was not the appropriate term: it had become such a reflexive "insult" that it always seemed to be spouted out even when it did not apply. His bad, but Ares wouldn't let others know that. Both his arms were thrust down towards his sides with the young drake's hands curled up into frustrated fists. His brow furrowed as his mouth grew wide, which gave him the appearance of a rather comically flustered individual.

"Quit rolling around!" he snarled, "You're acting like a fool!" If that was the best he could do to combat a stranger laughing at him, then he was in big trouble. That fact was quite unnerving.

It seemed, though, that a blessing came in the disguise of another of Ares's kind (wow, what were the odds?) asking him for directions. This was a subject he could really tear into. With a mixture of cockiness and anger, he turned on that particularly innocent inquiry and was prompt to showing his disdain, "The guild? Why would you want to know where that is? Do you want to be coddled?"

As Danny received the sudden and harsh reply from his fiery kin he immediately regretted his decision to approach the clearly angered Charmander. He raised his hands in a peaceful gesture and tried to keep calm although he did feel a sudden urge to hit the offending pokemon.

"Hey, OK guy sorry, what's wrong? You gotta wet tail or something?" was his reply that was admittedly only partially thought out. He had not expected such a hostile response to such a simple question.

OOC: Tell me if anything I do in this post is...questionable or otherwise unallowed, otherwise on with the RP!

"Acting like a fool? Clearly you don't know who I am...though then again no one really does anymore given the circumstances..." the Torchic jested. He stopped rolling around but couldn't quite stop himself from chuckling...until ANOTHER Charmander came by asking for directions to the guild. Jabbers was in fact about to happily oblige the nicer's inquiry...

"The guild? Why would you want to know where that is? Do you want to be coddled?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa....you AREN'T dissing on THE guild are you? Listen, anger management issues or not, the Guild is NOT to be disrepected!". Now the Torchic's mood changed as more fragments of his past that he had been running away from caught up with him, "The guild is two-part beacon, for some it represents hope for otherwise dire or hopeless situations...for others, it is a destination...and even more than that! It isn't just hope for those in need, but a hope for those who help those in a need. A light that they can return to after they brave the darkness and endure its trials and tribulations!". Jabbers practically felt ablaze at this point...only that he had no discernible points where fire erupted from his body and even then, the Torchic had no capability of producing fire.

The Torchic decided to take a risky move, as sometimes you had to fight fire with fire. Revitalized and only growing more hyper, the Torchic approached the angry Charmander with a tremble that only fools would mistake for fear. "T-t-t-there a-a-are o-only tw-two  im-important t-t-things....", the Torchic stuttered with the energy he was surpressing and then paused for dramatic effect. "IT TAKES COURAGE TO BRAVE THE DARKNESS...BUT ONLY WITH TRUE COURAGE CAN YOU ONCE AGAIN FACE THE LIGHT". Having vented on a Charmander who was more than likely able - and eager - to beat him to a bloody pulp was a risky maneuver, but sometimes high risks yield high rewards. Besides it was time Jabbers listened to his own advice, if he truly wanted to prove himself it was time he faced the guild again.

With that note, he would need to guarantee his safety first...and in the blink of an eye where the Torchic once stood was now a rather confused spectator who was casually watching the debacle, [Jabbers Used Baton Pass], and with any luck the Torchic was fast enough to escape the brunt of any assault the angered Charmander might intend to inflict him, albeit at the cost of the spectator's safety but that was another risk.

Sneaking back over to the kinder of the Charmanders, Jabbers tried to lightly get his attention. "Psst! The names Jabbers, and if you want to know where the guild is I'd be more than happy to be your guide"

Considering the fact that he had never encountered the Torchic before, nor did either of them have any inclination as to the other's identity, it could logically be assumed that his point was accurate: Ares had no idea who this was. The threat that usually came with this - a fear that one was upsetting a child or prodigy of a well known 'mon - was nonexistent for the young drake. He welcomed any challenge, for any form of combat enriched his training and allowed him to grow in strength. He had no inclination of being intimidated and found such a response rather comical. If he hadn't been stewing at that point, it most likely would have allowed a smirk to warp his angered frown.

His opinion of the guild had not gone by so excellently with the others. While the fellow Charmander had undoubtedly been affronted by his brusk, blunt tone, this Torchic fellow had been insulted by the notion that the guild was useless to Ares. Though he promptly regretted having lashed out at another of his kind, an emotion he expressed through a slight quiver on the flame of his tail, the young drake was once more riled up by the abrasive, confrontational nature of the Torchic's rebuttal. All he saw was a rapidly moving beak that seemed to be spewing forth anger-slurred words. While the bird was revving himself up, the deity in training had already done so.

