Caves Are Scary

Dear Arceus, they were going to die.

Cyrus trailed hesitantly behind Ares, relying on the light of his companion's tail flame to see ahead. Of course, it hadn't been his idea to track down what was supposedly an impossibly powerful beast of legend. Let the gods do their own dirty work,.yeah? But when a god said jump, you jumped. When a god told you to travel boldly into a deep, mysterious cave and risk your life to prove your worth to a legendary pokemon, the best you could hope for was a swift end.

Incredibly, Cyrus hadn't made a peep for at least an hour. At the start of their journey, he'd been a lot more talkative, but as they ventured deeper in, his words failed him for fear of disturbing the great power they sought. His posture was rigid - he jumped at the slightest of sound, saw grisly shapes reaching for them with long, shadowed claws. He tried to shrug off the grim thoughts, to focus on anything other than their impending doom.  

"At least the cave is nice," his brain supplied,  "if you're going to die you might as well do it somewhere nice."

A faint sound like the clattering of rocks echoing through the cave shocked the Snivy back into the present, setting his nerves on end as he spun wildly to locate its source. Crap, crap, crap, this was it, wasn't it? But he was too young and handsome to die!

For all the discomfort the two much smaller Pokemon felt, the large, elderly Onix that traveled just behind them felt right at home in large caverns, illuminated only by a Charmander's tail flame as well as the faint bioluminescent glow of crystalline outcrops. Having grown and traveled in tunnels and caves most of her adolescent life, Mrs. Stella felt no dread, unlike her two charges.

While they never explained why they asked her of all Pokemon ( surely, there were many more sprightly, more youthful, more agile 'Mons then she that would make a useful rearguard ) to assist them on their quest, she felt absolute delight at being of aid none-the-less. She had taken a quick liking to the fierce little Charmander and the proud little snivy. Lucky for them she didn't have hands, or she would've pinched their cheeks about a thousand times before they had even entered the cave.

She had taken to admiring the caverns inner-workings, her mind not at all on about this 'fight the psychic cat' mission they were on, when she took a glance to her charges, and saw one of them jumping about. A kindly old creature, she dips her mighty head down to where Cyrus stands on the verge of panic -- the poor dear.

"Now, now," She reassures, for she knows this isn't any walk in the park and he might attract true trouble if he goes running about like a Torchic with its head cut off, "Nothing to be afraid of, dear. This is quite an old cave, so some old rock formations might be collapsing. May I recommend taking some deep, slow breaths? Best to keep a level head, don't you know."

She hopes she's doing his friend a favor by keeping the little Snivy's flight instincts from going out of control -- Ares seems quite preoccupied in planning out their quest, and wouldn't enjoy mindless panic ruining it.

Oh Ares was certainly planning their quest alright - but more the fruitful, treasure filled conclusion rather than the important journey to getting there. In his mind's eye, he could see it now: gold raining down from the heavens as he sat gleefully on top of a huge hoard, his hands full of fine food and drink, and people gazing up towards him with jealous and awe. He seemed quiet content with that aspect of the whole thing, and, regardless of whatever outcome, he was certain that something nice would come from their adventures here.

As their dear compatriot sought to comfort Cyrus in the face of almost certain doom, Ares would sidle up beside them and withdrew the crumpled piece of paper from within the safety of his dirty bandanna. He snickered at the crude drawing, the corners of his lips curling into a malicious smile, and he spoke, "Hey Cyrus, don't worry about it. Just look at this guy. He's probably a pushover!"

Ares had done his best to sketch this purple monster from what he had overheard so that they might identify the creature if they somehow sprung upon it. Needless to say, he was not going to be the next Van Gogh.

Mrs.Stella's words seem to have done the trick, as it certainly did shock Cyrus out of his downward spiral, if not in the intended way.  His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment as he stuttered out an excuse.

"I-I'm not afraid, Madame Stella. I was only... Stretching my neck."

To make a point, the grass snake groans loudly, rolling his neck til it pops and wincing as soon as it does. He plays it off by clearing his throat, pace quickening -anything to keep his pride. His attention is soon diverted to Ares and his childishly crude illustration. He rolls his eyes, secretly glad for the distraction from the unnerving atmosphere, even if his pride would never let him live it down.

"Ares. He doesn't look like that and you know it. Why does he have a spoon?"

Her sight may be poor, but she's no fool. It was clear as crystal the Snivy was just about scared out of his wits a mere moment ago. However, the Onix is respectful of Cyrus's desire to keep his dignity by denying fear, and merely gave him a knowing smile, one that said she knew he was giving her a fib, but she wouldn't voice a complaint about it.

    It was then they were to be interrupted by Cyrus's friend as he waved a crinkled paper in their faces. She blinks as the drawing is practically shoved into her and the Snivy's snouts. Goodness, it isn't anything to gossip about, admittingly, but there's that shine of pride in Ares's eyes as he waves it about. Her tail coils around from behind there, and its very tip -- which compared to herself is a pebble, but compared to the other two Pokemon is a medium-sized rock --taps onto the paper as Ares holds it, as she examines it.

     "I think it's a very unique depiction!" She compliments kindly, deciding the quest more important then the quality of a drawing -- and she certainly doesn't wish to hurt her new Charmander friend's feelings. "Certainly stands out, dear! I think regardless of how the fellow actually looks in comparison, we'll be able to tell who it is. I do wonder though," a look of thoughtfulness crosses her face of stone, as she must lean close and squint to see the drawing better in the low light.

    "...If he looks this angry, too. I hope he isn't, being angry all the time must be quite unpleasant. And, what IS with the spoon? Is he perhaps planning to eat some Oran Berry Ice cream, dearie?"

My, wasn't Ares proud of his accomplishment! He was practically beaming as his artistic talent was praised by the Onix, and he became immune to his friend's harsher criticism. He smiled boastfully, smoothing out the creases that had been generated by an entire day's worth of pulling, folding, balling up, and general abuse. "He most certainly does," he mused with a smile, folding the paper cleanly this time, "I can certainly ascertain that this is the best piece of art I can ever manage. Don't get too jealous. The description is 'Spoo n' because he is a psychic type and they love bending spoons." In his opinion, this was entirely accurate: psychic pokemon were just simply born to perform party tricks.

The Charmander tucked the small, folded parchment back into his ragged, red bandanna, and now his turn burned even brighter than before. He was happy to share his artistic vision with this Onix that clearly appreciated his talents, and he said quite matter of factly, "No, I bet he's angry all the time because that's what I heard about it from those goons. It likes to attack right away." He shrugged, and pressed onwards, smiling giddily as the vision of a mountain of treasure persisted in his thoughts. What would he do with that sweet reward? Most likely he would bathe in it like any good dragon should.

The unhelpful, terrified part of Cyrus's mind suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be having a panic attack. It likes to attack right away. There's no way we're getting out of this. We're dead we are so DEAD. His shoulders became stone stuff, breath coming in rapid puffs as he stubbornly fought to save face. If he was being honest, he'd admit that hand-to-hand fighting really wasn't his strong suit. He worked in subterfuge, the ever-charming, diplomatic heart of the team.

As the weight of the implication weighs down on him once again, the snake's back drooped in a subtle gesture of defeat. This was a suicide mission, wasn't it? Through the haze of panic and despair he hoped weren't as noticeable this time around, his eyes shone with a piercing, analytical sharpness that droned out everything else. He wasn't paying much attention to whatever Mrs.Stella and Ares were saying anymore. The last thing they wanted was to be taken by surprise by this no-good-very-bad psychic cat monster.

Besides, the drawing sucked. He could've done a better one if he wanted to, but he didn't, so there.

"Is that so?" Her tone gentle, almost motherly, it warms her heart so to see the childish glee on his face. She doubts psychic types are all actually like that -- every Pokemon is different in some way, aren't they? -- but he looks too proud of his art and too confident of his chances against it that she'll say otherwise. "Well, goodness me, let's hope he doesn't try to hit us with a big spoon, or try to attack us on sight. That'd be very rude!"

    At the same time, the inner maternal sense in her soul radiates again, and by almost instinct her tail curls the other way to just about wrap about Cyrus. Its tip pats his shoulder, in an attempt to soothe his fears again -- though this time in silence. It's as if she is trying to help him preserve his dignity by not pointing out his fears verbally. Doesn't mean she won't try to comfort him as a mother does her own child, though.

    "--Well, if we're going to confront this very angry-looking spoon-holding fellow, we're not going to do it by sitting around here, as pleasant as your drawing is, dearie." Hurrying things along, perhaps for the benefit of at least one of their party members. Her boulder-made body rumbles as it drags along the cavern floor, as her bulk slithers past them. "Come along, dears! Let's go find our angry spoon-wielder! I doubt he's far off, only see Rock or Ground types go so far off in a cave, don't you know. I wonder if he does like Oran Berry ice cream, hmm, perhaps we should give him an Oran Berry and he won't be so angry anymore........." And as old ladies do, she went off in a one-sided conversation to herself. Her soliloquy faded in volume as she slithered into the darkness of the cave, though at a pace that she wouldn't get separated from her two charges.