The Fire-type had no control over his body at the moment that this other took a step towards him, and he felt a sudden burst of release as his arms obeyed his memory. There was no recognition of the other's stammering, no understanding of what was being stated: his brain had blacked out the moment it observed such a rash reaction of its newly designated opponent. Such an approach was considered an offensive stance - one that allowed a 'mon to easily slide into an attack - and thus was reacted to. Ares's hands unfurled, his claws extending, and promptly attempted to jam his Scratch attack straight through the other's body. It was the force of a punch mixed with the sharp, serrated edge of his claws: a powerful combination projected in a downward stroke.

Yet all his attack would hit was a puff of white smoke and then the ground. As the soil greeted his open-fist and splintered from the force behind it, Ares would return to reality. A simple yank would be given onto his attacking arm to steal it back from the violated ground, a sound of reluctance given as the earth yielded it. What was there to do but address his points? It had been a loose argument complied merely from passion than any sound logic that he personally could understand, and thus he merely had to attack its loopholes to prove his point. It had been rapid and fluctuated frequently.

"And," he would say, "is it in your opinion that only those who subject themselves to servitude can truly find a way to conquer this 'darkness'? That the only fashion to make yourself strong enough to assist others is through signing yourself away to a place that confines you? What freedom is that? What strength comes from such conditions?" He turned towards the pair, evidently analyzing them with the precision of a hawk eyeing a mouse. "Strength yields itself to those who can overcome the odds - it blossoms for those who are willing to chase after it. Can one truly pursue this strength if they are held back by obligations and limits?" Punching things always made him feel slightly more diplomatic.

The Torchic almost winced when he saw the attack that he had anticipated...almost. Now however the Charmander was once again confronting Jabbers that came off more like a raving slew of words about how power is acquired.

"So your the ambitious philosophical type, huh? Well then my good sir, tell me what would you do with said power? Take on the world? And then what? Dominate it with an iron fist? Here's some advice for you: You'd rule a desert beautifully alone with that power of yours." The Torchic was beginning to dislike this Charmander, he seemed too focused on power and obtaining it and exercising it in dangerous ways. Maybe if Jabbers could convince the Charmander to see another way - not necessarily even Jabbers way, then Jabbers could stop a potential threat that would prove dangerous in the future.

"Ok you want to prove your strength, your superiority, then let us have a battle. Not of physical force, but of words. So no more rash actions, though my own actions are in part to blame. The contest is this, whoever can better argue their point wins! If I win, then you have to join guild WITH me to form a team. However, duly note that this doesn't have to be a permanent arrangement, but there'd be a minimum of participating in the first mission. Afterwards, you are free to decide to leave or stay. If I lose, well it would be unfair for me to set my own losing terms so I guess I'll take a risk and let you decide to be fair. The winner will decided by a judge we can agree on, or we could even have multiple judges. Such a case could resemble one you pick, on I pick, and a random bystander. Sound like a deal? Afterall, what do you have to lose but one measly mission with an insufferable Torchic after which you have the option of leaving"

After finishing his proposal speech, the Torchic toke a deep breath. This wasn't personal any more, it was a challenge...one the Torchic didn't intend on losing. Assuming the charmander accepted, there was the risk he would flat out decline and even if that didn't happen there was the risk Jabbers would lose. Though Jabbers liked his odds in both cases, he tried to make the challenge sound as acceptable as possible. He practically forgot the other Charmander in his excitement

((OOC: Awww hellz naw! We gettin a rap battle up in here! Also I have no problem with that baton pass thing I think using moves outside of battle is creative.))

As Danny continued to stare down the other Charmander the 'orange blur' which was -to his surprise- a Torchic approached and began jabbering, very quickly and very loudly, defending the guild against what the other Charmander had said.

Once he was done the fire chick pokemon suddenly vanished with a 'poof' as the high-strung Charmander attempted to hit him. Danny was surprised at the great force shown by his fellow lizard pokemon and when the Torchic whispered to him something about giving him a guide Danny gave a quick nod. But it would have to be later.

The Charmander then turned back to them, Danny could only imagine how angry it must be after the Torchic completely avoided it's attack. When he started spouting exposition though, Danny started to zone out, and then after the Torchic gave a reply his head was spinning. How could these two talk so MUCH?

Danny decided to simply step back and watch what happened next, these guys clearly had opposing views if the guild, and honestly Danny was getting worried about opinions being this divided.

It was beyond a doubt that this Torchic could not be concise. It could be seen as a hypocritical opinion coming from Ares, what with himself also being prone to a good ramble here and there, but certainly there was a time for extended exposition! A peculiar method of processing was given as he attempted to analyze what was being stated - an impromptu organization of the important points.

He would allow his arms to fold in an inquisitive manner: he held his head at a crooked angle, and allowed his tail to remain stiff. Though the flame still burned passionately upon its tip, it did not blaze as it had prior. "Ambitious and philosophical, perhaps," he would begin, "but it is important that we all have ambitions. Mine is to simply grow strong, live long, and then eventually pass that flag onto someone else. If that means that I have to live alone, fine: my kind do better that way."

His homeland was notably bare and had acidic soil, so naturally many of the clans that roamed there fought over what little fertile ground there was. Battle, war, conflict: he had heard of a clan or two laying siege to each other for a mere acre of land. This was why he passed over such an attempt to demean him and his beliefs: Ares was merely accustomed to the concept of only one ruler presiding over a section of land. Be it alone or with another, that was simply a way of life. The biggest and baddest of alphas would one day fall.

What was there besides this lifestyle? It made logical sense. Those who were strong lived, and those who weren't were effaced from existence.

You were born weak and feeble.

You grew strong and replaced those who were strong before you.

You died at the hands of those stronger.

That was the cycle, and it made perfect sense. It was crucial to his culture's existence. Perhaps he was zealous and xenophobic in not opening his mind to a purpose, passion driven life, but such pursuits would not help one become strong. Even his love of inventing and discovery could only be done on occasion when he was not pushing himself into the face of adversity.

"You're staking my freedom," Ares would inquire, "so that you can prove a point?"

"Staking your freedom? When did I say this was permanent arrangement? One mission minimum was all I asked. Heck if you don't want to join the guild but at least accompany me on the mission that would be fine. You also seem to forget that I offered you to choose what I stake, although what you'd want from me I couldn't imagine...but if you aren't up for a challenge then you aren't up for a challenge. After all, isn't this just another chance of odds to overcome? Isn't this another chance to pursue that strength you so desire? Or has the freedom you so highly valued become just another shackle, a limit and obligation that is holding you back? What makes it any different from the Guild that you so oppose when it too is limiting your path to power? Perhaps...you just aren't that willing to chase after it."

Jabbers made sure to craft and pick his words perfectly, and did he struggle to remember the points the Charmander used against him. Right now there were only two ways that Jabbers could out compete him, and only one of them was guaranteed - speed. By choosing a more charismatic approach, he was risking the chance of failure. Oddly enough, he didn't fear it, if only because his adversary was unlikely to take the gamble at all. If anything, the Torchic was flexing his creativity, as not all problems could be solved by brute force alone. If not this Pokemon, then another would come along, there would always be those who disagreed with how others lived and how others thought

Deep inside though, Jabbers feared, feared that he was only endangering the guild further by dealing with this dangerous adversary....maybe he pushed a little too far. 'ARCEUS WILLING, you are having self doubts NOW of all time?', trying to diffuse the situation that he had dug he started to jabber again.

"Look, obviously you aren't interested. I may be a dreamer, but with the guild as clear standing proof....I'm not the only one. I just wonder what is more important to you - Freedom or Power. If the world is unjust as you make it seem, the two are not synonymous."

The Torchic lingered for a bit unsure of what to do next, but it soon became clear. Power was not the only thing worth chasing after. He had to run towards his future, and the Guild would be one of many paths he would run along the way. Assuming his business with the other Charmander was done, Jabbers would make his way towards the guild. But who knew? Maybe he'd get his bird brain beaten in for taking one too many jabs at the Charmander or for talking too much. Maybe his challenge would be accepted. Or maybe he might've actually gotten through to the Charmander. Odds were probably not

To a bird born free that is captured and placed in a cage, even for but a day, their freedom had been confiscated. They would imagine themselves imprisoned and isolated in their newly found prison, and the moments that ticked away would be long and tedious. Isolation would warp their senses and cause them to hallucinate new companions, and, once allotted freedom, they might remain in their stockade. Those born within the confines might not experience such problems, as they had identified that as their life since the time they were first brooded, along with those who remained rigid and determined in their will; however, it would still remain the equivalent of an eternity for each second that ticked by.

This was equivalent to the situation: Ares was the bird, and the potential loss during the challenge was the cage. His pugnacious nature demanded that he put this bird in his place, that he rise to the occasion and risk idle boredom for the glorious, assured victory that lie just within reach. All the while, however, a more cautious, intelligent nature warned of the uncertainty and probability of defeat. He was in this Torchic's domain, and undoubtedly the biases that lingered in the area would, therefore, favor his opinion. What might be perceived as uneducated in the Charmander's eyes would remain and linger as a golden truth in this public's.

Then again, perhaps not all of them were as stouthearted and rigid as this Torchic. The point to such a debate was to not sway the other, but the judge. It was impossible for a creature to be swayed once it has been instigated over its beliefs, hence the option of pursuing a change of heart in his opponent was out of the question.

He would inquire, "What have you to offer me? I would demand you sway to my opinion and rebuke the guild, but I imagine that you would find such a suggestion toxic. I am willing to exchange such a suggestion for something of equal worth - unless, of course, you believe so fervently you will win that you would stake that."

It was evident from the other's behavior that such a suggestion would inflict some sort of injury. To deny something as untrue that one had just argued otherwise? It would make Ares feel butchered and unclean - an impurity that had relinquished his ideals for the mere fruit of victory. Such a dirty feeling would commence that it would never quite leave his mind and affect his personality. Would the same occur with someone who apparently was as determined and set in his opinions as himself?