Ares was, quite unfortunately, oblivious to his friend's internal suffering. He gave his tail a quick flick, head held aloft and proud as he moved forward in a near silent motion. There was something just so wonderful about having someone to tell him how great he is - quite frankly, he should have invested in having someone do that for him ages ago! The sausage party that was once their partnership had expanded to involve this elderly creature that spoke kind words and in as soft and gentle a tone as possible, and it might be for the better. He puffed out his chest once more, moving before his party so that he might pull out an Oran Berry as some sort of offering to the giant Onix that slunk beside them. Quite swiftly, he would speak, "Here, take this Oran Berry, Mrs. Stella! It'll keep you in tip top shape if we run into some spoon wielding individual."

Of course it was his own ambition to provide support and back up for his fellows, but this was something out of his own trove of treasures: that was just as important as his amazing artistic abilities. Should she take it from him, he would promptly swivel about on the spot, and quite casually press on into the cavern's depths. He wasn't worried about some ferocious creature: this was all in good fun, really! Ares was all for this developing interaction, and was eager for the chance encounter with a psychic feline.

Something stirred just ahead, and, as Ares's tail was in the complete opposite direction that this shadow lurked, he felt quite compelled to stop. He listened intently, eyes narrowing as he grabbed his tail near its tip so that he might lift it up before him like a human's torch. He was planning on hurling insults to trigger a response if need be from this target they sought, but perhaps their presence was more than enough.

ares carried out 3 launched of one Serene Cave :

, ,

They came upon their target much sooner than later. Well, the other two did. They were still in a dark cave, and Mrs. Stella still had weak eyesight -- no thanks to her age, either. Shadows moving in the blackness ahead was completely lost to her. It was only when Ares stop and lifted his fiery-tipped tail forwards did she catch a flash of lavender, along with a much more white palette.

   Stella raised her body up at surprising speeds, decent for an Onix of her age. Her head looks this way and that, as she tries to locate their target speeding about in the darkness. To no avail, either. Everything came with their pros and cons, didn't they?

    Bringing along a huge Onix may have worked as intimidation factor, despite her peaceful nature, but her poor sight made her quite an easy target, with just how big she was, as she talked to herself despite her dangerous position for their sudden opponent. "Eh? What's that?? Was that our spoon-wielder fellow? Dearie me, did he run off?? Goodness, I didn't think someone so angry looking could be so shy...!"

Ares's heart leapt into his throat as he spotted their target - gosh he had not anticipated this occurring so quickly. His eyes widened like the full moon as he watched the creature lower his head, a clear indication that the fight was on or that it might flee, and begin to move. Promptly, a fire welled up inside his chest, and he expelled from his mouth a spew of hot fire that blazed through the cavern before them and danced in the air with pure delight. These greedy flames, with tongues licking hungrily as they ate their fill of oxygen and sought more fodder to fuel themselves with. The bright fire, twirling and dancing in the air, was shot towards the shadow so that it might attempt to hit it while also bringing smoldering light into another wise drearily lit place.

He knew not what would happen if his attack hit, nor what might possibly ensue afterwards - he was always a hit first, ask questions later when its dead sort of fellow; that always posed lots of problems when they needed someone for interrogation. The Charmander had been gearing up for this encounter as soon as he set foot in this cave, and already he was dreaming of the rewards that would be thrown in his direction. It would be glorious - he could feel the chilled surfaces of the coins already against his heated body as he swam through them like Scrooge McDuck.

The Mewtwo raised its head to mock, to question why these pokemon had even come. t was amused by their efforts, at most.

The Charmander's attack was swatted aside as if it were nothing more than a pesky fly, choked out of existence with wave of the legendary's hand, any damage imperceptible in the dark of the cave. In response, the Mewtwo gestured almost lazily to the trio of pokemon, and in the next moment the cave was alive with raw, psychic power. There was a moment of stillness - a low, reverberating hum - before a purple crescent of energy is suddenly speeding towards Ares with enough force to cleave his small body in two.

Cyrus can only watch in horror as the rapid, terrified babbling in the back of his mind mutates into a scream.

It happens far too quickly for her.

    A flash of that purple, and her little friend Ares let loose a blast of fire she in her own opion considered worthy of any high level Charizard. The cave was brightened by the glorious flame, and for a brief second she catches their opponent in full glory. Its sneering at them, staring down at them from the bridge of his nose the way a common bully does before it steals a helpless young one's snack.

    She can only stare at that distasteful smile for but a moment, as in a quick succession it swipes away the flames as if they were the seed pots of dandelions. A new color fills the cavern in response, a bright flash of purple similar to the beast's color palette.

    An arc of power cuts through the air, Cyrus's scream bounces off the cavern walls. The onix's head turns only slightly before she realizes where the attack is heading, and what it might do.

    She becomes a statue lost in time, memories bursting like bombs in her mind as she watches helplessly as the psychic attack shoots like an arrow for Ares.